My food mojo has not so much got itself stuck into a rut as fallen to the bottom of an enormous canyon. Getting out, to paraphrase MacBeth, is just a bit too much like hard work.
On the other hand, there are no rules against cooking at the bottom of a canyon.
At Iona's request, and instead of our usual chicken in sauce with green vegetables and rice/potato/pasta or some variation of mince with green vegetables and rice/potato/pasta, I made roasted tomato soup. It has such a beautiful depth of flavour, and super easy to make. Just roast some tomatoes, onion, garlic and a capsicum or two on low heat until they're starting to brown, then chuck in some canned tomatoes and turn up the heat until it all starts to burn caramelise. Chuck it all into a pot with some chicken stock, heat gently, and whizz until as smooth as you like it. I don't bother about removing skins and pips. You could chuck a lump of creme fraiche or some such thing into the middle of it to serve if you like it creamy.
The rule in our house is that if we have soup for dinner, we also have dessert. Big dessert, lots of dessert. Banana optional. It's an excellent rule.
While the soup was simmering, Iona and I went out into the garden to pick things. Because I have the kind of a garden in which you can pick things. The parsley got thrown into the soup, and the pumpkin put out on the deck to harden off. I'm planning a pork, pumpkin, sage and ricotta canneloni for that baby. Yummy, yum, yum, yum! The beans are safely stored away in the pantry in case I feel the desperate need to make some homemade baked beans at some point. It could happen.
The mojo may be lost, but she surely isn't dead.