A swift ‘saucy’ drizzle made from some of the absurd curd, a swish of Hendricks gin and a swoosh of fresh lemon juice became embellishment. The tired citrus managed to get the better of me hence an absurd curd occurred and the sloshy sauce concurred..
Not pretty, too good to send to the compost, they didn’t warrant all that lurks beneath on the steamy, dark side. The accumulated types of tired citrus, were many, varied, bothersome little miscreants, but then pleasingly produced far more juice than expected.
The curd would have willing lent itself to pancakes, umm ricotta pancakes… Stops typing and has a little dreamy think.
Best crack on with the curd, toot ‘sweet’. Scarify the zest, squeeze juice, sugar and butter in a heatproof bowl over a pan of simmering water or brag about having the good sense to buy 2 pans the same size which with half a mug of water nails the “no touching” faff. The ‘don’t let bottom of the bowl touch the simmering water’ malarky.
Stir the the citrus goo occasionally until the butter has melted. Then, stir in the beaten egg. Keep gently whisking the mixture over the heat for around 10 mins until thickened like custard.
Some half an hour later one is self-bestowed with a ‘sizeable’ quantity of the multifarious absurd curd, (thinks shall I cut out the middle bit and just slather it directly onto my hips?) ( thinks again, that would be too weird, so won’t mention it).
Into sterilised jars, lidded (once cooled) and loaded into the fridge whence the bulbous old citrus had lurked. Thoughts of busy fool encroach.
Time to become a little ‘creative’ not only with the citrus but also the cream remaining from the festivities, still fresh and becoming essential for a use up, hence….
Whizz, dollop, zest, fold, flop into disposable glasses, wrap and freeze.
Taste, adjust to your preference, apply to individual freezer proof vessels in my case some disposable cups.
It was surely going to be yummy, but then (sharp intake of breath) occurred that the curd might not thoroughly set and indeed might proffer a ‘gooey’ finish, so this was swiftly followed by an “I don’t care” in a che-sera-shruggy-way. Into the freezer and win the prize…. fridge space and ready to use frozen deserts in my instance!
Purring noises were noted when these were used a part of a care package (supper for 4 to go) for a chum who is entertaining her new hip, cabin fever, luxuriating in the tender care of hubby as she fizzes with frustration.
Defrosted and served well chilled as a luxurious mousse, the sauce is a magical masterpiece of cobbled together in its own right, but then so was the ‘here’s-one-I made earlier’ scoffed straight from the freezer’.