Hail Razor

Welcome to February. I read a short story last night in which the months were personified. February was a rather nondescript character.

Our February began with a ridiculous hail storm at around 1.30am. My wife called it a "comedy hail shower" because it was laughable that just when you thought it couldn't get any louder, it did. I ventured downstairs to see how big the hailstones had been (stupidly large) to find the alarm lights flashing on the car, presumably from the hail-battering it had taken. There was no alarm sound, though, which I thought was strange. How are you supposed to know your car alarm is going off if it's silent? That isn't a philosophical question. If I hadn't gone downstairs I suppose we would have just found the car battery flat in the morning, and would not have been able to understand why.

Today the sky has cleared somewhat. But a stiff breeze, the 'mild' temperature and lurking black clouds almost certainly herald more stormy weather.

To make sense (ish) of the title of this blog entry I have included a picture of the razorfish with Gremolata that I had for my lunch last week, the day after my fruitful beaching. I got the recipe out of John Wright's excellent "Edible Seashore", although I used lime zest rather than the regulation lemon. The idea of "flashing" the razorfish under the grill and eating them nice and hot sounds appealing but, in reality, I think they cool too quickly for this kind of cooking. By the time you are halfway through they start to get a bit cold and rubbery and you become all too aware of what you are eating. I think next time I'll stick with cutting them up into small pieces and frying them.

It was, nonetheless, a tasty and filling meal. All that gnashing and tugging brought out my inner Neanderthal (again).