It’s been an interesting 2 days, food-wise.
I think I’m looking forward to going home. Number of reasons, too personal to share here.
In any case.
We went out for a buffet lunch yesterday. Japanese food – platters of fresh sashimi arranged in spiral fans; lightly battered prawn and vegetable tempura; all sorts of maki; savoury jellyfish salad; perfect red bean mochi; ice cream. The spread was impressive. Except… there were a fair number of Augustus Gloop individuals, running after the waitresses each time they brought out food from the kitchen; clutching 4 glasses of ice cream each or cramming 8 tempura prawns onto the small plates, looking for all the world like they had not eaten or seen food for years, and would never see food again before they died and went to a food-less heaven. They ran past our table several times with food they did not finish. A little boy ate about 4 cups of ice cream on his own, and (I hear from my brother) vomited in the gents’ after. Food… needs to be treated with respect. Despite my best attempts to concentrate on our lunch, our conversation, the perfection of the food was somehow ruined.
Last night, I made a mess of dessert. It wasn’t inedible, but it was anger-inducing. I can’t write more about it without blowing up again.
And today, I struggled with toast. I decided to make a Croque Madame-style version of it, with salami, gruyere cheese, and a fried egg on top with salad on the side. I fumbled, the eggs didn’t crack properly into the pan, the toaster was ‘uncooperative’, my fingers struggled with placing the salami & cheese on the bread.
All I’ve really enjoyed is the 3 cherries I ate early this morning.
I think the making and partaking of food, with enjoyment, requires not a magnificent & gadget-equipped kitchen (although that could be nice too), but, cheesy at it sounds, laughter & love… good ingredients too of course. I think I would sooner cook in a primitive hut with kindred souls than a fancy, sparkling, tv-chef kitchen where we argue about how to load the dishwasher, clash on food preferences, take 45 minutes to cook a grumpy lunch for a myriad of petty reasons.
Here we are.
The sun is out, I need to go on a walk now.
Buffet restaurants never fail to amuse me for the types of people you see there. Although I’m sure as a child I probably had more than my fair share of ice cream like the little boy you described! No vomiting though, that I can recall.
And cooking in other people’s kitchens (or, having other people cook in your kitchen) sometimes takes patience, but I agree, it’s so much better if you don’t take things too seriously.
But hey, cherries are always good!