I promised I would write again and so here I am.
After receiving a heartwarming reaction to my return to the writing scene (can I call this writing or is that a bit of a leap?), I feel inspired to write more for you guys and equally for myself. After all, even if nobody else is reading this, in 20 years time I can look back on it and reminisce. That’s if the world hasn’t burn to a crisp, of course.
A certain Molly Chipperfield, lovely lady also on exchange, slightly further afield I might add, mentioned to me that the suspense of the kitchen saga had left her hanging and she needed gratification. I fear I may have overhyped the situation but I hope I can leave her feeling in someway satisfied, whilst you all come along for the ride. I should also mention, at this point, that Molly and her friend Avi have started a podcast (way cooler than a blog…) documenting the trials and tribulations of adjusting to Canadian life. It’s funny, relatable and easy to listen to so go check it out if you get the chance!
Donc, la cuisine. The kitchen is dire. As I’m assuming everyone has noticed, I have a certain affiliation to food. I live and breathe food. In fact there is seldom a time when food is not plaguing my imagination in some way or another. This results in an inevitable, neverending hunger pang, but, we move. As you can imagine, upon arrival to this mysterious land that we ship our young chefs off to in order to find themselves and return to the United Kingdom as culinary experts, I was expecting good things from the kitchen. I was wrong.
I’m not going to include a photo here because I think it’s better left unseen. If I’m being honest, this is probably a massive overdramatisation on my part but the kitchen is normally my happy place and so when I was shown a filthy room, kitted out very much like a prison cell, I wasn’t best pleased. There are four electric rings, shared between 35 people (bear in mind that in first year we shared four between six of us). There is no oven and there are eight metal rectangles screwed onto two round tables upon which you can perch to prepare and consume your meals. Another difficulty to note is the lack of storage. In fact there is none. You keep everything in your room and ship it to and from the kitchen each mealtime. This has resulted ,however, in an incredible advance in my balancing skills.
In hindsight, it’s not that bad. In reality, it turns out French kids never cook anything. In fact the kitchen is basically shared by myself, and four other Erasmus students, with native students occasionally sneaking in, making a dash for the microwave, waiting in the corner to be saved by the bell before grabbing their pot noodle and darting for the cover of their room. Maybe it’s us foreigners that are putting them off, I’m not sure, but either way they are always sure to minimise the amount of time they have to spend in that place. Thanks to this French fear of cooking/foreigners, we normally have the kitchen to ourselves and I’ve learnt to adapt. The good news for you guys is some new recipes will be making their way to you very soon with even less ingredients or faff than normal.
What the experience has really taught me is that food is about more than equipment, space and facilities. I should have known this already as it’s evident from the abundance of street food that exists all over the world. Delicious food does not need to be complicated or fancy. In the past month I have made some delicious meals (and some disappointing ones too) but all with one pot, one frying pan and a spatula. Granted I have my rice cooker too but boy am I glad I slogged that one through the airport. It has been invaluable.
I have learnt to treasure ingredients more than ever before thanks to the new approach to grocery shopping that I have adopted. The market is my new best friend, but I will save that for a later post because it deserves all the glory I can give it.
To summarise, I will probably never again have to deal with a culinary situation like this again for a long period of time and I now know if I can manage here I can manage pretty much anywhere else. I would also like to reflect, briefly, on the light this experience has shone on my privilege. It’s often hard to acknowledge how immensely lucky one is in comparison to others but one thing that has helped me in the settling process of my adventure, particularly in regards to things like facilities (we are spoilt in Birmingham) is realising and appreciating how good things are at home. If I have struggled this much to enjoy food in a ‘functioning’ kitchen that is warm, sheltered and has power and running water then how do others who cook on a camping stove under a railway bridge or perhaps can’t even cook at all, ever get a chance to enjoy food. I think the truth is they don’t and so I have had to come to the realisation that my enjoyment of food is not a right, it’s a luxury and if sometimes I have to forego that and eat a stale baguette and some butter for dinner then that’s okay because it’s still more than what a lot of people can call ordinary. All that being said, when the opportunities present themselves I make the best food that I can and some of it turns out pretty well and I will endeavour to share as much of this newly discovered knowledge with you as I can over the following year.
Thanks, as always, for reading and I’ll be back soon.
J