We were at King Arthur Flour recently. This is a baking emporium, a fantasyland for cooks.
The master of second helpings was waiting for me in the kitchen. He is always there.
Where did all this stuff come from?
“Hey old man,” my daughter calls me. And I laugh, wearing the phrase lightly. I don’t consider myself old (who does?).
The sprig of mint was part of the delicious but unpronounceable Thai salad. My mate took it and put it to the side. “I’m going to take it home and grow it,” she said.