For want of some Basil, the dish was lost…

As I gratefully leave a hugely busy week at work in London, and head back to the sanctuary I’ve built for myself in my teeny tiny kitchen, I am saddened by the fact that I have accidentally murdered Basil, my aptly named basil plant.

His companion, Mint, on the other hand, is doing well. Mint is, surprisingly, a parsley plant, who has become very popular with the moth in residence.

Ha! Got you, there. It’s a mint plant, but he’s still in cahoots with Moth. I’m not very original with names; I think my mother might be secretly worrying that I will call my first child, “Child”. It’s better than some of the names that people give their children, but who am I to judge. I’ll scoff, but that’s different.


Whenever I have had, or been in the company of, a basil plant they have died within the space of a few weeks. My friend Oli had one in halls, and when we had a shared house we probably went through three or four, which all unfortunately perished in an annoyingly short space of time. It’s an exasperating non-problem, I can already hear the meme generators firing up so teenagers can laugh at me for being upset by my lack of basil.

I honestly thought I could keep one alive this time, but either my basil plants all have death wishes or I’m doing something wrong and, as much as I want it to be the former, it’s probably my fault and my plans to make pesto are dashed forever.

That might be slightly melodramatic, but there’s a touch of “Hysterical Georgian Woman” in us all, and I like to channel mine when I cook – it’s either that or pretend I’m on Come Dine With Me.

Right, I’m going to stop anthropomorphising plants and channelling Georgian women, and get on with what I really wanted to talk about this week and had no time to: I bought a slow cooker last weekend, and I love it.

I trust my slow cooker in a way I could never trust my saucepans, they’re cheeky and might boil over or explode at the drop of a hat, so I can never leave the kitchen. Ever. Even when nothing’s cooking.

But my slow cooker – that’s a different story! I can tidy, hang laundry, watch Star Trek, the possibilities are endless. However, it’s probably those three things that I’ll be doing, because I don’t really get out much and when I do, I buy slow cookers.

I have only used it once so far, to make a chicken curry, and boy was it delicious! It’s also being put to use this weekend to make a sausage casserole, and a vat of chilli that I will have to try very hard not to stick my face in. I love chilli.

I am going to try to get my slapdash “chuck it all in” method of cookery down on paper as a proper recipe so watch this space if you’re interested in things of that nature. Not this exact space, you know what I mean. Move on.

I find conventional recipes lack excitement, and mystery – the spice of life and whatnot. So in the words of a popular movie franchise (which probably should have ended after the 4th movie but didn’t and now we have to live with that):

“I want to play a game.”

I’m not telling you what the secret ingredient is in my chilli. You’ll either have to guess, or deduce it from the clues given, which I think is pretty fair, considering it’s supposed to be secret in the first place and it’s not going to end in improbable torture scenarios.

However, I should just tell you anyway, because I want your chilli to taste nice.

This is another one of those ‘dilemmas’ I keep hearing about, isn’t it? Or are they more serious, like the times you go to grab some mint leaves and instead grab a handful of Moth, who was sleeping on a leaf, the tricky git.

I think I might need to get out more, before I start giving the furniture personalities. Alternatively, I could stay in with Slow Cooker, Blender and Hob and make something delicious.

Decisions, decisions!


About delightfulinconsistency

Anthropology Graduate with a head full of nonsense and comic books.
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One Response to For want of some Basil, the dish was lost…

  1. redrice57 says:

    Yep, Basil is a bit of a bugger to stop from croaking in this country. It likes to be watered lightly from the bottom. And it needs warmth. Also, try nipping out the tiny buds / leaves as they appear and that seems to help. I had a Welsh friend once who had a cat called…Cat…fine until it came to calling it in…all the neighbourhood cats appeared….unless of course all the Welsh call their cats Cat.

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