Not a post about reincarnation, though we did walk through this tiny 200-year-old cemetery today during our search for a replacement can opener (the other one broke during our steak and kidney pie tasting, a post which may not see the light of day).
The post title's actually about Shalamar, and our second, marginally less euphoric but still delicious visit to Banner's, where we shared an untiny shrimp roti, coconut rice, coleslaw, and The Legendary Spoonbread. Food was good, but we missed our warm and friendly bartender Emma, instead we were faced with a tough old tattooed broad who seemed unhappy with her chosen profession. On the upside, she made me feel very young for my age.
Here's a Guardian article about the restaurant's tap water policy that makes us feel better about our patronage.
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