Do you know the worst thing you can say to someone who’s worrying or has something on their mind? Telling them to forget about whatever it is and focus their attention elsewhere. Our brains don’t work like that. What happens is we tend to focus even more acutely on the thing that bothered us in the first place.
Try this little experiment. Shut your eyes. Think very hard about three yellow giraffes. Go on, see them walking serenely around, nibbling leaves from the tops of some yellowing trees. Now replace those giraffes with any other animal in a colour of your choice. Not easy, is it? And I don’t want any smart answers that the animals you chose couldn’t reach the trees anyway. I covered that when I tried it.
Since the discovery I made and revealed last week about my appalling surprise with the bathroom scales I’ve been thinking of food; it has occupied a large portion of my waking hours, and a fair slice of my sleeping ones, come to that. My mind has been consumed by visions of past memorable meals. Memorable meals don’t even have to be enjoyable. Think of school dinners for instance.
I can remember suffering the most ghastly food at primary school. Plates of mince in runny, watery gravy served with solid peas and barely boiled potatoes; plum suet pudding drowned in lumpy custard – it was the stuff of the Dickensian workhouse. We were made to sit through playtime until we had swallowed every last morsel – our sadistic dinner ladies made sure of that by forcing us to feel grateful that we weren’t like the starving children in Africa.
So, food is a very good way to evoke memories of places we have been. I’ve been time travelling quite a lot this week, in a gastronomic sense. When I worked just off Oxford Street in Central London, we would often go out for meals to celebrate a birthday or Christmas, or find some other excuse. We were a pretty sociable lot. One of our favourite haunts was Jimmy’s in Frith Street, Soho: a dark basement where the food was cheap, the wine on the rough side – but the kleftikon (slow cooked lamb) was to die for. Sadly, the establishment is no more, but for anyone seeking to reminisce over evenings of typical Greek fare, you can do so here.
Over the years I’ve been fortunate enough to visit some pretty high end restaurants; some presided over by one celebrity chef or other: the sort of place that you visit once, for a treat. (Or on expenses). However, as there are now so many of them, I think that the exclusivity of these places has been eroded, and while the experience is always an indulgence, I can’t honestly remember individual dishes or one specific meal with a particular wow factor. We recently tried a Japanese restaurant in town that has received excellent reviews. As suggested, we tried their signature dish, the bento box, which gives the diner a taste of many of their dishes. I loved it and scoffed the lot. Time will tell if this will be an unforgettable outing.
Foreign travel provides the opportunity to try different local fare, some of which has become memorable and can be recalled in an instant at the mere sniff of garlic or unmistakeable aroma of Mediterranean tomatoes. I had the most wonderful salad one lunch time in a café in Grau de Roi, Languedoc – thinly sliced and layered Provencal tomatoes, a drizzle of olive oil and a few anchovies, washed down with a glass or two of chilled dry rose – heaven!
Other experiences are not quite so heavenly. On a short trip to Denmark, we seemed to be followed from meal to meal by Frikadellers – they were on every menu and consist of a hamburger covered in breadcrumbs and deep fried. Now I’m sure that the Danes do have a more varied diet – indeed, I believe that one of the most expensive restaurants in the world is in Copenhagen, but to me, whenever anyone mentions Danish cuisine, I think of these unappetising balls of deep fried mince.
On a visit to Reykjavik, we had dried salt cod and avoided the pan roasted puffin on the specials board while trips to Italy have so far been largely disappointing: I’m not big on pizzas, there is only so much pasta one can eat and if I order salad I don’t expect to have to mix up the dressing myself.
Nothing I’ve eaten in Spain has been particularly memorable one way or the other, and I really don’t understand what all the fuss over Tapas is about. Give me a decent bowl of olives or nuts to have with an aperitif and I’m happy – I can’t be doing with bits of sausage or strips of peppers swimming around in herb scented oil.
Unsurprisingly France has been the venue for many memorable meals. One was in a roadside hostelry in southern Normandy, not far from the industrial outskirts of Evreux. We were on our way further south but had stopped off to take in Monet’s garden and needed somewhere to overnight. We pitched up late, secured a room for the night and went down to the bar for something to eat. Madame bustled around and provided a green salad (dressed), pan fried calves liver with pommes vapeur; a bowl of freshly picked cherries and some Camembert. My sort of food: delicious.
Another was inland from Biarritz. We’d driven all day to get to the coast then could find nowhere to stay so we back-tracked and found an ordinary looking little hotel on a crossroads to nowhere. Exhausted with the heat and frustration of looking for a room, we settled for their typical old French bedroom – mildewed floral wallpaper, red lino and a power shower in the corner of the room screened off by a plastic curtain. We accepted the meal that night might be a disaster but at that point, we were beyond caring. With the tables laid outside under a large canopy and the smell of rosemary and thyme in the evening air we ate a fabulous banquet of seafood, drank rather a lot of local wine and made friends with a table of elderly French men and women who talked about the Resistance all evening and were very entertaining. The entente had never been so cordiale and we ended up sharing brandies with them until midnight so consequently didn’t notice how uncomfortable our bed really was.
So do I have a favourite food? No, not really. I invariably choose fish when we’re out because I don’t often cook it at home. I prefer salad to cooked vegetables unless they are really al dente and I don’t favour stodgy puddings. I like unpretentious food, in ambient surroundings, preferably on some shady terrace where there are no mosquitoes. That’s not too much to ask, is it?
I must leave you with a little food related anecdote. Several years ago I was working with a new eleven-year-old pupil, helping him identify meanings of some science words we would be covering during his first half term. Mindful that this little chap was on the autistic spectrum and hoping to help him increase his social skills, I was doing my best to engage him in conversation while we tackled this task, so when the word ‘nutrition’ came up, I asked him what his favourite food was.
He put down his pen, turned to me and said scathingly, “Well, how would I know. I haven’t tried everything yet.”
Food for thought? I love my job.
Great post, Jenny! I’m a very finicky eater, drove my mother crazy when I was little, so I’m not adventurous when it comes to trying new and different foods. I don’t think about food too much, only when my stomach starts to growl. 🙂
What a great response by your pupil…I love it!
I’ll try most things once and then I’ll know not to order them again – as in the case of snails – yuk! Garlic gristles would be a better description. I don’t eat frogs legs either and am not a fan of prawns, but I did try blackbird pate in Corsica and quite liked the taste, although I’ve never seen it on a menu since!
As for my pupil – I think that’s one of the funniest replies I’ve ever had, but it also taught me that when dealing with ASD pupils, the way to construct your questions is all important 🙂
If I don’t like the looks of something, I won’t even try it. I’m sure I’m missing out on some good food.
I have to ask, have you ever tried Haggis?
Yes – it’s revolting. And even worse – you’re supposed to eat it with your fingers.
You are a brave, brave woman!
My mouth is watering after reading this post. It’s wonderful how much our memories revolve around food, or the smell of food, or the colour of food! I can see we have a lot in common Jenny 🙂 The best kleftikon I ever tasted was in a little Greek restaurant in Sea Point, Cape Town – they also served very good calamari too – which made deciding what to have very difficult!
Our holidays seem to revolve around food. The absolute best place for a bowl of mussels is Stes Maries de la Mer in the Camargue, opposite the beach on the first floor of the Brasserie Belvedere. You have a panoramic view across to Marseilles and flamenco in the background. Many a lunchtime has been spent here, ending up with a shot of the local liqueur, La Camarguais.
I just gained two pounds – thanks very much.
Haha – but did you try the giraffe test?
Pan roasted puffin? That’s something I’ve never tried. I suppose cultures will dine on whatever’s available in large quantities. But I’m sorry to hear food’s been on your mind a lot, in light of last week’s post. It’s true we always crave what we can’t (or shouldn’t) have.
Well, we gave it a miss, but it was obviously a local delicacy.
Actually I’m feeling quite smug, having stuck to my intention of brisk walking and eating less – already I feel better – but it might just be psychological 😉
Even if it’s psychological, sometimes that’s all you need. Feeling better is never a bad thing! Keep up the good work!
Well, I’m going to try – thanks, Gwen!
You could have gone to the same school as me… down to the kids in Africa. I was fussy when I was young, but truly school food was appalling – sausages with little hard bits in (what were they??), reconstituted mash, pies with unidentifiable bits of meat in them. We moved house when I was nine to a different borough with a different, much better supplier, and the food there was nice proving that it wasn’t just me.
I think this is to do with being a single parent and having to do all the cooking all of the time – my most memorable meals have been the ones that ex-partners have cooked for me. Luckily I have gone out with some good cooks!
Oh gosh yes, those pies! Grey pastry? Yes, I remember those. Absolutely horrible.
I’d love it if my husband did all the cooking – as long as he cleared up the mess too. He’s quite handy in the kitchen but leaves it looking like world war three, managing to use every single piece of equipment we possess. He pretends he doesn’t know how to use the dishwasher. It must be strange living with a chef 🙂
Hi, Denise and Jenny! My elementary school was free-flowing as far as whether we ate the food or not. But aside from fish sticks and tomato soup on Fridays, I think it was okay. Art School was a different story. Gray meat and brown gravy. We called the cafeteria man who wore the white hat “Cheffie” and the lady who cleaned our rooms “Maid Marian.” (Her name was Marian, of course) Both people were not equipped to handle such creative names.
But back to food, yes, I was in Marseille once. I loved their potatoes on sandwiches along with black olives, cheese, ham, peppers. Nicoise on a bun.
Basically I don’t do the foodie thing. I think it’s because I am too skiddish! 🙂
I love that your maid was called Marian.
Marseille – we’ve had some wonderful lunches there – bouillabaisse (fish soup) is a speciality and Husband’s absolute favourite. I’m with you on a fresh salad nicoise – nothing better on a hot hot day, sitting in a café overlooking the harbour, watching the world walk by.
My school meals sounded similar, but there were some goodies I enjoyed. Our dinner ladies were lovely, so we could often get extras of the good food. Our prison warders were whichever teachers were on duty.
Favourite meals out were probably at some rather good ones in the UK, but this is years and years back, when there was a lot of basic french style cooking.
I can think of four places off the top of my head from Scotland to the south east, not sure what the fifth would be so I’ll add my mum’s cooking!
Abroad less so. But since becoming vegetarian, a superb restaurant in Tarragona, two very good ones in Málaga and Los Boliches (Fuengirola), and a good one in Clifden (spl? Ireland). As for tapas, two good things about them, you can eat them at most any time of the day, and you can put together as much of a meal as you want to and to your choice. I think the meatball/salchicha/some of the fish ones and the ensalada russia all look pretty undesirable.
The free tapas in out of the way places are the best. We had a wonderful offering of tiny tortilla pieces with herbs and fresh wild asparagus, some beautiful roasted peppers in Madrid, and some beautiful looking jamón in Málaga, which we refused, so he promptly brought out something else that he considered vegetarian (probably cheese made with animal rennet!).
No favourite food here, but I do like French and Indian, probably followed by any hot SE Asian food and Italian.
I did have a period of going through dreams of eating meat/fish again. No desire to do it so I’m guessing I was just flitting through memories in those filecards in my so-called brain.
Love your 11-year-old. What a smarty 🙂
I’ve clearly been going to the wrong tapas restaurants – yours sound wonderful, especially the asparagus – I love asparagus. I’d forgotten about Indian/Asian food. We had some wonderful curries in Sri Lanka – I made sure they were vegetable after seeing the meat market in Colombo! It would be interesting to go to a really good vegetarian restaurant. We used to go to Cranks a lot where the food was good and very wholesome – ditto Neal’s Yard in Covent Garden but they were lunch time places – or pre cinema suppers -not somewhere you’d go out to in the evening to linger over a meal.
My student? Yes, one of the best – can’t help having favourites of those, either 🙂
I say the same as Denise – did we sit next to each other at school as I had that exact same dinner!!! One of the ‘wonderful’ puddings was some foul concoction with pink blancmange and coconut. To this day the thought of desiccated coconut wants to make me vomit. Isn’t it the truth that when we try to cut down we suddenly obsess about food more than ever. Hate that!
I love Greek food but when we lived in the States our favourite I have to say was Japanese. I wish there were more Japanese restaurants around here. When Claire had her 18th birthday she wanted to spend the day in London and get a Bento Box, which is exactly what we did, and we sat and ate it in Hyde Park! Her birthday is in August so it was very hot but we found a nice shady spot. A lovely day.
As for your ASD student, loved his answer, classic 🙂
Loved this post Jenny, thanks for making me starving hungry now…. 😉
Ugh, pink blancmange – the thought of that alone makes me heave. I don’t remember coconut though, we used to have jam tart – that solid grey pastry with a smear of vivid red jam. It was disgusting.
Yes, Japanese is a favourite of mine too. There used to be a Japanese Restaurant at one of the local golf clubs – but it’s disappeared now – a great shame as it was always a bit of an occasion.
Claire’s 18th birthday sounds like it was a real treat. I like the idea of a bento box in Hyde park.
Yes, my student’s reply taught me to phrase my sentences correctly. If I’d said ‘of the foods you have tried, which one is your favourite’ I would have had a food related reply – but it wouldn’t have been so funny!
Ha, that grey pastry – that was underneath the pink blancmange!!!
A packed lunch was the way to go – I don’t have nightmares about horrible school dinners 🙂 You’ve made me think Jenny, as much as I love food, I can’t seem to think of many food-related memories. Many of our holidays abroad were when I was vegetarian and then it was all about trying to find something I could eat – not always appetising. I still feel guilty that I’m no longer veggie (though it’s been a long time now), so I won’t eat any animal I hadn’t eaten before being veggie – so nothing exotic – a strange set of ethics maybe, but it works for me! I would be interested to know what snails taste like, since I do love winkles…
Yes, packed lunches would have been so much better. The food wasn’t much better at secondary school either. We had deep fried spam fritters which used to slide around on the plates, they were so greasy.
It must be quite difficult sticking to being veggie, especially in big meat eating countries like France – I don’t recall seeing any vegetarian restaurants anywhere we have been. I didn’t like snails – they are tough and gritty – but then I might have just been unlucky. Lots of garlic too, which hides their actual flavour – you haven’t missed much 🙂
We had a pudding at school called Gypsy Tart, which was a pastry base filled with what I believe to be a mixture of golden syrup and condensed milk. It was the sweetest substance ever invented. You used to eat it with custard to reduce the overall sugar content. Bleurgh!
Saying that, my one guilty pleasure is a burger. I can’t turn them down. I know they are bad for me but they taste soooo gooood!
My cavities are expanding at the thought of that tart.
There are times when only a burger will do – I admit it, I’ve had the occasional Mac-Attack. There’s something about those gherkins slathered in ketchup…and of course, the fries. You can’t have a burger without the fries. Interestingly though, fries are fine on their own – but even better with mayonnaise like they have them in Holland!
A great post, Jenny! I, too, love unpretentious French food. Isn’t it amazing how the most wonderful evenings can come out the most unpromising situations?To me, exploring the food is just as important as exploring the place.
Loved your student’s comment! 🙂
You’re right – food is part of the culture of a place – and French culture is all about food! I love the simple ways they serve their dishes and the way they treat each meal time as an occasion. I’m pretty much a Francophile – I even like their quirky plumbing!
A truly excellent post Jenny, and how true that the most memorable times arrive unexpectedly.
Worst food experience – prunes in rice pudding. Even the sadistic school dinner ladies were unable to force us to eat the muck.
Best food experiences – arriving one sunny lunchtime in Cancale all the harbour restaurants were packed. We retreated up the hill to the quiet town and into an empty bar. The (cheap) experience of a dozen oysters with a cold beer live on many years later.
Thanks Roy. I can almost taste those oysters. Brittany was the place I tasted my first oyster – they must be the ultimate sensory experience, evoking for me childhood beaches, rock pools and seaweed: absolutely wonderful.
Prunes in rice pudding – oh my days – that is one of the worst combinations imaginable, but it has reminded me of semolina with a squirt of jam – another school pudding with the consistency of wallpaper paste.
Well clearly this has struck a chord from school dinners to celebrity chefs. I’m not a great foodie but I like Indian, Italian, unfussy food. I’m not allowed shellfish nor alcohol so I’m not big on Japanese. I like my food dead and cooked. Puffin? Oh no! A medium rare tenderloin with a good quality salad does me just fine.
Yes, seriously, Puffin. I couldn’t eat one of those. I think guillemot was on that particular menu too – ugh!
Medium rare sounds perfect – can I have a few chips with that? And unfussy. Definitely.
Oh no! Not Guillemot. Whatever next? Stuffed Razorbill?
My experiences with mainstreamed spectrum-autism students taught me to expect and appreciate their very literal interpretations of everything we did in class. Everything… The other students and I gained a appreciation for very careful wording and what it might imply.
But back to the food problem. Oh, you’ll appreciate this, Jenny.
I have a friend who tried everything, absolutely every diet plus binging and purging, etc. Want to know what finally inspired her to cute her calories to 1,200 a day and walk 30 min. a day until she lost 47 lbs.???
Ready for this? A doctor friend gave her actual photographs of stomach stapling–the end result and step-by-step pictures of the process–and told her that if she didn’t keep to her own plan, this would be the next step.
You and I don’t have 47 lbs. to lose, but trust me, if we did these graphic pictures would motivate us…
That is absolutely gross! Thankfully I’m nowhere near that kind of problem – just a little home maintenance is required, I feel, to get the body and spirit back into shape. I do know someone who had a ‘tummy tuck’ – which looked ok for a while, but then our bodies have that uncanny knack of reverting to their original form – just seems an awfully drastic measure to take for a non permanent solution.
Glad to report that the brisk walking is taking a hold (weather permitting – we’ve had 70mph winds today) and my resolve with the treats is truly under control, so am feeling quite smug. 🙂
I made sure I ate before re-reading this and responding. A piece like that tends to send the reader to the ‘fridge 🙂
When you think about it the rituals we have built all around preparing and eating food are a wonderful testament to life. Yes, sometimes we just eat to live but, when given the chance, we are able to make such great work out of preparing food and then sharing it.
Even the “rough grub” approach that is the traditional one taken to food in my part of the world is filled with beauty and with ritual.
My favourite, by the way is fish cakes made with our traditional salt-cured, sun-dried cod. A decebt recipe is here: http://www.saltscapes.com/index.php?option=com_zoo&task=item&item_id=498&Itemid=173 but it needs two changes: (1) carmelize (not just soften) the onions and (2) use olive oil instead of canola
Yes, and it’s those rituals which are so interesting and make us want to travel and seek out other cultures in the first place. Some things which are commonplace elsewhere may not appeal to us – but unless we step out and try them at least once, how do we really know? The sight of an oyster in its shell is pretty disgusting actually, and so is the thought of eating sea slug. Having tried them both I can vouch for one and avoid at all costs the other!
I checked out your fish cakes and they do look yummy but I’d have to improvise as sundried salt cod is not available around here 😉