Jerk Stories: Salt and Spices, Smoke and Wood

 

Jamaica; 10 million years ago

 

Wood and water, water and wood.

Rain falls. Seeds sow.


Wood and water, water and wood.

Tendrils sprawl. Currents flow. 


Wood and water, water and wood.

Rivers roar. Branches grow.


Wood and water, water and wood.

Trees soar. Clouds roll.


Wood and water, water and wood.

Rain falls. Seeds sow.

 

…and now the forest is born. Roots digging deep over limestone karst. Burrowing. Delving. Trees holding firm against frenetic storms. They bow, they sway. Yet steadfast they remain.

In swamp stillness, drizzle hangs in the air like a levitating sea. The mist settles on heart-shaped leaves and over great pools of water; ripples glisten in the morning light. On a floating log, a dragonfly settles, antennae twitching, wings still. All around, towering trunks plunge into the murky depths, where behemoth fish weave between swaying ferns, a shifting kaleidoscope of green.

The trees thirst: mighty giants that glug and grow, racing to the heavens with canopies that unfurl to salute prehistoric skies, capturing cosmic rays from distant suns, chemistry bubbling away in chloroplast cauldrons. Light turns to matter.

And now the forest is ready. Sustainer of life. Provider of food. Guardian, protector. But first it waits: waits for the first canoe, the first fire, the first smoke. This place, this land, this Xaymaca – the land of wood and water.

 

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TOWPATH – Past, Present, Future

Towpath Cafe in Haggerston, London, with people eating breakfast on tables close to the canal

 

May 1820, Navvies’ camp, Haggerstone village

Danny looks disconsolately down at his breakfast: six rashers of leathery bacon – more fat than flesh – a small crusty loaf of day-old bread, and a tankard of insipid beer.

‘Stare at it any longer, Danny, and the crows will make off with it,’ remarks the woman serving the food.

‘Crows widnae dare go near this shit,’ replies Danny, taking a last couple of swift drags on a clay pipe, which he then duly lets fall to the ground.

‘You might be right, there,’ she mutters, stealing a glance towards the kitchen. ‘Best be on your way anyhow – you’re holding up the line.’

Danny shrugs, and slinks off to the table nearest the stall. At the far end, the Irish crew are in fine voice despite the early hour, singing like it’s a veritable feast day. On the other side, the English are already on their second pints. No Scots as yet though: he has the table to himself.

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‘A Tale of Two Fish Balls’ – Trini Saltfish Fritters & Grandma’s Gefilte

A plate of Trinidadian fish fritters, alongside Jewish gefilte fish.

Brixton has an energy, a palpable energy, that I love. From the stalls that line Electric Avenue and Atlantic Road, to the shop frontages that spill out onto the streets, there’s often a buzz as the traders go about their business, hollering out the specials, or just casually chit-chatting under the tarpaulin.

This neighbourhood may be attracting the unsavoury attention of developers and landlords, who prefer to see it in terms of profit and turnover, rather than communities and livelihoods. But for now, the markets keep on going, nourishing and sustaining the various communities that call Brixton home: West African, Caribbean, Latin American, and many others besides.

And then there are the outsiders like me, who come for a few hours at a time. Like I am today – making the most of a glorious summer’s day, and a momentary lull in the global pandemic.

So after months where home has been both a haven and a fortress, I’m venturing out of my hibernation, stretching out stiff limbs, breathing in air that seems unusually fresh, and reconnecting with the outside world.

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Dhal Puri Roti – A History in Three Vignettes

Roti Joupa Trinidadian takeaway frontage in Clapham, London

 

Barhara, Bihar, India – 1867

At the end of the village, just past the sweeping steps of the ghat, flows the Ganges. The holy Ganges. The purifying Ganges. The mother Ganga. Ever changing. Ever the same. Shimmering watery portal between heaven and earth.

Nearby, its waters are replenished by the mighty Ghaghara, whose own origins lie high up on the Tibetan plateau. On monsoon days such as this, the river runs perilously high.

The villagers look on, surveying the surge with a wary vigilance, monitoring its ceaseless flow, anxiously rolling and twisting prayer beads between their restless fingers.

They place their faith and hope in the twin guardians of the riverbank: one of the earth, the other of the heavens.

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A Brief History of Food & Drink in Five Objects

Five ancient artefacts from The British Museum, London, related to food and drink.

The world’s greatest repository of antiquities? Or a vainglorious testament to the arrogance and narcissism of empire? Either way, the British Museum has long engendered discussion and debate.

But as a child, all this flew largely over my head. As far as I was concerned, the British Museum was always just a bit.. well, dull.

Egyptian mummy? So what! Roman statue? Meh! The sheer scale of time and place just washed over my youthful mind without tingling any neurones of appreciation.

And so years passed, and it was not until my 30’s that I ventured back. This time, I felt a palpable thrill as I gazed round the entrance hall – all the more gripping for its unexpectedness.

Stepping tentatively into the cavernous glass-domed Great Court was like venturing into an oversized snowglobe. But rather than chintzy little reindeers or rickety Brighton piers, there were actual sphinxes and sarcophagi – millennia-old relics staring back at me, like they were alive and breathing.

Over time, it struck me just how many objects related to food and drink: not only cutlery, crockery, and utensils, but also in the glorified representations of feasts or hunting.

I had such a sense that, regardless of time and place, food has always been a central pillar of civilisation. It is more than a sustainer of life: it’s a gatherer of people, a connector of communities, and a shaper of identity.

Over time, I’ve been steadily making note of display items that have piqued my gastronomic interest, and I’m picking out five of them here – each originating from a different era and region, each with a culinary theme and a story to tell about the society of the time.

One of these stories is about the museum itself, and how the shadow of colonialism has shaped its collection… but more on that later. For now it’s time to buckle up – you’re about to go 5000 years back into the past…

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