Thus Bakes Zarathustra

My deepest, darkest fantasy is that I would like to write a book about aquarium fish trade and aquarium culture. I’d write a chapter on the flowerhorn and arowana boom-bust cycle in Singapore, and one about goldfish, from China and Japan to the Bristol Aquarists Society and the huge factory farms where standard pet goldfish are made, and one about the trade in tank busters, and I’d interview that guy who turned his basement into an aquarium, and I’d do a chapter on the trade in reef fish and live rock and the enormous harm that does to the environment.

In my fantasy I imagine that, say, Richard Branson descends in his Virgin balloon with a big Richard Branson smile and a wad of cash, and says to me: ‘You know, Rachael, I see this book thing making a comeback. Books are going to be bigger than podcasts and Facebook. Here’s a whole lot of money for you to write a book about goldfish.’ Then he’ll give me some money, and fantasy me doesn’t have a pathological fear of either flying or food poisoning, so I pack up my things and buy an extra camera body and off I go, then I write one hell of a book, and Harpers publishes a chapter, and I am happy.

Until then I have to find a way to make a start on the next part of my thesis. Starting things is perhaps more difficult than finishing them. When writing something lengthy you start from vagueness, then painfully move towards structure, and then structure makes the writing possible, and even on the worst days at least you can get up and write something because you know what you’re doing. But now I’ve finished the first bit and have to move on to the next one, and it’s as if all the books that I must read in my office have become everyone who ever called me ‘weird’ in high school, every mean teacher, every bitchy girl, and I would much rather peel off my own eyelids than deal with that. So I dream about books I could write and play with the cat and watch a lot of ‘Lost,’ and I also make salad, which is perhaps not such a bad thing.

Roast Pumpkin and Haloumi Salad
Adapted from Delicious Magazine. Serves two for dinner

• Half a butternut pumpkin, peeled and cut into 2cm chunks
• 250g haloumi (aka one block)
• Couple rocket, washed and dried
• 2 generous tbsp basil pesto
• Red wine vinegar
• Olive oil

Preheat the oven to 200 degrees C. Spray a baking tray with olive oil, tip in the pumpkin cubes then spray again. Season with a little salt, pepper and ground ginger if you like. Bake for 30 minutes or until the pumpkin is soft, golden and fragrant.

Meanwhile, put the basil pesto in a small bowl and loosen with olive oil and vinegar to taste to a thickish, dressing-like consistency. In the original recipe Belinda Jeffries, bless her cotton socks, made a nice, fresh basil dressing using a blender, but I do not have one and also it is my birthday in April.

When the pumpkin is done leave it in the switched-off oven to stay warm whil eyou fry the haloumi. Fillet the block of haloumi in half, then slice in half crossways. Slice lengthwise into thin strips. Heat a small amount of olive oil in a frying pan until fryingly hot, then fry the strips quickly on both sides until golden, melty and delicious looking. Drain on paper towels.

Put the rocket into a salad bowl, then toss together dressing, pumpkin and haloumi. Serve.