A fish in the pan is worth two in the sea.

Sometimes the smell of fish makes me lose my head, but not quite like this!

Rita and I were at the fish market in Lagos this morning and we were seduced by the lovely smells. I hopped up on a stack of chairs that were near the counters to get a good view of all the tasty ocean treats. One particularly caught my eye so I did a sketch of it in my journal. The sign said it’s called azevias. The name in English is flounder.  But I think the sign is wrong. It didn’t smell like flounder to me. And besides, all the azevias I’ve known have their eyes only on one side of the body, except the very young ones whose eyes haven’t migrated yet. Boy, that’s a whole other subject though. Imagine being born with your eyes in a certain place and then one of them gradually moves and the whole shape of your body transforms. It’s weird! But I digress.

journal sketch, watercolour

While I was drawing, Rita ran into a person friend from Burgau. He could see how much Rita wanted some fish so he invited both of us back to his place for a feast.  He let Rita choose what she wanted so she pointed to the cavala (mackerel). He had the seller pick two of the best, had them wrapped up, gave the man some coins and off we went. Before we left Lagos we stopped by the bookstore to let Rita’s person know she was going for a visit to Burgau.

Our friend didn't waste a bit. The guts were the appetizers.

Our friend set up a couple of stools for us to perch on and supervise the preparations. He carefully grilled the fish over a fire and it was delicious! This man can cook! Rita and I had the appetizers and one fish, he and his friend shared the other fish. I think Rita and I were the perfect guests. We happily allowed the man and his friend to pat us much as they wanted. We courteously licked their hands clean after they had finished eating, and we cleaned all their dishes too. With any luck we’ll be asked to visit again soon. In the meantime we have other fish to fry.

something to chew on

journal sketch, ink

I want to talk a bit about shoes and my shoe fetish. Actually, it’s not so much a shoe fetish as it is a chew fetish. Now, apparently, many of you reading this [particularly people, as opposed to my readers who are dogs (hi William!)] also have shoe fetishes. Some people are more specific and might call it a heel fetish, or a brogue fetish but call them what you will – shoes, sneakers, plimsolls, pumps, runners, trainers, hikers – whatever you like, they’re all chews to me.

   

And that brings me back to my point.  Nothing beats a good shoe chew. And each shoe has its own merits. For instance a well worn athletic shoe has a certain je ne sais quoi, and I don’t know what it is. Certainly there’s the nearly overwhelming dark sweaty odour coupled with a pervasive lingering dampness that just doesn’t present itself in a fancy dress shoe. And the texture begs to be torn at with a certain degree of vigour.

But then a dress shoe has different qualities that demand equal attention. The leather is of a texture and resilience that begs a more leisurely chew. One needs to gnaw slowly and steadily in order for the saliva to really have a chance to permeate the leather, releasing the subtleties of the flavour.

   

A sturdy work boot is an enticing combination of an athletic shoe and a dress shoe: It has the mysterious sweaty flavours perfectly combined with the subtleties of leather, although usually a somewhat heartier leather than that found in a dress shoe.

Really, what it comes down to is personal taste. And for me that changes with my mood. Some days I have a craving for that lively Nike, whereas on another day I just want to mellow out with an Italian loafer. My motto is “never eschew a good shoe chew”.

journal page, relief print, ink