In another life I am going to open a restaurant by the name of Syllabubs and Fools, inspired by Elizabeth David’s essay of a similar name in An Omelette and a Glass of Wine. I also have been meaning to write a food poem for the past two years in the vein of Calvin Trillan’s riff on eighties food, “What Happened to Brie and Chablis,” using all the wonderful British food words we don’t have in the States. I started collecting these words on Saturday morning visits to the Notting Hill Farmers Market before we started spending our weekends in the Cotswolds: aubergines, baby gem, baps, bangers, courgettes, cos, cox apples, gooseberries (that you top and tail, poetic verbs if I ever heard them), greengages, puddings, punnets, sultanas, sloes, and victoria plums. All of which I thought of today because I ate the creamiest, wholesome-ist, health-in-a-plastic-tub-ish gooseberry yogurt (the same one I so enjoyed buying on Saturday morning that I mentioned it in that day’s blog)…gooseberry of course being one of the best fruits for making a fool. Today’s lesson: eating a yogurt is easier than opening a restaurant or writing a poem.
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