I feel like a leftover from ancient Italy immobilized by volcanic ash. I was supposed to be travelling and, of course, cannot. The worst part is being put on hold from day to day.
I've decided to try to cook to stop my nerves from jouncing around.
I found some samphire, a strange plant that grow mainly along the sea shore of
Brittany and England. It is not a seaweed. It is also known as glass wort as its ash used to be used in making glass.
It is crisp and salty, branched with thin pieces. I plan to put it under some Artic char fillets and cook quickly and accompany with new potatoes. I will report in.
There is more about this oddity in my book, Vegetable Love.