Feast

I had yet another feast last night—yes, my stomach is filing for overtime. This time, I was dined at the home of Sara and John, my once-neighbours-now-forever-friends. Sara is a brilliant artist with the soul of a poet and John, the composer behind Downton Abbey (yes, that John), who also moonlights as a culinary wizard.
The pièce de résistance? Asparagus soup with lobster and prawn balls, delicately garnished with wild garlic shoots freshly plucked from their garden—as if the garden itself had joined the dinner party. Divine doesn’t begin to cover it. Honestly, I’m blessed with friends who can rival a Michelin tasting menu. Today, I really should fast. In-sha-la! (Or at least pretend to until lunch.)