In the area where meat was sold, the floor was slimy with blood that had dripped from the cutting blocks. They were greeted like family by their usual butcher, and Katerina was quickly served with one of the sheep’s heads that had stared at them from a bucket.
‘Why are you buying that, Yiayia?’
‘For stock,’ she replied.
‘And a kilo of tripe, please.’
She would be making patsas later. For a few euros, she could feed all of them for days. Nothing was wasted here.
from The Thread by Victoria Hislop
No comments:
Post a Comment