And then, really,
you’ll be able to say that
nothing is lighter than an aïoli dish-
There, this morning we’re going to cook a bit-
With deprivation comes terror. I want to eat hearty-
Do you really eat onions without plum jam?
-Well it’s not that bad-
There’s still a bit of time left somewhere between noon and two
to eat a rather hearty snack-
Today we’re going to have fun making giant crepes-
There’s around 250 recipes-
And we add half our own weight of butter-
Do you remember food?
I mean, before everything fell apart?
Can you remember?
Food, everywhere,
tons and tons of food,
so much food
that it even became a whole culture.
We said that Porthos was the strongest of them,
so much so that even an entire pig didn’t make him flicker.
We had it good, before the world went to shit.
We lacked for nothing…
A true cornucopia.
We would almost forget the time when food was a need,
something that could become scarce.
A not so long ago time,
as our elders could remember,
who lived through a good war.
But then, it only took one or two generations
to forget the history of an entire humanity
who didn’t take a full belly for granted.
Well, abundance, not really for everyone…
During the very first political strike of soviet history,
obviously shortages had worsened-
But then again, we could be horrified by deprivation in terrible dictatorships,
but nothing to really make a fuss here.
And pictures of starvation from the other side of the world
could make us sob a bit,
but nothing to spoil our appetite though.
And as our elders said :
“little children are starving to death in Africa,
so eat it all up”.
We had so much food
that we could afford doing a small mercy sometimes,
but apart from that… When appetite goes, everything goes.
And appetite went so well
that eating wasn’t just eating.
No, eating was a pleasure,
it was an art.
Homemade dishes are nice and all,
but you have to admit that the gastronomy temples
are indeed restaurants.
The table culture, free from all scarcity restraints,
could be creative and picky,
set its own value of good taste
and manners with complex methods.
Simply put,
let’s put an end to subsistence and let gastronomy start.
The civilized man could be very picky.
I hate snacks,
the shitty chocolate bar at 10 in the morning,
the only french fries portion at noon,
or the sandwich made with rubbish bread
and polyphosphate ham.
That’s what needs to be avoided at all costs!
At the very end,
cooking culture had its very own artists,
true rock stars.
We called them “chefs”, that’s telling you.
It had its own hot spots, like some kind of food Louvres.
It had its own schools, fashions and movements,
especially in France.
Because between you and me, the english cuisine…
With an infinity of culinary diversity all around the world,
we also wanted to be proud roosters.
Even so that, being the chauvinistic people that we were,
we started getting suspicious of the others.
Culinary habits of inhabitants of the land of the rising sun
appear to us to be very strange,
and their dishes, apart from limited exceptions,
make us sick.
They are cold, made with stinky algae,
pestilential dried fish-
Because the land of human rights didn’t only rely on themselves to shine.
Besides, if we look closely,
human rights and food have some things in common.
The French Revolution was the occasion to sign
universal declarations,
and at the same time end the noblemen’s privileges.
And that by depriving them, making them run away or just by…
There beautiful, you won’t be wiggling again-
They eventually left out a great amount of domestic workers,
including kitchen workers, who were going to be able to
– if not forced to if they wanted to keep on eating –
cook for people less blue-blooded.
So then we had cooking, which just like the folk,
hit the streets.
No way it was only reserved to a certain cast or hidden at home,
just like any other culture, food had its popular side to it.
Arranged poor people’s meals, public or communal festivities,
the land’s specialty custom-made for the local realities,
looked down upon by the gentrified cuisine,
but still holding its pride.
After all, what’s more democratic than a folk gastronomy made by and for the folk
inherited from the french revolution.
Moreover, these local traditions and old recipes,
all that popular culture
was spreading through books, but also through TV.
If this book would have competed for the Goncourt price,
it’s certain that it would have won this year-
No no no, tonight we are cooking by ourselves,
we don’t need your famous recipes!-
Realize, we could even watch people cook.
Just like that, on TV, in front of millions of viewers
who wouldn’t even be able to get a bite of it.
And we loved that.
Hello!
-Hi!
-Maïté hello!
-Hello!
Frankly, where else apart on french TV
– so socially even –
could we hear such popular sayings
and an accent from the province.
And we have to admit that the musketeers’ cuisine
was rather Porthos than Aramis,
we weren’t really there for the dietetic values.
And we do it that easily…
-And after that we’re putting the foie gras on top of it right?
-Right, there’s the foie gras…
We can’t say it’s that nourishing, but it’s not bad-
Right, Maïté meant a cuisine the folk could relate to,
unless…
well, in reality, who could cook such recipes?
In the end, right, Maïté felt like home,
but it meant housekeeper’s cuisine
rather than cuisine for everyone.
Because to make meals-on-wheels, you need space,
adequate material and ingredients
– really, can you imagine how much did products like that cost?
In such quantity? –
you also need the expertise,
and, most of all,
time.
I promise I will sometimes think about Mrs. Combe,
and forget about my skills to open a tin can.
Mrs. Combe you taught me to cook cassoulet just like your mother cooked it,
and her mother before her.
You surely taught me something else :
how to take my time.
I don’t intend to rush to enjoy your cassoulet.
Enjoy your meal madam!
And that…
what a better way to be remembered than the end of the world.
To remember that abundance doesn’t come by itself,
and that not everyone eats as much as the next one.
Whatever was on our plates didn’t appear magically.
It came from a whole world’s work.
A world that planted, farmed, hunted and harvested,
but also transformed, packaged, channeled and delivered
to whoever could pay for it,
and then threw whatever was left.
Instead of sharing the product of this labor,
like a good excuse to get along,
we came each other’s servants.
Some more than the others for sure.
In this world where everyone was obsessed with getting their share,
we would rather forget that abundance had a cost.
The cost of cruelty, of raw massacre,
of endless exploitation, to only please some.
We mostly forgot that one day,
only pictures of a delicious yet fleeting opulence would be left,
and that, at the very end,
we had to pick up the tab.
If you could taste a bite of what I am eating…
My god how I wish you were in my place,
I’m telling you, if you could get what I have right now…
I know I’m sickening,
eating this in front of you all,
but really,
I’m with you from the bottom of my heart,
and with you, feast with me at the same time-
