Slip of The Memory

Just every now and then this happens:

You get some tasty looking little potatoes (it always seems to be spuds), drizzle good oil over them, a few herbs, and a touch of smoked sea salt, put them in the Aga, and go off to do something.

A few hours (sometimes days) later while you are making a of of tea, your eye wanders over the stove, in that dreamy late afternoon way, and a flash of food memory hits you.

You know before you even open the door what will greet you. Carbon. Shiny pitch coal-like carbon. I guess I could grind it up, and make ink from it.