The Food Good and Shwine Sow.

It was Thursday.  The Good Food and Wine Show was on.  And, if you know anything about me at all, you'll know that, apart from The Daughter, Good Food and Good Wine are my two most favourite things in the world.  And so, accompanied by The Daughter, The Incubator, The BF and Carlos, and in possession of a stomach that had not been fed since the morning, I trundled on down to The Durban Exhibition Centre.

My first stop:  the tent that sells tasting glasses.

My second stop:  the stall that has those delicious olives, tepanades and olive oils.

The Pant: (placing glasses down with gay abandon to assist in shovelling as much food into mouth as possible) I've never had an olive before.  I best try one.

The Olive Guy:  What?  I don't believe it!  You've never had an olive before?

TP:  (Yes!  Works everytime.)  No.  I've had a difficult childhood.  Didn't have things around the house like olives.  But I'm working at making something of my life.  And I think food is the perfect platform.  (Foodies eat that shit up as though it were drizzled in truffel oil.)

I then embarked on tasting trickery of the finest display.  While The Olive Guy was watching I'd say things like, "Oh no.  I've already tried the aubergine and thyme infused olives.  I couldn't possibly have another," and while his back was turned, I'd grab whole handfuls of the exact aubergine and thyme infused olives, stuff them into my mouth and then busy myself "looking for my wallet" while attempting to remove pips (or bones, as The Daughter calls them) using the dexterity of my tongue, chew and swallow in a most circumspect manner.

The BF:  Have you tried this corriander and chilli tepanade?

The Pant:  (attempting to swallow huge mouthful of biscuit and chewed corriander and chilli tepanade) No.  (swallow swallow).  Is it lovely?

TBF:  It is.  You should try some.

TP:  Oh, alright then.

My third stop: the very cleverly packaged and mighty delicious chocolate buttons (70% cocoa for the win) stall.  A more difficult one to master, but not one beyond me.

The Chocolate Lady:  .... so I decided to package the chocolate in this manner to assist in baking.

TP:  Very clever indeed.  I am most impressed.

TCL:  And we have customers from all over the world.  I just sent a shipment out to Canada.

TP:  (slightly overdone) I.  Don't.  Believe.  It.  Have you got any samples?

TCL:  Well, I'm not really doing samples, but I'll give you a taste.

Nibble nibble. 

TP:  I'm not quite sure which one I prefer.  Can I taste the bitter one again please?

TCL:  Um.  Sure.  But before you do, how about the sugar-free?

TP:  No point really.  I mean isn't sugar-free chocolate kind of like kissing your brother?

I didn't get anymore samples out of Chocolate Lady after that.

I also learned to team fairly diverse flavours at this exhibition.  I mean, who would've thought granadilla cupcakes and draft would go together?  This, of course was a kind of fusion of flavour created by yours truly.  Given, of course, that the delectable Robinson's ale stall was directly opposite unbelievably cute cupcakes.

My will-power is limited.

This was made even more evident when I stumbled upon a little restaurant that served champagne by the glass - makes you feel like you're spending less even if you do end up drinking eight glasses in quick succession - and oysters.  Fresh meaty ones.  Delivered directly from Heaven to the show, I imagine, mere moments before sliding down my throat.

I do not suggest anyone drink eight glasses of champagne before a) buying decorations for one's child's birthday cake or b) ordering a Green Mamba from a little hottie hot pants young enough to be your son.

The Pant:  I've never had any alcohol in my life before.  And I want to live a little.  Would you recommend starting one's drinking career with Green Mamba?

Hottie Hot Pants Young Enough To Be My Son: Well, it's cane and creme soda, so it tastes just like Lecol Squeezie Juice.

(Cane.  Creme soda.  The Pant.  Scene.)

TP:  Oh, go on.  Let me have a try.

(sip sip)

TP:  I'm sorry, but the flavours didn't quite reach the back of my palate.  Still the champagne - er - infused truffle oil I'm tasting.  Could a I try another?

(sip sip)

TP:  Hottie Hot Pants, you look really sexy when you pour from that bottle.  Could I sample it again?

After 47 tots of delicious radness that tasted more like more than I've ever tasted before, I took out my wallet for a roadie:

TP: (addressing Carlos and The Incubator - The BF was driver) You guys keen on a roadie?

Carlos and The Incubator: (in unison) Oh, go on.

TP:  Can I have three of those bad dogs to go, please.  Darling.

And then I threw Hottie Hot Pants a smile dug out from the depths of my lustful soul.  And as he cracked the bottle, Hottie Hot Pants sprayed himself in the face.

It's great to know I still have that effect on some men.