darryl offered to come over this evening and cook for me, despite having all along expressed grave doubts about the feasibility of working in my kitchen. no matter! he cries! i can work within constraints! tell me what you have in your kitchen and i will tell you what i can cook! (and what kind of person you are!) i explained to him that at present the edible contents of my kitchen were dried apricots, flour, two eggs and a small bundle of cha-soba. darryl evidently was of the opinion that based on this i had no personality to speak of, and asked if we mightn't order chinese delivery and bake a cake instead. we postpone the dinner to the following week so that proper planning might take place. he comes over and admires buttery 29 and we sit down with cafe mocha and muffin while making grand plans for a ten-course chinese dinner, complete with cold dish and sharks' fin and abalone and roast suckling pig and herbal soup boiled for nine hours over a charcoal fire. nay i lie but it was to be a grand affair. then we remember that von is going to be here next week. darryl brightens up. von has an income now...he begins, but i intervene and bid him perish the hope. von's not going to buy us dinner at evoo you know. he's not? said darryl, scandalised. his income has gone to his head and he has become more kiamsiap, i explained. darryl becomes very distressed at this news. von being here puts great pressure on him to turn out a perfect meal, not only because von is persnickety, but his newfound riches, it is thought, would dispose him to eating out. don't worry, i console him, we'll start dinner at 6.30, and if it doesn't work out the craigie street's dinner doesn't start till nine.

dinner mission statement:
to feed invalid minz
to celebrate the return of the native
to showcase darryl's dazzling culinary skills.