Setting out

The germ of where I find myself today came from a footnote in Don Quixote (in an excellent translation by John Rutherford - Penguin classics). Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, whilst being entertained by some aristocrat or other, in Barcelona, were offered the priced dish of the day - a sort of chicken stew, not dissimilar to the traditional Catalan dish of pollo payés. Sancho´s excitement at this unexpected treat was matched by his phenomenal appetite as he gorged himself, smacked his lips and sucked his fingers. Unlike Don Quixote, I understood Sancho´s ecstasy and loved him even more for it. A man willing to believe so readily in another´s dream, despite the most glaring evidence that it was utter lunacy, not only twanged the romantic strings but also elevated him to a strange nobility. Whilst Don Quixote worried about their quest, Sancho was able to release himself from the struggle and enjoy the moment, a fine meal. The thought of being able to share in his joy at table - to create the same dish which had so enthralled him - well, this was too exciting for words. It slowly began to dawn on me; I wasn´t Quixotic at all, I was Panzatic. 

At the time I was working as a freelance journalist and waiting for a revolution in Bolivia. As the waiting dragged on I started to rather like the Bolivians and to hope that there wouldn´t be a revolution and that perhaps the country, with the most recorded uprisings in modern history, might be able to make a good omelet without having to break more eggs. And so as the days wallowed away and I ate badly I began to wonder if I could make a dish that would win Sancho´s praise. 

I am now on my own quest to learn about good food and the art of cookery. I hope to create the sort of food that Sancho would receive with those wonderfully misappropriated sayings of his. And that the Don himself might even forget Dulcinea de Toboso for just a little while.