The promise of music

We now have a piano in the house. It arrived a few days ago, this gleaming black thing, filled with the promise of music. Promise, because none of us can play. But we have a little girl who's eager to learn; she had her first lesson today.

The house sounds wonderful - off key, off pitch, off to a new start of some kind. As Chotto-ma and the piano get to know each other, the teacup rattles on its saucer. But there's something in this early tunelessness that makes me glad. The house is writing its own song. There's D playing his guitar, Chotto-ma tinkering with the piano, sunlight fumbling on the sofa, and me groping for words. Flimsy things that leave such a definite impression on the mind. There's nothing like it - the three of us at home, feeling around, filling our own spaces, feet touching.

This morning, Chotto-ma's frenetic bout of 'composing' on the piano resulted in two pieces, one of which she called 'Walking through the forest'. The piece starts with the quiet trickle of a stream. The hop of a bunny. Leaves crunching. Deer scampering. And then it all takes a terrible turn. The growl of a lion. A loud, breathless chase. Crescendo, crescendo. And finally - utter, deathly silence. Dhang! 

Yes, I might need ear-plugs soon, but for now, it's all good. There's that promise of music. A tune blinking in the distance. The possibility of beauty in a row of black and white keys. A seed has been planted, and our spring is beginning to sound like a piano.

We went to the market today. Everything's ablaze. The English spring is an extravagant creature. The stalls are reeling with colour and smell and a circus of seasonal produce. The flowers and fruits are showing off. The tomatoes are ridiculously red. We got some ridiculously-red tomatoes home, and I charred a few on an open fire, and made a sauce that tastes like our spring.

Ablaze and strong and full of feisty music.



Hot Charred-Tomato Sauce

This packs a punch. It's very garlicky, it's extra-spicy, and for me at the moment, it beats sriracha hands down. It's the simplest thing to make, especially during a barbecue. We add it to everything nowadays - in soup, in a burger, as a dip, dolloped into pasta, as a marinade or in a sandwich. It's gloriously good, with a personality to boot.

Ingredients

1 large, red tomato
2 cloves of garlic
2 green chillies
Salt

Char the tomato on a barbecue, or an open flame. I held my tomato above a hot hob with tongs, turning it this way and that, till the skin blackened.
Peel some of the skin off, leaving some charred bits sticking on. It gives the sauce a fabulous smokiness.
Put the charred tomato, garlic and chillies in a processor and blitz.
Add salt to taste.
Done. Smear.

(We had ours with courgette fritters today) 

So good.