Quiche lament

Yesterday afternoon I made the worst quiche ever. I forgot to put in any cheese, then overcooked it. I must have been distracted. (It's strange that even though Toby wasn't my dog he keeps popping into my head and I have to make an effort to think of other things as I haven't yet reached the 'look back at happy memories' stage. Thinking about quiche obviously wasn't effective enough.)

The bottom was under-cooked, the crust was over-cooked. You can tell the texture isn't right by the little holes in the quiche mixture. Asparagus and bacon should have been really nice. I was very disappointed. As I've said before, I am convinced I can't make pastry but yesterday it seemed just right when I was rolling it and it falsely encouraged me.

Ah, well. it'll have to do for dinner again this evening.

* * * * *

I saw a lovely poem on Facebook. It's called The Eulogy I Didn't Give by Bob Hicok. There is a wonderful line in it:

The best thing about my mother's apple pie: she was here to make it.

And I've just finished reading Still Life by Sarah Winman. A perfect book! Joyous, life-affirming, intelligent, wonderful characters, just gorgeous.