Ade came home from the allotment with eight broccoli the other night. Eight.

Yes, they’re beautiful. But eight!

I wasn’t over the moon as it was seven o’clock on Saturday night and I was  looking forward to a relaxing evening rather than assembling the boiling water pan/colander/iced water bowl production line necessary for blanching and freezing gluts. And the blanching/freezing thing only really works if you do it immediately with freshly picked produce, so there was no chance of putting it off for a day.

So, I blanched and froze three of the broccoli and I steamed one which we had for supper with some chicken.  Another went into a broccoli and cheese tart for Monday’s supper (a creation I was rather proud of, I’ll share the recipe with you at some point) and another went into yesterday’s risotto primavera. We had leftover broccoli tart tonight and will finish the risotto tomorrow. There are still two left in the fridge, but I vow that on Friday, we’ll be eating anything… ANYTHING… besides broccoli.

Every time I open the fridge, it’s like…

Complete with shrieking violins. (Or is that just Ade in the background, cackling away?)