sofasurfers

You may – or may not – recall my acute case of CGS (couchsurfing guilt syndrome) in Mongolia where I was shown photo after photo of my host’s guests creating culinary delight after culinary delight for their host. I then spent my three days in solitary confinement on the train vowing to cook, trying to unhibernate some classic British recipe from the dusty archives of my mind. I questioned my Vladivostok host on this – so does everyone cook for you? “No! Please tell me what I am doing wrong. I have had forty guests [a lot by couchsurfing standards], and not one has cooked for me.” I knew that I couldn’t really live with myself if I ducked out of this challenge. So, faced with another challenge of a vegetarian – Stasia – in our midsts (did I say – I forget – it’s another clear characteristic of couchsurfers; I’ve had three vegetarian hosts so far), I set about not making too much of a mess of… you guessed it, Cauliflower Cheese. Of course, I burnt the white sauce, the white sauce curdled and went watery, and I only served up at like 11pm (not entirely my fault, but too dull to divulge why). Actually, I give to you the new Russian name for Cauliflower Cheese, courtesy of Natie, my host, and it’s infinitely more poetic: ‘White Trees’. Too pretty a name for something that was too ugly to photograph.