As I'm sure many of my pipe-smoking friends across this vast civilization-deprived continent will agree, one's beard should smell richly of duck fat, sliced chorizo, curry with ginger and lime juice, fresh herbs, and green chili. A vegetable curry soup-stew enriched with chunks of roast duck and sliced rather ethnic sausage, plus chopped tomato, over noodles. Think sort of like jambalaya, with a pronounced West Coast slant. And not over rice. Because noodles are quicker. Yeah, actually nothing like jambalaya at all. But most of my spread-out pipesmoking buddies do have beards.
Not all of them. One of the beardless ones celebrated her fifth wedding anniversary with a dashing tobacco blender who made chicken Dijon with asparagus in tarragon butter, and homemade Blancmange, as per custom flavoured with almonds and vanilla. If she had a beard it would have been redolent. There IS a beard in her household, however.
Her dinner was more romantic than mine.
But mine had chili peppers.
I'm not complaining.
I like noodles.
Happy anniversary, Mary and Kaz.
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