A gift

We are the only customers. In a street of restaurants there are only a few people in each. It's lunchtime, I'm sure evenings are busier. After our meal the chef chats with us, about how he orders his spices direct, his son who is studying to become a doctor, the regional variety of cuisine, how all meals are celebrations. 

My neighbours have their food delivered in boxes, I often see them on their doorsteps, a set of pre-prepared ingredients, ready to unpack and assemble, like flat-pack furniture. Food for two, or maybe one. Chosen from a menu offering neatly boxed, consistent, reliable diversity. Italian, Indian, Chinese, Mexican. 

The chef tells us he has chosen not to have peshwari naan on the menu, only plain and garlic naan. Western taste, he says, is to have everything sweet, but some plainness helps you appreciate the subtle mix of spices in a dish. 

under grey skies

a gust of wind delivers

pin-pricks of drizzle

a gift of 

hot chai tea

Blithe Spirit Vol 36 No 2 May 2026