It’s the early 1990s. My parents are part of the burgeoning bourgeoisie who work hard to give us the best and normalize the spoils of what once only existed in the homes of those they considered wealthy.
Like the Queen of England, we had sausages or cereal for breakfast, snacked on danish cookies and many other sweet and salty snacks, sulked at lunch time as the nanny dished up matooke, nakati, beans and beef, and, waited eagerly for ice cream for desert at dinner time.
I could not stand the look and texture of porridge, and neither could I understand why they preferred the soupy texture of something that looked so unclean to a warm bowl of Frosties, and salted leftovers of meat wrapped and delivered in carcass intestines.
My palette was trained to enjoy and seek out everything that came in a packet.
At my heaviest, I realized that I actually knew nothing about food, and everything that comes with it.
This is a record of my journey as I explore the enchanting world of food.
Welcome, fellow food-plorers!