Eat the World

It has been a significant amount of time since my last post. Perhaps I lost my mojo, or perhaps my creative juices were marinading. Marinading to the point of liquid? Circumstances aided in the creation of a creative desert, but apparently I walked through the valley in the shadow of death!

I had an impromptu visit to Antwerp in Belgium. I have visited Antwerp many times over my advancing years for various reasons. Coming back is like visiting an old friend. Things change, some things are beautiful and some things aren’t.

As usual my work brought me here, leaving my evenings free to explore. Walking around the old town, with a rumble in my belly seeing various non-descript restaurants. I chanced across a Moroccan restaurant and my heart leapt several meters from my chest.

The menu didn’t inspire me at all, focusing upon Pastillas and breakfasty type affairs. The mother came over talking to me in Flemish, which isn’t my best language. Blurting out that I don’t speak Dutch/Flemish, she called her daughter over. Who without batting an eyelid told me that she speaks seven languages. Well that was me trumped. Using my pidgin Spanish we chat away, going through the menu.

At this point it became a family affair. The owner (and father) of the family was introduced to me. He was a wonderful host, chatting about his time in Girona, about my recent visit to Morocco, about the food, the climate etc. It made me feel like part of the family, breaking bread with relatives that I haven’t seen for years.

The chicken tagine was incredible. Authentic, tasty and served from a family’s kitchen. Not sure about the fries , perhaps it is mandated in Belgium that every meal is served with fritjes? But it isn’t just about the food, the whole experience was heartwarming and welcoming. Getting behind the transactional nature of a restaurant for a deeply personal experience and it left me feeling elated.

Eating alone in a restaurant is normally a perfunctory experience. Mostly people watching and munching, but just sometimes an open mind creates an incredible experience. Tonight I had that experience, and it has made my writing juices flow again. I have commented many times that food and the act of eating is something that removes all boundaries from us as a species. Sharing the food and eating allows us to be equal, regardless of culture. We should eat the world, and eat each others world. Just don’t each other other, that is generally frowned upon in many cultures.

Merci beaucoup Le Beldi. Today you reunited me with an old friend that I have missed very much.

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More Cheese Gromit?

In general flying is a relatively unpleasant experience. Standing in queues, unpleasantly close to the unwashed and strongly smelling stranger in front, the minutes turn to hours. Anyone who tells you that they enjoy the experience of flying is a liar. Or drunk, hallucinating or quite possibly all three at once. The stress level of simply checking in and getting through security likely shaves days from your life, and that is before you get onto the aircraft.

I travel with KLM a lot. Not sufficiently to gain a golden status with them, but just enough that I can get onto the aircraft in the priority queue. This aspect of a ‘reward’ from KLM always puzzled me. Yes Mr R, you can get to the front of the queue. However, please wait until all of the other passengers shove their way to the front as well. Therefore the boarding process becomes more like a rugby scrum. The fight between passengers for overhead space for their multitude of suitcases borders upon muted violence at times.

I continue to travel with KLM, because it is more like an old predictable friend. You have forgotten why you continue to be friends with them, because they constantly disappoint you. Not turning up, turning up late and generally offending you. But, you know what to expect from them.

There is one constant in this friendship that is guaranteed to disappoint, the ubiqitous KLM cheese sandwich. The Netherland’s most underrated export, proudly turning stomachs the world over. Sandwiched in between brown bread, the two tasteless cheese sandwiches are tossed towards you by the cabin crew. Imagine a zookeeper throwing cheesy sardines towards a group of ravenous seals…you get the image. Now I have to admit I am not a fan of cheese, therefore perhaps I am a little biased? However when I consider over my travelling career the sheer quantity of KLM’s cheese abominations I have eaten, it would produce a very large and smelly art exhibition. Imagine the Tate Modern filled with cheese sandwiches from floor to ceiling?

Why do I target the humble cheese sandwich you may ask? Well, take two KLM flights in a row. Each flight you are offered this little cheese bastard, with a grin on the cabin crew’s face. I imagine that they know a) you had this exact same sandwich around 90 minutes ago, and b) don’t like cheese. It is torture at 10,000m, and there is no escape! My core issue is that KLM haven’t changed this awful sandwich for years, all they have changed is the packaging that accompanies it. Why change a winning formula you may ask, well because it is terrible.

Perhaps I wil claim to be lactose intolerant before my next flight? Knowing my luck they will give me lactose free cheese…

Natures Larder

Natures larder, you know..that big expanse of green stuff outside. It’s packed with wonderful fruits, berries and delights just waiting to be snaffled. From appealing roadside apples to bulging blackberries, delightful damsons even through to exciting elder there is a vast and virtually untapped nutritional resource out there. I have been a ‘forager’ in earnest for around two years now. It’s something that I always aspired to do, feeling enthused after watching Ray Mears munch his way through Britain’s woodland. He obviously ate a large amount of it.

I have tried to pass on my limited skills onto my little one. She LOVES to go foraging, as she knows that she can munch on some tasty berries as we traipse our way around. There is also the added bonus of splashing in muddy puddles for her ! It probably sounds a little odd, but I excel in being different and I refuse to be ‘normal’. Normal to me is run of the mill, tedium personified. I digress as usual. I have taught her how to live from the land, what is good, what is bad and what will kill you. I always say to her that you need to know this “In case the shops aren’t open any more“. Sounding like a true nut job now, our consumerist lifestyle is very fragile. It wouldn’t take much for it to fall apart. So I teach her to forage, and how to hunt.

As Autumn (Fall) approaches, the tree branches are laden with nature’s bounty. Late summer really presents a bonus of foragable booty. This weekend I have picked around 5KG of damsons, and 3KG of Rowan Berries plus a handful of Hazelnuts. The latter of the three were picked from the side of an old forgotten road. It’s quite eerie to walk along a path, completely overgrown by nettles, blackberry and hazel and see a white line in the middle of the path. How quickly nature takes back from us. In fact as we were taking hazelnuts, there was a grey squirrel angrily crashing around in the branches above us. Neve was telling the squirrel to ‘Shush’…so cute.

From this weekend’s haul, I have started to make some Damson wine and Rowan Berry wine.Plump purple Damson berries are an old favourite for people to forage, but people tend to shy away from Rowan. Dare I say it’s a bit of a secret. Most people have the impression that that large bunches of waxy red berries are poisonous. For sure if you bit into a berry, you would spit it out instantly. They taste like crap, but are super packed with vitamin C. However you can make an amazing jelly from them, which accompanies meat wonderfully. Plus I made an amazing Rowan wine, and am currently drinking a glass now. I would say that it’s the best wine that I have made so far. The taste is like a medium white, but the colour is like whiskey !

Go out into the parks and hedgerows. Go and sample what is waiting. However please use caution, as there are things out there that will either taste nasty or kill you ! Do a Google search for hedgerow foraging, and it will give you berry images and leaves to look for.

Some starter sites:

Andy Hamilton – One of the seminal founders of the ‘Self Sufficientish’ movement

Robin Harford – Robin provides a wonderfully useful reference site, with great recipes

Adam – Adam produces some unusual wine recipes, including the amazing Rowan Berry Wine

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PS – Do not attempt this if you are squeamish about insects, or don’t like being stung by nettles !

The world on a plate…

One of the things that has struck me on more than one occasion is the massive variation in what we eat around the world. For me a major part of the travel experience is with the local food. Perhaps this is why I “am packing” ? I don’t mean weapons either !

Seriously though, you can kind of tell the background of local types by their dishes. Where I come from (Liverpool), the speciality is a dish called “Scouse”. It’s actually where “Scousers” get their name from. Scouse is a very plain yet hearty dish. Traditionally it’s made with leftover meats, vegetables and a metric tonne of potatoes. It’s a poor man’s dish, originally adapted from a Norwegian recipe “Lobscouse”. Similar “one-pot” meals are prevalent in other areas where times have been hard.

The biggest national variation in foods in my opinion is at breakfast times. Us Brit’s are famous for a “Full English”. A Full English consists of a coronary inducing amount of bacon, sausages, eggs and another Brit speciality “Black Pudding”. I’ll explain ‘ black pud’ a different time. Nowadays most Brit’s breakfast fare is the humble if not boring cereal.

Then we move onto our cousins across the pond. Equally as fatty, the Americans present such delights as pancakes with buttermilk, streaky bacon, hash browns and all manner of muffins. A serious calorie overload (but v tasty) !

The North Europeans are fairly similar. Sliced meats, cold cheeses, and various fishy thingies. Southern Europeans have sliced spiced meats such as salami and cheeses. I experienced curry for breakfast in the Maldives, which certainly set you up for the day !

Now, onto the Asian’s…and obviously with my recent travels it’s really got me thinking about all things breakfasty. In Asia, anything goes for breakfast. Soup, dim sum, duck, cakes…whatever. Does it taste good ? Well let’s have it for breakfast !

What’s my point I hear you mutter ? Firstly, there should be a serious study of the worlds breakfast habits. We are all told how breakfast is the most important meal of the day, yet due to our “country conditioning” we tend to opt for the “norm”. Is this one of the reasons that Asian people tend to be more happy and content than us Westerners ?

My other point, and this is a bit of a rant…

It drives me insane when someone goes to the trouble of travelling abroad, and yet won’t try the local food. How are they possibly experiencing the local culture (ignoring any bacterial references) ? They should embrace the culture and the culinary delights that are on offer. I have to point out that I did refuse raw chicken once in Japan, I did not want to experience that type of culture !

Throw caution to the wind, and try new foods.

Open your mouth, fill it (now then) and open your mind.

Soap box has been put away now. Is it time for my Xanax already Doctor…