Leonard Cohen’s bass orchestral voice thrummed through my veins – Wednesday morning, 3 AM, 1964, he said, voice full of gravel and promise. It was night with just a very light fragrance of the morning to come, the silence like a held breath, waiting, waiting.
So the other day when it was a Wednesday, or it may have been a Monday…or a Sunday…never mind. It was 3 AM, 2013, and my eyes popped open like a bottle of Perrier-Jouët. I could feel a little smile on my face. I was 16 again, and this was the smile that would get Pointy-eared Crush #2 to fall madly in love with me. I must have been having a nice dream because my first thought was Len Cohen, which is always a good thing. And then I remembered. That was when I found my life’s one true love.
A portion of belly. Cubed. Tender. Soy-sauced, palm-sugared and green-chillied. Sprung with spring onions.
Melting.
In.
My.
Mouth.
Thus the smile that would have had me living happily ever after with Pointy-eared Crush #2 instead of Husband #1 (and only).
No offence to Mr Cohen or Mr. Simon (I love you both, I promise). But The Pig <insert lachrymose ellipses here> it makes me HAPPY.
So Wednesday/Monday/Sunday morning, 3 AM, 2013, I knew I had to do it.
So here it is.
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