Travel For Food

We Namibians like to show off with food. Over the years, I have been invited to a growing number of ‘ethnic’ food parties, ie dinners with special ethnic themes.

Japanese (until homemade sushi became passé), Chinese (until they started poaching our rhinos), Italian (until the gluten-free fad dug a grave for pizza and pasta), and now, it seems it is Thailand that provides the culinary inspiration for the moment.

Those whose dinner parties I get to attend love food and travel a lot. As a result, I get to relive their most recent travels through the food they put on the table.

But first we are neatly arranged in a semi-circle around the host and/or hostess. Then come the photographs and the stories; sometimes hundreds of each. Spewed out like hot lava from Mount Vesuvius.

Not being blessed with the world’s greatest attention span at the moment, I invariably drift off into mental oblivion, leaving my body to pass on the phone or tablet or what ever photograph-filled device we are meant to share.

I simple cannot bear another photograph of a tourist and some clichéd artifact being shoved down my hairy throat. In her book, ‘On Photography’, Susan Sontag states that: “Photographs furnish evidence. Something we hear about, but doubt, seems proven when we’re shown a photograph of it. In one version of its utility, the camera record incriminates”.

There is a great deal of truth in Sontag’s statement. Ever wondered why tourists like including themselves into photographs when they travel?

Now you know: To present proof that they were where they said they were. That they saw what they said they saw. That they ate what they said they ate. That they did what they said they did.

No wonder so many people buy cameras before they go on extra exotic holidays.

But Sontag also raises a second important point in the quoted statement, ie that the photograph incriminates. People often forget that the photographs tell us – the viewers – much more than what they want us to know.

For example, people these days photograph their food more than ever before and we can tell a lot about the type of (food or culinary) journey people had by looking at their food photographs.

Did they eat in restaurants, or did they eat street food? Did they shop at fresh produce markets or in supermarkets? Did they eat alone or with others? Did they get to sample some iconic dishes from that part of the world? Did they do fine dining or casual only?

Ultimately we learn a lot about them as travellers from their food photographs. What did they spend their money on? How much did they spend on food? How much trouble did they go through to eat special dishes or at special places? Did they have any special drinks or beverages with their food? Great wines, perhaps? Maybe even a collection of modernist cocktails that bubble and smoke and surprise.

I love looking at people’s food photographs more than I like looking at pictures of themselves in proximity to iconic landmarks. But then the photograph must be informative, speaking directly to my curiosity. If the photograph was of high-end restaurant food, I’d be looking at the plating and presentation. How the chef is using positive and negative space and shape on the plate; how he or she incorporates soft, coarse and gel textures with the dish; and how different colours and flavours are combined and presented.

As I cannot smell or taste anything from your photograph, you’d have to tell me about those, please and thank you very much. Be detailed and creative but be honest. If you did not like the tasting menu at Gaggan, let me know, I want all the details.

If you are anything like me, the first places I visit with camera in hand are markets. They are ultimate human-meets-food frontiers; the high temples for sensory-driven, food maddened travellers.

Where rationality and common sense drown under the weight of multiplicity, colour, smell and taste.

A good market for me is the ultimate honey-trap; filled with intoxicating artifacts of romance that could sampled at will, but that comes with a detrimental cost to my meagre monetary resources.

Something tells me we may be heading for a revival of Mexican food. A few adventurous friends are heading that way, which means sometime later this year, we may well be filling up with re-fried beans and all things Doña María.

In anticipation, I am including a simple taco recipe. Instead of the usual salsa verde (green sauce), I am using chimichurri, which is not from Mexico. You can buy salsa verde at the supermarket, but since I could not find any tomatillos here locally, I decided to give the salsa verde a miss.

Authenticity is not everything, but it is important.

• 1 pickled beef tongue

• 1 medium onion, cut in chunks

• 4 cloves garlic

• Salt to taste

• Water, enough to cover the beef tongue

• 10 whole pepper corns