TIME-OUT AT THE SYMPOSIUM

I’m in Oxford for the annual Oxford Symposium on Food and Cookery, two full days of papers and conversation and thoughtful excellent meals at St Catherines College.

ripening apples on a tree by St Catz, glowing in early morning light

It’s not a university event. It’s a place where food history and food ideas are explored with verve and imagination. It’s run by volunteers: writers, food historians, food-interested people of all kinds, and has been going since the early 1980’s. There are academics here, as well as gifted and specialised non-academics, cooks, cookbook authors, and others from many parts of the world, who submit paper proposals and find that their ideas and thinking are welcomed.

Following the weekend, we move online for the Conference, two weeks of online discussions of the papers and conversations with our keynote speakers. This allows those who cannot attend the live event, for whatever reason, to participate thoroughly.

The theme this year is The Elements, a broad umbrella that includes many possibilities. We alternate, between years when the theme is specific and more concrete, and years when it’s broader and more abstract. And the decision about the theme is taken three years ahead by those attending the Conference. That is to say, we’ll all be deciding on the theme for 2028 during our online Conference.

Why do I try to attend each year?

I think because it feels like a rare privilege to have discussions about food in the wider world that are not performative or seeking to sell something.

a beautifully made and presented lahpet toke (tealeaf salad) that I had for lunch while I was in London, at a Burmese restaurant on Bermondsey Road called Lahpet, not far from the Textile Museum and White Cube.

This morning I went out for a walk, my early morning pleasure each time I’m here. I set out on foot from the college, walk by a meadow, past a huge willow tree, across the arch of a footbridge that spans a small quiet river, and then once I turn along the riverside I’m in the deep shade of big trees. It’s quiet in a woodland way, a calming refuge, with the flutterings of birds, the occasional quiet splash, perhaps of a creature sliding into the water. This morning, beyond the tangle of underbrush and trees, gleamed the pale gold of a wide sunlit meadow, already bleached by the heat.

calm reflections on my morning walk

We all need a calming refuge from time to time, metaphorical or actual: a morning walk, a quiet place to meditate, a conversation with a good friend. Coming to the Symposium gives me that in many ways. It’s a space in which to explore ideas, to meet new people and reconnect with friends, to step outside my daily habits of thought.

I’m hoping to post more fully, with some Kitchen Explorations, next Thursday.

before I left Toronto last weekend I picked from my young black currant bush, figuring they’d be eaten by birds or overripe by the time I returned home. They made a delicious intense few mouthfuls of tart wonder, lightly sweetened (after they cooked; otherwise the skins toughen).