This is just the sort of bowl of food I crave after a period of indulgence or zig-zig travelling – textural, colourful, every mouthful a different flavour. The fact that it is highly nutritious and exactly what my body needs is almost incidental.
If I have time I love to go to a chi-chi, upscale food market and inhale with my eyes and nose all of the colourful produce that inevitably spills from rustic woven baskets and hand-hewn wooden crates. I will read the smudged chalkboard signs, pick up (and sniff, and squeeze – gently) new seasons’ specimens, and basically lose all sense of perspective and bank balance, cramming as much of the rainbow as I can into my own basket. That creamy, tight-curded cauliflower; those misshapen and slightly ogre-like striped tomatoes; and certainly a scoop of Italian Nocellara del Belice olives (current savoury food crush).
I get rather giddy at my momentary poshness, if I am honest. Until I look down at my scruffy, supermarket-bought trainers and my un-manicured hands. “Ach well”, as we say in Scotland. Continue reading