At any given weekend, from now until sometime in September, those puffs of smoke and enticing aromas emanating from nearby gardens are as likely to be barbecuing vegetables as they are sizzling meats. Certainly around these parts, despite the stubbornly cool temps and challenging winds, I have heard beery shouts and rose’-induced giggles marking the British barbecuing season.
And not all the smells have been meaty. The sweetness, the herbalness (I have a strangely acute sense of smell) indicate to me the influence of perhaps someone whose first name starts with Y and ends with M. I reckon not an immodest amount of aubergines have been sacrificed in his name of late. There may also be spaces on supermarket shelves where tahini used to be. But in my back garden this past week, I was – shock – influenced more by Mexico than the Middle East.
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