Happy Days

I went shopping yesterday. It was a special expedition with my friend, who for her own reasons has been unavailable lately. She was hosting a birthday lunch for a mutual friend, and invited me. Her usual response to "what can I bring" is "nothing." She is most generous and has a heart the size of Uluru. But her kindness is sporadic, because she is rarely around.


I have a list of new year's resolutions as long as my arm (see previous blog for an abridged version), which will keep me on my toes for the next twelve months. Impulsively, I added her to my list of projects.

I would tell her I missed her. I would suggest she think about revising her comprehensive travel plans and embrace more routinely the every day, at home with friends who miss her. So, on her shady veranda gazing out over the treetops to the water below, I listened to her youngest child complaining about her absent mother and energetically joined in the fray.

It was a loving ambush. She blushed and was momentarily defensive. I took a breath, warmed up to the task and told her about the three or four mutual friends who have almost given up on her, because they never know when she will be in town. When we phone her, I say, we never know where she is. She might be trekking in Tibet, meditating in India, cruising in Croatia, sailing down the Nile or catching the tennis at Wimbledon.

Lucky her, I can hear you, and yes, the green eyed monster lives here too. Suffice to say exchanging pleasantries regularly and face to face beats intermittent, crappy and expensive mobile connections.

But best not to bang on, I thought. The next strategy was to suggest a practical, simple way to reconnect and so I focussed on the forthcoming lunch.

"Lets buy the food together. We can have coffee first and discuss the menu. Then we can pick it up and go back to your place and prepare it together."

She looked stricken. Had I stepped over the line? This was way too confronting. Her daughter clapped her hands in pure delight, and so the plan was hatched.

The next morning we met in a local cafe. "Look at us! We're bonding! Isn't this great, embracing the normal!"

Beyond the gentle ridicule she acknowledged our mutual joy and confessed she hadn't relaxed and chatted for a very long time. We stuffed ourselves with banana bread and downed our coffees and hopped across the road to the deli. Bread, fruit, cheeses, meats: heaven really, for anyone who likes eating. We grabbed a trolley each and took off, debating the best buys, arguing over the cost of the figs, trading culinary tips and discovering our likes and dislikes. Gloriously mundane; especially precious.

Back home we unloaded the loot and stacked the fridge. We washed, chopped, steamed, baked and blended. Emmy Lou wailing in the background and a soothing summer breeze wafting in, keeping us cool. We dusted off the platters and loaded up the treats, gloating and giggling. We poured the fizzy water and toasted our fabulousness.

Lunch was sublime. All of us there together, demolishing the treats, afterwards sipping tea and languishing in a glow of well nourished togetherness.

And this is what we ate:

Stuffed figs - core figs, stuff with ricotta, wrap with prosciutto and bake 20 minutes (buy them whenever they are in season and ignore the price)

Tomato, bocconcini and basil salad: cut up tomatoes and cheese, and spoon over green sludge (blended basil, garlic, lemon rind and olive oil)

Steamed snow peas and asparagus, with fresh lemon juice and salt served on a bed of rocket (must be real rocket, not that baby-leafed rubbish)

Peach and prosciutto salad: wrap peach slices in prosciutto and squeeze lemon juice over top

Dolmades (must buy - tricky to make)

Brewed tea (leaf, not bag) and coffee (from her very expensive coffee maker) with dark chocolate nibbles (left over from Christmas)

Bon appetit! Happy days!