London doesn’t do extreme heat well. Despite the occasional respite of a shady park, the concrete and tarmac in the city intensify the heat and pollution until it’s almost unbearable at temperatures over 30C.
When it’s like this, it’s salads at best. The oven won’t get touched again until we’re back to reasonable temperatures. Lord only know how chefs cope when it’s this hot!
I’m like a pale, perspiring grub in this weather, slow and uncomfortable, hopping from shade to fan and moaning horribly. My pale, Scottish origin does not equip me for heat in any degree.
So, salads it is! I shall be at my most inventive until the weather cools in an attempt to keep our meals interesting. There’s only so much lettuce that a girl can eat…