Embarrassing Ilness?

On Wednesday morning, I went to Birmingham University to take part in some filming for a brand new show on Channel Four. The series, called, 'Embarrassing Illnesses', started last night, at 8:30PM. We have been working on one of the last episodes, to be screened in about 6 weeks time.

I met with some other students to discuss bowel cancer with one of the medical presenters. The highlight of the show, is a little embarrassing and you'll just have to watch it find out more.
It was a lot of fun. We met before 9AM and it took over 4 hours to film what will turn out to become probably only five or ten minutes actual footage. We meet again on Monday night to finish our section of the 30 minute show.
Althought it is prime-time TV- this is Channel 4, so I am not really certain how many people actually may see it! I also think that future episodes may appear quite late in the evening. The show seems to be a little far-fetched, but also claims to be genuinely trying to promote health awareness. And if it is successful in raising awareness of what often are fairly common illness, then it has done some good. It certainly has made me think a little harder about diet and what I can do to lead a healthier life-style.

My medium...

On Wednesday afternoon, I presented the conclusion of my research in to South Indian cuisine by cooking three courses and then presenting them, with some discussion of Indian culture and geography.

I was excited by the prospect, after having spent several months researching, cooking and developing over 15 authentic recipes.

'Food is my medium'

During my presentation I shared a quotation by the classical author, Mark Twain, who to paraphrase said that India was the most 'extraordinary' country he knew, which the sun visited on his rounds.

I went on to explain that Twain was able to very eloquently portray India in words, then it occured to me and filled me with excitement- that I was here, wanting to portray India in the best way I knew. Twain chose words. That was his medium. If I could in a small way portray the beauty and depth of traditions and cultures of India, in taste. Taste allowing so many of the other senses- portraying India in sight and smell. This was my medium.

I have not been able to stand-still since then. This thought has had a profound influence upon me that has remained me with the last several days. Repeatedly the thoughts of foods and cooking returns to my mind again and again. It doesn't matter what I am doing, or where I am.

'the plate becomes my blank canvas'

It has occured to me that I have always had a tendency towards art- but struggled to paint, or draw, or sculpt. None of these forms came easily to me, however much I enjoyed doing them. But, with cooking it is different. I might not have any increased natural ability, but I certainly can cook, better than I can paint. Yet to make such a statement feels wrong. For, in some way, the plate becomes my blank canvas, upon which I can etch, paint, draw.

'I can gain mastery'

What fills me with even greater excitment is that with dedication and commitment, I can gain mastery. The sort of mastery, Michel Roux passionately speaks of when collecting one of France's highest culinary awards-


'I am burning hot. I am consumed by that fire which burns in every craftsman who cares passionately about his work. This is the strongest emotion..My mind flashes back, as in a film, to the master whose apprentice I was, who awoke in the adoloscent I was then the most precious love for this work'

(Roux, 2000, 'Life is a Menu', p199)

Sweet Memories!

I was so amazed by the colourful images of the BBC's, 'Grow your own Veg' series tonight on BBC Two. It was simply inspiring and brought back so many feelings.

I have fond memories as a young child, visiting my Great-Grandparents home in rural Kent, affectionately known as the garden of England. Standing at their window in the quaint village of Littlebourne, just outside historic Canterbury, you could hear the calls of the gorrillas at the late John Aspinall's Howletts Zoo (just a couple of miles away), as Grandad donned his wellington boots. I can still remember now sitting on the back kitchen step, helping shred crisp green beans or carrying muddy potatoes fresh from the ground, heaped in a whicker basket or wiping my mouth from the juice of sweet strawberries, still warm from the ripening summer's sun.
Although both my Great-Grandparents died several years ago, his only son (my grandfather) shares an allotment plot just a few feet away from my mother's (his daughter) in Sussex.
Ever-since, my mum took on the plot, a few years ago, she would drag all us children down the road, helping to carry spades, string and seeds. My youngest sister, now almost 8 years old, literally grew up in a shaded corner, occassioanlly crawling amongst the weeds. Although, I now live in the middle of Birmingham city centre, I still walk past other's allotments, thinking of those times. And whenver I am home, I rarely miss an opportunity to walk down to the woods where a clearing unveils our own allotments. If only to cut some fresh herbs from an for-ever green corner of curly-leaf parsley, or sage, or fragrant rosemary.

Often I take for granted being able to work with an abundance of fresh ingredients- peeling small purple potatoes that stain your finger-tips, or carefully folding in pink rhubarb compote and stiff meringue to fill deep souffle moulds or blanching bright red tomatoes in a huge pan of rolling water and watching the eyes just begin to reveal the flesh beneath, before plunging them in a bowl of ice.

Maldou' ou Maldon?

Well, a new year has begun and 2007 has ushered itself in. There is always something very exciting about new beginnings.
Over Christmas, I had plenty of time to relax and recall sitting down to flick through a copy of the Sainsbury's magazine. I love to thumb through any publications about food and have over the years collected probably hundreds of cuttings of recipes or related atrticles. I had picked up a copy of December's magazine because of one single page advert I had noticed for Maldon.
I was amazed to discover that Maldon originates from dreary Essex, in fact it is the sole producer of this very English export. So why was this so amazing to discover I hear you ask?
Well, ever since I have worked at a michelin stared restaurant here in Birmingham, I have heard chefs and waiters alike refer to our favourite seasoning with an air of French expression- Maldo. This had always given the impression that this superior natural salt was yet another culinary gift from our friends accross the sea. Imagine the irony (and possible audacity) to suggest that this very humble, very British product was not our own.
It is with a great deal of pleasure that when I return to work I will be able to correct my colleagues, with a little pride, as I exclaim (in a little cockney twang), "surely you mean, mate, Maldon".