out in the western suburbs on thursday, during a lunchtime lebanese feast with the kids at ice, i received a txt which said: “maeve is hot and grumpy and wilt. we will come home.”

hungh.

they had only been gone two nights. i was midway through a bottle of intriguing tamarind fizzy, and reaching for my third helping of rice and lentils. i hadn’t been out to granville in about three years, but there were projects to discuss… and isn’t it nice sometimes to be more than an email address? and shouted lunch at the intern’s farewell luncheon? even when it’s crazy hot outside? yes!

after, ben walked me to the new cake shop in town, el sweetie, all shiny marble and wood panelling and boxy leather couches and as promised, a monster, flat-screen tv. of course, the monster trays of lebanese sweets were much more enticing, especially this one: kashta with pistachio.

a layer of crumbly cake, then crushed pistachios, then moist and delicately scented kashta, then more crumbs and a scattering of more nuts. you know how sometimes you have a piece of baklava, and it’s good and all, but you think that maybe it’s too cloying sweet or too nutty? this cake has none of those problems. my slice survived the train and bus rides home, and was divine with a cup of vanilla tea later that afternoon.

shortly after, the boy arrived back home too, with a limp child draped on his shoulder, and car, boots, clothes awash with vomit.