I’m four weeks into this new house and the arrival of my friend Meg from London has brought with it a wall of chalk-wash blue and a strip of paper lantern red. We spent yesterday evening drinking orange wine cooled by ice cube, scoffing popcorn, listening to Waxahatchee and painting walls (Meg painted, I provided the sustenance), before stomping to Newlyn for the most delicious fish dinner.
The weather has cooled down and the skies are streaked with grey, but last week the sun was out in full force, which meant lunchtimes looked like returning home from the studio for a sun-soaked salad in the garden. I’ve had these two on repeat, the salad dressing sitting in a jar in the fridge ready to be poured.
As ever, less a recipe, more an assembling of ingredients.
The dressing
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