I’m lucky to be enjoying a short break in Lille staying at a hotel with a Michelin-starred restaurant. We had lunch there today, although it drifted well in to the afternoon.
For such a posh operation, the staff were very friendly and not especially formal. Today they were also all wearing small orange badges that said “Refugee food”. There was a choice of three prix-fix menus and one was called the “Refugee Menu”. Knowing nothing about the festival, I just assumed that some of the cost of the meal was being donated. It looked very tasty, so bang - I’m having that.
Just before the main course our waitress comes out looking very smiley and tells me that I’m the only one that’s ordered that menu (I think the restaurant had about 22 covers in all) and the guy who cooked it is very happy and excited. It starts to dawn on me.
After we’d finished dessert, a festival organiser comes out to our table with a very embarrassed looking Sudanese guy in chef gear in tow. She explains that the festival places refugees with food skills in professional kitchens over June, working with French chefs to produce something that fuses French cuisine with that of their homeland. The festival operates across France and Switzerland.
I can just about follow basic French but I’m hopeless it speaking it intelligibly, so when the organiser lady twigged that we’re from the UK she flipped to English and Mohammed the chef looked relieved as his English was way better than his French. He explained the main dish, which was a variation on salted fish with a peanut butter sauce. This was the only service that he’d be cooking.
It was all quite moving if a little embarrassing with all the other guests looking on. That I’m able to afford a meal like that is a privilege, but having it cooked by a guy who left his home to escape a civil war is quite humbling.
Food is a great way to bring people together and break down barriers. I’ve my own personal experience in my family that I’ll not bore you with. This post is long enough as it is.
For such a posh operation, the staff were very friendly and not especially formal. Today they were also all wearing small orange badges that said “Refugee food”. There was a choice of three prix-fix menus and one was called the “Refugee Menu”. Knowing nothing about the festival, I just assumed that some of the cost of the meal was being donated. It looked very tasty, so bang - I’m having that.
Just before the main course our waitress comes out looking very smiley and tells me that I’m the only one that’s ordered that menu (I think the restaurant had about 22 covers in all) and the guy who cooked it is very happy and excited. It starts to dawn on me.
After we’d finished dessert, a festival organiser comes out to our table with a very embarrassed looking Sudanese guy in chef gear in tow. She explains that the festival places refugees with food skills in professional kitchens over June, working with French chefs to produce something that fuses French cuisine with that of their homeland. The festival operates across France and Switzerland.
I can just about follow basic French but I’m hopeless it speaking it intelligibly, so when the organiser lady twigged that we’re from the UK she flipped to English and Mohammed the chef looked relieved as his English was way better than his French. He explained the main dish, which was a variation on salted fish with a peanut butter sauce. This was the only service that he’d be cooking.
It was all quite moving if a little embarrassing with all the other guests looking on. That I’m able to afford a meal like that is a privilege, but having it cooked by a guy who left his home to escape a civil war is quite humbling.
Food is a great way to bring people together and break down barriers. I’ve my own personal experience in my family that I’ll not bore you with. This post is long enough as it is.
