Satay

There used to be a ‘satay man’ who would cycle down our street in the heavy, languid hour just before sunset, with a tiny grill strapped on top of his back wheel. On those glorious days when we were far too lazy to cook, we would flag him down and order two dozen skewers. He would grill them on the spot, filling the air with the ethereal scent of caramelisation and bubbling, savoury peanut sauce. Satay sauce is – dare I say it – even better than eating peanut butter out of the jar.