FOOD AND NOSTALGIA

13 March 2010 – 5/6 pm34 St. Mochtas Green,Clonsilla, D15

“…the re isn’t much lite rature on tas te , be cause de fining a tas te is difficult as much as de scribing a sme ll. Both are spirits with the ir own

inde pe nde nt e xis te nce , which appe ar, w ithout hav ing be ing inv oke d, to ope n a window on our me mory and take us through time to a forgotte n

e pisode .”

The perfume, Patrick Sus kind

I will be leaving , Ire land s oon for the

. s econd time I would like to

ce lebrate with you all before my

. departure And being a foodie as I

, am Iwould like to challenge you all

with a Food and Nos talg ia day

Food is food. It is the visceral link to our body. It is what it reminds us every

day of our being physical and decomposable. Food enlightens the

relation to our physicality. Yet, food is linked to emotions and senses, to memories and past experience.

Nos talg ia is a sense of lack. A feeling of being away from what we want, from where we want to be and from who we would like to be with. It could be referring to space as well as to time.

I am going to throw a house party. There will be a , food buffe t made by us all. Everybody will come along with their own creation.

Everybody will cook their own favourite recipe: the recipe that defines them; the recipe they are attached to the most; the recipe that reminds of a special person, of a special place, or of a special time of their lives. To make it simple I can only reheat the food you bring over, but the food has to be cooked already. I don’t have a big kitchen for everybody to come and cook there.

Cherry on the cake, Iwould like you to take the time to write your chos en

rec ipe down on a piece of paper for me (it can be handwritten or typed, it doesn’t matter). Ingredients and preparation should be included, along with a little note to explain what the dish means to you. The recipes will be displayed during the party and I will then put them together to make a little anthology. I would like to keep that as a special memory from you all. Once gathered together, I could send them on to everybody who wishes to keep them.

For the day I will make sure we have plastic plates, cutlery and glasses. It is not really environmentally friendly though. If you know of a place in town where I could get these stuff made out of potato starch, banana leaves or other biodegradable materials, please advise. I will make some food and prepare some drinks, but bring your own booze along with your food and if they need to be served together, even better! If then you think the whole experience also requires a specific playlist, I can’t ask for more, just bring it on!

Nothing else needs to be said, tell me what you think. I thought of starting the party in the afternoon, around 5/6 pm or so. It’s going to be on a Saturday, so people may be busy for the night. Besides, I live in Clonsilla, which is not a handy place to reach, and to leave from, at night. Just in case, but if you are all fine with the location we could as well start it around 7/8 pm and go on.

34 St. Mochtas GreenClonsilla, Dublin 15

Here are some links for you:www.maps.google.comwww.dublinbus.ie

. I hope you are going to have s ome fun time with this little tas k Open up , the gate of your memory think of your comfy dis h and let your s ens es

. , , , … ins pire you It can invo lve s ight hearing s ens e of smell touch It can . als o be a holis tic compos ition of five or les s s ens es The mos t

: !important is it has to be food

“ Will it ultimately reach the clear surface of my consciousness, this memory, this old, dead moment which the magnetism of an identical moment has travelled so far to importune, to disturb, to raise up out of the very depths of my being? I cannot tell.

Now that I feel nothing, it has stopped, has perhaps gone down again into its darkness, from which who can say whether it will ever rise? Ten times over I must essay the task, must lean down over the abyss. And each time the natural laziness which deters us from every difficult enterprise, every work of importance, has urged me to leave the thing alone, to drink my tea and to think merely of the worries of to-day and of my hopes for to-morrow, which let themselves be pondered over without

effort or distressed of mind.

And suddenly the memory returns. The taste was that of the little crumb of Madeleine which on Sunday mornings at Combray (… ), when I went to say good day to her in her bedroom, my aunt Leonie used to give me, dipping it first in her own

cup of real or lime-flower tea. The sight of the little Madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it;”

Remembrance of Things Past, Swann's Way, Marcel Prous t

“And once again I had re cognize d the tas te of the crumb of the Made le ine soake d in he r de coction of lime -flowe rs that my aunt use d to g iv e me (although I did not ye t know and mus t long pos tpone the discove ry of why this me mory made me so happy) imme diate ly the old g re y house upon the s tre e t, whe re he r room was , rose up like the sce ne ry of a

the atre to attach itse lf to the little pav ilion, ope ning on to the garde n, which had be e n built out be hind it for my pare nts (…); and with the house the town, from morning to night and

in all we athe rs , the S quare whe re I was se nt be fore lunche on, the s tre e t along which I use d to run e rrands , the country roads we took whe n it was fine . And jus t as the

Japane se amuse the mse lv e s by filling a porce lain bowl with wate r and s te e ping in it little crumbs of pape r which until the n are without characte r or form, but, the mome nt the y

be come we t, s tre tch the mse lv e s and be nd, take on colour and dis tinctiv e shape , be come flowe rs or house s or pe ople , pe rmane nt and re cognisable , so in that mome nt all the

flowe rs in our garde n and in M. S wann’s park, and the wate r-lilie s on the Viv onne and the good folk of the v illage and the ir little dwe llings and the parish church and the whole

Combray and of its surroundings , taking the ir prope r shape s and growing solid, sprang into be ing , town and garde ns alike , from my cup of te a.”

, ' , Remembrance of Things Pas t Swann s Way Marcel Prous t