Simon Majumdar - Eat My Globe

Eat My Globe

One Year to Go Everywhere and Eat Everything SIMON MAJUMDAR

JOHN MURRAY

First published in GreatBritain in 2009 by John Murray (Publishers) An Hachette UK Company

Firstpublished in paperback in 2010

SimonMajumdar 2009

The right of Simon Majumdar tobe identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordancewith the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

Ail rights reserved. Apart fromany use permitted under UK copyright law no part of this publication may bereproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by anymeans without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwisecirculated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is publishedand without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available fromthe British Library

ISBN 978-0-7195-2024-2

Typeset in Monotype Bembo by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire

Printed and bound by Clays Ltd, St Ives pic

John Murray policy is to use papers that are natural,renewable and recyclable products and made from wood grown in sustainableforests. The logging and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to theenvironmental regulations of the country of origin.

John Murray (Publishers) 338Euston Road London NWi 3BH

wwwJohnmurray.co.uk

To my father, Pratip Majumdar,for his constancy and to my mother,

Gwen Majumdar, for, well, just about everything. Heryoghurt chicken is the one dish I crave more than any other and know I shallnever eat again.

Contents

Acknowledgements

IX

Introduction i

I Hate My Job

Eating Britain (and Ireland)

Sydney: Underwhelmed Down Under

Melbourne: Eating with the Devil

Japan: Eating like a Sumo fromTokyo to Kyoto

Hong Kong: Feast Meets West

China: Great Expectorations

Gorging on the Three Gorges

Intoand Outta Mongolia 90
id. The Trans-Siberian Express: Riding the Rails from

UBto St P

Pertti and the Prinsessa

Fed, White and Blue no

Dog Eat Dog in Chicago

Ann Arbor: The Cult of Zingerman's

Don't Mess with Texas

Simon is Big, and Simon is Easy

Stan and Lisa, Pat and Geno

That's so New York

Mexico, Mi Corazon

Love Me Tender

A Painful Brazilian

Giving Thanks in Santa Cruz

vm

Acknowledgements

If I were to thank everyone who was of help before,during and after my journey, this section would be longer than the book itself,so I hope that those mentioned in these pages will accept that as my sincereappreciation of all they did to make Eat My Globe such a special experience. It would not have happenedwithout them.

In the UK I would like to thank my agent, EuanThorneycroft, and all at A.M. Heath for helping to turn an idea from a proposalinto a book, the whole team at John Murray, including Eleanor Birne, JamesSpackman, Helen Hawksfield, Bernard Dive, Polly Ho-Yen and Nikki Barrow, fortheir enthusiasm and, most of all, their correct insistence that I overcome myobsession with the world's toilets. Any factual errors in these pages are mine,not theirs.

In the USA I would like to offer much appreciation tomy publishers, the Free Press, and particularly to Leslie Meredith and DonnaLoffredo, whose pictures should both appear in the dictionary under the word'professional'.

Many people have provided support along the way, and I would like tooffer particular thanks to Anthony Bourdain for a supportive quote and JayRayner for offering the sage advice that only someone with his level of successcan give. Sybil Villanueva was the first person I trusted to read themanuscript, and all her suggestions were spot on. Sarah Giles and Kirsty Jonesall kept my spirits high with regular e-mails, and Paul Smith brought me backdown to earth and reminded me again

of the fine phrase 'mardy oldgit'. I plan to use it regularly from now on.

Finally and, if the others willforgive me, most important of all, my thanks go to the Clan Majumdar: to Baba,Robin and Jeremy, to Auriel and Matt, and to Evan Arthur and Biba Florence, whoare already proving that the apples have not fallen very far from the tree.

Introduction

Imagine you are sitting in a small bar in Andalucia. Infront of you, an unsmiling man in a an ill-fitting white jacket is wielding along, sharp knife and taking small, thin slices from an Iberico ham which hehas locked into a weathered-looking stand upon which the legs of many pigs havegiven their all.

As he slices, he places each piece of the deeplyflavoured meat on a large plate in concentric circles, like the petals of aflower. Like yours, his attention is on the ham, only on the ham. It is asthough nothing else on this earth matters, and it doesn't. This is, after all,one of the greatest foods on the face of the planet. Forget truffles andcaviar. If you want proof of the existence of God that does not involve NataliePortman doing something unsavoury for your pleasure, this is it. After whatseems like an eternity, he has finished his cutting, and he places a few oilyalmonds in the centre of the plate and slides it towards you.

Next to the plate he places a small glass, a copita, which he then fills, close tothe brim, with a buttery-coloured Manzanilla sherry whose saltiness will be theperfect foil for the richness of the ham and its creamy fat, flavoured with theacorns on which the pigs have fed before giving up their lives for ourpleasure. Your mouth salivates at the prospect. You reach towards the plate,your fingers aiming for the choicest morsel.

Suddenly your hand is brushed aside, and you are brought back to realityby the words 'Oi, lardy, me first', as another hand, that of an older sibling,claims 'dibs' on the prime piece.

Welcome to my world. A worldwhere food is everything, but the right order of the family hierarchy comesfirst.

I was probably five years old, or maybe even a littleyounger, when I first learned the natural order of things. There was nothingunusual in the fact that when my parents went out for the evening, they put theoldest of their children, my brother Robin, in charge. There was not even anythingparticularly out of the ordinary in the fact that he took the opportunity tospend the evening torturing us. That's what older brothers do.

What made this particularevening different was that this time Robin decided to declare himself a god,the Lord High Ruler of our home in Rotherham, South Yorkshire, and he bestowedon himself, the title of 'The Great Salami'. My older sister, Auriel, myselfand my younger brother, Jeremy, were forced to crawl along the floor on ourbellies paying obeisance to him with the words 'Oh, Salami'. You see, even thenit was all about food.