Cheese Boards & Big Swiss

Originally posted April 13th 2023

I have a local cheese monger, something that I feel very fancy about and also very grateful. I have yet to find a good loaf of sourdough nearby but I guess that life challenging me to walk a bit further. I digress, the cheese monger is about a 7 minute walk from my flat and on Saturday my sister and I went to get a sheep's cheese, we also grabbed a black garlic salami which had a strong vinegar aftertaste but in a good way. On Sunday we made a small cheese board with the sheep’s cheese, brie, salami and honey with some crackers from the cupboard. We got cheese drunk, which I’m not sure is a thing, but it’s the closest I’ve felt to drunk in the last 7 months. We went to the local farmers market, got some honey and bacon. There’s a baker who has a stall but last time I bought sourdough bread there it didn’t go stale for two weeks and that seemed wrong. The crust wasn’t crisp and had a plastic-like texture. The woes of navigating American food. The sun was out and kids were running around with baskets looking for eggs. A man played the saxophone in the middle of the square. I had banana cream pie for the first time and my brain was confused because it tastes like banana bread but the texture is all wrong.

I have been cooking more than just pesto pasta these days. It’s very unintuitive for me, so it’s a bit of a struggle reading between the lines of cookbook recipes and youtube tips and tricks. If I don’t undersalt I oversalt, mix too many spices together, things get muddied. But I’ve gotten quite good at cooking chicken thighs, roasting potatoes and shallots are better than onions (controversial statement but I stand by it). My confidence in the kitchen is growing and my love of food too.

I’ve been seeing some things online about millennials and diet culture, how it basically fucked us for life. Growing up in California certainly didn’t help, I’ve never met people as unhealthily health obsessed as Californians. Being shamed for being fat as a kid will do a number on you, and being in a culture so image obsessed, my existence seemed like a personal affront to those around me. I was a project, something to be changed. I’ve clearly got a lot of stuff to still deal with, a lot of resentment about being put on diets since I was in the single digits. Seeing a girl in high school eat a steamed, unseasoned potato for lunch still sticks with me as a “oh man, this is real bad” moment. But I’m learning, through food and sitting at the dinner table with loved ones, that I should get over it. Not in a passive way, but that it’s better to stop holding myself down by it.

Sunday night, chicken thighs are in the oven along with some potatoes. An entire carton of spinach cooks away on the stove. My sister and I have just finished a double-feature of Escape From New York and Big Trouble In Little China. I’m already thinking about prepping some batter for lemon crinkle cooks the next day, making one regular batch and a second batch with rosemary. There are lots of carrots in the fridge that I’m going to turn into soup, my mind wandering through these things more freely than ever before. As a former Tesco Meal Deal savant, it’s quite nice to start becoming the type of person who goes “I’ll just make it myself”. Not long ago I would walk into a kitchen and be completely clueless, I still am, but now I have an inclination.

I realise when it comes to food, I don’t really know what I like. I am simultaneously open and avoidant to new foods. I can’t just say “I like spicy food” because that’s such a broad range of flavours. I certainly don’t like a lot of American spicy food that prefers to be a challenge rather than a good meal. Whole restaurant chains are built on a gimmick, a menu at Buffalo Wild Wings isn’t sorted by types of meals but on spice level. At a certain level you’re brought a pint of milk. These places are not interested in food, they’re interested in novelty. There’s a reason they’re so popular with college students, most who are living on noodles in their day to day. To have a “fun” meal means competing with your friends, scorching your taste buds because….why not. So to say I like spicy food isn’t correct.

But that is part of the fun of cooking now, seeing what works and what doesn’t. It feels like painting, sometimes the colours don’t blend quite right and sometimes an impulsive decision pays off. I don’t know if I approach everything in my life like painting or if painting is just a lot like life. Experimentation, exploration, sometimes getting stuck doing the same thing over and over again. Sometimes being okay with that.

I saw portobello mushrooms at the market and was reminded of a friend who once cooked them in jerk sauce at my house. Every time I use a knife I remember my old flatmate who was a chef and taught me how to cut veggies properly. Another friend making pesto, another making the best carrot cake I’ve ever had. I’m only now realising how many good memories I have happened over a table of food. Discovering how nice it is to make someone a good meal and see them take a moment to appreciate it. I understand why people say prayers before eating. Food is slowly becoming something that isn’t an enemy, not something to be controlled and judged. But pleasure and comfort. It demands my attention and I am learning that taking more time for it is rewarding and makes me want to try more things. I’m saving up for a pressure cooker at the moment so I can make broth and slow cook. I’m excited to build up skills, to go into a kitchen and be able to grab whatever is there rather than feeling at a loss.

I read Big Swiss by Jen Beagin which I really enjoyed. My (not-so) inner-hipster was wary because it had a bit of hype but I get why now. I really reminded me of The First Bad Man by Miranda July for a couple reasons, the tone was very similar and the young/older woman dynamic but July gets much weirder and outlandish than Beagin. One element that I enjoyed is that the book isn’t written defensively, an issue I’ve seen with a lot of recent novels, the characters in Big Swiss could be easily described as “kinda awful” but I don’t think that does that justice. They’re very much just people. They say weird things, some I disagreed with or found odd, but it works within the story. Beagin is unconcerned with them being palatable, which makes it far more interesting as a reader. So many books have protagonists that are too aware that they are in a book. Greta, the protagonist of Big Swiss, has no idea, she is just transcribing sex therapy sessions and begins a relationship with one of the clients, she’s aware of the moral issues of this set up, but as any person would be, not listing all the reasons why she knows it’s wrong. Beagin trusts the reader to form their own opinion. It helps that Beagin is a very fun writer to read, I finished the book within 24 hours because I was caught up in the drama. It’s a bit schlocky but in an intentional way, it balances itself with humour and seriousness, the two never seeming to overdo it.

I’d recommend it for a quick summer read but I don’t think it’s going to stay with me. The fact that is was about a sex therapist transcriber starting a sexual relationship with a younger woman and the sexuality being perhaps the least interesting aspect of the book is a bit of a shame. It’s very well written, I really did like it, but I’m also at a bit of a loss about it. I think I wanted it to be great and it fell flat, which is an issue with anything with hype around it. There is an expectation that is unlikely to be fulfilled.

Thank you for reading my substack,

Enya x