Given that I was up till 3 ayem last night finishing Cailtin Kiernan’s The Red Tree, I was in no mood this afternoon when I took my lunch break to do anything other than collapse on my couch, close my eyes and dream for what felt like five seconds before my alarm went off. Which gave me about five minutes in the kitchen to fix myself lunch before it was time to head back to work, and thus, with little hope in my heart, I went over to the fridge and cracked it open to see what I could discover within.
I peered at the jumbled shelves, and then closed the fridge and grabbed a bag of casava chips instead. Sat, and munched through several fistfuls before I put them aside in favor of a bag of sweet potato chips which I dipped in a humus made of chickpeas, spinach and artichokes. Munched on that for awhile, and then graduated to the rest of my prosciutto de Parma, fine, almost suede like strips of cured meat that taste divine. I complemented this with a small block of pecorino cheese, so tart and astringent that it left the roof of my mouth pleasantly tingling. A handful of kalamata olives rounded it all out, and then it was time to go.
Putting the leftovers back in the fridge, I grabbed a bottle of organic chocolate milk. Ah, the sheer heft and weight of the glass bottle! Cartons and plastic jugs have nothing on a thick lipped, rounded bottle of glass. No label either, just a sticker on the cap, so I’ll be keeping this bottle long after its delicious contents are gone. And man is that chocolate milk delicious. I took long, slow pulls of it, and it tasted akin to a rich, chocolate mousse, cool and flowing and utterly satiating.
That done, I checked the clock. Was running 2 minutes late, and like that, lunch was over.