I’m back, and mostly feeling better, though the lingering exhaustion that covid leaves in its wake is frustrating. That said, it is a relief to be feeling more and more like myself with every passing day, and more able to get out and do enjoyable things.
This weekend was the St Ives Food and Music Festival. For three days Porthminster beach plays host to live music, a huge array of global street food, stalls selling locally produced peanut butter, gin & more, and an incredible wood burning BBQ fire pit over which some of the best chefs in the Southwest do cooking demos.
Mum and I went twice in three days, eating incredible Afghani wraps sat on the sand, and getting to taste short rib tacos from the head chef at Koto after watching him cook them. As music drifted over the beach, people went from stall to stall or paddled in the surf. The smells of food cooked over coals and crepes covered in lemon and sugar filled the air.
I love food stalls, I love street food, I love the variety and the similarities found in food from around the world. The sight of street food stalls lined up on the sand, or at a market, or around the edges of fields at festivals make me unbelievably happy. After all, they have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.
I have loved food my entire life. When I was little, I used to stand on a step stool in our kitchen in London so that I could reach the kitchen side and help Mum cook. I would also sit on the tiny step by the back door licking out the bowl after we’d made cake, something I still do, making sure I leave enough batter in the bowl to get a satisfying about of mixture when I run my finger across it.
One of the most important features in the van is my kitchen: how it is laid out, how many cupboards I can fit in, what equipment I will need. The first thing I bought for the van was enamel plates. The first gift anyone gave me for the van was an enamel baking dish. The challenge of learning to cook in a van kitchen, of changing up my equipment so that nothing is breakable, of expanding how I cook to include a mini outdoor fire bowl are all things I am, quite literally, dreaming about.
Food, not just cooking and eating it, but shopping for it are things that fill my soul with joy. But food is also complicated in the face of the climate crisis. Working out the best way to shop, what to eat and what not to eat, how to cook so that nothing is wasted is a challenge, but it is a challenge I have the luxury to face. Not everyone can afford to decide to buy locally grown vegetables or beef direct from a local farm currently rewilding its land, or learn to forage for seasonal hedgerow herbs and spices or wade out into rockpools for seaweed.
I am lucky. I have a good enough foundation as a cook to know how to face these challenges. I know that in the van my funds are likely to be tight, but I also know I can make a small amount go a long way. I am looking forward to discovering regional and national specialities in markets and shops and farms as I travel, finding new tastes, new wild food, new recipes, and new ways of cooking in my tiny home.
One of my dreams is to eventually write a cookbook inspired by my adventures and these challenges. Until then I will keep sharing my recipes with you in the Monthly Dispatch and keep refining the design of my van kitchen as I build it. Then I can head off into the world and find all the good food, while making sure I am in St Ives for next year’s food festival because I wouldn’t want to miss it.
Rosie, good to hear you are feeling better by the day ..... and that at least you are enjoying your food again! Sending much love .... & continued healing energy from Mexico. xxxx