An Update, An Explanation & An Apology

Dispatches From A Man With A Pan

Hello everybody, it’s been a while!

I’m writing to you on a rainy afternoon, deep in the Basque Country, the culinary Mecca that straddles the border of North East Spain and South West France. You may remember that a while ago (3 months!) I set out to travel around the Western side of Mediterranean Europe to collect traditional recipes and document the food cultures of the places I visited. My intention was to update this newsletter as I went.

I’m pleased to report that in the former ambition, I have excelled beyond what I hoped for when I set out. Whilst I give myself some credit (I have endured a lot of long, hot bus journeys to reach good food in faraway places, slept in some pretty sketchy spots and gotten very lost a lot of times) the majority of my success is due to the incredible generosity and kindness of the people I have met along the way.

When I left, I had no idea who I would encounter and what their reaction to my project would be. In every town or city I’ve arrived in, with each stranger I’ve got chatting to on a train or amused taxi driver who’s asked me why I have a pan strapped to my bag, a common theme has presented itself. The usual small talk leads to me explaining who I am and where I’m from, and then about why I’m here and my effort to learn about their food culture. At that point, something shifts and a wall dissolves. Smiles widen, they consider me inquisitively.

Often, a sense of pride radiates out and there is an immediate need to show me what they eat here. Quick phone calls are made and suddenly we’re at a restaurant where the cook makes liver and onions just like my new friend’s grandmother used to, and did I know that the fisherman would eat this for breakfast when they arrived back from the boats? And would I like another beer?

Sometimes, there’s a bemused “but all of the proper restaurants are in the city, you need to go there, this is just a small industrial town” and then a surprised excitement that no, I don’t want to go there and yes, I absolutely would like to go with them to the small cantina where they go for lunch, with the plastic chairs and the football on in the corner.

Whoever it is and wherever we’ve met, what has struck me is not just the generosity of people in the material sense, inviting me to share their home and their food, but also the generosity with their time, the eagerness to show me where they’re from, their culture, their food and what it means to them.

Now in my latter ambition I have failed miserably. Not a single newsletter has been written! I feel I have done an injustice here to the community of people that I value the most, the readers of this fledgling newsletter. This may sound like false flattery but allow me to explain. Two years ago I moved from working in physical restaurant kitchens into the world of food media and recipe developing, and adopted the necessary digital platforms that go along with that line of work - primarily social media. Now, while I have a much greater audience there, those platforms are (ironically) the place I least like to try and share the things I am passionate about.

I take a fair photo and can cobble together an ok video but ultimately, I’m not that good at social media. I think partly that comes from a lack of desire to create the kind of content that excels there, which in food typically means short, satisfying and well edited videos (this in itself is impressive and I don’t say this to depreciate or dismiss people who do this well, just to say that I am not one of them). My other downfall perhaps stems from trying to use social media as a tool, and to hold it at arms length for the sake of my own sanity, which is of course the opposite of what is required to succeed there.

And so after writing far too many far too long instagram captions, and with some persuasion from friends, I am here writing for you now. And this is why I say that you, dear readers, are the community I value most. Because a view or a ‘like’ is cheap but to set aside the time to read this is truly generous. Here is the first place I’ve ever written anything anywhere publicly (outside of those captions) so I’m still finding my feet, finding out where, when and how I write best. It turns out that it’s not on the road while travelling, in the tiny slivers of time between a bus arriving and a check in here, a meal there and a conversation somewhere else. But fear not! My notebook is heavy and my camera is full and I am so looking forward to sharing with you everything I have seen and learned in the past 3 months.

The erratic nature of my writing means that there are no paywalls here, however some of you have kindly chosen to be paid subscribers, and it’s to you I feel most guilty about not writing for so long. As such I have frozen your subscriptions until a time that I am happy that you are paying for something worthwhile (this is purely a financial freeze - you will still receive anything I write in the meantime). Good writing takes time, but you shouldn't have to pay for that.

Signing off for now, but back soon (sooner than before, promise!)

Jordon