Alcoholic Honey

Over the years V has taught me how to pick-out the best papayas, 'chinitas', long and thin with a marked scarcity of pips - like these ones.

I used to think that eating papaya was a probable cause of the way that the weight just falls off me here in Guatemala - this time I've lost two stone since my arrival - but in the end it must be the altitude and the less sedentary lifestyle, because for various reasons I've eaten less of the fruit over the past month or so.

This pair, plus some incredibly succulent pink grapefruit, were sold to us by the fruit and veggie man who passes our street in his battered picop every Wednesday.

A less frequently-appearing vendor sold us three rum-bottles of locally-made honey last week, at least one of which tastes like they forgot to pour out all the rum first! This transparent, less viscous variety has proved an excellent additive for coffee, mosh and granola, fried plantains, French bean salads and those watermelon and vodka cocktails that V likes to knock up occasionally.

For one of our cats, Wizzy, there is no greater delicacy than the flesh and the skin of the papaya. The others weren't so sure at first, but are starting to follow her lead.

Another way to tell if a papaya is one of those class-act pipless ones is to pick it up and shake it. If it doesn't rattle it's probably a goody.