Something for the Weekend: 05.10.24
I am a giant Tamagotchi; talking about the Ben Shewry book, without talking about the Ben Shewry book; and things not to say to Nick Cave
I’ve joked with peers about this Substack being an opportunity for zero waste journalism, taking the off-cuts from my daily life and moulding it into something that is more than just lots of odds and ends. I’m pushing that this week. Those of you who follow on social media may have read parts of this on my stories etc, but here is the directors cut.
I have eaten unbelievably well this last week or so in Perth. I’ve been here for an extended time, pushing two trips into one for the sake of my travel budget, time and being able to maintain some degree of a routine. The effect strangely was a feeling of living in a city again, but realizing I need the country, and my little part of it.
I wrote on Instagram yesterday about my time here, and it was in some ways an act of gratitude, an act of saying to those many hospitality people who follow: I see you (not in a creepy fucker kind of way). It went something like this, albeit I’ve added and subtracted.
If you've had a hand in feeding and watering me (which makes me sound like a giant Tamagotchi), thank you, thank you , thank you. There's been lots of highs, not so many lows, and the odd moment where I've considered Googling whether there's such a thing as mobile colonic treatments.
As someone who has written about Perth and it's hospo scene for over 12 years, I don't feel detached from it, I don't feel it's them and us, and I don't take this job lightly. I see things, I hear things, I talk to people. I'm always willing to listen and learn. I see it's tough out there, and while I can't speak for everyone who does this (although I know many peers feel like this) we fucking love restaurants, bars, cafes and hospo of all stripes. Frankly if you don't feel like that you should exit stage left and make way for someone who does.
How long are you here for? A constant question this week - not least from the staff at Quay hotel who maybe think I've taken up permanent residence. Paranoid me imagines that there's a secret Whatsapp group that warns hospo of rude customers, eat and run artists, general dickheads, and prowling food media (who hopefully don't fall into the previous categories). Level headed me (unaddled by too much coffee) just thinks it's a very reasonable conversation starter.
Anyway, if you're in Perth hospo and you're looking at bookings and wondering if the table for one is me or indeed if the dodgy looking dude in the corner squinting in what looks like a bad disguise 🥸 is me, fear not. I am as stuffed as a goog, contemplating salad, lots of salad. Of course this could all be a cunning ruse.
But in the interests of transparency here is tonight's dinner...
Things I’m reading, and things I’m not (yet)
One response to the above post was “Talking about the Ben Shewry book, without talking about the Ben Shewry book.” I smiled, because that hadn’t been my intention but the furore had obviously permeated. I wasn’t going to write about Uses For Obsession yet because firstly (and importantly) I haven’t read it. There’s a copy waiting at home. But it would feel disingenuous to not at least touch on it, because it’s occupied an amount of energy and thought this week.
I’ve seen bits of the book. Not the parts where he strives for perfection in Bolognese, but snippets of his evisceration of critics and the culture and business of food media. It’s been discussed a lot with journalists, critics, chefs and those in parallel industries. I started to discuss it with a few people outside of those and they shrugged and shook their heads. I explained who Ben is, the standing of Attica, etc, etc. They’d commonly nod and quickly change the subject. That’s not a swipe at Ben, it’s recognition that we live in bubbles and echo chambers of our own construction, and those on the outside often have little knowledge or care about the things that most consume us.
I’ll maybe return to this next week, after I’ve read it all, have the full context, and once my opinion has settled. Some of the wider themes of the book seem to have been lost in the discussion of it which I find a shame. For now I offer just one thought, which again I caveat as being based on a partial read and many discussions.
That thought is that Ben’s opinions on critics and food media aren’t necessarily new. I’ve had off the record conversations with chefs, from relative newcomers to those whose restaurants hold two and three Michelin stars, where they’ve asked about how reviewing works and how is it fair that they’re judged by a culinary novice. They unload frustration, fear and sometimes a little bit of ego. There’s a lot to unpack there and I won’t do it here, but my point is that these are things that are said but not always laid out in such a raw and confronting (for critics) way. I don’t have to agree with Ben, but I respect his right to say what he thinks. I don’t think we should ever seek to minimise someones lived experience or opinion just because it makes us feel uncomfortable, sad, or plain mad. We should seek to understand context, motivation, and whether (how ever uncomfortable) there’s something that we can take away and do better. Yes, the tip of the iceberg, but that’s all for now.
Things I am reading currently. I’m listening to the Jonathan Safran Foer book from a few years ago, We Are The Weather. A suggestion from Ben Liebmann (who amongst other things is the exec producer of Omnivore which I tipped last week). I was chatting to Ben for an upcoming interview-come-chance-to-shoot-the-shit. That went for two hours so expect a doozy. Thought-provoking has become one of those innocuous cover quotes but with Safran-Foer’s work it’s more than fitting. The blurb says “the task of saving the planet will involve a great reckoning with ourselves―with our all-too-human reluctance to sacrifice immediate comfort for the sake of the future. We have, he reveals, turned our planet into a farm for growing animal products, and the consequences are catastrophic. Only collective action will save our home and way of life. And it all starts with what we eat―and don’t eat―for breakfast.”
There’s also the new Tim Winton novel, Juice. It’s illegal to be a resident of Western Australia and to not have read at least one Winton book. This feels like a departure but very much in Winton’s wheelhouse of activism, set in an Australia of the future which is ravaged by climate change.
I did laugh when I read this interview in The Guardian where Winton says he’s “exasperated that Juice is already being compared to Cormac McCarthy’s The Road (“It is slightly irritating – maybe it is because there is a kid in it?”) or even Mad Max (“Furiosa was just so lame. Petro-panto for 11-year-olds.”). What frustrates him most – “apart from the stupid ideological gridlock in politics” – is that people, including artists, won’t engage with the climate crisis more imaginatively.” Why did I laugh? McCarthy was the immediate connection I made without having started the book, and also remembering a reading of The Death of Bunny Munro in London when Nick Cave was asked one of those rambling questions from the audience which is more the person telling a room of strangers how well read / clever they are. On that occasion the audience member told Cave that he thought he was channeling Bret Easton Ellis in his work. Cave quickly went to the next question. No one wants to be told outright that they’re apeing someone else.
It’s been a week of interviews. As I mentioned there’s that interview with Ben Liebmann, but also Alice Zaslavsky on her new book Salad for Days, and random off-cuts from a chat with Matty Matheson. On the note of the Canadian polymath, his book Soups, Salads, Sandwiches is out at the end of the month and is a keeper if ever there was one. The print interview will be out soon (more on that as and when it happens) but for now I’ll leave you with this, which I posted to Instagram. I’ll note that the interview wasn’t turbulent but it was short. It did hammer home that interview skills are real, that prep is as important as the main event, as is being able to think on your feet and know when you’ve got enough, or haven’t. It seemed to chime with the journos out there.