Last Wednesday night we ate Honey & Co’s sabiche. That used to be our favourite dinner, which was good because
- it is quick,
- it is healthy and full of raw garlic and chilli and roasted aubergine and orange-yolky Burford Brown EGGS, my eggy little loves,
- there is no meat in it,
- it tastes like the heavenly angels, but with some fiery heat in them. Tough, urban heavenly angels from the middle east, maybe, and
- also, it has garlicky tahini drizzled all over it, with flatbreads from the middle eastern shop, warmed and crunchy with the hot garlic chilli lemony cumin honey parsley sauce and the rich delicious posh eggs and aubergine and OH MY.
But then Mark said one night, apropos of nothing:
‘I think I am over sabiche. Eating it every second night for this past year has dimmed the fierce passion I had for it. Could we please have steak and mashed potatoes and cauliflower cheese?’
And I was both sad, and mad. So now we have it whenever I get it through the Dinner Suggestion Selection process, about once a week when his resolve is down, mostly from his being distracted by larger things than Dinner Suggestion Selection. So Wednesday night, we ate it, and we loved it again, because absence makes the heart grow fonder, etc etc, and we got ready to have noisy stomachs from the raw things in it and garlic-extruding pores for a few days, because it is frankly worth it. And after two episodes of Nashville season two, and a chapter of The Luminaries (not loving that book AT ALL) we went to bed.
An hour and a half later, the light goes on in our room and Mark gets up and yelps.
OUCH MY BACK MY SIDE MY N*TS OUCH
and he rolls onto the floor and gets up and splays himself on the bed and clutches his side and rolls back onto the floor and crawls to the bathroom to loudly retch and gets back into our room and moans and goes all clammy and grey. And I pull my earplugs out and look across and see a man having a baby. Or a heart attack or some such other alarming thing and I think:
‘The sabiche is killing him! I have poisoned him with too much raw garlic and chili and now he is going to die because I JUST REALLY LIKE MAKING SABICHE FOR DINNER EVEN THOUGH HE IS PRETTY MUCH OVER IT AND IF I WAS JUST KINDER AND STUCK WITH MEAT AND POTATOES HE WOULDN’T BE DYING RIGHT NOW’
And so, because I am quite calm in a crisis, I ask him if he is, in fact, having a heart attack, or whether he thinks he has been poisoned by the sabiche, but he cannot reply because he is too busy lurching himself from surface to surface, bellowing and making crying noises. So I obviously start googling in order to work out what to do, because with him down, there wasn’t exactly any grownups on the premises to help. Only me, which makes you realise that just because you are nearly 40, you aren’t necessarily very good at being in charge or knowing what to do when someone starts dying in front of you.
The googling thing wasn’t brilliant and my usual sharp researching skills were dulled by my growing panic and that shaky nervy lack of sleep cack-handed slowness. So I called the ambulance, and the guy at the other end was going through the list of questions, asking me to ask Mark whether the pain felt stabby or dull, thuddy or trickling, and I could barely hear the man over Mark’s vomiting, and so we mutually agreed to stop the q&a phone charade and just get him up to the hospital.
And – who knew? – the A&E at 12:30am on a Wednesday night is just FULL to spillage of glassy-eyed, belching, whiffy people shouting at each other. Mark and I walk in, him kind of bending and twisting and stopping and moaning, still grey and clammy, in the zone of pain just like you get when you have a baby exiting your bits. And a blokey triage nurse takes a look at him and pulls him into a room and says:
‘Mate, I think you have kidney stones. And I am sorry.’
And they whip him in and strap him down and give him morphine and oxygen and I ask the doctor if he will ever be normal again and she says yes. I say:
‘Is it like having a baby?’
And she says yes, and I say:
‘I’ve had five.’
and she looks at me and we do a tiny little bit of mental fist-pumping, and she fixes him with kindness and care and drugs and I take photos of myself and the curtains because there wasn’t a lot to do except listen to the heart rate monitor and the drunk guy snoring next door, and Mark said he didn’t want to be Instagrammed. Actually, he didn’t say that, he was still whimpering through the pain at that point.
This is me at 3:30 am:
And the curtain:
We got home at 6:00am, and two kids were up playing on the iPad and they didn’t even notice we were gone. And Mark went to bed and I felt sorry for myself because I was tired, and I realised that I have never before stayed up all night. What kind of nearly 40-year old sheltered clean-livin’ dull-type person hasn’t ever stayed up all night? WHY DIDN’T I JOIN THE 1990’s RAVING YEARS OF MY WORLDLY PEERS? There’s a world of regret in that sentence, although I do like some timely shut-eye.
Mark has recovered very well and I have done my best to be kind and supportive and loving and nice. I am not great with sick people, to my eternal shame, but there was no doubt this was more than your usual man-flu-type situation. And guess what we are having tonight for dinner, fellas?
I love this blog so so much. And the look of your tea, how do you make it?xx
Ok, you need aubergines, pita, good eggs, parsley, cumin, honey, salt, olive oil, green and red tiny chillies, garlic, tahini, lemons.
1. You make the chilli garlic sauce by cutting up into tiny pieces one red and one green chilli and four garlic cloves, put that into a bowl with the juice of one lemon, a teaspoon of honey, a tablespoon of olive oil, a small teaspoon of ground cumin and sea salt, and a handful of parsley chopped finely.
2. Make tahini sauce by scooping half a cup of tahini (made in lebanon – this is very important, although I don’t know why) with the juice of a lemon and one crushed garlic clove, some salt and a little bit of water and mix until it is a runny consistency.
3. Roast aubergine chopped into rounds the thickness of your thumb. Make sure they are well flavoured with salt, pepper and plenty of olive oil. Roast on a high heat for 20 mins until golden brown.
4. Crisp your pitas or flatbreads or naans in the oven until hot.
5. fry your lovely eggs.
Assemble! Pitas, then aubergine, lots of the chilli sauce and tahini, then lastly the eggs. It will change your life, big time.
I bought all the bits I needed to make this for tea this evening, hubby going out for his weekly 5-aside so he couldn’t hate on my choice (no meat meals are not well received here), but he -having been in charge of half term childcare- made a family tea of fish fingers, chips and pappy white bread, which was welcome but not quite what I had in mind. Confident it won’t bring on kidney stones though, just carb induced bloatiness xx
Not to miss the point – but I took me two false starts and many weeks to get through The Luminaries and I’m still not sure I understood all of it, but it does get good! Did you know about the maths of the book? The chapters halve in length each chapter- so by the end it is very pacy – but at the start it is very hard work.
I knew it was ‘clever’, and it had a lot to do with astrological charts and things, which was all way above my head, but I didn’t know the maths, though I am glad you told me because I finished it last night and I loved the tiny chapters and was glad they were moving so fast towards the end! All in all, I cannot say I liked it. I thought it was inflated and smug and boring, and what’s the point of being so clever if it is at the expense of a good read? I read reviews this morning to try to understand it better, and I do have more of an admiration for the crafting and her brilliance. Still, no idea what the plot ended up being.
(I love a good bookie discussion).
How have I got to forty and not even heard of sabich, nevermind had it?? Making for lunch!
How have I got to forty without having heard of sabich, nevermind eating it?? Making for lunch!
It’s because we aren’t Israeli. You are going to be SO GLAD! It’s so so so so good. I am pleased to be able to share the joy….let me know how it goes x
GOD, THAT WAS AMAZING.
So sorry about the horrible kidney stones and your all-nighter (and not for a fun reason) and very pleased that the patient is recovering. I hadn’t heard of sabiche either and I think I could smuggle it under the where’s the meat suspicion radar here. Thank you for the recipe, but I’m stumped by “one crushed garlic clove, some sisal and a little bit of water” – sisal? Auto-corrected from seasalt? Phonetic NZ spelling of same? x
It was salt. Argh
Sisal! I’m horrified! I’ll go fix RIGHT NOW!
It might have been a new very London trendy ingredient? ! 😉
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