In a few short hours one of these fine specimens scored on Victor Hugo market, Toulouse will find itself in a pan the temperature of the sun. An attempt to cool it down with Britain’s finest batter will fail. Ovenpower scorches the sausage, fills the oven with black fatsmoke and raises the batter into a series of frazzled golden hillocks as a toad in the hole manages to successfully infiltrate French territory. It won’t be the ultimate but, if all goes well, it will be goodimate and it will be blogged. Long time since I kitchen blogged. Eel porridge, nearly three years ago, to be exact. I hope I’m up to the task.