I grew up moving and travelling a lot due to my parents’ work, and as a result, have a bit of a ‘third-culture kid’ streak. The food I grew up eating was incredibly varied, reflecting where we had been and lived. A standard ‘Dutch’ plate of potatoes, meat, and a side of veg (jokingly called a.v.g.’tje, for aardappel (potato), vlees (meat), groenten (veg) was quite alien in our household and remains so to this day. Instead, we would have pasta, rice dishes, elaborate salads, curries… I remember one of the later favourites as bobotie, a South African dish of curried meat; the version we cooked from a cookbook included sour apples. The variety of food we ate and the lack of a clear ‘Dutch cuisine’ meant that I grew up believing that we did not really have a set way of eating, nor a cuisine we were partial to, although my mother loved Italian food and we definitely ate a fair amount of pasta.
Yet simultaneously, we did stick to some of our own traditions, first unknowingly and then more consciously, especially after I moved abroad myself. Culture becomes most apparent in non-native settings. Returning to my parents’ house now always means having bread, cheese, and different spreads to choose from; when going to the main market, we might grab some kibbeling (battered fish pieces) or a croquette and a side of chips, served in a cone with mayonnaise. Easter is for white asparagus with ham and a hollandaise sauce or butter, and large bags of easter eggs to snack on. Sinterklaas is for kruidnoten (small spiced gingerbread cookies, ideally chocolate-coated), cheese fondue, and a supersized sausage roll. The lead-up to new year calls for oliebollen. Special occasions with guests call for a platter of local smoked fish. Everything calls for wine or a beer. At large family dinners, which are sit-down course meals unless someone insisted on a potluck, there will always be cheese to finish and more wine. I still carry several kilograms of cheese with me back on the Eurostar.
Living on the US west coast as a young child, I was also surrounded by different interpretations of East Asian cuisines, which I loved, particularly Japanese. This interest became a full-blown obsession after travelling around East Asia as an impressionable 18-year-old and then moving to London for university. I started taking photos of the food I ate around that time, which has grown into a library of thousands of photos since.
I’d taken cooking classes for tourists on my trip, and armed with these recipes and a student-budget pantry from Chinatown’s supermarkets, I attempted to recreate the dishes I’d eaten along the way, with varying levels of success. By then, food had become a factor in my life decisions: I’d decided to study Japanese at university because I wanted to be able to order directly from the chef in Japanese like I’d seen another non-Japanese person do in Sendai, Japan.
After finishing my degree, I moved to Tokyo for work, and I was ecstatic by the easy access to all the food I loved. More importantly, food is somewhat of a national obsession, with lots of TV shows dedicated to eating and celebrities visiting restaurants. Going for a drink almost always meant food as well, and bringing a souvenir from a holiday or a business trip meant bringing interesting snacks. Small talk would invariably comment on what we’d eaten recently. I completely co-opted this and spent most of my time outside of work trying out local restaurants and new-to-me foods. Now back in London, I often can’t find the more homely or seasonal dishes that I loved eating while living in Japan, and I cringe at the amount of katsu curry and references to ‘katsu sauce’ on the menu at Japanese-inspired restaurants in the UK. (The katsu refers to the cutlet - I still refuse to go to Wagamama.) Yet at the same time, I’m thrilled by the diversity and access to food from the Middle East, South Asia, and further afield, as well as a good British pie, much of which was harder if not impossible to get in Tokyo. The food I love and grew up with is a patchwork of dishes; catching a whiff of something I haven’t eaten in years still has the power to transport me to a version of me from years ago.
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