Food forThought? No kidding.

Freshly baked round of focaccia(some kind of bread), bottles of olive oil and balsamic vinegar. cheeses: Camembert, Gouda, blue, Iranian goat. Next, steaming wraps that looked like crepes but had a most bawdy smell. Gorgonzola pancakes. There were cantaloupe balls wrapped in thin slices of prosciutto, the fruity orange peaking through the meaty pink. Bastardly plump green olives, fat with red pimiento stuffing, lounged contentedly in a yellow bowl. A plateful of tomatoes soaked in black vinegar with snoy nuggets of brocconcini. Sheaves of Pita and cups brimming with hummus and tzatziki. Oysters, crabs and scallops drowning a wonderful death in a marinara ocean; little wedges of lemon balanced on the plate's edge like life preservers waiting to be thrown in. Pork sausages with peppercorn rims. Dolmathes, trying hard to be swarthy and macho in their little green suits, scented with red wine. Thick rings of calamari. Souvlaki shared skewers with think buttered onions and braised peppers. There was a shoulder of lamb so well cooked it fell apart if you only looked at it while thinking about a fork, surrounded by a happy little family of roast potatoes.
The Gargoyle by Andrew Davidson

-Foodless-