Sigyn and I were so busy traipsing about after the humans in the Big City to the South, hauling things in and out of bookstores, playing hide-and-seek in pen emporia, slurping noodles, and frolicking among the produce that we BOTH forgot that the 28th was our Anniversary!
We are making up for that now by having a lovely dinner at the local Lebanese restaurant. It’s not much for atmosphere, being a small family-run place, but the food is usually first-rate.
We’re starting with what must be one of the most unlikely dishes in this realm. Take a large, blackish-purple vegetable with no taste of its own, roast it until it turns completely black and smells like burning luggage, then smash it up and add unconscionable quantities of oil, sesame paste, and Frigga knows what-all.
And it turns into this. Babaga-something-or-other.
Just because I can’t remember how to SPELL it doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate its smoky, smashy goodness.
Time for the main course! Grilled chicken and veggies on skewers (pointy things–I approve!), yummy flat bread, and fluffy rice with saffron and… and…
What are those red things, Sigyn?
Ah. Right. Barberries. Fluffy rice with saffron and barberries. Perfect.
I don’t know about this green stuff, though. Green is great, yes, but what is this for? How am I supposed to eat it? No one has ever been able to tell me.
Sigyn says that chewing on the parsley after eating the meal will make your breath sweet, that chlorophyll is a natural breath-freshener. I wouldn’t know — I’ve never kissed a cow.
I’ve decided that this dinner will be the mortals’ present to us.
That means this is theirs.