You get something a little different this week on the blog as part of ER’s tenth birthday celebrations – I’m delighted to say that my fiancée and number one dining companion Zoë has written something to mark the occasion.
You might know her mainly from her presence in my reviews and impressive grasp of Anglo-Saxon, or you may have met her at one of the ER readers’ lunches, but you might not know that she writes beautifully, that Mine’s A Pint, the Reading CAMRA magazine she edits was recognised nationally earlier this year and a lot of her excellent prose can be found on her own blog.
I’m really honoured to have her words on my blog, so without further ado here they are. All the gorgeous photos in this post are also hers.
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We were sitting on the sofa one evening when ER mentioned that 2023 would be the tenth anniversary of the blog. He said he was thinking about how to commemorate the occasion.
“I’ll write you something” I offered.
“Would you?”
“Yes, of course. Because you’ve changed my relationship with food for the better.”
I really mean that, too. Meeting ER has been by far the biggest impact on my long-standing – and challenging – relationship with food. How can you go out with somebody who loves food this much and not be into it yourself?
When I moved back to Reading in 2015, I fired up my almost unused Twitter account to discover that Reading was quite a Twitter town. Lots of folk here used it to connect, so I put aside my can’t-be-arsed-to-learn-another-social-network apathy and gave it another go. I followed the #rdguk hashtag, and from there I found and followed accounts relating to two of my key interests, transport and food. Reading Buses and Edible Reading.
Here’s the crux of my challenging relationship with food: I’ve always loved food, but I’m also wary of it. That may sound odd, but it’s true. Up until five years ago, I was a notoriously fussy eater and any occasion that involved eating out with groups would cause me great anxiety. I don’t think I even realised it was anxiety, back then, because I didn’t have the vocabulary to explain the feeling itself. But eating out always caused me stress, especially if I didn’t know what might be lurking in a dish. I’d generally order the same few things everywhere to make things easier; I seldom experimented.
I was suspicious of so many foods. Tomatoes, vinegar, tinned food and any pickles were the worst offenders. Even today, the smell of ketchup makes me want to heave. My mother said I was fine with eating until I turned two and then, almost overnight, I changed. From that day forward, there were very few things I’d eat. I remember going on a school trip at the age of seven and getting very worked up about it as it approached – tears at bedtime, the full wobble.
All this was because of food. My mum wouldn’t be there to manage the situation for me and make the adjustments, and so I worried about being forced to eat things I didn’t want to eat. Over the years people tried coercion, encouragement and reassurance to try and get me past this mental block, that was in my head like a lead weight. It took years and years to very gradually fix it.
Reading ER for the first time was like reading a foreign language, talking about a Reading I just didn’t know. Coffee shops outside of Starbucks? Restaurants other than Wagamama and Pizza Express?
I knew so little and to be honest, I wasn’t even looking. I was a chain restaurant person through and through: I felt safety in the chain. I could always opt for the ‘safe’ dishes at a chain restaurant. I suppose I’m exactly the kind of reader he hoped to bring in from the chains and introduce to the other side of food and dining culture. In the five years we’ve been together, it’s happened.
We certainly didn’t get together because of my Jay Rayner-esque rhetoric (I mean, he really wouldn’t like that anyway: he rolls his eyes at the sight of the man). I made him laugh, though. It’s my Helen Gurley Brown equivalent of “sinking in”, something I learned at school when I was as wide as I was tall, with a gob full of train-track braces.
ER had to embark on a lot of educating with me and it took time. I needed encouragement not judgement, and I needed gentle persuasion to try new things. What he did so well was to piece together the things he knew I did like, with dishes that included those things but took them up a notch. I love cheese, for instance, and onions. I do love an onion. But had I ever tried paneer? No. Had I tried Bhel Puri House’s chilli paneer? No. Had I tried Sapana Home’s Chili chicken with vegetables? No. Did I then try them? Yes, I did. And did I love them all? Absolutely.
He knew I was partial to a curry – my family often have it instead of a traditional Christmas dinner, much to the amusement of friends – but had I ever had a curry that wasn’t a korma or a chicken tikka masala? Nope. Well, then welcome to Clay’s Hyderabadi Kitchen. Once he knew I could handle a bit of spice on my chicken, welcome to Geo Cafe’s ajika chicken wrap, the Challoumi wrap by Puree and Bakery House’s boneless baby chicken with spicy rice and salad. Like dialling up a dimmer switch, every mouthful was an experience: it felt like eating in colour for the first time. I don’t think it’s possible to go back to how I ate before. I would never want to.
ER lives and breathes food, and from the sounds of it that’s a longstanding passion. He told me once about a family holiday to Greece when he was a kid, saying it was a turning point for trying different types of food and that something changed then. One of his favourite things to do when planning where to head next is to review the full menu, going through it line by line. He adores finding great places and discovering brilliant dishes, dissecting what specifically makes them so good. What the magic is.
He’s also taught me something else about food: empty calories. He loves food, but if a dish even ventures towards the edge of meh, he’ll simply stop eating it. This was a revelation to me, somebody who had always felt it necessary to clear my plate. It goes to show just how much our behaviours are unconscious and ingrained from childhood. He’d genuinely rather eat nothing than something pants and yes, I do really understand the luxury that this is today, and the privilege that we enjoy.
ER really believes in the ability we all have to shape the place where we live. If we all made conscious choices to shop and eat and drink independently, wherever possible, it could transform our town. I’m deeply passionate about Reading: I’m a Reading person through and through. I know its history, I see it changing and its potential and try to do my best to shape its future and conserve its heritage (our love of Reading is another thing that brought us together, I think).
Reading ER regularly taught me that whilst chain restaurants aren’t always all bad, they don’t often do things justice either. The collective bargaining power of those businesses means they get the best spots in the town to trade from, but the output doesn’t set the culinary world alight. The food costs the consumer the same – if not more – than many independents would charge, and the experience and quality are average at best. And where are the profits reinvested? Not back into this town, that’s for sure!
Through ER, I discovered Blue Collar and the very likeable Glen Dinning, whose company I always thoroughly enjoy. I’ve eaten at most of the traders over the years, and attended most of the festivals Blue Collar has run in the Forbury too. I was so excited to see his vision of Blue Collar Corner come to life. I actively think about Wednesdays and Fridays and what I fancy from Blue Collar on any given day. Sharian’s Jamaican? Fink’s wrap or mezze box? Or actually, away from the market, do I really want a Tuna Turner from Shed or one of Picnic’s legendary salads? All independent, all brilliant. None of it lining the pockets of those who don’t need it.
And this is probably the thing he’ll go on about the most. The mantra goes something like this: support the indies around you. Stop spending in Costa (owned by Coca-Cola) when you have better independent options north, south, east and west of you. ER votes with his feet more than anybody else I know.
And he’s stepped in to defend local businesses, especially when they could have done a better job of defending themselves. Where some indies have dealt with unscrupulous landlords, or badly behaved management, ER has stuck his neck on the line to help and to call things out exactly as he sees them. It might not have always won him fans, but I know he’d do it again tomorrow because he believes in doing the right thing by the right people. Few know this about him, but the businesses he has supported over the years do and they have always been so gracious and thankful. If there is one thing he hates more than shit food, it’s a lack of justice and fairness. I really love him for this.
ER tapped into my local-centric, people-centric passion, I think. I always felt it would be inevitable that we’d bump into each other one day and have a good natter about Reading. Well, that happened and it’s fair to say that conversation has never stopped. If we have a weekend day off together (not always a given, as I’m a retailer myself), we’ll likely take a stroll into town, have a spot of lunch but most definitely end it with a coffee at CUP or Workhouse.
He’ll ask whether I fancy joining him for a review this week, or whether I want him to find somebody else to keep him company. It’ll usually depend on how tight my jeans are feeling. We’ll review the list of options, and he’ll pick one. I’ll ask him what his preamble will be. “Well, I think my angle is” he’ll say, and so it begins, another adventure into a (hopefully brilliant) meal, perhaps an unsung hero of the Reading culinary scene just waiting to be discovered. I feel lucky to play a part in that. After all, eating is one of life’s greatest pleasures. You have to do it anyway, so why not do it the best way you can?
This piece is part of Edible Reading at 10. See also:
Edible Reading 
Hello,
I loved Zoe’s perspective on ER at 10 and all without an expletive – wow! I totally agree that the ultimate enjoyment of a meal out is in understanding what went into the dishes and service to make the experience so good. On that note, you must go and review Storia in Maidenhead.
Anthony