Diary of a Shopkeeper, 22nd May

‘I enjoyed your memories of that café in the paper last week,’ said Kiwi Kate. ‘Though it sounds like there wouldn’t have been much for veggies like me.’

‘Egg and chips,’ I said. ‘Egg, beans and chips.’

‘Even the name,’ she went on. ‘Larry’s Luncheon Meat…that says it al

‘It was Larry’s Lunchette,’ I said.

‘Of course, back home in Auckland we never talked about luncheon meat. It was always devon sausage. But it’s the same thing really: pig lips and tails, minced up and pressed into tins. At least we didn’t stuff it into sheep’s intestines like the Aussies do with their bung fritz.’

‘Nose to tail eating,’ I said. ‘It’s very fashionable in posh London restaurants.’

‘If an animal has to die to feed you meat eaters, at least you should honour it by wasting as little as possible.’

‘Speaking of waste,’ I said, looking over her shoulder towards the door, ‘or rather waist, ha ha, here comes Captain Puggie.’

The captain is an occasional customer, who we don’t see for months on end as he circles the globe on some enormous container ship. Then he’s home for a few weeks and is in just about every day. I doubt he’s the captain of any vessel bigger than a pint glass, but the name is so well established throughout the town that it would be an affront to speer him about it.

‘Aye aye Captain,’ I said, as he approached the counter with a couple of home brew kits.

‘Back for three weeks this time,’ he said. ‘Should just be time to get these brewed and bottled.’

‘And drunk?’ said Kate.

‘Lokkars no, lass,’ said the captain. ‘It’ll go in the shed till the next time I’m home. I’m opening the batch I made at Christmas just now – perfection.’

I zapped the barcodes on his tins. ‘We were just talking,’ I said, ‘about different meat concoctions from different countries. You’re a man who’s seen the world: what’s been your favourite?’

He considered for a minute, rubbing his ample belly with one hand as he did so, as if to summon up memories like a genie from a lamp.

‘In the Port of Philadelphia,’ he said at last, ‘They’re very keen on scrapple. Basically, it’s pig lips and tails, minced up and pressed into a square loaf.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ said Kate.

‘And in Shanghai I had xiang chang. Basically, it’s pig’s lips and tails, minced up and made into fat, sweet sausages.’

‘And did you like it?’ I said.

‘I preferred the mutura I had in Mombasa,’ he said.

‘Let me guess,’ said Kate, ‘Pig’s lips and tails, minced up and stuffed into intestines.’

‘Not at all, lass. It’s goat’s lips and tails minced up and stuffed into intestines. With piri-piri chillies. Very tasty wrapped in a chapati za ngozi.’

‘Sounds great,’ I said. ‘So is that the best, would you say?’

He looked thoughtful again, and massaged his puggie.

‘The best meat-based sandwich I ever had,’ he said, ‘was…’

At this point he left a gap as long as the MasterChef judges about to announce their winner.

‘…the mince roll they used to serve in the Atholl Café on Albert Street back in the eighties. Lots of carrots in the mince! Gravy nice and thick! Filled to overflowing!’

‘That’s not very exotic,’ said Kate.

‘No, but it was very tasty, and very nourishing,’ said the captain. ‘A couple of those would see me through the whole voyage.’

‘The whole voyage?’ I said. ‘Where were you sailing to in those days?’

‘Shapinsay,’ he said. ‘A mince roll in each pocket of an Orkney Islands Shipping Company boiler suit. I dined like a king.’

This diary appeared in The Orcadian on 25th May 2022. A new one appears weekly. I post them in this blog a few days after each newspaper appearance, with added illustrations., and occasional small corrections or additions.