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Stewing

It’s hot.  Revoltingly, stickily, stupidly hot.  Retardedly hot.  I’m freaking fed up with it.

It really should come as no surprise: every year, without fail, January is a horrid cesspit in my city.  For the past fortnight, the daily temperatures have been over 35 degrees, and I’m so over it.  M and I rent a little ex-govvy house that has some sort of bizarre heat thing happening: the temperature of the house is identical to the outside temperature, until the sun goes down — then the outside temperature lovingly drops and all is forgiven.  Our little house, however, greedily holds onto the heat, presumably attempting to store it until winter, when it will be bitterly cold.  It takes every damn fan we own just to get the house to walking-around temperature.

So, most nights, as soon as we get home, we get back into the car and drive to a friend’s place with air conditioning.  Consequently, I’ve not been doing much besides (a) working and (b) escaping the heat. Neither of which is of must interest to the blog-o-realm.

But apricots are!

A friend’s neighbour handed over an enormous bag of fresh-from-the-tree apricots just before Christmas, and we’re still getting through them.  For the most part, they’re still deliciously fresh and firm, which is astonishing and delicious.  There were a few that were a bit overripe, so I decided to make good use of them while I could:

Here are the apricots, chopped roughly (not peeled, since I love the delicate fuzziness of apricot skins) and tossed with a few teaspoons of sugar and a drizzle of vanilla essence.  I left these in the fridge overnight to macerate, and then this morning, while M made pancakes, I added a splash of water and chucked them in the microwave to stew for a couple of minutes.  They were incredibly delicious with the pancakes, drizzled with maple syrup. Tasty!  I meant to take a snapshop of the recently-stewed apricots, but…well, with a plate of pancakes in front of me, my priorities shifted ever so slightly.  I almost posted a photo of the leftovers, but frankly that seems a bit sad.  Rest assured, they had a velvety, summery taste, which was divine with the pancakes and could only have been improved by a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream.

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