Dinner With Meg

Back in the day, food was just seen as fuel for our bodies; nothing more than a necessity to function. Now, it’s so much more than that at every level of interaction. 

It’s an icebreaker at an event with few familiar faces, when you chime in with “canapés are nice, aren’t they?”.

It’s the simple question that’s asked despite its inevitable answer – “shall I stick the kettle on, and open the biscuits?” when your colleague’s had a shitty meeting and needs a minute.

Best of all, it’s the product of cooking as an act of service. It’s feeding your partner when they’re late home from work after a long day. It’s dropping a tupperware off at your mum’s house when she’s under the weather but needs nourishment. It’s a “I’ll sort the nibbles, you bring the wine” when your best mate’s at their wits’ end with something, or everything, in their life.

Whether it’s a catalyst for conversation during a first encounter, or it acts as the centerpiece on a table that’s privy to secrets, gossip, laughter, tears and everything in between, food is always there to spark chatter or support it.

And food is the foundation to so many of my friendships. I actually think I’d struggle to strike up a strong bond with anyone that wasn’t a foodie. When I think about my closest friends, food plays a big part in our group. To set the scene, there’s five of us – me, Shona, Chloe, Jamie and Steven. The girls and the gays. Don’t get me wrong, given we all met at work, we’re bonded by that as well. But we all love our food.

Some of our best memories have been tapas nights and picky bits at my apartment when I lived in town, or lunches during a working day when we’ve all just needed to get out of the office for the hour. It’s been that ‘one glass of wine after work’ that’s turned into ‘grabbing something out’ and getting home later than planned, bursting out of our jeans. 

It’s been discussing at length what we’re having for lunch, fantasising about it, only to settle for a Tesco meal deal because it’s two days before payday and we’re all scraping the dregs of our bank accounts. It’s working in silence for a couple of hours because we’re so busy, before lifting the head at 4:30pm to ask: “what you making for tea tonight, love?” or “I’ve got chicken defrosting, any ideas on what I could rustle up?”

These four people have all come into my life over the course of the last four years or so, and I simply cannot imagine my life without them, or our shared love of food… 

Shona

Shona’s our old head on young shoulders. Wild at heart, loves a pint, but she’s got her head screwed on. Juggling a career and her family, to me she’s like superwoman. As an older sister that’s always on duty, I can put my feet up when I’m with Shona because she’s the elder sibling I never had. She’s the one you’ll ask the questions you don’t always want to ask your mum. She’s the one you go to for advice. I might not always follow it, mind, but it’s the thought that counts…

One of the best things is when Shona texts me and says “I’m just about to follow your orzo recipe” or “I’m trying to recreate that pasta you made me”. That latter is usually followed an hour later by “Orrrr you need to make that again for me it’s not the same when I do it”.

For the past three years, Shona and I have taken an annual trip to Benidorm. Now, whilst not renowned for the cuisine that’s an offer, I promise you that Benidorm has some amazing eateries. There’s a cracking Indian over there (an Indian abroad with a few Cobras is always mandatory), not to mention Tapas Alley. 

So, there’s plenty of shared dining experiences, but one of my favourite memories with Shona is based in the Northern Quarter at the cosy little tapas restaurant on the corner – Evuna. I often crave their sangria and paprika chicken and could consume both by the bucketload. Shona and I once headed there on a Friday night following a few after-work drinks, just to see if they could squeeze us in. And, to our surprise and delight, they could. Saying that, it was about 9:30pm.

We stayed in there until we were the only ones left and the staff were ready to close up for the evening. But they were ever so patient with us as we ordered our sangria by the jug, several tapas dishes, and a dessert to share, so as not to tip ourselves even further over the edge. 

But that night, probably fuelled by potent sangria, we laughed, cried, and talked for hours. About childhoods, siblings, our families, fondest memories, mistakes, relationships, the future. Joyous in parts, sad in some, yet honest in all. It felt like we were in a bubble. Anything could’ve been happening around us in that restaurant and we wouldn’t have known. We were so engrossed in deep conversation, exchanging conversation between mouthfuls of paprika chicken, patatas bravas, and grilled octopus to name but a few dishes.

That to me is the sign of a good restaurant, and even better company to share the experience with.

Chloe

Chloe is my biggest cheerleader. She’s the reason I set up my Instagram page and started writing again. Chloe’s biggest and best trait is her bucketloads of positivity. She’s not always had the odds in her favour or been dealt the best hand in life, but she tackles everything with a smile on her face. I tell her – and other people – all the time that I’m very proud of her. 

A fun fact about Chloe and me is that despite only meeting a couple of years ago through work, we grew up only minutes away from each other. Bear in mind we don’t work and live in the same area either. We’ve even shared a lot of mutual friends over the years, both on Facebook and in real life. Yet our paths never crossed. It’s this that makes me believe more firmly in divine timing. If we were to meet all those years ago, I doubt a friendship would’ve lasted into our adult years. We were brought together when the time was right.

Chlo’s a foodie just like me, and I think there’s a mutual appreciation there for food and cooking as a sign of love and a catalyst for connection. When Chloe first started working at my place, we’d get the same train into the office. Suffice to say I’m not a morning person, and I’d purposely avoid any contact in the morning. I’d hop onto a different carriage, AirPods in, enjoying the remaining moments of peace and quiet before descending into the chaos of a fast-paced agency. 

And, in what felt like an attempt to buy my friendship at the time, Chloe would always stand by the barriers of the station as I got off the train, with freshly-baked croissant in hand, ready to supply me with my breakfast. Now I know that Chloe really is just that kind, but, I guess you could say she knew the way to my heart and won me over by feeding me. 

Since those tired-eyed morning exchanges, Chlo and I have enjoyed so many great times, many of them underpinned by food. We even backdoored drinks with a bigger group of girls once to sneak off and get tapas (again at Evuna and, of course, with Shona too). Keep in mind we’d had bottomless brunch about seven hours prior. Whereas some people will revolve their night around alcohol and what bars to go to, we revolve ours around what food we want to eat. 

I’ve cooked for Chlo before we’ve jetted off on company trips abroad, both of us dancing around the kitchen totally sober but just drunk on excitement. On the opposite side of the spectrum, we’ve both stumbled in after a night out, thrown our pyjamas on, and got in bed with a Pot Noodle. 

Chloe also had Yorkshire puddings and jugs of gravy at her wedding reception party. There’s a million reasons why I love her, but that tells you all you need to know.

Jamie

Jamie’s my holiday companion, and the gay best friend I always wanted in school (I’m not sure why I was so fixated on that, maybe I was manifesting my future…). Italy, Greece, Gran Canaria….we’ve had so many amazing experiences together. If I ever fancy getting away, I know if I ask Jamie he’s likely to say yes to coming with me.  

Jamie’s sassy, sarcastic, and with a wicked sense of humour he never fails to make me laugh, even when sometimes I don’t want to. Where I’ve sometimes been too forgiving in previous relationships, Jamie’s been the reality check. He’s a realist. He’s not always told me what I’ve wanted to hear, but what I’ve needed. 

Because of all the places Jamie and I have been together, we’ve inevitably had some amazing and memorable dining experiences. Fresh pasta overlooking Lake Como, basking in stunning scenery. Moussaka at a taverna in the heart of Crete that we just happened to stumble upon during our first night of the holiday. Indulging in one of the best steaks ever, at one of Gran Canaria’s best-rated restaurants. 

Gyros on the strip in Hersonissos at 5am after going back to Malibu Club for the fourth night in a row, after swearing we’d try somewhere new. The time that we went for a mid-afternoon drink by Milan’s Duomo, and Jamie ordered himself a big slab of cheesecake from the dessert menu too, just because. 

He doesn’t give a shit, and that’s why I love him.

One of the best things about Jamie is that because he isn’t a fussy eater either, he’s always willing to share. Love me or hate me for it, I’m a sharer when it comes to starters. I like picking at different things. And Jamie is always on the same page.

Steven

Steven is sunshine in human form. He oozes kindness and he’s one of those people you could never say a bad word about. He’s a proper gentleman. He’s been such a mentor to me in work – a real example of how to do things right and treat people with kindness. Outside of work, he’s the eldest of the group and the one with heaps of wisdom. 

He’s also incredibly funny but, most of the time, without trying to be. My favourite thing about Steven is his terrible hearing, but his reluctance to ever get his ears tested. Observing his attempt to listen in to what people are whispering or discussing quietly is nothing short of hilarious. It sounds minor, but it’s something that we all know Steven for now; the confused face and a “huh?”

Steven can do it all. He’s a true professional at work – a mentor when you need it, and an absolute winner with clients. Personally, he’s the sort of person everyone should have in their life. He works hard and plays hard, and the latter often involves wine, karaoke, and lots of dancing. Just like he can do it all, his palette reflects that too. Steven loves a good fine dining experience, but he’s also the only person I know to have once eaten a McDonald’s for every one of his meals in a day. 

There aren’t many specific food-related memories that I connect Steven to. I feel like any I do have are overshadowed by connections I’ve made between Steven, his traits, and his love of certain foods.

In the office, Steven’s known for his biscuit consumption. So much so, when we worked together, there was a biscuit tin on our team desk to house his bourbons. We therefore attracted a lot of visitors to our desk as they surveyed the area for snacks, but every single person that paid us a visit wanted to linger to chat to our Steven. Human sunshine on a cloudy day.

Steven also founded the phrase “yum, yum, yum” which has made its way into my everyday vocabulary. I don’t even know how it started, but he exclaims it before eating any sort of treat. And it’s now something I use all the time.

Not only does he love biscuits accompanied by a brew, but Steven’s really got a thing for bread. Last year when he had an infection and was too sick to eat, one of his messages to us read: “I am so poorly I wish I could have some bread”. Sums it up really, but to be honest I can get on board with it. Who doesn’t love a thick slab of white bread with a hearty helping of lightly salted butter (the proper stuff)? 

Steven’s a man who knows what he likes, and I love him for it.

So, fair to say that food creates conversation. It creates connection. It’s one of the many reasons I’m so passionate about it, and one of the reasons why I’d say cooking is certainly my love language.