Foodvice is a state of mind, it has to do with a constant curiosity about good food and a deep respect for the people who produce it and transform it

Ernest is my German cactus. I bought it ten years ago in Wuppertal and took it back to Brussels with me. It grew nicely and peacefully on my window sill. Then it kind of picked up its growth rate, its leaves got bigger and rounder and thicker. By then it lived in a very large terracotta pot. When I moved out of my flat, Ernest came with me. I placed it in my car and had to pick out hundreds of spikes with my tweezers for weeks, after its landing.

Some years ago, even the giant pot got too small. I split Ernest in two. Both continued to grow and also to strangely react to my absence. Every time I left for a few days, I came back to find both Ernests had collapsed one of their spiky branches to the ground. The branches would then gradually lift back to their original position, ready to collapse the next time I left.

Ernest has been the terror of many of my friends’ kids. It luscious green leaves have attracted many innocent hands and triggered many sharp shrills. I tried to give at least one of them away but no one would take them. So recently, when a Mexican friend mentioned the fact that cactuses are eaten raw in salads, I thought I saw the light! Let’s eat it, I proposed. My friend’s wife was worried that maybe that my German specimen may not be edible but I manages to convince her. Armed with a thick red rubber glove, Osvaldo cut off one of the leaves and proceeded to skin it with a sharp knife. The operation could be carried out with some difficulty. The juicy cactus was cut in strips and combined with onions, peppers, salt, pepper and lime juice.

We all had a taste: it was delicious. But then Osvaldo daughter took a bite and began to look afraid: she had caught a thorn, right in her throat. Her mum took her to the bathroom and managed to retrieve it with a pair of tweezers. It was my turn next, I suddenly felt a sting on my tongue and saw one of Ernest’s yellow thorns sticking out from its pink protuberances. The delicious treat was quite insidious but nobody dared give it a try after that.

I was quite impressed by my plant’s successful attempt to divert any culinary longing for it. But I have not given up turning up occasionally with better skill and equipment in order to replicate a delicious, but thorn less, salad.