A lunch to remember
A thick gold squash soup, with or without a secret ingredient, earthy bread and luscious butter.
A pomegranate jewelled baba ganoush, that I now think of by its Lebanese name, moutabal.
Three salads in the colours of spring: green leaves of goodness, pearl grained quinoa, deep pink beetroot.
Pillowy potatoes baked in their skins and chicken that I can’t stop thinking about (and must remember to get the recipe for).
A wholesome hunk of banana bread, made lovingly late last night, and pressed into my hands as I leave, early and reluctantly, wishing I could be in at least two places at once.
And the company. Warm and bright against the rain, welcoming me back. Then setting me off into the world again, a spinning top, refreshed and lightened.