The day was Thursday.
It was cold and rainy.
I knew where I was going to have lunch, the same place I always go when I am in the Wairarapa.
Cafe Mirabelle in Carterton was the scene of the pie crime.
The pie was beef in redwine with mushrooms. It had pieces of smoked ham hock. The pastry was flakey and buttery, and had a little bit of crunch.
I am guiity of happily devouring that pie, and then... Read more
A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing
Anon
