Second helpings from someone else's table
Paradoxically, I found the restrictions of the 2020/2021 pandemic “lockdown” gave me opportunities for broadening horizons in other ways. I began exploring the psychogeography of travel, of music and of food, culminating in these blogs, and wondering if I can write about all three on the same page.
Since then, my “virtual” travel has taken me to many places with minimal carbon footprint, while at home sampling a variety of so-called “World Food”. That concept is maybe as dated today as “World Music”: a claimed diversity disguising a condescending colonialism or fetishist orientalism. I nevertheless still enjoy finding parallels between dining at home (instead of going out) and at cosy places around the world that I have either visited, or have only read about. They merge in my mind anyway.
There is something comforting in small, sometimes secret spaces. In the economic uncertainties of 1990s Cuba, “Paladares” [Eng. palates] restaurants developed from informal “snack bars” in people’s homes, rather like the pop-up restaurant scene we see today. They were legalised and are now something of an institution and often “destinations” in their own right. I find similar comfort in the homonymous, but more basic (and perfect just as they are), Snack Bars of Portuguese side streets, some in converted domestic garages, with a restricted choice of fare, formica tables and maybe a beer keg for a chair. Elsewhere, venues may be hidden inside apartment buildings. A private Armenian restaurant known as “The Tomato” in St Petersburg, Russia, offered a sumptuous spread in a small flat. In St John’s Wood, Oslo Court has one of the last remaining restaurants that were integrated within some residential blocks in London. It is refreshingly anachronistic. No tasting menus here.
Entertaining just a couple of friends at home evokes the feeling of the paladar, with the bonus of a choice of food and music “pairing”, where we can enjoy World Music in its intended meaning rather than as globally harmonised homogenisation. Incidentally I still think “Mac ‘n’ Cheese” is something from that international burger corporation. I have no idea how authentic any of my recipes actually are, but fear the same may be true of the restaurant scene worldwide. There is a fine line between celebrating diversity and cultural appropriation.
In 2006, Linda introduced me to Tango Nuevo from Argentina, where she had enjoyed Welsh Cream Teas in Yr Wladfa (the Cymreig settlement from 1865), Patagonia. Not ballroom or bordello tango, but this "new tango"was for listening to instead. The genre was developed by Astor Piazzolla (1921-1992) and includes concert pieces, concerti, chamber music, jazz, opera and oratorio. All seem to derive from germinal phrases as perfect as musical haiku. Perfect to accompany garlicky tomato carrot and green pepper Salsa Tuco pasta sauce, or the spicy parsley marinade known as Chimichurri. And maybe a glass of Malbec. The taste buds are dancing.
In Canada, a restaurant happened to be playing the haunting songs of Susana Baca, singer-songwriter, ethnomusicologist, teacher and Peruvian Minister of Culture. We asked what the CD was, and have followed her work since then. A recipe book from a now defunct Covent Garden restaurant introduced us to Lima Bean Stew which aptly accompanies her plaintive deeply soulful songs, or vice versa. In Portugal, a sensation similar to the Spanish “saudade” (longing or Hiraeth) can be felt in Fado. Often called Portuguese Blues, it had its origins in Brazil two centuries ago. It is said that the words saudade and hiraeth are untranslatable [into English]. I don’t understand Spanish or Portuguese, but I do appreciate the Cymraeg Hiraeth, and the feelings expressed in these songs. Portugal has also introduced me to some interesting ways of cooking fish, which I do eat occasionally.
Other “pairings” include musical meals from Ethiopia, Morocco, Hungary and India, the latter particularly associated with western appropriation in arguments over the heritage of balti and tikka masala. These may be the subject of a future blog if the reader doesn’t already have indigenous European indigestion.
It’s difficult to avoid being ethnocentric. I am thwarted by my unfamiliarity with ingredients such as nduja, pidesi, kimchi, miso, gremolata, chermoula, zhoug or revani, foodstuffs name-dropped in that "knowing" way by clever media people, so that the well-heeled can proclaim how well travelled they are. I do, however, know how to pronounce “quinoa”.
Footnote: the photo shows an "Irish bouzouki" (originally a Greek instrument) made in Pakistan.
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I look forward to your comments. Also it would be nice to know where you are in the world. Thanks for reading.