Food and Wine Adventures

My store of expat life patience is exhausted. It’s not only the chicken, the water, the electricity, the tiny fridge, the heat, the dull knife, the lack of kitchen drawers, the dead rat in the garden this morning, but . . .

Ever done something so dangerous that afterward you were stunned by the stupidity of what you’d done? As an expat foodie living in Indonesia I did just that.

One night my mate came home bearing a gigantic blood sausage, a gift from a Kikuyu farmer concerned about my failure to get pregnant . . .

Cooking disasters, anyone? I was once faced with a culinary fiasco of mystifying proportions while living in an African village.

Jet-lagged, I’m in a restaurant on another continent, sipping wine. No sleep in two days, a woozy vision of a semi-naked nymph . . . where am I?