He had it all himself: fresh hot waffles, accompanied by really special vanilla ice-cream and hot cherries, and topped by a dollop of cream! I shouldn’t admit to it, but I really hoped he might not quite finish it so that I could experience the explosion of tastes this food must produce in your mouth when you eat it. I could hardly control myself just looking at it.
It wasn’t my lucky day though. He finished each and every bit of it. Each and every bit. Not too long ago, we would have thrown that stuff into a mixer so that Pádraig could it eat. The thing is: this kind of food, any food, does not just tickle your taste buds in your mouth – it also looks incredibly attractive and smells just gorgeous. But: imagine what the plate would have looked like, if that food would have been mixed together and put back on that plate. My own guess is: pretty disgusting.
We are trying out and do things here every day, we would not do at home (at least not at that frequency). We are going out for a walk in sub-zero temperatures (ok, they’re *short* walks, but: nonetheless); we are doing ‘Mittagessen’ and ‘Kaffeetrinken’ and ‘Abendessen’ out of the house – at a street food kiosk, a cosy restaurant overlooking a quaint little harbour, in a coffee shop beside the sea.
Beats any kind of therapy (sorryyyy:), beats hanging out in the house watching the news for the umteenth time (and they don’t get better by watching them all over again and again), even beats eating my brilliant and tasty home-made food day after day after day.
It is really exhausting. But it is fabulous.