Something Hot.
I’ve dabbled in food writing since the early days of my professional life. Fifteen years ago I interned at Maco Magazines and wrote a small number of articles concerning regional cuisine. I fashioned myself after food critics from the New York Times; read countless recipe books, food memoirs, food journals, watched a fair amount of Food Network, and briefly attended TTHTI to learn about the techniques associated with the culinary arts. I dreamed of imprinting my point of view on the gastronomic world. My ambition then was to understand food (mainly its commercial side) and influence the way Caribbean people saw and tasted island cuisine. However, I was naive. I was green. I overcompensated with my writing then and wrote superfluously on the idea that Caribbean cuisine is synonymous with bold flavour, full stop. That was and still is not enough. And the reductive take will never be substantial to inspire people when appreciating Caribbean food and culture.
During the in-between moments of my career–when work was not easy to come by and the yearning to make something of myself made me restless–I occasionally blogged about cooking. I wrote about the trivial and shared home-spun recipes with familiar ingredients. It was cathartic during difficult periods and reflects a time when most food writing carried a “Dear diary” format. At one point during this wandering I attended an open lecture at UWI St. Augustine to listen to research on the role of recipe books as archive of Caribbean history and culture. There, among the aunties, we discussed Sylvia Hunt’s old TTT programme, her accompanying collection of recipes; the well-established editions of the Naparima Girl’s cookbooks, The Multicultural Cuisine of Trinidad and Tobago, and Celebrate Food (small flex: I was able to meet and be fed by the duo of lovely women, Sally and Sandra, who led the Naparima Girl’s High School fundraising projects); Wendy Rahamut’s Caribbean Flavor and Caribbean Gourmet Magazine; Cre Ole; and Marielle Brown’s Sancoche. In that brief meeting that could have gone on for hours I realised I did share in a communal passion for food and there is where and when my opinion on the uniqueness of Caribbean cuisine settled. It was the mental note I reserved with the intention to revisit it when the time was right.
Now, years later, those ambitions have returned and fortunately with more mature form and serious inquiry. Hopefully with this type of opinion-based update and social media format I’d be able to satiate any appetite around this disconnected history and modern context.
I write to please my interests. Food happens to be the thing I enjoy writing about most. It only took me fifteen years to realise and accept it without the belly ache of doubt. And, in this season of my life when the urge to write about food once more has ripened, I do find that most content around food to be uninspiring and ill-informed. In truth, I daresay that people think they know food. Though I am no expert and do not wish to claim any such position, my share of this experience discerns that a re-evaluation of Caribbean food culture is needed. My take is hot and perhaps too spicy so it will not be for everyone. I plan to go beyond the home kitchen and deep into the industry that props up a local economy. From quick service, fast food, fine dining, catering et al, I’ll have plenty to write and share.
Now, I say this with my whole chest: The food and restaurant industry throughout the Caribbean is not mere entertainment–the more we ascribe it as such the closer we come to losing the legacy of our regional cuisine. The fallacy mainly serves the greedy. What I offer in my writing is a toothy bite of something more.
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For example: People who think they know food are usually ignorant to the toil of a kitchen. The lickerish tend to spit out their assumptions about flavour, food prep, and hospitality while stepping over line cooks, chef de cuisine, sous chef, head chef, servers, bussing team, and bartenders. The same mouth they open to eat (and drink) often spews thoughtless musings on what they assume happens in the forge manned by hard working people.
Hot food produced on a line is prepared under crucible-like conditions. Step into a restaurant kitchen and the first thing you will notice is the wall of heat that blasts forth at the door. “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen” is the emerging euphemism because of the almost unbearable atmosphere. Nobody sitting at any dining table could manage one second inside a place like that. To make sweeping comments on what constitutes good food or bad food is as foolish as putting your bare hand in high flames. Eaters who fall in this latter camp couldn’t even stand up in the back to wash wares or put out the garbage.
A culinary team always prepares for burns. They expect it. The work is not glamorous. These people know how to wield knives, tame fire, and squelch flimsy personalities while maintaining a warm smile. They push down their own discomfort to prop the satisfaction of many who rotate around the tables within a dining hall, no matter the headcount and no matter how ungrateful. They are the best of us even on their worst days. Whatever clever remark one may think is due on account of a subjective palate is better left unsaid. An unraised fork is a more suitable compliment in these circumstances because it is better to not dine at all than to offer any half-baked opinion on what is good food.
Caribbean cuisine is innovation, science, history. It is not sauce, decor, or influence. To write about food is to know food. To know food is to understand the culture behind the swinging doors of the restaurant world. The pace is close to manic–very rarely is the rhythm composed. The best kitchens keep the time with precision, with respect, and dignified know how. The worst kitchens wreak of grease and tend to feed flies just as often as they do hungry customers. The same rules in gastronomy and service apply to both types of enterprising kitchens and ultimately the chief judge is the cash till. The bell only chimes for the successful and we as spectators pay the price.
With the current setup it is wrong to deny the food industry’s entertainment factor. Yes, food and social content are a quintessential match creating fodder for the algorithmic feed but humankind doesn’t live on bread alone. We want surprise and fanfare so we expect something extra. Who doesn’t like a lil takeaway? What’s more with the advent of food entertainment is the modern cook, food writer, and recipe developer can reach audiences within minutes and close the loop on feedback to make contemporary content programming more dynamic and for the most part interesting. To repeat my previous note: entertainment is not the culinary industry’s singularity. Entertainment is indeed crucial but this particular magic requires savoir-faire. Sadly what has also emerged is the kind of diabetic fluff that cuts common sense off from better judgement. As much as social media has flattened access to what’s new for a hungry audience it has also churned a glut of mind numbing sentiment for and against eating anywhere with a menu or gimmick. There is often nothing to savour. I do not want to watch people masticate food swathed in ketchup, garlic sauce, pepper sauce, mustard, or tamarind sauce anymore. There is nothing appetizing about it.
Good food is subjective since every palate is different. Flavour, Service, and Experience in the restaurant world accounts for every palate, dietary restriction, the provenance of ingredients, demands of business, and more. We must appreciate that people will like what they like and not everything is for everyone. So, in a sense, bad food and bad food content are unavoidable. It is time though for discernment so that at least we learn something valuable from whomever belches first.
By now I think most food faring consumers know where the best street food is, condiments considered. What I choose to do now is find the heart of Caribbean food practice and perhaps reveal its economic value in culture. It is a tall order and I believe it is worth doing.
Foodie Writes is a column-ish something I hope to maintain with reviews, notes, and research around our region’s culinary endeavour. It might be more opinion than anything. The intention is to document, trace, and collect information around traditional Caribbean recipes, cooking techniques, as well as the science determining food prep across home kitchens, restaurants, and food labs.
