The basis of most beginnings is found in the motivation to attain that which is desired. Action is put in place to complete the deed, finish the job, gain the prize. And although these ramblings on the subject of food and wine have no definite finale (or, dare I say it, point,) they have begun from a place of desire, passion even. They are motivated by the highs and lows of a complicated but loving relationship. Because one thing is for definite, my desire is clear: I want it all. I want all the food.
My uncertain but sincere interest in food has accumulated over years of eating well at home and in restaurants, cafes, picnic blankets, service stations… There is nowhere you cannot eat and if there is an M and S within two meters of wherever you may be, I frankly consider it bad manners not to try some alternative alfresco dining. (Although not on the tube, I think this is where I draw the line. It’s a sort of weird unspoken rule isn’t it? Like taking your shoes off in the office or farting openly. In a library.) Yes, I have no shame in exalting Marks and Spencer, it is truly one of my favourite places in the world. I feel at home, I am happy and relaxed within its aisles, I have a system and it always works out pretty well. Worryingly, I think it has got to the point where I physically could not embark on a lengthy train journey without something from Marks, my body would just stop functioning and I would be empty handed and paralysed on the platform watching the doors shut and the train pull away.
I would consider myself a ‘foodie’ in my own terms; that I love eating and I love food. I think I appreciate what is truly good food, am interested in how it is sourced and produced, and how it can be manipulated. And because of this curiosity I have tested my palate and tried some pretty weird things. This is not to say, however, that I am a food Nazi or indeed that I am an expert, far from it. Sliced goat’s heart is very interesting and exciting to eat but equally I am not going to turn down a slice of Tesco’s wafer thin ham. It’s all good.
I put much of my food enthusiasm down to the excellent knowledge and cookery skill of my mother. She has a natural talent for feeding and although the nearest Italian would probably punch me in the face for saying this; my mum can cook better than your mum. However, hers is not a skill acquired from the firm hand of her own mother like many good female cooks who learn their tricks by the side of a matriarch’s floury apron. Jamie Oliver has more to do with my mother’s excellent cooking than my grandma and therefore perhaps the statement ‘Jamie Oliver can cook better than your mum’ is more apt and, let’s be honest, a pretty safe bet.
The list of my favourite things to eat is endless and ever changing, the scope is vast and I can honestly say that there is nothing I will not eat. If it is meant to be eaten, I will try it. My quest for consumption could be misinterpreted as greed. And I am sure greed, the basic instinct, is a large part of it. But in my eyes eating is one of life’s reassurances, a dead cert; it is the gift of knowing what you want and having the ability to attain this through physical creation i.e. cooking. It is achievement. It is the achievement of dreams! Food and eating is a direct way of assessing ourselves, our inner feelings and what we want. Quite literally, going with your gut.
