Filed under: Celebrations don't need serious motivations, I want to eat dinner now!, Lunch, Piece of mind, Tomatoes | Tags: eating in res, expeditions involving food, irene kim, picnic, res food, surprise food
During orientation at university it was compulsory for all first years in my hostel to eat the meals created by the catering company – yes, en masse. After that one week I had had my fill of Res food for life, instead I took over our fridge in the room I share… our fridge featuring salad leaves, steam-in-the-bag butternut, sprouts, goats cheese, the occasional smoked salmon and cherry tomatoes for Africa, and chickpeas, tuna, balsamic, olive oil and onions in the koskas (food cupboard). I am quite proud of holding my record for a neat two terms without needing to swipe my student card to stand in the food queue. I admit missing out on the social aspect of eating downstairs, thus my peers do sometimes witness my crazy concoctions while we chat away.
Here, documented in surreal photos, is one of the expeditions Irene and I made (all the way to the coolest grocery store) with the purpose of attempting one of those idyllic-baguette-and-brie-pique-nique-along-the-Seine vibes, except with cars flowing past us in the street instead, in mind. It was seriously magnificent, and I cannot wait until our next teddy-bear expedition, maybe a picnic in the mountain next time. It took us no time to get together, if you consider the satisfaction thereof. I challenge students to shy away from the gruel downstairs for a while and try this.
This calls for a join-the-club-t-shirt- your turn! How to go about it:
Step 1: Call someone you love or haven’t seen in a while and tell him/her you are going on an secret mission together.
Step 2: Run (well, if you have the luxury of a car or scooter… reconsider running) and go to your nearest cool grocery store and buy the essentials: good, fresh bread (baguette, ciabatta, farm loaf is good), good cheese (think brie, camembert, goats -, cottage cheese, or whatever you like), olive oil and balsamic vinegar, tomatoes, rocket/salad leaves, some salmon, pate or ready-grilled chicken strips if you have the cash and source, avo, ect.
Step 3: Run home and get together a chopping board, three knives, one for cutting and two for spreading, as well as a dishcloth
Step 4: Meet the person at your favourite spot, or alternatively in your room at res for an unforgettable meal, some catching up and a good laugh. Worth the running, isn’t it?
Warning! This does not include a recipe, it is just something I wrote, after receiving a writing assignment. If you had 500 words, with the topic: any interjection, what would you write? I decided to write of something I know…hehe …
“Table six: three tuna steaks, two quails, one ravioli and five salads!” As I try and glean my brain, orders file in like soldiers on parade. Already, I am behind with two orders.
“Station 4, will you bloody-‘ell ‘urry up!” bellows the chef. “Order 85 ees going out,” Chef says as I plonk my sides on the plate. A plate of beautifully pink tuna steak marrying well with the grilled asparagus, which is looking dazzling in garnish of the aioli, passes my nose. Then the wedding bell rings and I sauté back from my euphoria. Flames roar liberally like monsters in a scary movie, endless tears are wept without sorrow over onions. The stations, all with different purposes, become a liaison of aromas – onions sweating, steaks searing, vegetable sautéing and salad garnishing.
The orders do not become less. Quite the contrary, they become more. The experienced Chef gets redder in the face and young station chefs paler. It is only the food that sustains their colour; I witness a Tortellini elegantly entering with a two-step into the dining room, followed by a dish well worth its salt, Bangers and Mash. I see how a bunch of wild mushrooms and a thousand grains of rice evolve into a simple Mushroom Risotto, then off to the hot pass and perfectly balanced on a waiters hand to land in front of a guest. At last a killer Death by Chocolate – a trio of dark chocolate created into three different taste sensations – makes it way through the pastry section and is swiftly lifted from the hot pass, any later and we would have Chocolate Soup. Avarice rushes through each one of the young chefs, we would give our front teeth to be in the guests’ shoes. Even though we knew it from the beginning, this is the only way you can work yourself up to the top. We live for this way of live and work, otherwise none of us would be here, but in the shoes of our guests. There is no time to take a breath outside, as the amount of orders are creating a mountain in front of me. “I have to chop faster,” my mind races at 200 km/h. I get caught-up in the motion of chopping, chopping …
“Arggh!” Blood spurts out and flows like the Nile onto my chopping board. I grasp the kitchen towel and try to cut off the blood seeping through from my finger. Imagine green vegetables tossed in a red sauce being served in front of the guests…
“Chef!”
“Oui!”
“My finger is badly cut!”
Suddenly, I find myself in the Chef’s shadow. Slowly, he lifts up his hands from his sides to bare his hands. They are rough, they have large marks all over them, and the left hand is missing a thumb…
“Tch-tch,” replies the chef.
