Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Bouquet and Banquet (Smell)

Lead with your nose. Fresh-cut flowers. The salty cure of bacon
frying on November mornings, beside sunny eggs dappled with grease,
mushrooms turned grey, and the brown-glass shards of caramelising onions
that cut through cloudcover and damp leaf smell. Cod and haddock
at war for your chippy. Malt vinegar. Vietnamese coffee with condensed milk,
the sweet paradise from a tin, imbibed in glass cups. Notes of cinnamon.
Cardamom, ginger, paprika and thyme. That clean waft of tender flesh, game on
game row, a rose red smell of sinew and fat on hook and on slab.
Russian pancakes: origami serviettes clutching rice and spring onion,
blinis with apple and syrup. Cocoa butter and olive oil upon Empired skin.
Pasties to suit you: handmade, fluffy. Potato and meat, parcelled in Yorkshire
pastry—hearty, homely—most definitely the food of Leodesian gods. Take it all in.

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