They say, in several languages I know, that love goes through the stomach. I happen to live with someone who could be a chef and cooks five-star meals on a daily basis.
An old friend to whom I was describing on the phone, this Saturday morning, the luxury breakfast awaiting me on the table, observed that from an early age I have been well fed, first in my family environment and now by my partner. Gourmet meals have always been something normal in my life ever since I was a child.
I looked at the fresh home-made bread on the table. Bread, the most symbolic of all meals in the Western and Middle Eastern worlds, which nourishes body and soul.
The smell of fried king scallops reached my nostrils. I said goodbye to my friend and indulged once more in a delicatessen experience.
Bread (food). Love. What else do we need to live well?
