Readymade Apple & Rhubarb Tart
Glasgow
January 2019
Film, Olympus Mju
When food became my work, I began to cut back a whole lot on eating at cafés the way I used to. Not because of the cost, (okay maybe partly,) but because I was literally crippled by the fear of troubling people in serving me. I would eat where I could help myself and try not to hassle others before, during and after my meal - even at my own expense.
It took a time of discovering how much I truly enjoy doling out food and experiences for others that I began to want to spend money in other places just to see how they did it. How else would the different outlets of this industry hear and grow? If a place was great I would make repeat visits; the promise of a beautiful meal cannot be bought.
I would like to think I am a responsible diner who isn't unpleasant to deal with, who's fun to make recommendations to and always up to try something new. At least that's the kind of kid I would like to serve. Every new dish is an education, while every usual/repeat order is cementing a part of our imagination into historical memory. Shaping personal preference.
I also have been less apologetic about finding comfort in a trustworthy meal. I sure as heck don't eat my feelings any more, but I love me a good haunt that will never fail. I realise these "quick fixes" can be good things, and I shouldn't be afraid to use them like trump cards over terrible times.
Today was one of those days. With the ridiculously little sleep I got, there came a bad, vivid dream that left me waking up like I had walked and lived every one of those scenes in the past few hours. During my break I found myself at an old favourite café, three years down the line of my last visit.
I left so, so happy.
Happy because the feeling is the same,
Happy because of the people who make the feeling the same.
Happy because I eyed that table from three years ago
and truly, gratefully, saw how good life is - as is.
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