Walking is a way of life in this town – I’ve said it before. Walking epitomizes New Yorkers love affair with themselves (ouch, sorry even that sounds harsh for me! I must have taken a double dose of bitch pill today, sorry about that chaps).

Defending your space on the streets is a constant game to play. So I thought I would share some of the learned techniques for situations when people invade your space, walk into you, or are general pains in the ass in your vicinity.

(1) Cough uncontrollably, or start a sneezing fit (though everyone will say God Bless You – which bothers me, so I avoid that one). Special effect on this one is to begin choking, a New Yorker would cross the other side of the street rather than come near while you are carking it.

(2) Nervous twitches / erratic spasms, especially in confined spaces such as subways – seats clear immediately.

(3) An advanced user technique is talking or arguing with yourself. This takes a little more practice to be convincing. Woman in subway wearing Chanel and laughing and chatting to herself just didn’t cut it – business woman by day, lunatic in transit.

(4) Suddenly stopping while walking down the street. This does little to address people cutting you off on the street, but it is morbidly satisfying to have people slam uncontrollably into you from behind. A more holistic form of protest.

(5) The total avoidance technique. Stay in, order everything in – food, grocery, pharmacy, magazines. Lean out the window if you want to watch eye candy.

(6) Only in America – strap on a proximity flag belt. The belt has protruding flags attached to keep people away – I actually saw this. The lunatic concept works well here.

Well those are my top six, if you have any great ideas let me know – the more the merrier

Categories: Live From The Field
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Food is beginning to haunt me at the moment (no that was not intended to be a Halloween pun, honestly). Three things to say:

(1) The art of food is a sacred thing, if only we would realise it

(2) Exceptional food is so under-recognised, I do worry that we are in danger of loosing it

(3) Indifference to food really bothers me

I wont hide the fact that I always wanted to be a chef – never did – but it still drives me. Too often there are times where the mere thought of special food melts me inside, connects me to a greater reality, makes me realise what beauty can really mean. I have days where it upsets me so much when I cannot be part of that.

Coming to New York held so much potential to be part of some of the great food of the world. The attitude toward food here has haunted me. It is either this obsessive blind panic in chasing the latest and greatest newspaper rating, or it is the face of pure indifference. These really bother me and I believe make us poorer people for the experience.

In chasing rated restaurants we show our insecurity in a city where social acceptance is the only inner faith. The chef may be the best in the world, but the day the papers stop talking about you is the day you begin the countdown to closure. And if there are exceptions to that rule, then they are very lucky chefs. It upset me reading Franks blog today on the rise and fall of Bernard Loiseau.

Then the indifference. I know why it happens, but it still makes me sick. In this city it happens because we are surrounded by shameful foods for everyday life. This is truly a fast-food nation. We want it fast and we will put up with substandard ingredients, preparations and service attitudes. Those days make me feel like I am in a prison, where my prison-slop food falls into an aluminium tray and I am treated like dirt throughout the process.

So I want to say to you, when you touch the perfection of people in love with food, treasure them, thank them for being there for us, and just savor the moment that will drive you on through the week(s) of insignificant food. Today I was lucky and thankful, for my simple plait of bread with unsalted butter and a little sea salt on the side, a rillet of three salmons (salmon potted with creme fraiche, lemon, shallots and sealed with clarified butter), a silver knife and a fresh glass of water. At least my profane week will have a special memory.

Categories: New York
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