Last month, with little warning, Chris bought an air ticket to Greece. His three children had gathered on the island of Paros for the dying days of summer, giving him a rare opportunity to see them together, as they all live on separate continents. It was an out-of-character, impetuous move on Chris’s part, but one I wholly supported.
When I’m introduced to a new indigenous ingredient, I experience a similar reaction to that of a prospector unearthing a new mineral deposit. My eyes alight. I examine and prod and my fingertips tingle. I giggle. I have an urge to squirrel away what I come across until, that is, my taste buds demand a part of the action.
These are flavors few people out of Africa have tasted.
The Elephant Café, in which I am a partner and the Chef de Cuisine, is two months old today. Instead of writing about its story so far, I have chosen instead to compile a slideshow that illustrates it. As you can see, I’m in heaven … 🙂
With grateful thanks to Hugh Masekela for his sublime Grazing in the Grass.
A stretch of shimmering light reflecting off countless fresh water fish ponds now fills our distant view in place of untended lifeless land. For me, who since arriving in Livingstone, has been in search of fresh fish to cook and eat, it was a welcome silencing of some serious foodie lamentations.
The day I discovered that so many flowers were edible transformed how I prepared and presented my food. Edible flowers not only bring color and texture to a dish, but also flavor and scent. They transform the plating of both sweet and savory dishes, they flavor hot and cold drinks, and they jazz up ice cubes.
Our world, it seems, is descending down a refuse-filled vortex not unlike that after you’ve pulled the plug on dirty dishwater. This can’t be happening … this cannot be true … are disbeliefs expressed in this household and proved otherwise time and again. Shootings, terror attacks, uprisings; lies, racism, nationalist zealotry.