The Landlady: Food from afar

Some years ago, in fact, at least 10 years ago, one of the first foreign students to stay at Landlady Towers was an Italian boy. Well, I say ‘boy’, but he was actually a 39 year old man and, at the time, older than me. As I helped him up the many stairs with his extremely heavy suitcases, I commented on their weight and, once in his room, he opened one of them and showed me why it was so heavy. It was full of packets of De Cecco dried pasta that he’d brought all the way from Naples at god only knows what cost in excess baggage.

Later, I had the joy of taking him round Waitrose, where indeed, all types of De Cecco pasta – from fusilli to linguine – were readily available and, better still, were actually on offer at less than £1 per packet. My student was rather crestfallen and quite embarrassed, as well he should be, bringing his own food to a foreign country.

I don’t understand people who decide to go to another country, then insist on taking their own food with them. In my mind, it kind of negates the whole point of going to experience a different culture. I’ve lost count of the people I saw eating spaghetti carbonara in West Africa (not really a classic African dish, is it?) and people who holiday in coastal Spain, then demand bacon and eggs for breakfast. It really makes my blood boil.

“I would be mildly alarmed if I couldn’t buy a strawberry in December”

I am writing about this particular topic because, yet again I am billeting a Thai student who has insisted on bringing all her own food with her, from reams of noodles to cartons of fried fish bits, which are currently sitting ominously in my kitchen. I wouldn’t mind, but she’s full-board, meaning she gets all her meals with me, not leaving much room for side-line noodle-eating. This kind of food-importing is like a red rag to a bull for me, and thus far, I’ve made exclusively Thai and Chinese dishes for dinner, which has confused her slightly, I think.

The thing is, we are very lucky in the UK to be able to purchase just about anything we like, in season or out of season, at any time of year. Although I was brought up in the halcyon days of seasonal eating, even I would be mildly alarmed if I couldn’t buy a strawberry in December. One of the many things I like about my house in Southern Turkey is that the fruit and veg on offer at the weekly market is absolutely seasonal and there are many items that simply are not available ever, making cooking a bit of a challenge, but a challenge I enjoy nonetheless.