Food is a universal language that transcends barriers. People come together around meals not only to share sustenance but to share stories, laughter, and experiences. Whether you’re enjoying tapas in Spain, gathering for a traditional Sunday roast in the UK, or sipping wine in the rolling vineyards of France, food serves as a powerful social connector. It’s where communities meet, bond, and celebrate life’s milestones, from births to weddings to annual festivals.
Recipes were often born out of necessity. The classic ‘Coq au Vin’ was a peasant’s dish, usually made with older roosters that were tough and needed long, slow cooking to tenderise. Paella was a classic ‘one-pot’ dish, perfect for feeding large groups and families (traditionally made of meat and beans, not seafood), and goulash was a filling dish for shepherds, made with simple ingredients like beef, onions, and paprika, cooked slowly over a fire. What makes this important though is not just the history, it’s the sustainability, seasonality, and locality.
In a good restaurant, the tomatoes in your pasta dish were probably grown in the next valley, and the olive oil pressed on the hill just behind you. Lamb is available in Spring, not autumn, and the fish on the menu is the catch that was landed in the harbour that morning. ‘Food Miles’ simply isn’t a thing, as usually there aren’t any. A good menu is short and changes every day. A long menu essentially tells you that the restaurant has a very large freezer. As a rule of thumb, wherever you are, follow the locals. They know where the good stuff is!
Wine, much like food, is an expression of a particular place. The soil, climate, and the care taken in growing the grapes all contribute to its character. The French refer to it as ‘terroir’, the concept of which underscores the idea that a product is a direct reflection of the land and the conditions in which it is produced, and you taste it everywhere, probably without even realising it.
A Sauvignon Blanc from France’s Loire Valley has unmistakable flavours of the chalky soils that the vines are rooted in, and the robust reds of Spain’s Rioja region take on rich, smoky notes and a smooth depth, a direct result of the time spent in the barrel. Each wine tells a story of the land, and the generations who have worked with it.
You can’t compare supermarket wines in the UK (or any other country for that matter) to the carefully crafted, low-volume barrels produced by small, authentic winemakers. Consider the sheer quantity needed to meet the demand of a major UK supermarket – concrete vats the size of swimming pools are required. This contrasts sharply with the traditional methods of small producers. Ultimately, the proof is in the tasting – it’s worlds apart.
But it’s not just wine – pour a glass of single malt whisky from the far northern coasts of Scotland and I swear the first thing that hits you is the scent of the sea. Similarly, a glass of Armagnac, the rich, aged brandy from Gascony in southwestern France, offers a deep, warming flavour, reflecting the sun-drenched vineyards, the meticulous distillation process, and the oak barrels where it matures for years and years.
So, the next time you sit down to a meal, whether at a bustling street café or a rustic farmhouse table, take a moment to reflect on the journey of the ingredients before they landed in your bowl. It’s not just about what’s on your plate – it’s about everything that brought it there. The stories, the people, and the land.
And each country is different. It’s the taste of tradition, and in this shared experience we find something truly universal, something that extends far beyond the table.
If reinvention were a sport, I’d have a gold medal. Former chef / hotel manager, now designing websites and taking the odd photograph. Currently plotting a grand escape as a digital nomad.
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