Nearly...

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OK - I said last night I would report on the Hot Jazz Broth of a curry I concocted yesterday. It was mighty fine, but not quite where I wanted it to be, so I won't post the recipe: call it a staging post or some such, on the way to my grail of recreating a classic Brum Madras, circa 1975. I will get there in the end, I'm sure of it, but I have been chasing this particular culinary rainbow now for well over forty years, ever since I first learned to cook, just after we came to North Wales, in 1980.

What we'll be cooking tomorrow, though, is the legendary liver recipe we've been making and savouring for almost as long as my grail trail. A recipe that has been passed on to friends, who have since promulgated its glory amongst their friends and so on, to the present day. As I've written before, we can't claim authorship of the original recipe, and neither is it what its originating recipe book claimed it to be: Provençal. As my late friend John-Charles Boude would have it: '... it's definitely not the food of Provence, but it's bloody good, nevertheless...' That's testimony enough for me...

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