Ants sugar lust, gilligans porridge and the wars

Gilligan island poridge

i wasnt going to cook porridge this morning as I was up early shooting butterfiles on Braemaer hill. Porridge’s cousin muesli, was programmed into my head as a quick and efficient breakfast. U ntil i eneter the kitchen. Oats from the box on the shelf somehow got into my hand as a means of transferenece to the pot. The same hand opened the fridge as if possed by the God of strange new possidges and blogging continuity gudieng me , pulling ingredients for me from recesses of the fridge I had never before visited . A squishy bana came out followed by a box of of palm sugar, tamarrinds, desicate coconut that i had bought from a spice store in the wanchai markets. A foil package of left over rice from a Thai meal the othernight.
made it into the other hand. I closed the fridge door with my hip, emptying all the ingredients into the pot sans water for a new approach on ingredients photography,. with just a little banna saved for raw power and as garnish for the final icture. Now if nutmeg banished fatique, the smell of palm sugar boiling in a pot togethre with cocunut and bana awakens n exotic dancer in ones imagination. suddenly the kitchen had become a thatch hut down in the mekong Delta. barebummed babies scamperiing at the feet of Grandmothers with big red betel nut smiles stewing, pythons in rtrees, mangroves , rice paddies and meals served on banna leaves to the sound of sixties music, helicopters and gunfire in the back ground. The kitchen smelt like Vietnma, but wait, another war, the Great wars were also being olfactorily conjured. Why. Its was strange. then it hit me. Oast and coconut. An aussie classic combo in ANZAC cookies, which are the traditional aussie morning tea tucker on this day of remeberance for all the men who died in wars for Australia ( And the Brittish Empire as it was back then from where the oats undoubtedly orginated).


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