Having lived on three continents and visited the other two, during my travels I have come across some strange chow upon my plate. This is not going to be full of recipes tonight, but rather a recollection of some of the weirdest food I've eaten, some knowingly and some not, like the time one of my uncle - a none too bright specimen - as he came back from China, called for a family reunion around his pool garden and served us barbecued sausages. I can't resist sausages particularly when barbecued over citrus wood. I must have eaten a dozen of the little buggers when the oaf casually announced to all and sundry that we ate dog sausages! I remember my stepfather, a surly but well meaning man, pushing my stupid uncle into the pool in anger. Not one to lose an opportunity to create a diversion I pretended to trip over the wheeled bar and down tumbled the whole damn cart, duly following the uncle into the drink.

Follow me to the dark side of nouriture etrange.

Esoterica is a wonderful word, to be used liberally on Sunday threads. What does it have to do with ambiguity? Not much except that esoterica could be construed as ambiguous. I dunno, I'm ambivalent on this.

I'm currently working on a long essay titled Slow Food, Slow Sex, and I need to take a break from it, my head is spinning hence this short, esoteric diary.

For those who love the philosophy of ambiguity, I've collected a few pearls while doing research, please add some of your own.