Fresh Cracked Pepper

Autobiography of an Evolving Foodie

I am a 20-something woman from Winnipeg whose love of food (and city of residence) is always evolving. In my teens, I was affectionately known as the “human garburator” at summer camp; for all of you non-Canadians, that’s a fancy word for a kitchen waste disposal unit. I still don’t know whether to be proud or ashamed.

My love of food began as it does for many of us: in the simple discovery of taste. I grew up with the best personal chef I could have asked for, descended from a line of matriarchal masters of field, kitchen, and table. Because of them, I was exposed to pierogie making that rolled into the wee hours of the night, cashew cinnamon buns, and of course, weinascht stollen:

Through my on-again-off-again stint in the restaurant industry, my love of food grew more refined.  Terms like reduction and roux made their way into my vocabulary. Serving taught me the art of presentation, that something as simple as a sprig of rosemary perched on some mashed potatoes could make people truly (however momentarily) happy. Being able to witness people’s enjoyment of food so intimately is something that has stuck with me.

I’ve also lived and eaten in various places—from my ethnically diverse hometown to the busy markets of West Africa. But it wasn’t until I discovered that I could have Indian food down the street as good as it was in India that I stopped taking our abundance here for granted.

Eventually my interest in good food became more consuming. I am keenly interested in food as art and as science, as a bearer of culture and focus of politics, and as an animal fuel and spiritual indulgence. Food is a common need that makes us responsible to one another and to the earth. Food is a vehicle for intimacy, joy, and a better world.

This blog was conceived when I moved the farthest away for the longest period of time. I found myself in an increasingly good position to experiment and create, and so I started this record to help me keep better track of my favorite edible things, and to share them with all of my dearest experimenters, collaborators, and teachers. You can read more about my overall mission here.

In addition to reading food magazines in bed, some more of my not-so-guilty pleasures include biking places other people drive, camping and cooking out of a backpack, loving my invisible cat, pretending I don’t care about running faster, trying to knit stuff, etymology, fermentation, standing on top of mountains in just my hiking boots, reading magazines backwards, being Canadian, yoga, fallen leaves, surmising what people would be if they were a vegetable, planting seeds, surprising friendships, quotations, over analyzing, a good micro-brew, making cards, drinking coffee outside, eating olives out of barrels, the sound of a harmonica, and well-told stories.

When it comes to me and food, I have one last thing to share. It’s best said in the words of an Arab proverb a friend did in calligraphy for me. We have it up on our fridge and it says

enough is a feast

jen