Failure.

Yep. I think we can say that my first attempt at making a spanish potato omelette was a categorical failure. There was just enough of a whisper of a taste of what it was meant to be like that I could appreciate the gap between my efforts and the ideal and was confirmed in my belief that this would, theoretically, be a good use for leftover saffron potatoes. It was burnt at the bottom, it was raw at the top - I gave up and mashed it all together to cook the egg. Back to intensive study of 1080 before I try this one again. 

Goodness knows why I bothered given that I spent most of the day at a baby shower for L.R. which was a full spread of every kind of Haberfield goodness. Cheese in all it's best forms: blue vein marscapone, prima donna, provolone, ricotta mixed through with herbs and chili... ah. Cheese. 

I have put a deposit on my ticket by the way; the idea is to spend some time on the Isle of Arran (and maybe some other scottish islands) and a little time in London, then head over to Paris for the first time - I plan to eat myself stupid. This had probably better follow the hiking on Arran...