It was supposed to rain.
All day.
But it was gone by lunch hour.
So I took a walk.
When I returned, I was treated to a lovely homemade dinner by Vicki. She's from the Philippines and I don't know if her dishes were more reflective of the Philippines or England. Either way, it was delicious! Funny thing, the parts she assumed were to be eaten, I didn't eat much of, and the parts she assumed to be ignored, I ate completely.
Stew: pork belly cubes (i.e. 90% fat), onions?, fresh ginger slices, white cabbage chunks.
Rice: white - not instant.
Side: Pork chops in an unidentified yellow sauce - not mustard.
Drink: wine - light dry white to start, sweeter white to finish.
After dinner: small amount of port, hibiscus tea from Texas.
I ate the ginger slices first. For those of you who don't regularly explore ginger root as a seasoning for savory dishes, it is a lovely experience. But more to the point, the ginger in this dish was yellow (not pink like what I'm used to at home) and not the slightest bit spicy. If I bit into a 1inch slice of ginger at home, I would by crying, coughing, and drinking as much water as possible. This yellow ginger had all the taste, no heat. I had to laugh when Vicki saw me eat one. I didn't expect her to wrinkle her nose and act shocked, but everyone else at the table (Colin and their other long-term house guest Davy) didn't act like it was strange. So we talked about ginger for a while.
I did not eat the pork fat..... at first. I was slicing the end meat off (~.1 oz) and eating it with the other stew bits. But then Vicki seamed concerned that I wasn't eating enough, so I ate most of the fat in my bowl, gobbled down the rice and pork chop, and politely waved off seconds.
I suppose since the table was 3/4 full of world travelers, all 50+, the conversations were all over the place. No one seemed very anxious to leave the table. My favorite type of atmosphere. We watched a major soccer match after dinner (kind of like the NBA's sweet 16), then retired to the kitchen for more conversation and hibiscus tea.
I was having such a lovely time that I refused to take any pictures. Just too lovely being in the moment.
But before sleep could save me, I felt the oppressive sadness of missing my children & husband. I ended up fixating on one of my more common gestures, caressing their cheeks. Lying there, I could just nearly feel the ultra-soft, plump skin of Zoe's & Blake's faces, and the stubble of Jeff's on the palm of my right hand and finger tips.
All day.
But it was gone by lunch hour.
So I took a walk.
 |
| War Memorial Park |
 |
| At the current rate, that's $1602. |
 |
| The only way to walk - unknown garden paths. |
 |
| Found a hidden gate. |
When I returned, I was treated to a lovely homemade dinner by Vicki. She's from the Philippines and I don't know if her dishes were more reflective of the Philippines or England. Either way, it was delicious! Funny thing, the parts she assumed were to be eaten, I didn't eat much of, and the parts she assumed to be ignored, I ate completely.
Stew: pork belly cubes (i.e. 90% fat), onions?, fresh ginger slices, white cabbage chunks.
Rice: white - not instant.
Side: Pork chops in an unidentified yellow sauce - not mustard.
Drink: wine - light dry white to start, sweeter white to finish.
After dinner: small amount of port, hibiscus tea from Texas.
I ate the ginger slices first. For those of you who don't regularly explore ginger root as a seasoning for savory dishes, it is a lovely experience. But more to the point, the ginger in this dish was yellow (not pink like what I'm used to at home) and not the slightest bit spicy. If I bit into a 1inch slice of ginger at home, I would by crying, coughing, and drinking as much water as possible. This yellow ginger had all the taste, no heat. I had to laugh when Vicki saw me eat one. I didn't expect her to wrinkle her nose and act shocked, but everyone else at the table (Colin and their other long-term house guest Davy) didn't act like it was strange. So we talked about ginger for a while.
I did not eat the pork fat..... at first. I was slicing the end meat off (~.1 oz) and eating it with the other stew bits. But then Vicki seamed concerned that I wasn't eating enough, so I ate most of the fat in my bowl, gobbled down the rice and pork chop, and politely waved off seconds.
I suppose since the table was 3/4 full of world travelers, all 50+, the conversations were all over the place. No one seemed very anxious to leave the table. My favorite type of atmosphere. We watched a major soccer match after dinner (kind of like the NBA's sweet 16), then retired to the kitchen for more conversation and hibiscus tea.
I was having such a lovely time that I refused to take any pictures. Just too lovely being in the moment.
But before sleep could save me, I felt the oppressive sadness of missing my children & husband. I ended up fixating on one of my more common gestures, caressing their cheeks. Lying there, I could just nearly feel the ultra-soft, plump skin of Zoe's & Blake's faces, and the stubble of Jeff's on the palm of my right hand and finger tips.
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