A Symphony of Echoes (The Chronicles of St Mary's, #2)

by Jodi Taylor

It was that wonderful moment when you’ve been prepared for a prolonged and unpleasant session of projectile vomiting and then, without warning, it subsides and you suddenly fancy a bacon sandwich.

First, catch your dodo. Marinade in lemon juice, or something equally acidic for as long as possible. Preferably overnight. Stuff with breadcrumbs, roughly chopped onions, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Season robustly, lay on a wide plank or something similar, and cook over an open fire or BBQ until the juices run clear. Carefully separate the light meat from the dark. Throw the whole lot away and eat the plank.

As a chef I love love loved this one

If we wanted to eat then we’d have to steal it – with all the dangers of being caught. Hanged. Hands chopped off. Impaled. Not all at the same time, obviously, but none of it was good.

‘You’re not drinking my urine.’ ‘That’s a little selfish. Surely, in our current crisis, we should be working together. I’m rather disappointed in this “me first” attitude.’ ‘Fine. Half a pint of Maxwell’s Old Peculiar coming right up. Get it while it’s still warm.’

Okay bathroom humor-still funny