What a wonderful word...

I adore words. I love how they are written, the sounds of them as they curl over the tongue and the power and sensousness that they can exude. That's why I chose the name 'Truffle Licker'. From the average person's point of view, this probably sounds quite delicious, decadent or just plain filthy.

Others may appreciate the onomatopoeic aspect of the words. On holiday in December, we were discussing what the best words in the English language are. Things like 'moon' 'smooth' 'moss' were discussed as lovely words, and ones that sent shivers down spines were  'bristle' 'moist' and 'muffin' so throughout lunch we would slip in 'moist muffin' once in a while to watch our friend squirm in her seat. The one word that also stood out for us in the Afrikaans language is 'Spookasem' which directly translated into English means 'Ghost Breath' but what really describes the incredible lightness of 'Candy Floss'.

I always love words that have an 'x' in it. The obvious one is, yup you got it...sex.
But others are just as eXpressive (see): Pox, Poxy, Box, Luxe, Luxury or Gravlax or  Lox is you fancy a bit of salmon. Now speaking of food, the title of this blog is also indicative of what is important in my life. Food. Nom Nom. And no, I am not a fat woman that licks her fingers while she's cooking like Nigella.

I was first properly introduced to truffles when I was a London virginer. By that, I mean I had just arrived in the Big Smoke, to live, again. A clever friend took me to a place she knew I would adore, Borough Market under the eaves of London Bridge station. God I love that place. If you don't know about it, put it on your number one priority to do when you are in London. It oozes antiquity but has such a buzzy vibe, from the fishmongers shouting out the catch of the day to the green grocers selling  bunches of asparagus and strawberries for a fiver or sizzling Chourizo sausages hissing and spitting on a BBQ.

Not only does Borough Market boast the best, locally sourced fresh produce, it also offers a wealth of buzzy restaurants that surround the market, from Roast, to Fish! to Neals Yard Dairy. I also used to drink quite heavily at the pub around the corner with work colleagues when I luckily found a job quite close by.  I was thrilled to find out that his pub was also featured in Bridget Jones's Diary. Amazing, Colin Firth had stood where I stood. Starstruck.

Anyway back to truffles. As my friend and I leisurely perused the quaint stalls and quietened our growling tummies with pancetta, rocket and buffalo mozarrella sarnies, we saw these odd looking fungus type things in a glass jar. Immediately intrigued, I pulled off the cork lid to have a delicate sniff. By jove, I was transported to heaven with that gorgeous scent. My love affair with truffles started there and it has continued ever since. From my friend Rox the chef cooking with truffle oil to languidly eating open leek and truffle lasagne under the stars in Cinque Terra, Italy, it is developing into a long relationship indeed.