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The Chef Show 6 4 Seasons Lifestyle. Writer, director and food enthusiast Jon Favreau and chef Roy Choi explore food in and out of the kitchen with accomplished chefs and celebrity friends.

Starring: Jon Favreau, Roy Choi. Watch all you want. Roy Choi mentored Jon Favreau for the film "Chef. Videos The Chef Show. The Chef Show Trailer. Episodes The Chef Show. Release year: Milk Bar Bake Sale 29m. Roy's Italian Cuisine 30m. Jessica Largey 34m. Tartine 30m. Late Night Burger 28m. Wolfgang Puck 30m. Border Grill 29m. Best Friend 35m. Pasta a la Raimi 31m. Sprinkle with basil. Makes 6 servings. Related Videos. The ingredients are ancient, but for most, experiencing things like hand-harvested wild rice , sweet and nutty, is new and revelatory—the Winter holiday feasts: 21 Peninsula eateries where you can celebrate the seasonYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Whether you want to enjoy a longtime favorite or try something new, we have a few ideas to whet your appetite as we step into December.

Where I've Been Getting Takeout of Late, Part 38Your browser indicates if you've visited this link However, if your preference is takeout instead, you'll be glad to know that the food travels quite well, which I discovered when the restaurant invited me to sample a to-go order recently. Video result. Singapore Noodles Singapore Curried Noodles Special lunch on the weekend Rice noodle with Singapore Rice Noodles Recipe Cooking with Susanna- Thai chicken Curry with Rice Cambodian rice noodle food with curry and fish gravy Cambodian rice noodle food with curry soup so yummy Fish curry with rice noodles Curry Chicken with Rice Noodles Recipe Thai chicken soup with rice noodles Thai red curry Khmer rice noodle!

Curry Chicken - Samrong Yaong Vegan Spicy Red Curry Noodles Thai curry noodles recipe Mee Ka Ti So delicious Cambodian rice noodle food with fish Related News.

Winter holiday feasts: 21 Peninsula eateries where you can celebrate the seasonYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Palo Alto Weekly. Indonesian Egg Curry Recipe with Fragrant Lemongrass and Funky Shrimp Paste for Telur Petis from JavaYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Egg curry recipe with fragrant lemongrass and funky shrimp paste for telur petis from Indonesia's island of Java, eaten as breakfast or a snack.

Zucchini, green bean and coconut curry with fried tofu and rice noodlesYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Carnivores can add 3cm-diced boned chicken thighs to the curry paste and zucchini in the first stage of this Kiwi version of a Thai-style curry. Creamy Curry Egg Noodle SoupYour browser indicates if you've visited this link To make this dish vegetarian, be sure to use shrimp-free curry paste; to make it vegan, substitute rice noodles for egg noodles , agave for honey, and coconut oil for butter.

Dining review: Narai Thai satisfies the sensesYour browser indicates if you've visited this link The menu describes the curry noodles as "a Thai version of beef How to make Hong Kong-style curried beef and tendon, classic dish that can use brisket or beef cheeksYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Taste the sauce for seasoning and correct, if necessary. Turn up the heat with a little gochujangYour browser indicates if you've visited this link It's a fermented chilli sauce consisting of chilli, glutinous rice and soy Han Lao to reopen in MaplewoodYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Now, after a yearlong hiatus, SLM has learned that a new iteration of Han Lao is slated to open next spring at Manchester at Hope Avenue in Maplewood, a nondescript corner.

The Best Dishes I Ate in Your browser indicates if you've visited this link When I worked for a glossy magazine, I was sometimes taken to task for my predilection toward only ever writing about food that consisted of different shades of brown—monochrome food that couldn't be photographed beautifully enough,.

At Inchin's Bamboo Garden, exploring where India and China meetYour browser indicates if you've visited this link India got dishes like lamb dumplings in savory tomato cream, sweet-and-sour paneer, and Singapore rice noodles , stir-fried with curry oil. Fancy Indian food, a hot new vegan place and 25 other new restaurant openings in SeattleYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Check out the kabocha and sweet potato Malay laksa curry with coconut milk, tofu "cracklins," cilantro, bean sprouts, green onion, chili oil and rice noodles.

Premier Foods unveils meat-free pot trio for BatchelorsYour browser indicates if you've visited this link The pots - Smoky Facon Mac 'n' Cheeze, Chick'n Curry and Rice , and Sweet Chilli Chick'n Noodles - were designed to recreate "familiar flavours that people love, but with tasty alternatives to meat", according to the brand.

Late night London restaurants: Where to eat after midnightYour browser indicates if you've visited this link You'll find us devouring the paneer special with beetroot and coconut puree, pickled cucumber, crispy onions and curry mayo Go to Talard Thai Asian Market For the Groceries, But Stay for LunchYour browser indicates if you've visited this link But walk past the bins of holy basil and Thai eggplant, the shelves full of jars of curry paste and green curry Robots in the kitchen are cooking up a stormYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Orders start to pour in: Hyderabadi chicken biryani, Thai red curry rice , ghee roast mutton Chopstix has opened in Swansea and this is what you can expectYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Step 2.

Opening date announced for Chopstix restaurant in Swansea and it will be giving away free foodYour browser indicates if you've visited this link Excitement has been building for the Pan-Asian noodle chain's arrival since we first The reverberations of the deep rolling thunder made the mountain tremble, and the vivid flashes of lightning occasionally lit up the foaming, seething mass of waters below us, madly dashing against the rocks, the spray thoroughly drenching us.

Here we remained, the sea gradually encroaching on our quarters, till we were obliged to crowd in the farthest comers, and hold on to prevent our being washed away. Matters were getting too exciting to be pleasant, and we felt some effort must be made to escape from our perilous position. The day before, a long rope had been strongly attached to the rock above and one end was hanging down over the precipice; but unluckily it had been placed on the lowest part, where the heaviest body of water was falling.

Fortunately, the rope was long, and my comrade emerged from his hiding-place, and, watching his chance, seized the rope and, holding on like grim death, managed to draw it in, and worked it along away from the cascade, thus succeeding in hitching it over the projecting side of the rock, which showed a perpendicular face about thirty feet high.

I never saw anything more bravely done, and at the risk of his life, for, a false step, and nothing could have saved him; as it was, he got a severe contusion on his head and side from a stone striking him. Nothing daunted, the plucky little fellow, as the smallest and lightest man amongst us, was the first to ascend the rope; and I confess the time we were waiting for the welcome signal of his safe arrival was one of awful suspense, for it was a mere chance if the rope held out, or if he could fight against the wind and driving rain.

It was nervous work, swinging thus in mid air, between life and death, as a slip would have sent me into the yawning gulf below. I was soon high enough to rest my feet on the side of the rock, and could hear my friend urging me on in a voice that seemed to come from the clouds. I felt desperately thankful when I arrived at the top, in spite of my hands and feet being lacerated and bleeding, and my body bruised all over, to say nothing of the loss of the greater part of my unwhisperables.

No sooner had the anchor got a grip on the ocean bed than Tony and the diver slid overboard like otters, carrying two ropes, and soon these were made fast from the Dorade to the shore.

As a spider lets forth a thread of silk, waits for it to catch, and then uses it as a guideline, so these two ropes were to be our guide-lines along which we were to pull and steer the dinghy to the landing site. So we loaded our baskets of food and equipment into the dinghy, piled in ourselves, and were pulled shorewards.

Now we were closer, with the glare of the sun hidden behind the bulk of the island, we could see for the first time what a curious geological formation it was. I was sorry to see that the only part of the island that appeared to be remotely flat was the rocky area that formed the landing stage.

The rest rose precipitously in what appeared to be an unclimbable rock face. There was no time to worry about what awaited us on the island, for the tricky moment of disembarkation had arrived. It bore no resemblance to the difficulties that Pike had encountered at this very same spot, but even though it was the calmest anyone could remember, the boat was still lifted and lowered some three feet by the swell, and the bows of the dinghy scrunched and splintered when they touched the rock.

The landing was no more difficult than stepping off the back of a rocking-horse on to a nursery table, but the way even that apparently gentle swell could grind the dinghy against the rocks, made you fully aware of the bone-crushing results if you were to miss your footing and place a leg between the boat and the shore.

However, both we and the gear were landed without mishap. Picking up our various baskets and bags, we followed Wahab and Tony up the slope between the strangely sculptured pinnacles of rock.

A sort of Round Island Grand Canyon. Startled, the bird slid away on the wind and disappeared. I made no reply. The equipment became heavier with each step and the slope appeared to become more vertical as we climbed.

Wahab paused above us and looked back, grinning and wiping the sweat from his bronze face. It seemed an age before we reached the tree, which stood on a series of thick, leg-like roots. We paused thankfully in the small pools of shade cast by its leaves, stacked the food in the shade and sorted out the equipment we needed for our hunt. As we did this, there suddenly emerged from every nook and cranny around us, as if summoned by the flute of some invisible Pied Piper, a host of large, fat, shiny skinks with bright, intelligent eyes.

They always join the picnic under the tree. Later, we will feed them. Tame as a chorus of rabbits. They held their heads high as they moved with graceful, slithering motions towards us and proceeded to climb all over our piles of equipment. They were coloured a sober but pleasing shade of grey or brown, but when the sunlight hit them at a certain angle, their smooth scales, like mosaic-work, suddenly bloomed into purple, green, peacockblue and gold, rainbowed like a film of oil on a roadside puddle.

Since these specimens seemed so eager to be caught, it seemed to us more sensible to concentrate on the two other species we had come for. Before we set out, Wahab, with a great flourish, produced a bag of straw hats he had chosen for everyone. The majority were broadbrimmed and these he reserved for us, as guests. In consequence, the only one he could find for himself was a cloche hat belonging to his wife, in elegant magenta and white straw, with a pink ribbon to tie under the chin.

This, he donned with perfect seriousness, and was somewhat surprised at our laughter. We had landed some three-quarters of the way down the eastern side of the island, and we now made our way along the slopes towards the northern tip, moving among the scattered Round Island palms and the thickets of pandanus which grew in patches on the barren hillside.

Some of these ravines were, in places, ten to fifteen feet in depth, and forty to fifty feet across. I thought bitterly, as I panted my way moistly across the scorching rocks, that this moonscape had been created by the interference of man. We had hardly travelled a hundred yards, spread out, and peering hopefully at every palm frond, when Wahab sang out that he had found a guntheri. We scrambled and panted our way across the hot rocks, tripping over the small weed, not unlike a convolvulus, which in places formed mats covered with pale lavender and pink flowers and was, in spite of the rabbits, making a valiant but forlorn attempt to keep the soil in position against the onslaught of rain and wind.

When we reached Wahab, he pointed up at the main stem of a pandanus frond. Having wiped the sweat from my eyes, I peered up, and eventually saw the guntheri, spread-eagled and flattened, with its mottled-grey and chocolate skin, lichen-grey flecked, making it look like a discolouration on the bark.

It was large for a gecko, being some eight inches long, with great, golden eyes and plate-like protuberances on its toes, which contain the suction pads which enable it to hang on to the smooth surface with a fly-like ability. It clung there, secure in the feeling that it was well enough camouflaged, regarding us calmly from great, golden brown-flecked eyes with vertical pupils, which gave it a strange cat-like appearance.

What a magnificent specimen! I prayed that this sparkle would not panic the lizard, but he hung there without movement, regarding us benevolently. We all held our breath, while Dave moved the noose forward inch by inch.

Slowly, by infinitesimal stages, he stroked the nylon down the palm rib. We all froze. The problem was now to grab the gecko before it struggled too much and the nylon thread cut into the delicate skin of the neck.

Swiftly, he grabbed the base of the frond and bent it down, with the other hand engulfing the gecko, as it came within reach. We continued on our way, and found the guntheri was much more common than we had been led to believe, though this side of the island, with its comparatively well-wooded slopes, was obviously a favourite resort for them, providing shade and food — or as much shade and food as the spartan surroundings of Round Island allowed.

For an hour, we picked our way carefully over ravines and along the tortured slopes, where an incautious foot would send rocks bounding and crashing down the precipitous slopes, carrying avalanches of dry tuff with them.

Frequently, multicoloured rabbits scurried out from under our feet, and we came upon numerous signs of their profligate tenancy: the convolvulus-type creeper cropped; low, baby palms with their tops amputated; slopes burrowed into so as to cause the maximum erosion. We had walked about a quarter of the circumference of the island.

The sun, which when we had started had been hidden behind the bulk of the island, now rose above it. It was like standing in front of a suddenly open oven door. The air seemed thick to breathe, almost like a soup of moisture, heavily larded with salt. The Martian landscape shimmered in the heat haze as though it was under water.

It was interesting to watch my companions. Ann had wandered off somewhere by herself, and so we were an all-male group. John, tall and lanky, glasses always on the point of misting over completely, was quivering with eagerness, determined not to waste a single instant of this time in the herpetological paradise that he had dreamt and talked of for so long. Then Tony, dressed in his faded green shirt and khaki trousers, merging into the landscape like a chameleon, answering any query with a staccato flood of information, by far the most un-fussed and organised of us all.

From a minute basket, he seemed able to produce at any given moment anything from hot tea to marmalade sandwiches, from cold curry and rice to orange squash. Within a couple of hours, we had caught all the guntheri that we were permitted to catch, and so, we sat and roasted in a minute carpet of shade provided by a group of palmettos.

John managed to find sixteen new joints in his body and to curl up in an area that would have been cramped for a chihuahua. Wahab wound himself round the palm tree and distributed glutinous sweets of thirst-provoking quality.

Dave sprawled between three patches of leaf shade the size of soup plates, and carried on a long and acrimonious exchange with the tropic birds that, with their long, needle-like tails and pointed wings and beaks, wheeled and dived above us like some constellation of mad shooting stars, uttering their shrill, whining cries.

Wahab showed us that, by waving something white, a handkerchief, a snake bag or a shirt, you could get them to dive low at you. This excitement, combined with the endless cacophony of repartee that Dave indulged in, soon had some twenty or thirty birds around us, wheeling, diving and calling, white as sea foam against blue sky.

I thought he was joking. The slope we had been walking along was so steep that it made you feel that you would have been happier if one of your legs had been three foot longer than the other, but behind us rose something as sheer, as unfriendly, and as dangerous-looking as the Jungfrau in a heat wave, devoid alike, as far as one could see, of both foot and hand-holds.

If anyone took you seriously, someone of my noble proportions and youthfulness, for example, he might easily suffer a cardiac arrest by dwelling on your facetious remark. Reluctant though we were to admit it, we found that Tony was right, and that which had seemed unclimbable, when viewed from below, became more or less possible if we zig-zagged like a drunken centipede.

Here and there, we were startled by loud, belligerent, witch-like screams, apparently issuing from the bowels of the earth. These proved to be caused by Redtailed tropic birds, sitting in their nesting cavities under the slabs of lava, endeavouring to frighten us away. They were the size of small gulls, with tern-like heads, large, melting eyes and sealing-wax-red beaks. The plumage on the head, breast and wing butts was a delicate, glittering, pale rose-pink, as if they had been bathed in some vat of ethereal dye.

When their maniacal screams proved to be unsuccessful in frightening us off, they just sat there and stared at us. The summit seemed unreachable. Every time we breasted a slope, thinking it was the top, another wall of rock faced us. At last we really did arrive at a completely flat area covered with slabs of rock, lying scattered about as if dropped haphazardly from the skies. It was a much hotter terrain than the cliff-sides, since nothing but sparse mats of convolvulus grew between the rocks, and not even the most spindly of pandanus provided shade.

Here there were no guntheri, but instead small skinks, some four-and-a-half inches in length, with a long tail and pointed head, and such small legs they looked almost snakelike. Will you just look at these? Their smooth, shiny scales, pale-green and coffee-coloured, shone in the sunshine, and they did not deviate from the stern task of food hunting, except to hurl themselves at each other in mock combat, should their paths cross.

Dave wiped his hands on his trousers, took a firm grip on the lizard stick, and approached a rather large and well-built skink which was going through the crevices of a rock with all the thoroughness of a Scotland Yard detective searching a tenement building for drug smugglers.

His efficiency and dedication to duty would have won him a recommendation from any Chief of Police. He took no notice whatsoever as Dave loomed over him. It paused and raised its head and Dave deftly slipped the noose round its neck, pulled it tight, and lifted.

You might as well have tried to catch a rainbow. The lizard, which had been lifted and then dropped some six inches, was completely unperturbed by his brief flight. He paused to lick his lips thoroughly and then proceeded on his insect hunting as if nothing had happened.

Twice more, Dave got the noose over his head and twice more it slipped off, as if the skink had been buttered. Are you, you son of a gun? Four more times, Dave attempted to catch the skink, and four more times he failed. The amusing thing was that the skink seemed totally oblivious to the fact that he kept making short journeys into space; whenever he slid out of the noose and landed with a thump, he resumed his hunting, unflurried and with unabated enthusiasm.

In the end, since it was obvious that the noose would not work on such an apparently liquid species, John caught him by hand. We unanimously agreed that this was the best if the most exhausting way of doing it. There were no trees, and the only shadows were cast by the tumbled landscape of rocks, but now it was getting on for midday, and the sun was almost vertical above us, so that the shade the rocks were producing was negligible.

I became worried about our bags, full of precious guntheri; so it was decided that I would leave the others hunting, and make my way back to the picnic tree, which would provide enough shade for our precious specimens. Then, I approached the precipitous slope and looked for the Dorade as a landmark.

As I looked down the hillside to the sea, I could see the Dorade, white and trim, looking about the size of a matchbox, steaming towards the landing spot. I made my way a short distance down the slope and found a young palm tree that was giving something approximating to shade.

There I squatted, sheltering my precious cargo, watching the Dorade and waiting for her to anchor, so that I could get my bearings. From the top of the island, the whole terrain looked completely different, and I could not see the picnic tree at all. I mopped my face, hoisted my camera on to my shoulder, picked up my bags of geckos and started down towards the sea.

I very soon discovered that to attain my objective was as difficult as Alice had found making progress in the Looking-Glass garden. Normally, if you have a high vantage point, you can more easily pinpoint your goal than if you are on a level with it, but in the case of Round Island things were different. As I have said, the island is like a stone crinoline dropped on the seas surface, and whichever pleat you happen to be standing on, it is almost impossible to see the rest of the garment.

After I had lost the boat twice, and had had to turn back or aside three times because I had reached such sheer sheets of rock that it seemed imprudent to go on, unless I was seeking a broken leg, I suddenly spotted, far below me a flash of scarlet. This, I knew, was a towel I had brought and had draped over the spare film and various foods under the picnic tree to provide some sort of shade. This, then, was going to act as my marker. I clattered and slid on my way, keeping the little red splash firmly in sight.

I rested for a second time under a small group of pandanus, whose tattered leaves drummed against each other nervously and whispered sibilantly in a sudden puff of hot wind from the sea. Carefully, I felt my geckos in their bags to make sure they were not being affected by their journey. The sharp nip which one of them administered led me to believe that they were faring a good deal better than I was.

I had sweated so profusely that I felt that if I lost another cupful of moisture, I would turn into a ginger-bread crumble and blow away. It was only the thought of the iced drinks that awaited me under the picnic tree that kept me going. I came presently to a great, almost sheer precipice of rock, the top half of which was decorated by a tiny mat of convolvulus-like weed, starred with pale pink flowers. To reach a ravine that led down towards a lower level, I had to cross this dangerous bit of rock, and so decided, in case the exposed portion was slippery, that I would walk on the carpet of weed.

Slowly, I edged my way across, making sure of one step before I took another. I had landed on the bare rock and as there was nothing I could grab hold of to prevent my sliding, I proceeded down the rock face on my back with ever-increasing speed, gathering around me an avalanche of loose tuff and bits of extremely sharp lava.

As my momentum increased, my body started to turn so that presently I knew I should be on my stomach. I was terrified lest I should twist and inadvertently roll on to my bag of lizards, which I still held in a tenacious grip. There was only one thing to be done, and that was to use my elbows as a brake. This I did, and was gratified to discover that the pain I suffered was not in vain. Not only did I remain on my back and my shredded elbows but I slowed down my pace of descent, and eventually actually stopped.

To my surprise, nothing was, and the amount of gore my right arm was producing was out of all proportion to the wounds it had sustained. Painfully, I shuffled sideways across the rock face, retrieved my camera, which was intact, and gained the ravine where the going was easier. At the first group of palms I came to, I sat down, made sure my geckos and my camera had sustained no injuries, and mopped up the blood from my elbows.

Then after a brief pause, I got to my feet and gazed down towards my red landmark, by the sea. It had completely disappeared. Not only had it disappeared, but the Dorade had disappeared as well, and the view now lying below me bore no resemblance to any terrain I had seen or walked through that day. To say that I was irritated by these circumstances, is putting it mildly; I was hot, exhausted, thirsty and aching all over, and I had a severe headache.

For all the indications to the contrary, I might have been in the middle of Australia, fifty miles north of Lhasa, or on one of the more inimical craters of the moon.

Making a blasphemous commentary on my own stupidity in falling I set off down the ravine in what I hoped was the right direction. It seemed to be an area singularly lacking in palms, and eventually I was forced to crouch and rest in a tiny patch of shade caused by a hummock in the sides of the ravine.

Grimly, I plodded on and soon, to my delight, could hear voices and various nautical noises that told me I was near the landing stage. How close, I did not realise until I rounded I dump of rock and found myself practically on the shore.

High above me was the picnic tree and my red towel. I had somehow misjudged my descent, with the result that some two hundred and fifty feet above me lay shade, cool drinks and salve for my various contusions. The blood pounded in my ears my head ached, and I was forced to rest frequently.

Finally I staggered up the last slope and collapsed in the fretted shade of the picnic tree. A few minutes after, Dave arrived, looking, I was delighted to see, as fragile as I felt. When I could speak, I asked him how he had fared, and he confessed that he had passed out a couple of times with the heat.

He certainly looked white and ill-kempt. Soon he was regaling me with an account of his adventures. The worst moment had been when John Hartley, coming upon the recumbent Dave, had made an effort to rally him but had got sidetracked when he spied a large telfairii and various geckos sitting close together.

This made John one of the people least likely to succeed in a Good Samaritan contest, according to Dave. They were all in various stages of exhaustion, with the exception of Tony who looked, if anything, slightly cooler and more immaculate than when he had set out. The others dived for the shade and the cool drinks, whereas Tony squatted in the full glare of the sun and, with a few magic passes, conjured out of thin air a cup of steaming tea and some glutinous, but doubtless nourishing, chutney sandwiches.

A peanut-butter sandwich that Dave misguidedly placed on the rock by his side while he drank, was seized and disputed by two large Telfair skinks before he could rescue it, and disappeared down the hill in a sort of whirling rugger-scrum.

Another large Telfair seized on a banana skin and, with his head held high, rushed off over the rocks like a standard bearer, with a host of eager skinks tearing after him. He reached a group of palmettos some distance away without having to relinquish his trophy, but the ownership of it was still being disputed vigorously when we left the island half an hour later.

Occasionally, there were so many around us at one time that we would make a mistake and catch the wrong one a male instead of a female, say. The animal would then be released, and having indignantly given us a swift and painful bite, would continue its examination of our belongings as if nothing had happened. At last, we had our quota of these enchanting tame lizards and packed up to leave Round Island. We had not seen either of the two species of snake which was not surprising, considering their limited numbers and we had not captured the strictly nocturnal gecko, but our collecting bags bulged with guntheri, the small, sleek skink, and the Telfair skink.

We were well satisfied. It looked more bleak and barren than ever, but now we knew the patches of palms and steep-sided ravines that gave blissful shade, the banks of tuff that provided wind-eroded homes for the Redtailed tropic birds, the fronds of the palms decorated with geckos, and the bald, hot dome of the island alive with the quick, glittering shapes of the little skinks.

We knew that under the picnic tree a host of eager, elegant Telfair skinks formed a welcoming committee, anxiously awaiting the next visiting humans. To us, the island was no longer just a chunk of barren volcanic debris, sun-drenched, sea-washed and wind-sculpted, but a living thing as important, as busy, as full of interest as a human village, peopled by charming and defenceless creatures eager to welcome one to their hot and inhospitable home. The sea was calm and the sky without a shred or wisp of cloud, so that the sunset lay along the horizon like a glowing ingot of gold, fading gradually to green as the sun disappeared.

Most of the party slept. Wahab, having consumed a pineapple, a cucumber and some cold curry, was promptly sick, went a peculiar shade of grey, curled up like a cat and went to sleep.

The next morning we unpacked our catch and found, to our relief, that none of our captives was any the worse for their incarceration. The guntheri, velvety and glowering in a Churchillian manner, strolled nonchalantly into their cages. The little skinks skittered eagerly into their new environment, brisk, alert, each looking like the Salesman of the Year.

The Telfairs were equally curious about their new home — a lavishly decorated aviary. Then, within five minutes, they were satisfied with their new quarters. They converged on us and, as if they had been born in captivity, climbed into our laps and accepted fat, black cockroaches and juicy lumps of banana from our fingers, in a most confiding and flattering way. What on earth for? To take fruit to a tropical island seemed to me to be the Mascarene equivalent of taking coals to Newcastle.

The next couple of days we spent checking our nets and other equipment, reading up on Rodrigues and, whenever possible, snorkelling on the reef, reviewing the multi-coloured everchanging pageant of sea life that lived on or around it.

Neither piece of gossip seemed of vital importance and yet, had we known it, both things were to affect our plans. Two days before we were due to fly to Rodrigues, Wahab phoned. He had, he said, tracked down positively the last Jak fruit on the island of Mauritius and had commandeered it for us. He was sending it round by special messenger. It may affect your flight. The plane yesterday had to turn back. Still, you may be all right.

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