Just thought I’d give you a heads-up: This will be the last post on this blog for a while. Social media will stay active. Alex
“Tomatoes can be such a nuisance!”
She found with great relief that the knife had simply taken some layers of skin, not penetrated to the blood vessels. Still, it hurt. She turned around to face her husband, who stood in the doorframe, looking worried.
“Are you alright, dear?” he said.
Before she could answer, the doorbell rang.
“That must be them!” he said and sauntered off towards the front of the house. “Let’s get it over with it, shall we?”
He stopped in front of the door and put on his smiling face.
“Ah!” he welcomed them. “Come in. Come in. Come in!”
Two people entered the house, nodded stiffly, and handed over a small box of fine chocolates.
“For the evening, Roy.” the man added and shook Roy’s hands.
“Nice to see you, Wilbur. Fanny.” Roy said, took their coats, and led them into the sitting room. “Sybil puts the finishing touches on the meal as we speak. May I offer you an aperitif while we wait?”
“Ah.” Wilbur exclaimed. “A sherry would do, thank you very much.”
“Fanny?” Roy asked.
“Oh, I don’t know. What do you think would be appropriate, thinking about the meal to follow, of course?”
“I will see what I can find, Fanny.” Roy said. “Please do sit down.”
“What’s on the menu?” Wilbur asked, sitting down in a comfy, red armchair.
“Rubbed clam, lime, and vinegar bombs.” Roy answered. “Here, Fanny, this is a sherry, too, though somewhat drier than your husband’s. I seem to remember that this is how you like your aperitifs.”
“Oh, thank you.” Fanny tweeted.
“Rubbed clam?” Wilbur said. “Always something new, aha? Looking forward to it. What’s for dessert?”
“Ah, that is a secret.” Sybil said, entering from the kitchen. “I have just finished it. So lovely to see you!”
She, too, received sherry from her husband. They sat down, all four determined to enjoy themselves no matter what.
“What do you think?” Sybil chirped after an otherwise clement conversation had turned to homeopathy and its merits. “Shall we eat?”
The rubbed clam was “deeply enjoyable”, the lime “so sour that is was sweet”, and the vinegar bombs “a perfectly balanced detonation of taste in one’s mouth”.
Then, dessert happened.
“Sybil, forgive my insolence”, Wilbur said, “this is an excellent fruit salad. But, er, it’s hard to tell, really, in this wonderful yogurt sauce. Er. There seem to be pieces of tomato in it.”
“Oh, there are, Wilbur! So nice of you to notice!”
“Did you know that tomatoes are fruits?” Roy said.
“They are, you know.” Sybil said with a beaming smile. “We decided to create or own fusion meal. For you, our good friends.”
“Fusion? There is a tomato in the fruit salad.” Wilbur said.
“Lovely.” Fanny said.
“I am not entirely sure—” Wilbur began.
“Why not?” Fanny said, patting on Wilbur’s hand. “Tomatoes. Yoghurt. How lovely. I am entirely sure that you will love it after a few bites.”
“It does work rather surprisingly well, doesn’t it?”
The minutes passed in silence. Another round of sherry went by agreeably. Pleasantries were exchanged in the hall, followed by remarks of “the tiring nature of the business” and “do let’s meet again soon”. Fanny and Roy cleaned up the kitchen. Roy stabbed the remainder of the fruit salad with his fork.
“This doesn’t taste well, now does it?” he said.
“Good to have tried, though.”
“Wilbur and Fanny probably weren’t the right folks to try this on.”