This Week in Food Porn: Spiced Coconut, Edible Flowers, and Hummus

Opposable thumbs are what separate us from the apes, not to mention dogs. They are what make us able to sew, hitchhike, give hand jobs, dig for victory, and, of course, like pictures of other people’s delicious dishes on Instagram.

Of course, we don’t want you wearing out this incredible implement on too much scrolling, so have instead brought together all the best of this week’s food porn—all the hearts, all the plates, all the flowers, and all the cakes. Tuck in your napkin and, well, tuck in.

Nobody dosa better, as Carly Simon nearly said. Consider this a fermented arrow straight to my heart, trailing a blaze of spiced coconut glory.

Diwali’s here, let’s all get silver-dusted diabetes. Just like Lakshmi would have wanted.

To tear flesh from bones and soak bread in blood can be, doubtless, hella fun. And yet it’s hard to stare into this cosmos of wild, earthy freshness and not feel that all that carnivorous mastication lacks a certain, I don’t know … elegance? But then again, what’s a broth without a few bones?

Sometimes, a fruit is a flower and a flower is a fruit. And sometimes a bowl of poached pears deserve to be painted by Vermeer.

I spend a lot of time thinking about my final meal on death row. You know, once I’ve reeked my vengeance upon all of those who have sexually rejected me in the past. And once I’ve nailed that tableful, I start thinking about how I’d most like to enact crash weight gain upon my poor unsuspecting frame. In both cases, hummus is going to pull a pretty poll position. The rest is just admin.

I pray you, bring your hand to the buttery bar and let it drink. Cover me in breakfast and eat me like a mushroom. Flake your croissant across my bed sheets. I love you.

If you think edible flowers are simply for cows and your mum’s ex-boyfriend from that weekend she spent in Woodstock, then think again. Come springtime and we’re going to be munching on stems, stamens, and sepals like we never learned to stand up with the monkeys.

It takes a certain kind of woman not to set my teeth on saccharine edge with talk of cupcakes. A very special kind of woman. The sort of woman who looks like a well-upholstered armchair in an exclusive private members clubs. That woman is Nigella.

Follow that yellow brick road, you wizziful wizz.