Food, glorious food

I’m travelling and, due to timings, have skipped lunch, aiming for an early dinner. My tummy keeps reminding me through the afternoon as I work (no sabbath for the closet religious). By the time the hotel restaurant opens I am starving and almost deliriously fantasising about food. The menu is dreary but the cooking is competent (steak, sweet potato chips, winter greens, wine, whisky). Meanwhile, …

Posh venison fillet steak. Scorpion and duck soup. Duck tongues. Fish ‘n’ chips — searing hot gobbled down on a chilly sea front; my native food. Roast chicken + bottle of vodka ditto. Street food — roast chestnuts; nameless fish fresh from the river gutted beheaded fried and slapped into a bun. Junk food — went through a phase devoted to Big Macs (DLW does not approve). Making food — breads, stir-fries, all kinds of porridge and stew, ice cream. Sharing food — they’ve eaten it all! Huddled round a table at the sauna with sausages, vodka and beer. Growing food — hard hard potatoes with the most delicious flavour; powerful garlic; bright parsley; sweet bay plucked from the tree.

Celebrating creation, celebrating God’s treasures He has filled the world with for our nutrition and pleasure. I thank the generous Lord above for every potato, every fresh fish, every mound of dough softly rising.

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