Looks like chicken

Compost heap padding materials.

50% rhubarb, 50% apple, 50% crumble - it just doesn't add up.

It looks like chicken but it tastes like a magical and romantic evening in Tuscany.

For what was supposed to be a short week, dominated by sixty glorious types of public spectacle, Venus crashing into the sun and excessive and wasteful holidays it's been a long one, so as the Olympic torch burns down Scotland and people look on amused, inspired and detached it's a relief to finally reach Friday afternoon (no brave young ned has  so far has used it to light a fag or burn a copy of the Daily Record yet, a bit of a disappointment). Most of this wet afternoon has been spent in domestic goddess guise (god doesn't really sound right) fiddling with vegetables and smoke alarms, peeling tomatoes and getting into the correct mental state for Euro 12. What have I learned? Well bruschetta is something to do with basil, tomatoes and oil and when you add that to toasted/hot bread you have the same thing on toast (but crucially without any cheese).  I'm also realising that our annual rhubarb crop, whilst still there, resolutely sprouting amongst the weeds and slugs is somewhat stunted this year. I just managed to get enough raw materials for a crumble which was then fortified with apple and honey. I blame the weather, the media and the government. The good news is that Ali baked a big fish pie that contains actual fish, so totally eclipsing my efforts in both taste and volume.