Our daily bread


Photo by Kate Remmer on Unsplash

Have you ever considered bread as a luxury? 

I never did, until a couple of weeks ago. In my role with Wycliffe, I write a regular prayer email and one of them concerned a couple who were visiting a language community in a sensitive part of Nigeria. For them, bread was a luxury something only people with money could buy. This created a translation problem. How do you translate Jesus' words 'I am the bread of life'?

They used the word nyiru, a pancake made using sorghum flour, and eaten at every single meal - no meal was complete without nyiru. Isn't that what Jesus was saying? That he is for everyone, every day? So the local translators made the decision to say that Jesus is the nyiru of life.

You may be wondering why I'm writing about bread? It's all because of Radio 4. The other day, I had a George Michael song in my head and I wanted to replace it with something else so I  turned on the radio, and this was on Slow Rise: A Bread-Making Adventure.  It's their book of the week, and it's absolutely fascinating. All about a man's search for the perfect bread made from ancient grains. I thought this is brilliantly written, and then I discovered it was written by a journalist, so it's not surprising. It's well worth a listen. 

This then got me thinking about food that appears in books, especially as our own Ruth Leigh  writes so deliciously about it in her book The Diary of Isabella M Smugge. A woman who would never serve you anything unless it sounds like it's appeared on MasterChef or Nigella Lawson's table. I'm about a quarter of the way though and it's an absolute delight! 

Have you ever read Saturday by Ian McEwan? A fascinating novel involving brain surgery, an anti-war demonstration and an almost step by step guide to making a fish stew. At only 300 words it's short, but you will never forget it. 

The only experience I've had writing about food is for Scala radio. It's been going since May 2019, and it's like Classic Fm. They used to have this unique slot during the drive-time show where the presenter reads out what the listeners are having for dinner, and chooses a piece of music to pair with one or two of the dishes. It's a lot of fun, especially as food that Eva or I have prepared has been selected about 5 or  6 times. One of most memorable was when they chose the chase scene from the Bond film 'For Your eyes only' to go with the Bubble and Squeak that I was making. 

I'd love to hear your favourite literarily  descriptions of food in the comments. Be that Enid Blyton or Dickens. 

Until we meet again, may your writing simmer slowly away or bake till it's golden brown! 


Martin is a writer, baker, photographer and storyteller. He's been published in the ACW Christmas anthology and Lent devotional. He's currently honing his craft at flash fiction and you can find him on Twitter here. 


 








Comments

  1. I enjoyed this, Martin. There's Turkish delight in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. And mushrooms in TLoTR (as well as second breakfast). Not to mention Hunny. 😁

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Ahh, the second breakfast, something we love to say in our house! Thanks, Susan :)

      Delete
  2. What a great post, Martin and now I'm hungry! Just mentioning Enid Blyton has set me off: Ham sandwiches and lashings of ginger beer not to mention the wonderful tuck boxes packed with goodies for boarding school. I always remember the whole currant cake and used to think - wow! A whole cake! All for one person! My personal favourite description: a nice brown egg, lightly boiled for each of them, and then sardines on toast... Mr Tumnus know's how to serve a good tea!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Nikki.

      I never got tuckboxes like that when I was at boarding school! There's something about Enid Blyton books that are so comforting, maybe it is the food. I don't know. If Mr Tumnus had served cake, then it would have been perfect :D

      Delete
  3. I simply LOVED this post, Martin! I must look up that programme. Right up my strazza. And thanks for the mention. Well, I agree with Susan and Nikki. I used to read the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and feel hungry. Another superb description of a hearty meal is in PG Wodehouse's "Comrade Bingo", a story which never fails to reduce me to howls of laughter. Bingo has fallen in love with yet another unsuitable woman (the splendidly named Charlotte Corday Rowbotham) and she, her father and brooding would-be suitor come back to Bertie's for tea. “And about the tea. Get in some muffins.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “And some jam, ham, cake, scrambled eggs, and five or six wagonloads of sardines.”

    “Sardines, sir?” said Jeeves, with a shudder.

    “Sardines.”

    There was an awkward pause.

    “Don’t blame me, Jeeves,” I said. “It isn’t my fault.”

    “No, sir.”

    “Well, that’s that.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    I could see the man was brooding tensely.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Then they all come piling in and eat like horses, to Jeeves' horror. “Tea is served, sir,” said Jeeves.

    “Tea, pa!” said Charlotte, starting at the word like the old war-horse who hears the bugle; and we got down to it.

    Funny how one changes as the years roll on. At school, I remember, I would cheerfully have sold my soul for scrambled eggs and sardines at five in the afternoon; but somehow, since reaching man’s estate, I had rather dropped out of the habit; and I’m bound to admit I was appalled to a goodish extent at the way the sons and daughter of the Revolution shoved their heads down and went for the foodstuffs. Even Comrade Butt cast off his gloom for a space and immersed his whole being in scrambled eggs, only coming to the surface at intervals to grab another cup of tea. Presently the hot water gave out, and I turned to Jeeves. “More hot water.”

    “Very good, sir.”

    “Hey! what’s this? What’s this?” Old Rowbotham had lowered his cup and was eyeing us sternly. He tapped Jeeves on the shoulder. “No servility, my lad; no servility!”

    “I beg your pardon, sir?”

    “Don’t call me ‘sir.’ Call me Comrade. Do you know what you are, my lad? You’re an obsolete relic of an exploded feudal system.”

    “Very good, sir.”

    “If there’s one thing that makes the blood boil in my veins——”

    “Have another sardine,” chipped in young Bingo—the first sensible thing he’d done since I had known him. Old Rowbotham took three and dropped the subject, and Jeeves drifted away. I could see by the look of his back what he felt.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm so glad it hit the spot for you, Ruth, that's very kind.

      You can't beat well made scrambled eggs on toast, especially if it's with grilled bacon as an old school friend's mum used to make it. I'm with Jeeves on the sardines!

      Delete
  5. Greatly enjoyed your blog today. it's sparked off some delicious quotes too!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Veronica, that's very kind. It has indeed! I'm both surprised and delighted! :D

      Delete
  6. Very enjoyable read, Martin. All about scrummy food but calorie-free! One of my favourite 'food' descriptions is from Great Expectations and I'll include it here because it's all about bread, and how Pip's horrid sister Mrs Margery treats it.

    My sister had a trenchant way of cutting our bread and butter for us, that never varied. First, with her left hand she jammed the loaf hard and fast against her bib,—where it sometimes got a pin into it, and sometimes a needle, which we afterwards got into our mouths. Then she took some butter (not too much) on a knife and spread it on the loaf, in an apothecary kind of way, as if she were making a plaster,—using both sides of the knife with a slapping dexterity, and trimming and moulding the butter off round the crust. Then, she gave the knife a final smart wipe on the edge of the plaster, and then sawed a very thick round off the loaf: which she finally, before separating from the loaf, hewed into two halves, of which Joe got one, and I the other.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. And I thought that I sliced and buttered bread in a strange way! Thanks, Fran. I really should read more Dickens.

      Though I'm baffeled about how she sliced it, and managed to get pins and needles into it, and buttering in a 'apothecary kind of way'!!! The mind boggles.

      Delete
  7. Ah, great post Martin. You put it all so beautifully.

    Joanna Harris describes food and drink in a way that really whets my appetite. I love this from 'Peaches for Father Francis: -

    There's something very comforting about the ritual of jam-making. It speaks of cellars filled with preserves; of neat rows of jars on pantry shelves. It speaks of winter mornings and bowls of chocolat au lait, with thick slices of good fresh bread and last year's peach jam, like a promise of sunshine at the darkest point of the year. It speaks of four stone walls, a roof, and of seasons that turn in the same place, in the same way, year after year, with sweet familiarity. It is the taste of home.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Oh, that is gorgeous, Deborah! Thanks so much for sharing it. So many quotable lines in there and that delightful ending. Wonderful!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment