calamari says what?

Mr. Man is enjoying cervezas while rooting for the Dutch. He says it makes him extra continental.

It's mid-afternoon and, really, there are only a few things one can be expected to reasonably prepare and consume on a hot summer's day -- especially when there's a World Cup match on.

Will it be cervezas y paella o tapas? Or maybe kaas en toast of frikenadel en frieten?

With a score of 0-0 and only minutes to go, we could be looking at sudden death OT. I know there are enough cervezas in the house (there always are) but we can only consume so many chips, dip and veggies. We may have to move on to something more substantial if somebody doesn't score soon.

Do we wait for a final World Cup decision or do we initiate a Spanish or Dutch food fest and see if these gastro vibes reach all the way to South Africa? If calamari can predict the outcome, who's to say my cooking can't alter the futbol universe?

reservations

Yesterday evening was an exercise in reserve.

Mr. Man and I attended a party for a friend who had just completed his PhD. It was at a couple's pied-a-terre... in a luxury neighbourhood... where people have their own financial advisors... and architects...

My stomach had been acting up all day and it's difficult to play the game of interest and amusement when your body won't cooperate. What a beautiful home you have [sigh], is that an Eileen Gray [wince], champagne would be lovely [gag].

There were some interesting people, the guest of honour was funny and articulate, and the drinks and conversation ever flowing. Discussion ranged from business (I'm working on my second career and want to start my own interior design company) to travel (the wife and I wanted to go somewhere different but aren't sure now, what with that whole flotilla incident), to G20 environmentalism (they uprooted saplings because they might be used as weapons, can you imagine) and FIFA World Cup football (I see a Germany-Brazil final, it would be spectacular, a phenomenal acrobatic ballet).

The food was delicious. Hors d'oeuvres of smoked salmon and cream cheese crostini and a roasted red pepper, cream cheese and tapenade on baguette; arugula salad with strawberries and candied walnuts; halibut with lemon caper sauce, green beans, grape tomatoes and new potatoes; and a scrumptious strawberry short cake. And, of course, lots and lots of wine.

It was a lovely evening, actually. Although, a little like waking up in the middle of a Woody Allen film.

There are worse things. But, at least, nothing that can't be cured with Prozac and a mallet.