Friday July 23rd

Day 93

I don’t want to throw away the pastry off cuts from my rolled out quiche bases.

I don’t want to make them into jam turnovers which is what my mother did with her left overs - golden half moons, oozing dark sweet bubbles - sticking to the baking tray like concrete blood.

Instead I make a raggedy edged tart in a sponge cake tin. I scatter the squidged together base with green onion tops, cut in rounds like leeks, beat up two eggs with the remains of a tub of natural yogurt, add a few grinds of black pepper and gratings of Cheddar and the oven does its magic.

It sits on the table between us. My husband has a second slice. The uneven pastry edge, waving above the rim, niggles at me - cooked but unfinished.