Culinary Culture

Even though I was more than reasonably excited to find a set of pink silicon egg poachers (not testicle holders, as I tried to convince the Frenchie) as well as a potato masher in an obscure and tacky-looking store today, I had a sudden sense of guilt at the metaphorical 'vs' my kitchen cupboard now seems to be flashing at the cuisine of my host country:

Yes, shockingly, I'm missing the tonic.  This would never have happened in the Clay-Sheppard household, but don't worry, Sheppards, the bacon arrives after trips week (I have a butcher that delivers), and I shall soon be sourcing acceptably-priced Stilton.

Then, I will set up an immigration desk at my front door, and yea verily, it will be like I never moved to a foreign and interesting country at all.