A Tribute to Dining Out
By: Rabia G. Senturk
Tags: Europe, Food, Dining Out, Restaurant, Lockdown

We are getting closer to the end of 2nd lockdown in Europe despite the talk of lengthening it until the end of January. As someone who kept isolating even when severe restrictions were lifted, my soul slowly gives up to melancholy. I keep thinking of the last trips I made right before the 1st lockdown in March. I was able to travel multiple places within and around Germany and came back home with new memories in my pocket.

Except from visiting my mom in Turkey, I traveled mostly within Europe, closer to home.The memories of an Amsterdam getaway with girlfriends on a not-so popular season, a beer hunt in Pilsen, romantic nights in ever-amazing Prague and especially couple weekend adventures around Lake Garda and Verona are among my lifelines in these grimy days.However, one of those fresh memories sticks out nowadays.

I was in Munich, strolling in a second-hand book shop with a dear friend who became family in a very short period of time. While wandering through the aisles of books -mostly in English- from classics to sci-fi to comics, my eyes met with a special one: Gastronomical Me from MFK Fisher. She talks about first delicacies she had in her life, the way a professional chef shaped her gastronomical palette and how living in France changed her take on eating and entertaining. She tells a personal story on such a way that you almost eat, taste and shape with her. Needless to say, I welcomed her to my humble library in a heartbeat.

“Sharing food with another human being is an intimate act that should not be indulged in lightly.”

Says Mrs. Fisher, putting into words what I — and surely most of us- feels but have trouble explaining. As you can guess, the day, besides finding my all-time favorite reads, was special because of L. The memory of the time spent with her stands in technicolor in my head.

L. and I met in Munich in a Biergarten. I think it was late summer. Quickly realizing we have more in common than we could have imagined, she became my best friend in a foreign land. We shared lots of beers, and wine and food. One late night, both of us feeling down, we rammed the streets of Munich to find fries to feed our souls some warmth. Although I can make really good fries -not going to be humble here-, I believe there is something almost poetic to snack on fries handed to you in a paper cone that won’t keep your fingers from the tender heat of perfectly golden potatoes, hugging you with their steamy smell and whispering “it’s all good” from every grain of salt sparkling on their crackling skin.

With the start of notorious pandemic, we lost the privilege of socializing. No matter how many zoom calls, FaceTime, video chats we make, it feels as if the intimacy is floating away. Something is dissipating from our relationships. Being a bold fool, I came to a conclusion of my own as to what causes the feeling: not being able to share food. The disappearance of culinary scene during this weird time, is what makes us feel alienated.

The economic and psychological burden of being a culinary worker has always been hard. But within the last 8–9 months, the hardship magnified. They have been one of the worst affected industries. While most of small business owners and their kitchen soldiers lost their livelihood, an entire ecosystem ,from farmers to importers to industry workers, found themselves in an unprecedented situation. This has had a ripple effect on the society. Because the importance of food cannot be limited to a bare survival of the body or a pure and cold economic activity of $8 trillion worth we need to consider food as a pillar of social life and an emotional glue that holds us all together.

During my travels and soul searches around the globe, I have gathered friends of various closeness. Some, I share a good laugh over a bottle of rosé with a wannabe cheese board, some I giggle and gossip with a side of beer and comfort food and some I go hunting for fries half-drunk, knowing I am with family. No matter how close or formal our relationship is, we always bond over food and drinks.

Mrs. Fisher, as a gourmand of not just gastronomy but life itself, warns us how breaking bread makes us mortals reservedly come together and bond and fall in love and celebrate and mourn. It must be why we always gather around food for dates and anniversaries. Friends and family that departs are honored over food, farewells are crowned with food and welcoming someone with open arms always requires an open buffet. It is the magic of food.

Gastronomical Me was one of the very first books I read when I started my culinary journey in Austin. It showed me something different than all the other great books:

Our palettes and gastronomical perception is created by the new experiences. Each and every one of new dishes or drinks carves a new taste, a new consciousness. Moreover, we invite people into our inner worlds every time we share a table. We are offered a glimpse of someone else’s mind. We are creating a new memory or sharing one; maybe from our childhood. We are being invited and we are taken care of. Restaurants not being able to host, cafes just allowing you to take away and bars closing their doors are not just an inconvenience. Every meal we can’t share feels like another piece chipped off from the intimacy of a relationship. I am just hoping to feel closer to the world soon again. We are long due making new friends or sharing new tastes with old ones.