We have a family birthday today, and the request has come in for homard (lobster) à l’Amoricaine. I had been to the fishmonger and put in a special order for two live lobsters last week, the other ingredients are lined up, and we are good to go.
Today is the 1st of March (you probably noticed), Saint David’s day. Saint David is the patron saint of Wales, land of song, rugby, daffodils, leeks, welsh cakes and bara brith.
I remember the sense of eating these little morsels being a treat. Eating when I wasn’t normally allowed to, where I wasn’t normally allowed to. The sensory experience not just in the mouth but in the hands, the involvement of me, the eater, in getting to the tasty bit, these are things that I remember most clearly. I still adore food that gives me that sense of treat, and above all of involvement.
Eating in unexpected places is thoroughly joyful, and the food becomes more interesting. In the same way as chips are never quite as perfect as when eaten from their paper wrapping, perched outside, any number of other foods become exciting and new when the meal is eaten camping out around the place, even if it’s just in the living room.