- 4 slices of sunflower seed loaf purchased at 6 am amongst bread brothers and that require passing a Banksy to get to the seller
- 6 eggs beaten to fuel the body to boomerang from Hackney to Bear Market, the Tate, and Greenwich.
- Just a touch of salt and pepper that spice the dish so that the non-Indian doesn’t end up sneezing and getting hiccups (a common occurrence accompanying a chili pepper)
- A chunk of butter to fatten the skinny Londoner who spends too much time biking and not enough time eating
- Splashes of milk making the eggs fluffy, creamy and cozy, much like the guest at the end of the meal
- 3 garlic cloves to ward off the vampires and to test the strength of friendship
- Portobello mushroom that adds volume and girth
- A couple springs of rosemary freshly picked from the outback garden that is dominated by sunflowers and London clouds (Note picture 4 of the previous post)
- 10 large leafs of spinach that put the veg in vegetarian
- 10 vine tomatoes to color the painting of food
- 1 leek shoot for what purpose I do not know but when in Stoke Newington due as they do
- A couple of spoons of olive oil because once you start, you can never go back
- 1 boiled beetroot sliced from the garden of the cook’s father in the North who rents from the government a plot of land to grow magical food like these beets
- A block of feta, the crumbly kind, that you can’t help eating as it’s cut into rectangular chunks
- 15 halved black olives which double as eyes and help you see the culinary adventure from all angles
- A large kettle of Darjeeling tea, scents of the Himalayas, journeying us back to Kathmandu where we first met in the dowdy office where tea was always offered. Then to the countryside of Chitwan where a squeeze of a bull’s tit provided the milk for chai and much entertainment as the non-farmer tried the udder. And up the hills of the Khumbu where black tea shot the body with warmth and an unintended red. A drink that turns strangers so easily into friends.
On the table, have a photo book of the world, where the cook is your cameraman. Share “a Sunday smile” and perhaps whip out the yuke and strum along. Skip’s allowed to sing as long as she doesn’t start blowing in the wind. Dig in with Mush and enjoy enjoy enjoy.