Witch Food: Hecate (or even Kali) Bowls

Taking pictures of the food I eat isn't particularly something which interests me and I certainly wouldn't want to inflict them on my readers here. It is frankly one of the most bizarre trends there is.
In fact the whole world has gone mad about food. It not only has to be just so, it has to appear on instagram.
Another 'healthy' food trend is the Buddha bowl. The recipe is simple: it has to be organic, spiralised, vegan (asking for trouble in later life, to my mind), free-range, often contain that bizarre kwinoah stuff, and the ingredients must be bought at Waitrose. Then posted on instagram, of course. The reason they're called Buddha bowls is they draw on the idea of the Buddha's begging bowl, the contents of which he would eat in the evening. Did I say they also have to come with a large dollop of tahini, one of privilege and a third of smugness?
Anyway, the reason you're seeing tomorrow's lunch is that I met the Buddha outside Primark today, have murdered him, seized his bowl, and witchified his recipe. My unfluffy witchy philosophy is that life is a bitch and all things die, so this is a bowl sacred to the Goddess, and is a sacrifice you can eat. Yes, you're eating death. That's the point.
My Hecate bowl has blood sausage and of course Hecate loves blood. The rice is saturated with sesame oil and there are further sesame seeds in the mixed seeds sprinkled on top. Strictly speaking black sesame seeds are sacred to the Goddess but the bag of them I have is reserved for a sacrifice in a graveyard. You could put red coloured fish in it, reminiscent of the red mullet offered to her in the ancient world.
Ready to say grace?

Come infernal, terrestrial, and heavenly Bombo (Hecate), goddess of the broad roadways, of the crossroad, thou who goest to and fro at night, torch in hand, enemy of the day. Friend and lover of darkness, thou who doest rejoice when the bitches are howling and warm blood is spilled, thou who art walking amid the phantom and the in place of the tombs, thou whose thirst is blood, thou who doest strike chill and fear in mortal hearts, Gorgo, Mormo, Moon of a thousand forms, cast a propitious eye on our sacrifice.

Hippolytus in Philosphumena 

Oh - and some music to eat by. This song of course deliberately sounds rude and I first heard it sung by Hinge and Bracket :