I couldn’t resist them …

I ate them for dinner, loaded with sauce, then with great gusto the next day for lunch. They were so delicious, I had them for dinner that night as well. The day after that, I was so thankful to find some still in the fridge, and the bowl of sauce, that I ate three of them for lunch, eking them out so there’d be some left for dinner. So, dinner was sorted again, and there was plenty of sauce, so I polished it off. The next day I plunged into no-more-chicken-cake depression, searching the fridge high and low just in case one had rolled out of the container and hidden itself somewhere, but to no avail. There’d been 20 chicken cakes. So much for Shared Kitchen; I’d shared with no one. I‘d eaten them all. 

I thought about how hard the sauce was to make – not hard at all, just chop-chop, blend and stir. But I did cry, oh yes, there’s no denying that I spilt tears over the sauce. I’m getting weak, or onions and shallots are getting stronger. I forget to wear my gas mask, or to put a peg on my nose, or whatever – actually, I just forgot to chill the shallots, which does help sometimes, and so the ratbags made me cry. A neighbour knocked at the door. I said, No, I hadn’t just been scammed (so common these days), I was just chopping shallots on a wet Sunday and was crying in sympathy with the weather. Haha. She thinks I’m looney anyway, so I may as well lay it on.

To conclude, I will make the sauce to go with other things. I think it is the sauce that makes the chicken cakes addictive, and also that, like a good friend, they are waiting for you, day or night, whenever you need them. For me, that was twice a day. I was doing the Mosley ‘No breakfast’ thing, which is so preferable to the, ‘No carbs after dark’ (seriously, that’s an appalling idea), and without the Mosley ‘no food must pass between the teeth before midday’ regime the cakes would not have lasted as long because I would have had them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Okay, I know, couch, lie down and don’t talk to anyone for 24 hours. I’ll get over it.