Since Maria’s gone, I’m free (and please note that this is not necessarily a positive use of the word ‘free’) to eat badly. She has been discipling me in culinary quality, while I turn toast into an Olympic sport.
Last night, I slightly over-compensated by making one of the greatest meals ever: almost entirely composed of out-of-date ingredients. This is living on the edge – when you have to pray over your food cos you know that it should really be in the bin (or in the dog, if we had a dog). Left-over this and out-of-date that, with a little bit of couscous that has been lying in the cupboard undisturbed for a few months, and what do you know? It was AMAZING. So good that, instead of saving some for today’s lunch, I ate for two and had to go and walk it off …
When life leads you in search of thrills, O Reader, should they not begin at the dinner table? My bottom may come to regret these decisions, but my soul (and tastebuds) rejoice.