The ever rhetorical Tea Boy echoes. “Why have a six-pack when you can have barrell”? Just as my ‘decease to please’ returns with a defibrillator for the palette also an homage to the keen and lean (if you know what I mean)?

A smidgen of salad? sayeth she to the beloved Tea boy.

 

 

 

A fennel salad with blood orange, black olives, fresh mint, snippets of new season lemon balm, fabulous basil, simply dressed with dusting of dried greek herbs and Cretan olive oil was considered acceptable.

 

  

 

Unbeknown that whilst the oranges looked very much like the cellulite-ridden (currently sunburnt), thighs of the writer. The likeness stopped there. The blood oranges were purveyors of an abundance of naturally sweet juice. It’s so sad that their season of wonderfulness is so short. Their bright orange cousins do offer the perfect stand in but the pretty, pretty colour and flavour of the blood orange is a bit of a joy.

 

  

 

One has noted the tranche of ‘on trend’ / botanicals wafting their respectively fragrant culinary hue hither and thither,  particularly noticable with the purveyors of artisan Gin. (Ha, now how would I know?). Time for an experiment, m’thinks.  Particularly as our little corner of the world is a treasure-trove of such and we have recently planted even more edible flowers, fragrant herbs and the like. Don’t be shy, supermarket herbage is just as good.

Once combined the yoghurt and blood orange juice, tasted divine but then…

See gripping-action-photos below.

  

 

Oh my days… a bon mot of fabulousness, a fluke if ever there was.

The harmony of flavour in the salad was the hint, and led me to whizzing a few rose petals, fennel, sprigs of fresh mint, lemon balm, lemon verbena, with a decent chunk of cucumber, skin and all, into a blender. Twisting the juice (in a nice-clean-cloth) from the fragrant whimsy of herbs to obtain the essence was no mean feat. It took almost  30 seconds, needed both hands and frankly all the exercise I needed for that day. Phew.

 

  

 

No sugar required, in this instance. (Shushh with the yay!) The newly wrangled extract, blood orange juice and combine thoroughly with a tub of greek yoghurt, roughly equal quantities, plus a couple of dessert spoons of ‘botanical essence’. Simply lob into a lidded tub and frozen. As long as you use full fat yoghurt, no machines or fan-dangled paraphernalia are required.

 

 

 

The deliquesce combine like a beautifully woven damask silk. Neither the yoghurt, essence, or blood orange dominate.

 

  

 

Hence the delightful, fragrant juice from the heap of sad-old-looking blood oranges and equally tired ends of a salad, bestowed gifts above and beyond.

 

  

  

 

I present, a very happy, accident for your (reasonably heathy) delectation, unless you too add a tiny sprinkle of gin over yours, just before serving. That said, watching it melt in the ferocious heat of the sun (whilst trying to take a happy snap or twain) was certainly character building. Please be assured, it didn’t last long after that!

 

Toot toot x

 

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