School of Life.

I both teach and am taught at The School of Life.

That's the way it works.
Only I don't get to choose which day I'm teacher or student.

Like anyone else, I just go about my daily business and sometimes I return home having taught or been taught a life lesson.
I find that exciting.

The best example I can give, casually happened a few years ago at my Uncle Ernst's 80th birthday party.
All right when I was giving almost all of my attention to Viv's baked ricotta.
No warning.
No fanfare.
No fade to black or imperial gongs sounding at the end.

Just me, left sitting, annihilated, with a kinda joyous yet embarrassed smirk, after having been utterly humbled by the realisation of something I already knew to be true.

That no matter what, there's always someone better off and someone worse off than you.
And sometimes the universe is so kind as to sit them to either side of you in order to better demonstrate it's point.

At Ernie's party, I sat with my Aunty Kit to my left, while to my right I had tuned into a conversation between another guest and Viv, both aged around 60 something.

They were both teary eyed and consoling each other that they had lost their mother's at too young an age. They had both been around 40-45 when they had experienced this loss.

Now, of course, having been in my teens when my own mother was diagnosed and died from breast cancer, I confess I found their complaints a little steep.
So, I indulged in a little inward eye rolling, thinking of course that I was so much more to be pitied than them.
They'd both had the opportunity to know their mother's for 40 years!

Who the hell were they to be complaining?

You get the picture.

So, perhaps in an effort to disguise the self righteous look an my face, I turned to start a conversation with my aunt.

And that's when I noticed the look on her face.

The next split second saw my self respect reeling as I remembered that Aunty Kit's mother had died in childbirth.

Who the hell was I to be complaining?

It was a queer feeling.
A little like breathing in and out at the same time. Like a vacuum. Or like when you're standing in the surf and you feel like you're moving when you're not. Retro grade, I think they call it.

Anyway, here's my recipe for BAKED RICOTTA, just in case you'd like to chance your arm.
I can never make or eat it now without thinking back to this experience and being grateful for the lesson.

• 750gm fresh ricotta (from the deli not from the tub, not fat free either, it's pooh)
• salt, pepper, chilli flakes, sprigs of fresh thyme because it looks nice
• olive oil
• mix ricotta in a bowl with seasoning
• prepare pans by brushing with loads of olive oil, if I'm feeling paranoid, I used Glad Bake as well (that's most of the time, let's face it)
  
• I sprinkle cracked pepper and chilli flakes on the base, that's up to you
  
• I also place a few sprigs of fresh thyme on the base, that's up to you
  
• press into non stick loaf pan or into a few smaller mini loaf pans - it's no big deal, it doesn't rise, you could even use muffin tins or friand tins
  
• drizzle with a little extra olive oil
  
• bake in moderate oven until it looks nice and golden brown around the edges - usually 20 -30 mins depending on your pan choice
  
• cool in pan as it will be all wobbly
• up end onto serving plate
  
• surround with semi dried tomatoes (if you want to) & serve with crackers

Fade to black.