Allow me to introduce you to the world of grey food. Not rather grey, not quite grey, not fairly grey, not greyish but completely grey, utterly grey, absolutely grey – a dismal, dreary, drab, depressing grey.
The Chinese have a saying: may you live in exciting times. (Well we certainly do live in exciting times, what with our various crises – economic, ecological, socio and geo-political, moral and spiritual).
But the Spanish greeting: may nothing new happen to you today is more to my taste, so the following incident took me by surprise; it was unexpected; it came at me from an angle low on my left flank while I was looking the other way, (it came as a bolt out of the blue).
It’s dinner time. First there is the usual yellow soup, which is OK if one is partial to that kind of thing – as for me, I can take it or leave it but what the heck, we eat to live here (not the other way round).
Then you can knock me sideways and call me Dick Turpin if the main course doesn’t turn out be more soup, but not just any old soup, this stuff is special, this stuff is grey! Well I’ll be jiggered, I think, whatever will these inventive and resourceful people come up with next? Blue spaghetti, green potatoes … anyway grey soup was a «first» for me.
- Name Farinho de pão
- Colour Grey
- Odour Fishy, definitely fishy
- Shape Amorphous
- Texture Viscose
We are served thus: a dose/dollop/splurge of the stuff/substance is ladled/sloshed onto our (not-soup-but-normal) plates, in such a way that there is a slight danger of the capillary effect coming into play in cases of plate-overload (which can be messy believe me, very messy). The buzz-word of the meal (farinho de pão) started at one end of the dining hall and spread/creaked/rumbled from table to table like a mournful mantra. I calculate that these immortal words (farinho de pão) were repeated (in tedious succession) between 50 and 60 times.
Hey-ho, grey thoughts on a grey day.