Not really a gourmet

Although this blog is called 'The Distracted Gourmet', I have to admit to you that, apart from the 'The Distracted' part, I'm nothing of the sort. A gourmet is, after all, someone who has discriminating taste, and although I'm always up for a bit of food snobbery, I can't pretend I have one refined bone in my body. I'm all about everything, when it comes to food, and although my squeamish sensibilities won't induce me to eat offal (I have to throw in 'knowingly' here, because goodness knows how often I've eaten minced floor sweepings disguised as sausages before I put my foot down), I'm pretty easy about most things. In fact, when it comes to anything a little bit foreign, I absolutely delight in the commonplace and the ordinary. How else can you explain my delight in buying cans of French green beans from Carrefour, in the full knowledge that these haricot verts are exactly the same no matter which side of the English Channel you're on? Or devouring ready meals purchased from an am-pm near my hotel when I stayed in Tokyo for a week a couple of years ago?

The food selection at GeraGera manga cafe in Shinjuku, Tokyo. The simple fact I took a picture of this should be enough...

Where ever I go, I always try to explore using my stomach. I use food as a way of peering into strange new worlds. The most exciting thing for me to do in a new country (I'll admit, I haven't been to many, please don't think I'm well travelled) is go to a supermarket. My friends think I'm nuts. Maybe, if you're reading this blog, you know where I'm coming from. There's just nothing more exciting to me than groceries. I stalked every aisle of every supermarket I visited when I went to France this month. And needless to say, I went into every supermarket I saw, even when it involved leaving Sara and Michael in a McDonald's, and dragging Rachel across industrial scrubland, across car parks and down slopes obviously not meant as pathways.

Maybe I am a bit of a food snob in my homeland, but when I'm abroad, I turn into a food hussy. I'll have anything, the lowlier the better. A can of casserole, you say? Is it FOREIGN? Well, I'll try it. In England, if you tried to feed me stew from a tin, I'd gamely eat it and then bitch about you behind your back in a shocked and hushed manner. But abroad, well, it ceases to be crappy food and turns into an archaeological gem, revealing to me the mysteries of these strange alien beings that look a little like me, but are decidedly stranger. At this moment, I have in my cupboard a packet of French mashed potato. When I eat it, no matter how bad it is, I will feel like a culinary explorer. I know that's odd and sad, but really, there are no losers in a situation where a 26 year old woman can get genuine happiness out of box of dehydrated potato.

That's right, fellow food explorers, this is the SAME VARIETY of French mashed potato I have in my cupboard. It has the word 'gourmande' on it. How could I resist?

My Franch Holiday

A while back, in my Economy Gastronomy post, I wrote that I had been living off about £15 a week for food for two people for a few months. Maybe some of you read that and went, "woah, what a liar", or possibly, "why?", or maybe even "£15? She's the lucky one, I have to walk ten miles every day to eat food from a rubbish dump". No matter what your reaction, I feel like I must explain myself.

I decided to go on holiday with my dear beloved to Franchland, so we could visit a few of the places that we used to when he lived there. We stayed in Granville and drove up from St Malo, and had a blast visiting Cherbourg and Mont-St-Michel. But, in order to fund this jolly, we had to seriously scrimp on the shopping, fasting in order that we may feast our little hearts out eating chips and steak twice a day the whole time we were there.

(Mont-St-Michel - like Lord of the Rings meets Harry Potter. Totally fricking awesome, didn't think I'd like it half as much as I did, but it rocked.)

We worked out a budget of £60 per week for food, and then, whatever was left at the end of the week, we put into a pot to save for France. We ended up taking over £700, which should indicate how much we've been scrimping. But, it was worth every single last can of Tescos Value Beans, because I bought everything that wasn't nailed down, including copious amounts of fleur de sel de Guerande and salted caramel everything. My cupboards are now full of delicious French foods from the supermarche, and I am content. AND I'm back up to £60 a week for food, and I feel absolutely rich beyond my wildest dreams. I even bought a sliced white loaf of bread from Sainsbury's the other day, which is the first time in ages I've not baked my own. Yes, baking your own bread is fun to begin with, but when you have to do it three times a week to save money, the novelty soon wears off, even with a breadmaker.

(Picnic on the beach at Granville - worth every scrimping minute)

As far as how you live on £15 a week, it's pretty easy. Bake your own bread, like I said, that saves money. Having a well stocked larder and freezer is obviously a cheat, but also pretty damn essential. I buy huge packets of chicken thighs and drumsticks and freeze them in pairs, which is very thifty. Mince is a massive essential around here, as well. Eating very little meat makes things easy. I make massive batches of chilli and bolognaise when I can. Eggs are great value and Sainsbury's do these great family packs of free range ones which are really cheap.

I reckon it generally just helps if you're really stingy, and your OH doesn't mind eating wheat biscuits and marmite sandwiches every single day of his life (he actually insists on it). Even so often, I'd cave and buy something with my own money, rather than our joint account, so I can't claim to be totally angellic about this, but I'm sure you can see why I feel totally vindicated in laughing my ass off at the fantastic savings to be made from following Economy Gastronomy.