The good news would be that I've actually been back in the kitchen, doing at least a minimal amount of cooking and baking. The not-so-good news is that very little in the way of food (or of anything else, for that matter) seems to hold my interest. I get tired of whatever it is I've cooked after a few bites, with a sort of post-illness ennui.
The cakes above, for example, which are a variant of this cake. They're made with the same delicious beurre noisette, light muscovado sugar, and plums, blueberries and raspberries, all from the farmers' market, in addition to the usual nectarines. I also gave them the added fillip of a drizzle of salted butter caramel, which caused the fruit to caramelize further on top, and provided that crisp sugary crust surrounding the fruit. And I enjoyed making them, but became so disinterested in them shortly thereafter that I gave them both away. We took one to my father's home, for a dinner we made to share with him and his caregiver the other night. I ate a little slice at dessert time. My dad, however, was very taken with it, which pleased me no end. We left the entire cake, hoping he might eat more over the course of the week; it's not always an easy task to tempt his appetite. And we knew we had another one at home, since I always make two of these.
The second one we took to our friends, where we were having an impromptu pizza supper last night. With no regret, again after one small slice, I begged to be allowed to leave them the remains, assuring them that it's a great breakfast cake with a hot cup of good coffee. They agreed happily. And G also, although he liked the cake perfectly well, showed no signs of wishing for a slice or two to take home. Neither of us can quite bring ourselves to care much about food yet.
Tonight, however, I'll make darling G his favorite collard greens and some fresh corn-on-the-cob, along with a few other surprises, to see if that doesn't pique his appetite a bit. And perhaps mine, as well.