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Kathryn Reilly's avatar

On a freebie in Paris, in some frighteningly posh restaurant, a waiter held a bowl in front of me, from which I took a pinch of the garnish within to sprinkle on my eye-wateringly expensive main. 'No, madam, no!' he screamed, silencing the entire joint. He was showing me the petal barley from which said dish was made. But why? The shame, as you say, the shame...

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