I am carving my own gastronomic fate here in Bourneville ward where there is no chocolate. You will have gathered that food plays a big part in my life as I have eulogised over the best gastronomy of France, Italy, Wales even. When I got the death sentence I took it on myself to make every meal, a meal to remember; quite a challenge for those around me. I have planned trips, scoured guides. Thank goodness the chemo didn't alter my taste buds and thank goodness my nearest and dearest like to eat too. And we are catholic in our tastes so Dad's Lane fish and chips and the pensioners' egg and chip special up the co-op feature in my drooling.
Being in hospital does not suit these foodie passions one little bit so I am on hunger strike from their slop. I have tried to down it, tried to make the best of a bad job, but it's no good, it's not worth the candle. I don't have a massive appetite as I am hardly using up loads of calories so my needs are small in size but huge in expectations.
I eat their breakfast, a few oranges and a weetabix. Then whoever is visiting at two is tasked with bringing me the loveliest, freshest, fullest flavour bursting sandwich they can find from Pret or Philpotts. Ok I will do with M and S at a push. Trouble is they all have busy lives and Stewart just doesn' t have a sandwich instinct unless its ham or cheese with none of that filthy mayo. I adore filthy mayo mixed with any other fancy filth you can throw at it. Luke is my best bet if he can get his act together.
Then for dinner I want more small explosions of flavour. Last night I ordered two perfect lamb chops, just on the turn re bloodiness and with foccacio bread. This was from Stewart and he managed to pull it off with magnificence. I am sure I would have overcooked them in his place but these were superb, drool, drool. I was grunting orgasmically all the way through.
I have read about this capsule eating they go in for in New York, Paris etc when for a ridiculous amount of rich persons money they can order perfect little meals that arrive by courier at exactly the right moment. Yes this is what we want. Why can't I pick up a menu from one of my favourite eateries, choose a bit here and a bit there and have it delivered to Bournville ward. An opening here for someone although I am not sure the Market is huge.
So my taste buds are working in anticipation of that sarnie and for tonight I have asked Stewart to rustle up more foccacio, half to mop up a small tomato salad and the other half slathered in the muit-cuit fois gras entiere that we just happen to have in the fridge, followed by raspberry jelly, low sugar of course. Bon appetit.