In this newsletter I include an in-depth report of preparing, cooking and serving a barbecue for 60 Russians in a carpark in the middle of a thunderstorm!
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Mon 4 July
I’ve had probably the most excellent day in recent memory. Activities and meals were not out of the ordinary (I’ll go into some detail below) and I’ve only strayed about 100m from the residency, so it took some time to understand why. This feeling i’m writing of came only when i was eating my dinner, as if my plate was revealing an answer.
i have been “productive” in a classic sense, which may have partially contributed, but is likely a result of this feeling rather than a cause. I will try to be as concise as possible as I can imagine how annoying this might be to read –it’s so cheesy– just let me try and push thru something as i write.
Momentarily I am feeling whole, focussed, shining. It was probable to be the case after the meditation retreat and more probable it will rub off tomorrow so let’s just stick with it. It isn’t an enormous whoosh of excitement or pride that i normally get;
these only end in disappointment or depression. It’s more like a light buzz of presentness, a sauna of self-compassion. I know how hard i have been working with my therapist over the past three years so I know where I’m at with this; the difference today is the absence of a negative voice.
I already knew i would be tired from the wild week so i gave myself time to stir. I meditated for 10mins when i eventually got up then moved into a quick yoga flow to continue my breathing observation. After a nice breakfast and some admin, I spent the afternoon out in the garden being bothered incessantly by mosquitos while i worked on a list of tasks. I weeded the round concrete dish bed, laid a nice thick layer of compost on, and watered it generously. I sat and took my time thinning out the lettuce and spinach and, during a phonecall with my mum, transplanted a dozen into the new bed as an experiment. Those thinned went into a newspaper wrap for now, to be eaten and share later.
Meals today were:
11:00 Watermelon, cherry tomatoes, fermented ginger, yoghurt, honey, rocket, parmesan, olive oil and a slice of bread; black coffee and honey
17:00 steamed dumplings, potato salad, garden salad, mustard, tomato salsa; icy water
22:00 crackers, cream cheese, pepper, tomatoes, radish kraut, lactofermented white beans, lettuce and spinach plantlets; Vanilla ice cream, rhubarb compote, crushed grain bar; white wine, rose petals, honey and ice cubes
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Tues 5 July
Woken at 4am by baby seagull nesting outside my window that was just weeks ago a tiny, sleepy blob but is now a full-on loud, flying bastard.
We had buckets of rain overnight so mine and many other gardeners’ workloads are lighter today. I need a wee snooze then have some leftovers for breakfast and strong ginger tea to calm my headache. I have therapy and read my book for a while laying flat on the floor with the sound of more rain blessing the balcony.
Lunch is fried dumplings, flatbread nachos, homegrown lettuce and spinach(!) with toms, balsamic and nice greek olive oil i bought in helsinki, daikon dandelion kraut and an iced coffee. Alexey has one spoonful of salad with toasted buckwheat and is full ,or too hot, I’m not sure, then we discuss the tools I need for my woodwork this week. NART’s got everything I need luckily, I just want to track down some fancy hinges.
Few meetings in the afternoon so I take a scooter in the rain. When i get back i listen to this album – Birl of Unmap by Kinbrae & Clare Archibald And lie on my back again . stunning
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Wed 6 july
Not much to report.
Sonia sent me a great horoscope that perfectly encapsulates my plan for the month.
Got to work with some power tools in my studio.
Watered the garden.
Watched a don cherry documentary alone in the cinema.
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Thurs 7 july
Big exercise sesh this morn. Made an enormous toasted burrito using an a4 sheet of lavash and stuffing it with a few things from jars plus baby lettuce from the garden, cheese and pesto.
Helped two giant orange butterflies out of the theatre while talking to them softly
Met the new residents Christina and Kevin this afternoon, who are super sweet, and ordered sushi for dinner with a bottle of plum wine.
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Fri 8 Jul
Yesterday Johanna asked me to cook food for a party NART is throwing at Narva Venice on Sat. More specifically, a barbecue for 70-100 people. I have never done this and laugh at how casual it was made to sound. After negotiating the terms, I take it on fully, excited by what the fuck I might come up with. Stress is kept at bay by challenges that help growth. I write a rough shopping list and we drive to the supermarket in the morning. I try really hard not to have a meltdown in Rimi by dissociating and doing everything at double-speed and reward myself with some kombucha. I spend the whole afternoon prepping, with Christina joining me half-way through;
Butchering pork and turkey. Rarely eating meat means I have never done this before so watch a few quick youtube how-tos and decide that i could have guessed most of it. It’s not at all hard or disgusting and I will forever find it strange that meat eaters are often squeamish about handling to the point of avoidant, but they will know exactly how they want someone else to cook it for them or just buy it pre-cooked. To me, the disconnect seems further beyond pure physicality, into the complete disembodiment of food from its source, and the refusal to take on the labour that is seen as grotesque. If I am to partake in purchasing, preparing or eating meat – and especially if I cannot get it from a responsible source – the bare minimum I can do is break it down myself in order to spend intimate time with it and develop an understanding of the process. I will use every morsel we bought so look up a few ideas for the offcuts too. Once all the pork steaks are cut, I cube the trim for lardons and break down all the fat to render in the oven overnight.
Marinating meats. I come up with one for each meat based on materials we already have in the residency fridge and some of the by-products from my own experiments. Long pink pork steaks go into a shallow tray with a mixture of lactofermented potato brine and shop-bought pickled cucumber liquor from the back of the cupboard (with some fresh garlic, herbs and a few peppercorns), and into the fridge covered with foil to rest overnight. I prep the huge turkey breasts for shashlik by chopping them into rough inch cubes. The marinade is kefir, pesto, lemon juice and zest, salt and pepper. This all sits in a big bowl overnight in the fridge too.
Chopping fruit and herbs for salad. The basement fridge had a selection of apples, so I get watermelon and oranges from the supermarket. I always get herbs from the babushkas outside Maxima, so on the way back from Rimi we stop off to clear them of their lovely parsley, basil, lemon balm, peppermint, spring onions and dill. Christina picks all the herbs from their stalks and finely chops them, then does a nice small dice for the fruit. We add a tiny bit of salt but no dressing.
Fermenting and pickling vegetables. I also get about 2.5kg of baby cukes from the trestle table of a guy sitting in the boot of his estate car. I slice them thinly longways and make a fresh liquor with half half acv and water, a few tbsp of sugar and one of salt. I chop a few white onions into rounds and some garlic cloves, and chuck everything into a big glass jar. I actually chopped and submerged the potatoes in 4% brine with garlic and thyme last night to give them extra time to ferment. The plan is to roast them in the morning and reheat them on the bbq in a pan.
Herby butter. Johanna’s suggestion. Christina let the blocks melt slightly in the sun while working on other components, then mashed the rest of the herbs in with some fancy salt and squidged it into a plastic tub to set in the fridge.
Bread. Bought from Rimi as an afterthought: a few bags of large sliced white bloomers and some small sliced rye tin loaves.
Once I finish prep, Kevin turns up to inform me that Aleksandr (chairman of Narva Venice Association) is warming his sauna and expects my attendance. I do as I’m expected and although swear I will only stay a little while, proceed to take many shots of vodka, eat some salami, get thrashed by Aleksandr with a birch brush in the steamroom, have another shot of vodka, thrash Kevin with a birch brush in the steamroom, and finally get picked up on a speedboat by a guy in just his tshirt, underpants and a captain’s hat who then pelts it down the canal while standing up and shouting “Titanic!”.
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Sat 9 Jul
Showtime.
I roast the lactofermented potatoes while having porridge and coffee, then precariously balance all the containers of meats and pickles in some bread trays ready to load into the car. I still don’t know what food for 70 people looks like.
Down at Venice we unload the crates, as well as all the bread, paper plates and bottles of water we left in the car. There are like 5 or 6 people down here, some volunteers from NART and a few locals; we get three tents up pretty quickly but forgo the walls as wind is up right now. As Johanna returns from collecting a barbeque pit from the city, we unload the huge iron trough and set it down on the gravel. Dense, dark grey clouds have been moving in for the past twenty minutes and now unload an almighty torrent on us. Aleksandr is adamant it will be over in another twenty minutes so we just continue setting up tables and unrolling electronics cables. I have a few volunteers with me on the food department so we set the barbeque up on its legs and Lotte cleans the old ash out while Christina arranges two tables (one waist height and one chest height) to complete the U-shape formation. As I’m standing at the barbeque, all my cooking equipment and food prep is on the low table to my right, and the bread, pickles, butter, and eating instruments are behind me on the higher one, along with an eight litre water dispenser with citrus and wild herbs floating around.
I start looking at all the wet things: the new lake on the carpark floor, my crocs and socks, the barbecue trough, the coal, my hands holding some coal. Lotte rightly says we should start the fire in the small round barbeque, which is dry, so we start igniting paper wicks and firelighters in an attempt to get the flames to catch on the coals. A few false starts later, it’s good. Immediately, an old dude with an unbuttoned check shirt over a grey vest and a beaten baseball cap storms in with cardboard, coals and lighter fluid. He is speaking in Russian and I believe him. The cardboard gets ripped up and stuffed in the base of the trough, then without warning he lifts up the portable barbecue and tips the pre-existing small fire onto the cardboard. He pulls a few logs from a sack and props them up diagonally, tucking coals in the gaps and adding cardboard to keep the initial flames going. Just for the drama he squirts fluid into the materials and nearly melts the tent, but it’s all under control, apparently. I think it’s important to report on this because I genuinely would have been there all day trying to succeed, and his expertise is something valuable. His own research over the years has brought him here to this point, and I’m thankful to understand more about the chemistry of fire-making now because of it. Thanks Vladimir.
As the fuel settles in and Vladimir grabs a deck chair, Kevin cleans the grilling iron down and I begin to skewer the shashlik. Aleksandr brings me a shot of vodka and a pickle.
Once the meat is starting to char, I flip it with a pair of scissor tongs or rotate the skewers. A few locals are starting to hover around the high table; I offer them a slice of bread with herb butter and pickles. I get a few thumbs up and smiles. They are wearing captains’ hats like the guy on the boat and I decide I really need one. I write a menu in english and have a volunteer translate it to russian for me and stick them both on the front edge of the table. I’ll be damned if i have to explain all the food even once.
The first flush of the meat is ready and I transfer it onto a metal tray where Christina is standing, ready to break it up or cut it down. She starts to make a plate up for a punter, pointing at the bowls of food and waiting for a head nod or shake. The man wants everything. A steady stream of short older ladies with plates already in their hands and they also get the full monty. Meanwhile I’m getting another batch of pork steaks and shashlik ready for the grill, drinking a beer and chatting to a musician. I am living out a bit of a dream if I’m honest. Doing my first barbecue, for a party of locals in a carpark is a great scenario for me to be cooking in. Trying to pull off something like this would strike fear into many, but I’m taking it in my stride and channelling the passion that my brother and father have always shown for hosting people around hot food and fire. Having confidence in my ability is not new to me, but performing it for a bunch of strangers in a different culture is.
I’ve worked hard on some good recipes and smashed the service (all with a lot of help) so it’s not necessary for me to seek external validation. This is also new to me. I’m pretty confident that if the locals don’t like everything, they might something. I start getting some feedback – lots of clean plates, another few thumbs up and one lady even gives me her whole review in Russian as I look on smiling. It turns out I do need one piece of validation: I explain to Vladimir (Lotte translates) as he eats one, that the potatoes are fermented then roasted and he licks his lips in the most comical, satisfied way I’ve ever seen from a real human. That’s enough for me!
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Sun 10 Jul
slept like shit, just could not switch my brain off
Clothes
underwear
Lunch
Flask
Laptop
Chargers
Toiletries
Book
CASHPOINT 100
Going to Massia on the bus, dasvidaniya