​

​

4 whole cloves

2 cardamom pods

1 cinnamon stick

3 cups water  

¼ teaspoon ground ginger

⅛ teaspoon fresh ground black pepper

½ cup fresh milk

2 tablespoons black tea

 

​

​

Mr Leopold Bloom sucked with relish the thick milk from her breasts and nipples. He then moved about the kitchen softly. Right. This the one. He placed down the moustache cup given to him by his daughter Milly.

 

Smell: cloves, cardamom, cinnamon. Somewhere in the east: early morning: set off at dawn… Wander through awned streets. Turbaned faces going by... A girl playing one of those instruments. He pressed the pestle deep. The spices’ aroma burst forward.

 

—They hurt, Poldy, said Mrs Marion Bloom.

 

Bloom pressed his lips to Molly’s palm.

 

—I will be there soon.

 

Kettle: water, the crushed spices, ginger, ah –  the black pepper too. Heat. Good. Bloom turned away from the stove, turned towards Molly. He cradled her breasts. Hard still. Bloom lowered. His lips enveloped and his teeth grazed across her nipple. He bite.

 

—O!

 

He sucked. Sweet. Thick. Bloom let the cream drip into the kettle. Tea, where? Ah –  Bloom placed the black tea leaves to steep in the kettle. He then retrieved the moustache cup and filled it with the milk tea.