kicking it old skool

Saturday morning and the first thing to pass my lips is… Lemon Water. Hot, steaming, lemon water. Not a delicious blend of dark roasted, freshly ground, perfectly brewed Mocha Java, or something Peruvian. No no: Lemon water.

And for breakfast? Watermelon. Lots and lots of watermelon, like there was a plague and all that was left edible was this weird fruit. I think if there was one day in the week that would hit me hardest throughout this journey, Saturday would be it.

My morning ritual on a Saturday involves getting up at around 09:15 and tip-toeing out the room, closing the door behind me. I then make my way (like Ninja!) to the kitchen where I hand pick from a selection of fresh coffee beans to make my own little blend for the day. I then stealthily grind these to a fine, aromatic powder taking care to not spill one ounce as I scoop this Heavenly, God sent mixture into my Aeropress, filter locked and loaded.

Using water that’s just under boiling, filtered through a Brita filter to remove any impurities; the water as clear as if I siphoned it off a fresh mountain stream, I gently pour it in, before stirring it for 10 seconds, no more, no less.

Applying gentle pressure on the plunger, I force the nectar from the ground into a cup containing just enough preheated milk, the flavours enveloping the whole kitchen. Stir in one half spoon of sugar, lest we ruin the glorious texture and flavour, stir and enjoy.

I get to have another hour or so of “me” time. Before long my phone will buzz gently with a SMS, message simply “koffee” from the room next door. I smile, stand up and repeat the ritual with the same love and careful attention to detail. She deserves nothing less.

We lay in bed for another hour talking about… stuff. Catching up, discussing any plans for the weekend and so on. The topic will eventually turn to breakfast: Bacon and eggs, the latter I enjoy medium, the former crispy. This is paired with fresh whole-wheat toast, a dash of rock salt, freshly grated Cathedral Mild Cheddar, fried bananas and a side of ketchup and Reggae-Reggae sauce (spicy, savoury brown sauce. Goes very, very well with all of the above!). By 13:00, we are ready to face the day.

All this is of course moot, when one is on a detox diet.

So, while enjoying the ludicrously fast machines racing in a far off desert in Bahrain, clocking faster and faster lap times as they vie for pole position, I was severely let down by my full plate of sliced watermelon. I felt like a dog trying to chew water coming out of a garden hose, that is to say, chomping down on nothing substantial.

The evening we went to go visit friends, trekking our meal with us: chicken casserole… something. We made at their place while they scoffed down fresh biltong followed by what looked to be a very hearty spaghetti bolognaise with mince. Our meal was cardboard by comparison.

At least we got to see them before they left for a little S.A. holiday. And we got to see their little boy again, my goodness he has grown! He’s like, crawling and stuff, and totally his own little person.

Here’s to another successful detox day.

[G, out]

It’s really all there is