Sometimes I exercise my right to strike. It has maximum impact in the kitchen. As it did the other day when I came home to a most delicious chicken soup.
You see, Imelda – so named because of his love of shoes – won’t divulge his secret. I couldn’t have got better in a restaurant.
It wasn’t what was in it: chicken? yes. Carrots? yes. Potatoes? yes. Onion? yes. It was how it was made that intrigues me because when I throw together the exact same ingredients my soup tastes so differently.
You can read the original Hetty Daffodil Mystery here.