PEEP-This is the mailbox of Read On. I am currently not at home but when you want to leave a message and a number I am happy to call you back. In the meantime: Read on. PEEP
This is only partly true, because I am indeed at home, taking a long and hot bath because if you dear reader could see me, you would start to shiver as I do. Because I am cold and this is an euphemism for how cold I really am. I am shivering as the proverbial tailor and feel like having survived a field trip to arctic regions, even if it was only Polo Crosse and Gaelic Football, where I strapped way to many fingers and knuckles and froze. And no telephone ringing as loud and as long as it would, could get my out of the tub right now. And so I hear after another PEEP dear friend K. saying: „Hi Read On, sorry for calling back so late but I would love to come to supper and J. wants to join too. By the way, she does PALEO now, hope that doesn’t bother you too much. See you at 7 PM! And when another PEEP is to be heard, I shiver but now not only because I am so cold. As glad as I am that K. will come, as less enthusiastic I am about him bringing J. I, by the way even on good days look like a sullen sister of Gundel Gaukeley whereas J. looks glamorous even when wearing a Onesie. J. would even look good dead. And J. has very special habits. She was vegan for some years, accusing me of cruelty while serving a very good roasted duck, then a period of gluten-free lifestyle followed and I remember the one and only cake I threw out, because I couldn’t cope with the recipe, of course she has a lactose allergy, a period of separating food in a scheme of colors followed, of course I failed here too and soon after she gave me a box of deep-sea fish oil capsules to get better in shape. I still try to convince Queen Cat to swallow them done. Of course I fail. And so I am only slightly surprised that obviously PALEO now is the newest hot thing in town. But my knowledge of the Stone Age is to put it frankly, pretty small. And with sheer horror I think of the creamy potato mash on the oven, because even I know that America appeared a few centuries later, let alone the strawberry cake in the fridge as well as the braised lambshank with rosmarine and green beans waiting to be heated within another pot the kitchen table. I have no idea what to serve to J. Should I ask the grocer’s wife for an alive chicken, to be placed in a basket on J. side of the table, the knife hidden in a tissue? Where to buy moose juice on a Sunday afternoon? Do I have to dig a hole in the garden, where under ash meat will be roasted slowly? And wouldn’t the neighbors not be slightly concerned? Should I just offer some apples that fell from the trees and is there a way to brew mead? In my imagination everyone in the Stone Age had a sip of this especially awful beverage. And when, oh when became food such a complicated thing? Wish me luck for tonight.