Food For Thought.
“Every small thing that happens – I’m blaming it on the vibe shift,” my friend Daisy declared after a meal of midweek roast chicken (what else?), beans swimming in broth and an aioli with so much garlic you could smell it from the kitchen. Conversation had inevitably turned to the viral Cut article.
I think the reason this piece was so widely discussed is that we’re always trying to figure out what’s going to happen next. The pandemic has amplified this fear of not knowing our futures when it came out of nowhere and we were completely unprepared for its aftermath. But the concept of trend-forecasting seems less about trying to understand the future, and more about brands selling more stuff to people. And as a result, it’s about identifying ‘what is cool’ before it happens, so we can all flock towards whatever that is (cancel culture, the renaissance of Indie Sleaze, a new Nike trainer). Even the term ‘vibe shift’ plays into the language of our cultural moment, and will perhaps feel like an outdated term whenever the next ‘shift’ happens.
I’ve been thinking about this less in terms of a wider shift – which is inevitable, and as one person commented underneath New York Magazine’s Instagram post about the Vibe Shift article: “i think you’re describing ageing?” – and more about how we translate this shift into our daily lives. The constant search for cool. The buying into fleeting trends. The pride of knowing first. This feels particularly resonant when we think about food and restaurant culture, especially in a city like London.
I recently read a New Statesman profile on the food writer Jonathan Nunn (the author of the newsletter Vittles). Nunn has always represented a more democratic, inclusive and accessible food community. His Instagram is full of meals from local, neighbourhood haunts that have nothing to do with a Bib Gourmand or the Michelin Guide, and likely have never been reviewed by The Times, The Guardian or Vogue.
“I just had this real sense of injustice about the fact that London is so lied about in the media, and especially lied about by people living in London,” Nunn says. “I wanted to write about the London that I knew, and to write about a version of London which I had grown up with and seemed more relevant to me than the picture of London which had been portrayed within restaurant writing.”
With his words echoing in my mind, I’ve been penning a piece on the authentic global eats you can experience in London. And it was almost like my brain had internalised this ‘cool trend filter’. All the restaurants I immediately thought of were Hackneyed, minimalist spaces serving natural wine and small plates.
Last night, my friend Mehlaqa took me to Khyber Pass, a Northern Pakistani restaurant on Romford Road. Unless you stepped inside, you might never know there was a restaurant beyond the kitchen, where families gather, some in a private space right at the back, hidden behind a beautiful velvet curtain, where the most tender, gently spiced ghanta gar chicken kahari is served in thin, piping hot kaharis (very similar to a wok), ready to be mopped up by a Peshwari naan –the real deal, which doesn’t involve a coconut filling, a completely anglicised invention. It made me so excited to explore more places that seemingly exist on the “fringes” – the spaces that feel outside of our comfort zones (or quite literally our train zones), but are simply another version of home to those in that community.
I can’t deny that I am part of the problem. And this isn’t a call to boycott restaurants who serve small plates (a hard task in London’s current vibe). All food deserves to be celebrated; but we often leave the less trendy, the less talked about, and often the more authentic behind. Of course I’ll still frequent my neighbourhood haunts. But I’ll be making an effort to seek out the less-written-about places in London’s far-reaching, global food community.
Because food will always be relevant. Bringing people together over a meal will always be cool. We don’t need a vibe shift to happen to remind us of that.
Recipes-not-recipes™️
When Becky and Huw, founders of Paynter Jacket, are kind enough to invite me on their shoots, the food situation follows a winning formula. Always boiled eggs in the morning, ready to be cracked and peeled by anyone up early enough, accompanied by mountains of toast and constantly topped up carafes of coffee. There’s always one lasagne evening, fuelled by red wine. And this time, happily arriving in Kent a little earlier than the shoot was due to begin, we had a meal to fill in. Naturally I obliged with this new take on the OG Sad Pasta, currently renamed to Paynter Pasta. It’s more of a spring-like situation. Confit fresh cherry tomatoes with garlic and shallot, scented with some rosemary sprigs and turned saucy with a big squeeze of tomato paste.
This served five of us. Chop up some cherry tomatoes (about two punnets worth, or two very long vines) in half. Crush 5-6 garlic cloves and roughly chop them. Finely diced two shallots. Throw them into a big pot with a glug of olive oil and a pinch of chilli flakes, then let it all soften. Turn the heat down a little and pour a hell of a lot more olive oil – enough to cover everything. Add a couple of sprigs of rosemary, a few grinds of pepper and a big pinch of salt then leave it to do its confit thing with the lid on for about 30 minutes. Keep checking on it to make sure nothing is burning (it shouldn’t with the heat low). Once it’s looking super saucy, add a heft squeeze of some good quality tomato paste (I used just over 1/4 tube), then taste and season. Boil your pasta, add a little pasta water into the sauce to loose, then mix thoroughly. Obviously your cheese of choice and a crunchy green salad, dressed with mustard, honey, lemon, olive oil and those rosemary sprigs from the sauce.
Since I Asked
Becky & Huw run one of the best brands around town –not just because the jackets look great, but because they’re more focused on slow, sustainable growth rather than scaling a business just for profit. They’re also just very kind humans who love to bring people together. They’re effortlessly cool and stylish and have no reason to follow the vibe shifts because they are quite frankly the vibe, so I asked them a few questions about their eating rituals and where they like to go on date nights.
What’s your ultimate comfort food?
While it’s still freezing outside, it’s got to be the humble roast dinner. There’s comfort in knowing you’ve given yourself long enough to make it, and that proud feeling when it’s finally all come together. A classic roast in our house doesn’t happen often, so it’s a celebration when it does, and on the plate there’ll be roast chicken that’s been roasted with honey & lemon & salt, with crispy roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, sprouts, carrot + swede mash and gravy everywhere.
What are you cooking for dinner party?
We’ve had friends over recently and made fish tacos from one of Ottolenghi’s books which were so good! When we have less time to prep, we tend to make cocktails and then order from the Chic Hen or Berber & Q - their deliveries are so good and so shareable, and it’s nice to be able to have people over without the stress of cooking!
One of you isn’t at home. What are you cooking for yourself
Huw: Probably pizza!
Becky: A Dahl with a lot of lime pickle on the side!
Favourite date restaurant?
Our favourite restaurant is Little Duck the Picklery in Dalston. Every table has a different view but the best spot if there are two of you has to be at the back on the sharing table, watching the food come together and seeing everyone else having dinner.
A meal that reminds you of each other?
Probably Ramen! We ate SO much ramen in lockdown, trying our own broths and going between smoked tofu, chicken and all of the veg + egg combinations. We’ve even got special ramen bowls that are bigger than all our others so there’s enough room for all that brothy goodness.
[Portrait by the legend that is Jim Marsden]
Leftovers.
“What is the point of reading about food or, for that matter, reading about anything at all: to look in a mirror, or through a window; to escape the world, or to discover it?” Couldn’t be more on board with this piece on what food writing really means from The New York Times.
And then this one on the comforting appeal of herbs (we all have our favourites).
How Caribbean horticultural heritage has enriched British gardening, from The Guardian.
A recent Vittles newsletter on the history of salsa inglesa.
Ready to try the Korean food at Woo Jung, as recommended by the very great IG account @caffs_not_cafes
May we all aspire to bamboo silk rugs in our kitchen à la Cold Picnic
Just a very good looking salad.
Dreaming about this woodfired seafood paella set up from Flamingo Estate
A big yes to this grilled PB&J sandwich.
I rediscovered my tumblr from 2014. Full of very good songs and quite cringe (but not all bad) music writing.