Food & Mood
The Convivial Kitchen: A Continental Perspective
The clink of wine glasses, chirpy conversation, and the unfettered cachinnations of a portly fellow from Cannes, mark an evening which can be best described as blissfully convivial. The hubbub abounds the cosy confines of our college kitchen and has to it an earthly, mirthful richness. It’s as if such a vivacious ambiance could only have been imported from the Continent; amongst us are students from Italy, Spain, Portugal, Greece and - most audibly - France.
Past this portrait of joyful exuberance, however, I gaze almost yearningly through the window, out at the stripy blue and white deck chairs, the scrupulously clipped grass - a markedly British idyll - and find myself desperate to sink a Pukka Pie, wash it down with Pale ale, and conclude with the unsavoury death mist of which Benson & Hedges duly provide.
Before I can ponder my reasons for this thanatical desire, however, my inner uniformity is suddenly scuppered.
"The British eat ready-made shit," chimes in Maria, a Medical student from Madrid. She describes how even the doctors in the hospital where she works, succumb to a "grab-and-go" culture. How they eat pre-packaged sandwiches brimming with “processed pig” and are given to carelessly swilling down bottles of “fizzy pop” of a lunch time. Needless to say, Maria is wholly unimpressed.
Stefano, a Law student from Naples, further fulminates against inseeedious British cuisine, arguing that Britons merely "eat to satisfy” and how there is “no passion for food over here." It's hard to hear all this, of course, amidst rustling the packet of Golden Wonder crisps I'm in gleeful anticipation of eating. Though I do so, not without interest in what is being said. In fact I posit "do you think Britons are more miserable because of what they eat?"
This is met with a timely “Bah! The British are always miserable” - succeeded by a haughty guffaw from the fatuous Frenchman.
I am unperturbed.
Clearly we know that eating well and exercising are salubrious pursuits not merely in the context of physical health but also for our mental and spiritual well-being too. It is very much a part of our national consciousness. From NHS advertisements to the irksome social additives of Oliver and Ramsay, we discern that eating healthily is conducive to an all round more enriching existence for us all. Yet there remains a stubbornness, some might say a pig-ignorance (a sentiment Francois advocates I’m certain), to actually bridging the gap between what we know we ought to consume and our genuine eating habits.
A recent study from Spain reveals how people who consume the most trans fats are 50% more likely to suffer depression than those who consume mono and polyunsaturated fats. While the average intakes of these fats in the UK are below (Government-set) level descriptors, this ultimately means that those of us who gorge ourselves on fast and processed foods are likely to consume far higher amounts.
This does not bode well for Britain. All one has to do is glimpse the heaving queues outside kebab shops and tripe-trailers of a Friday or a Saturday night, to determine the extent of which the Great British diet is palpably in decline.
Is this to say that Britain will soon be diminished to an isle of unconditioned unhappiness? Surely we’d rather gormandize than subscribe to healthier fare and irrevocably end up inanely hee-hawing at every jot like our French counterparts???
But why does this discrepancy between what we know we should be eating and what we actually consume exist? Surely it is not merely John Bull mentality outwardly refusing to comply with the glowing complexion of what we know to be right? Is it? Or is it perhaps that the British possess a greater capacity for self-destruction? Surely not. Althusser? Deleuze? Max Linder (and wife!) ???
How, then, do we proceed to suture what we know is good for us with what we consume in reality?
Stefano rails on. He states that in Britain there exists no onus to enjoy the conviviality of sitting down to a relaxing three course meal with friends and family. He remonstrates that in the south of Italy all the shops close from one till five explicitly for this purpose and how Britain (the angry island) should take heed. However, it is Adriano, a graduate student from Athens, who proffers a suggestion that promises to save all our bacon.
For Adriano, the crux of the matter is the cost of food. On the Continent if one is in a rush and in need of something easily accessible to sustain oneself then the food is essentially good food. Our chum from Cannes chimes in with the example of a croissant. “It’s cheap and it’s good.” Discerning stuff! However it is Adriano’s reflections which bear more important implications for Britain.
Believe it or not, our Greek friend is a champion of the wholesome Sunday roast. He declares that the Sunday roast has been one of his favourite meals during his time in Britain – seriously! It is precisely the cordial spirit of Sunday roast mentality, he insists, which should be espoused into every day of British weekly life.
In short, a sense of community coming together, each bringing something to the table for the good of all. This has something of the idealist about it but hey! It surely beats doner shavings and punch up any night of week! Tune in for next week when an American dares to cast their shadow over our dining table. Yikes!
