Love this essay so much. Just brilliant. Reminds me of writing about the history of the Turkish Kurdish immigrants of the 80s in warehouses of north London. This essay and beautifully researched archive is an antidote to as Chris puts it ‘contemporary London poverty and alienation’
Am I right in thinking The Bonnington cafe in Vauxhall, which is still open, now legal and owned by the co-op community, was a squat kitchen? I thought I might see if mentioned here. I cook there once a week
This is a fascinating piece - really well researched, beautifully written, and uplifting too - thank you Chris. So glad to see the always excellent Vittles publishing pieces like this that put food into its wider social context, both yesterday and today. More like this please!
Curry powder covers up all. The description of Squat Slop reminded me of Nicolas Freeling's Curry Christmas in his Kitchen book - but at the opposite end of the culinary spectrum. The very miserly chef in the fancy French kitchen where Freeling worked had a deep love of curry as a way to serve up every kind of leftovers. Then one Christmas, for some unknown reason, all the guests started ordering curry and the kitchen went berserk: "“We had curry for a hundred, plenty of onions and were pleasantly relaxed.” But then a Christmas miracle happened – everyone started ordering the curry: “we sold two hundred and thirty helpings of curry… I bellowed at him [the chef] that there was no more. “You going to cut it off?” “No no – I make more – I help.” Might have known – when would come another day so golden for making a profit from scraps?” The larder was scored for every scrap, bones, anything even remotely edible, as the chef screamed: “Give more colly, va!” and made even more rice to fill up the diners."
"Chaos in the Streets. Order in the Kitchen” is such a beautiful line.
Some of the meals I remember most from traveling weren’t restaurant meals at all, but improvised ones shared by people trying to create warmth and community in unstable places.
Food becomes memory much faster when it’s tied to survival, generosity, or belonging.
Love this essay so much. Just brilliant. Reminds me of writing about the history of the Turkish Kurdish immigrants of the 80s in warehouses of north London. This essay and beautifully researched archive is an antidote to as Chris puts it ‘contemporary London poverty and alienation’
Am I right in thinking The Bonnington cafe in Vauxhall, which is still open, now legal and owned by the co-op community, was a squat kitchen? I thought I might see if mentioned here. I cook there once a week
This is a fascinating piece - really well researched, beautifully written, and uplifting too - thank you Chris. So glad to see the always excellent Vittles publishing pieces like this that put food into its wider social context, both yesterday and today. More like this please!
Curry powder covers up all. The description of Squat Slop reminded me of Nicolas Freeling's Curry Christmas in his Kitchen book - but at the opposite end of the culinary spectrum. The very miserly chef in the fancy French kitchen where Freeling worked had a deep love of curry as a way to serve up every kind of leftovers. Then one Christmas, for some unknown reason, all the guests started ordering curry and the kitchen went berserk: "“We had curry for a hundred, plenty of onions and were pleasantly relaxed.” But then a Christmas miracle happened – everyone started ordering the curry: “we sold two hundred and thirty helpings of curry… I bellowed at him [the chef] that there was no more. “You going to cut it off?” “No no – I make more – I help.” Might have known – when would come another day so golden for making a profit from scraps?” The larder was scored for every scrap, bones, anything even remotely edible, as the chef screamed: “Give more colly, va!” and made even more rice to fill up the diners."
Reading this was an exceptional experience!
"Chaos in the Streets. Order in the Kitchen” is such a beautiful line.
Some of the meals I remember most from traveling weren’t restaurant meals at all, but improvised ones shared by people trying to create warmth and community in unstable places.
Food becomes memory much faster when it’s tied to survival, generosity, or belonging.