Determination

Her children were on top of her mind. Always. The class was about Japanese food, but the topic had now clearly shifted. To her second youngest son. He would sit around a campfire and would even eat there too. Maybe snowflakes would decorate their heads and cover their clothes, but they would sit outside and eat.
'So what will they prepare you?', she asked
'Probably sandwiches with ham and cheese', he answered.
After 30 years of working herself to the bone, and not skipping one day of cooking her family a warm & balanced meal this was not an answer she was going to accept. This was a call for action. She dialled the school's number.
'I've heard you're going to organise a campfire for the kids'.
'Yes madam'.
'And that their meal will consist of sandwiches and cheese'.
'Yes indeed, and ham of course'.
'They need a warm soup. It's freezing cold outside'.
'We don't have time to make it'.
'It doesn't take long'.
'I's for fifty people, madam, it's out of the question'.
'Ok, when exactly is the meal?'
'Monday evening at 18.30'.
'You'll soup will be delivered Monday at 6 pm sharp'.

And that's what she did. Together with two of her other kids she cubed carrots, made a celery stock, peeled and sliced hokkaido pumpkin, collected fresh thyme and parsley and delivered a bucket full of fresh & creamy pumpkin soup at an open campspot near the great woods of Antwerp. On the bucket was a label with the ingredients, the little time she spent on the preparation -40 minutes- and the very limited costs she had.

We absolutely need more crazy women in this country.

Accepting

They say I'm a bird 'cause I eat seeds
But I've been born as a cow
The name 'Bella' definitely misleads
had to get rid of it somehow
For a while been an ape in the Antwerp zoo
Then ate grains to become human
But the others there...
gave me no good review

Hearts

'When you give a person this drink, his heart will start beating again'. And mine missed at least one beat when hearing this. My brains should have intercepted this information 8 years earlier, saving a certain person from falling down the street. Or rather to help him to get up again. Maybe my life was running backwards, salving past events and trying to rewrite history. All the time I had despised synchrony, considering presence as a mixture of future and past, always being able to grasp the truth at each humble second. My head felt as if smashed against a wall. Time had definitely tricked me and it was now up to me to find a way out. A few days before I had just accepted that my life was how it should be and that nothing had to be changed. But now, if I had the chance to throw everything in a box and shake it all around, would I do that? Would you? Advices are always welcome.

Kyoko's secret golden trick mix one raw egg with a spoon of shoyu sauce and give this to whom already felt down

Distance

'So who's enjoying your food now?'. Her voice sounded slightly emotional but mainly curious.
'I give it away to friends. I have to. There is always much more than I can eat'.
I was thinking of the bags full of boxes, filled with cherry desserts, the little glass cups topped with coconut pudding, the plastic plates with honey endive tarts. How I was dragging them around the city, holding the handle bars with one hand, balancing the food bags with the other. My friends and I went to cafés where no food was served, so we could dig up my left over chocolate cake and sesame cookies. We would eat one fourth of the cake, the other half would be a gift for the pub owners, they could sell it to hungry coffee drinkers. Lately I was surprising friends on their birthdays with macro-desserts in nice bowls and candies in cardboard boxes. And sometimes Max came buy and ate a bowl of soup.
'Gosh, I feel like the perfect candidate for your delicacies, only I live 360 km too far. I have to stick to black pudding and jellied eels. But I dó shop where Madonna food-shops, or at least, where her assistant goes', she hurried to say.
I knew she missed my cooking, but I surely missed my audience. Tine was my biggest fan, and through her eyes my dishes reached excellence.
'What do you eat exactly?' I asked
'The soups in EAT are excellent, and there is always a leftover baguette. But there shouldn't be too many managers around then. We can only spend 5,50£ a day. And you know, that's not enough for me'.
My sister and I like eating. When we lived together we always had big meals, we constantly surprised each other with self-made salads and spreads. Tine was an expert in sourdough bread. After she left I found sourdough leftovers on the top of my kitchen cupboard. It had beautiful colours- just a bit too much fermenting.
'Do you manage to cook?'
'Yeah, sure, my Berley is still a great help. I made an impressive 'Shepard's pie' the other day. But how have you been actually?'
'Good'. And then slower: 'Good. Often spending too much time on cooking and then swearing I will never use that damned kitchen again. But the next day I'm experimenting again'.
'So take care'.
'Yeah, you too'.
After I had hung up the phone, I realised I hadn't asked Tine how she was doing, as if what she ate was more important to me. But in fact, by asking her about the small facts of her new established food pattern, I had figured out she was doing great.

if you want to meet Tine, go to Picadilly in Londen and drop by at EAT
http://www.eat.co.uk/
my favourite smoky coffee place in Antwerp with excellent coffees and great waiters:
http://www.caffenation.be/

Slow

She had never liked new clothes, new outfits had to be worn at least 10 times before she felt comfortable. But even worse were new kitchens. She was terrified at the prospect of having to blemish spotless cupboards and new wooden working spaces. If she saw people moving furniture or rearranging cupboards, she would consistently turn her head and pretend nothing was happening. So it happened she was like a rock in her rapidly changing surroundings. People called her to check how it used to be, to ask about old loves and forgotten chopping techniques.

But sometimes changes cannot be avoided. You quickly try to hide under the kitchen table or desperately cover the stain with your hand. The doors are locked but you hear them knocking on the wooden frame. You turn the radio louder and keep turning the pages.

It was late autumn and day after day she had noticed him changing. His words and phrases had been shifting, until finally the result had become undeniable. For two months she hadn't prepared any meals, circling around her stove from a distance. Quietly she entered the kitchen trying not to touch anything. Why would she touch what she didn't know? From then on she'd walk in the kitchen with fabulous ideas for dinner and end up with only serving a little plate of olives. Fruitlessly she would chop vegetables from a distance or peel onions in the air, choosing recipes that were simpler than pouring juice from a bottle. Each meal she saw her family eating less and less, getting stuck in the boredom of raw salads and ravioli cans. They started asking for barley cakes and buckwheat salad, noodle sushis and corn soup, their faces getting thinner, their eyes bigger. One night her empty stomach woke her up and in the deep blackness of a dark night she started cooking again.

Appèl

First I will eat myself, then I will eat my mother and finally they will give me food. This will not last too long though, soon I will have to find my way in supermarkets and corner shops, market places and fish auctions. I will have to smell and feel, touch and rub, weigh and shake. Sometimes I will guess, take risks and entirely trust on my intuition. When tasting, the result of my choices will immediately become clear. At dinner parties I will explain, fight and say no. I will swap plates and sit next to indoor plants. During my travels I will carry my own fire on my back, walk for miles and not complain. I will stop alongside the path, cook the grain and smell the sweet vapour, hungrily eat it with my fingers. Then I will run to catch up with the others, for they ate snickers and kept on walking. In small far away cities I will learn local languages, talk to foreigners and search little streets, examine unknown maps, only to find a mama who wants to sell me honest food. If I ever end up in hospital, I will accept and struggle to get better, but being confined to the menu of the ill, I will count on You to bring me some brown rice and miso soup.

Autumn

It is time to think. Cold winds chastise the landscape and plants store their juices deep down in their roots. I know the moment has come to reflect on my past days- explosive summer days and colourful autumn moments, where life seemed so much more extravert. So I drag my old sofa to the window and start feeling comfortable. My friends recognize the signals and seriously respect my wish to stay in. Chilliness outside asks for warmth in my body. Time to get my body tuned to the season. I know the pizza delivery service won’t do the trick, but I have a handful of guidelines to escape the cold toes and frosty fingers. First of all my stove is my friend and I try to leave the refrigerator closed until spring. I still like salads, but only to look at. I just use a few pickles on the side. I’ve learned that veggies like the cosiness too. They want each other’s company in heavy pots to gather warmth and sweetness in slowly simmering vegetable stews. Especially round vegetables such as onions, pumpkin and turnips are fervent candidates. To get your protein, add some cooked beans. Your body needs hearty seasoned dishes and slightly more oil than in summer.
Avoid cold drinks, but choose instead for warm teas or cereal coffee.

Winter wonder: heat some apple juice in a little pan and add some drops of fresh ginger, a pinch of salt and cinnamon. Gives you a kick and gets your energy moving!

Choices

'No', I screamed. 'Don't lift the cover.' Judging his look I had just said something incomprehensible. His sleepy eyes looked startled, his fingers were tapping on the pot.
'I'm a bit much curious what you are preparing honey'. His mouth showed a glamourous smile.
'You can't open the pot now, it'll destroy the dish'.
In two seconds I went from loveable to madwoman.
'Come on, only to see what's cooking.'
'I think you'll have to leave this kitchen now'. I noticed my voice getting slightly upset. Actually, my whole body was shaking.
He was stunned, didn't believe me saying these words.
I couldn't help it. These veggies had to be alone now. It was cosy in the pot, no doubt. I felt pieces of butternut squash melting, chunks of carrot sweetening, onions caramelizing and quarters of rutabaga communicating to the burdock on the side. Warm friendships started and life stories were told. No curious human being should interfere.
A door slammed. I was again alone in the kitchen.
Thirty minutes later I went to the library. He was waiting for me, but stubbornly kept staring at his page. Finally he took his plate and slowly started to chew. Only a few bites later he looked up at me with a happy face.

Language

There was a piece of chocolate missing. The golden box was full except for one coffee & cream. A delicious coffee & cream. Taste he surely had. I slowly looked across the room, vainfully hoping I could still unmask hidden offenders. The kitchen was shining. For hours I had been scrubbing, mopping, rinsing and washing. I had bumped my head, had sat on my knees. I had removed all the food from the refrigerator and wiped the inside with warm soapy water. Even read the vacuum cleaner manual. The high-gloss cupboards were glittering, the floor was like a clean plate. But there were no silent fingerprints, no forgotten crumbs. No fallen dust to write YES on the kitchen table. All traces had disappeared in a bucket full of water and a microfiber dust mob. So I knelt down and scanned the floor with the palm of my hand, drawing contours of a man's footprint, but nothing I found. Disciplined I had guarded this box from my own greedy taste buds, to discover that someone else had broken into my treasure. I heard my ears whistling and felt my eyes burn, my heart started pounding in my chest. In one swift swing my fists landed on the table, making a cracking sound that was not coming from the wood. Tiny drops of beetroot red coloured the immaculate room. How easy it is to hurt yourself. Finally the pain took over my raging anger and slowly the comfort of lost possibilities touched down on me. It was only me and the box now. No long expected passers-by at the kitchen table. So I gave in and took what I had kept away from myself: the second and last coffee & cream, which, in the end, I now had shared with some one else.

walls

'I'm gonna sleep in the kitchen', he said. 'From now on I'll lay myself on the black&white tiles'. I was not surprised, for months I had been expecting these words. I clearly remember when it all started. It was on a cold dark Tuesday night in late autumn. He was reading in the old armchair, I was peeling chestnuts in the Knowle sofa, there was a big fire between us. 'We have to break down that wall', he stated. 'It has disturbed me since we moved in, there are too many small rooms in this appartment'. I looked at him with surprise, I had always thought that escaping into narrow spaces was his second nature. He could sit at only one meter distance from me for a whole day, but there were always bricks between us. Next day he called his buddie, and for hours they put all their force into taking down that wall, I could only see their backs. He had confined me to the chestnuts and the sofa. Slowly every object got covered with fine dust, even I looked as if crusted with snow. I turned into a statue, present but superfluous. For weeks the knocking and hammering continued, until it pulsed simultaneously with my blood stream. One morning I woke up early, the house was silent and the bed next to me empty. In my nightie I softly tiptoed to the kitchen and there it was: a jewel in high gloss crema and American walnut, gracefully framed in the wall protrusion. Its mere beauty blinded me. At that moment I knew it was over. That same night he moved to the kitchen floor.

Alleen

Vanavond kruip ik in bed met een gloeiende mand gele sojabonen. Ik zal ze warm houden zodat er vannacht iets moois kan groeien. Ik zoek altijd oplossingen als er geen mannenlijven, of liever, als niet dat ene specifieke mannenlijf in de buurt is. De bonen zijn geweekt, gekookt en zorgvuldig in bakpapier gewikkeld. Ten slotte heb ik mijn oranje mohairen deken afgestaan- ik weet wanneer ik moet handelen.

Met zijn tweeën liggen we stille uren in een doorwaakte nacht, het pakket raakt mijn bovenarm. Af en toe strek ik mijn vingers uit en controleer of het nog genoeg lichaamswarmte heeft. Voorzichtig draai ik me dan om en rol ik me rond het deken. Zo slapen we afwisselend samen en apart.

In de vroege ochtend schuif ik mijn handen een voor een onder de bonen en draag ze plechtig naar de keuken. Daar mix ik ze door de misosoep.

Big Dinners in Marbaix

I'm schizophrenic. One day you'd define me as an action-hero, only to find me contemplating under the kitchen table the next day. A thinker collecting the lost crumbs from weeks-old bread. Today I am on that side, dealing with serious matters, i.e. evaluating my weekend. On Saturday evening my sister Tine and I welcomed 18 respectable guests in our tiny Marbaix appartment for our fourth 'In the Kitchen' diner. For two days we had been preparing the menu (are you interested?) and arranging the rooms, keeping up appearances by being nice and shiny at 18.30 when first guests arrived. 'I'm sorry, I need a nap', wouldn't have been appropriate. During the evening my habitat was the kitchen, so I could concentrate on the dishes, trying to keep everyone at a distance by a sign 'please don't talk to chef while he's cooking'. The regular bursts of laughter from the distance made sure I kept on shaking my hips between the pots and pans.

The truth is the following: I love to cook for people, but when they're about to serve the food, I run. Out. Away from any tasters who meticulously turn and try the food. So, why do I keep on confronting my dishes? Somewhere short before sunrise I found my answer: I could feel 18 lines vibrating into new directions, 18 little souls who had silently passed their social borders and had discovered some new form of sharing. Eating food that nourishes body & mind. Talking to new people who also want to talk to you. Doing yoga at 3 o'clock in the night without questioning this. Sharing ideas. Creating energy that lasts.

Now it's Monday 18.30. I see Tine crawling into her bed, she needs extensive wandering in soothing dreams. There is silence in the appartment. We both know why.

menu:
roasted autumn chestnuts
Japanese Bancha tea with shoyu for strenghtening and focus
Orange Indian lentil soup with coriander
Finely shopped maquerel salad with warm sake
mashy pumpkin-beetroot pie, yellow wild rice with balsamico and broccoli, sweet Belgian endive and tasty winter stew with wheat gluten, celeriac and carrots.
Hot amazake drink with orange, oat cookie and intenstive chocolate mousse
soy energy bar to take home

Money for nothing

Today I thought about money. How we all accept so easily that one person gets huge amounts and that another gets hardly anything. Often we pay big sums for details, and in many cases we pay little for lots. Is it with money that we prove the world -and convince ourselves- that we've done well so far, is this how we measure our value?

I was at Ecover yesterday, representing The Cooking School and explaining eco-minded people about food and being clean not only from the outside (Ecover) but also from the inside. What sense does it make to endlessly clean your house with environmentally friendly products if your inner isn't strong and pure? Ironically enough, acquiring this pureness and strenght is so simple that most people even don't take it seriously. You just have to eat a fresh natural diet and put in as much variation as you can. Discover new vegetables and prepare them in many different ways. Apart from that healthy thoughts won't do any harm as well.

So where does money slip in here? Many Ecover visitors didn't realise our message was golden information, worth more than anything else in this world. Gaining energy, feeling more peaceful and satisfied, radiating more joy into the world, all without any pharmaceutics at hand. But cheap and simple advices don't seem to convince anymore nowadays, 'cause', said an older woman, 'our health is priceless' and 'isn't life difficult?'.

www.denatuurlijkekookschool.be
www.ecover.com
www.openbedrijvendag.be

wachten

Ooit heb ik eens zo lang op iemand gewacht, dat ik na een tijdje iets wilde doen om hem te laten komen. Hem contacteren kwam niet eens in me op. Eerst begon ik mijn huis op te ruimen en toen het helemaal leeg en proper was, begon ik het te vullen. Het aanrecht kwam vol groenten te liggen, alle kleuren door elkaar. Ik zag al dat mijn communicatie verwarrend was. Het fruit hing ik in trossen aan het plafond, alle vissen zwommen verder in de groentebak. Mijn keuken werd een rariteitenkabinet, maar ik zorgde ervoor dat ik alles netjes hield. Eerst kwamen de herfstgroenten aan de beurt, die kon ik drogen, pekelen en zo langer bewaren. Ik werkte maanden lang en de gerechten stapelden zich op, af en toe nodigde ik een voorbijganger uit om opnieuw plaats te maken voor het volgende gerecht. Ik was zo onverdroten bezig dat ik de ochtend de nacht niet zag begroeten, seizoenen slopen binnen en gingen weer weg, ongemerkt. Op een stille avond werd ik plots een beetje moe, ik had lang gewerkt en mezelf niet veel rust gegund. Ik zou nu moeten pauzeren, dus ik ging zitten aan de oude keukentafel. Voor mij stond een glas, halfleeg, daarnaast een kopje. Ik bleef staren, minutenlang, tot ik besefte dat hier een mens was geweest. Ik hoefde niet meer op hem te wachten.

Het Begin

Twee weken lang waren we al onderweg, we hadden geleefd van brood, brood en nog eens brood. Soms stopten we de auto langs de kant van de weg, gewoon omdat ik niet meer kon zonder eenvoudige gekookte groenten. Die dag zetten we onze tent op op Vancouver Island, al snelde speurden we de omgeving af. Het leek een klein onooglijk winkeltje, maar de opluchting die ik voelde toen ik door de deur stapte, valt met geen boterham te beschrijven. Deze mensen wisten wat eten was en hoe je de ziel kon voeden. Eenvoudig, eerlijk en net wat ik nodig had om verder te kunnen reizen. Verse sushi, zuivere soep, warme eerlijke groenten. Sindsdien besef ik het belang van écht voedsel onderweg, op de weg, of in het leven.