TALKING ABOUT FOOD

This article was first published in Issue 2 of the  CODE Quarterly A new industrial revolution is happening and it is not represented by an iron structure built in the middle of Paris. This revolution is supported by dark rooms in distant lands – servers processing your apps, your social media timelines, your daily steps through the city. In the world of service and hospitality we have online booking apps, with OpenTable being the main player; and iPads are now appearing on tables instead of waiters. Therefore, business sense means we need to investigate ways to get connected and tapped into the app-savvy foodie. So technology is booming, but where is it taking us? And how does it affect the hospitality industry, from the inside and as a guest?

A short film, because sometimes it's hard to find words to describe what I mean. I have the privilege of being able to go on holidays, and being in London means there are so many possible destinations. So many flights around the world, from multiple airports. In March I went to Hong Kong (to see old friends), Hanoi and then home to Malaysia. I hadn't been to Vietnam before, and I loved Hanoi. Can't wait to go back. So many things to say, that in the end, I just cobbled together my photos and film and wrote a poem/prose thing of my thoughts.

"Wine is not a solitary drink. It is essentially sociable, and one of the greatest pleasures it has to offer is the sharing of it..." -  The World Atlas of  Wine , 7th edition Twitter has been playing on my mind of late. I mean, it’s always on my mind – which is kinda the point. Twitter has an omnipresence and my thumb is addicted to the swiping movement.  The immediacy and intimacy of social media makes me a voyeur. Which I love, and hate – in equal measures. I wonder what Lacan and Mulvey would say about it all. It means that when meeting someone in person, I can say, non-murderoulsy, but still creepily “I know what you did last summer”. I don’t know how I feel about that.  I eavesdrop (twitter-drop?) on conversations between people I follow, and so I know details of people who have no   idea that I even exist!! And I’m ok with this. Most of the time. I don't what that says about me?! When looking at my phone the world narrows, it fe...

I got a little annoyed with January and everyone wanting to have a ‘dry January’. I had worked all through December and I wanted to have fun for the beginning of the year. Luckily I had a few trusted friends who were equally unimpressed with the dry Jan concept. But of course, everyone was broke (including myself) so I decided that it was going to be a month of drinking good wine at home.   That’s the thing with London, there is always something good to do, there is always somewhere great to be; it’s a tricky city to be in, when broke. And January is such a sad month, that you want to brighten it up with fun, but you don’t have the money to do so. When I went back to uni to do my PhD I used up all my savings and really didn’t have time to pick up extra work, so even though I graduated six months ago, I’m still playing catch up and living pay check to pay check. Therefore despite the December work slog, I was back to being broke by January. And I know that I’m not alone in this...

“To me hospitality is an industry that has always been about people, and bringing people together” I guess this is an extended 'About Me' post... I’ve mentioned before that’ve worked in hospitality, so I thought I should probably break down what I mean by this. And it seems appropriate to discuss it after I posted about working in hospitality over the December/Christmas period.  

My Dickensian romantic dreams go into overdrive and then shatter as December draws on, and no snow arrives. As a person of the commonwealth/ postcolonial spaces of New Zealand and Malaysia, England is a place created from fairytales. It is through literature that I learnt about England, and December is the ultimate time for the British fantasy - the lights of Oxford Street, the cold air, the christmas trees and mulled wine. All the things I had been reading about in Dickens, in Enid Blyton, in the adventures of Milly Molly Mandy and Little Friend Susan where suppose to blossom and come true. I arrived in London in September 2001 and the year after, my sister came to visit me at christmas. She was 18, and I was 21. And it snowed. I was living on St Johns Street in Angel, Rachel and I bought a tree and dragged it home, through the 2ft of snow. And so, London, that’s what you did to me - showed me what was possible and let me down time and time again.

I love Primeur. I love the wooden floor, where my muddy puppy is at home on, padding his wet paws all around my feet.  I love the golden mustard, velvety chairs. I love the slick look, but cosy feeling that the furniture and colours seem to conjure up. I love the chalk writing on the tables. Primeur is glorious in summer, with doors open; and is light and warm in autumn.   I fail so often at being a grown up, but have in my life the wonderful Josie who walks my puppy when I work, and the lovely Elaine who cleans my house once a week – so I have successfully managed to be middle class, if not entirely grown up. Today I heard my ex-husband is having his second baby. This isn't a life I wanted, or quite possibly he wouldn't be an ex, but I still feel incredibly anxious about this fact, it is another point to prove that I haven't “successfully” grown-up. Therefore my concepts of 'grown-up' are, rather boringly, rooted in societal norms. But, even if I don't ...