Survivor Cuisine

Let’s get this out of the way before you come out and say it, because you always end up saying it: it’s not cannibalism. I don’t know why we always end up going to that, but really it’s not that, not really. Sure, it’s not for everyone, but then what is? Even my mother used to say that world would be a boring place if we were all the same, although she’s descended from gypsies, if what my dad says is true. What that’s got to do with anything, I don’t know.

So anyway, it’s not cannibalism. We’ve been through all that before. And yes, yes: I tried a little myself. But that was fine – it was just a little, I didn’t make any sweeping lifestyle changes because of it, as you well know. It’s not like I’m serving up broiled baby for lunch and sautéed Spaniard for dinner. It was only a little, just that one time, and you know that I had to do it to survive.

I mean, I didn’t even know his name. It was just lucky that he was already dead. The avalanche had… well you know I don’t like to speak about it. He was dead by the time we were buried, that’s the main thing. It was all about keeping alive, and we were there long enough to need the protein. Protein: that’s the key word here. You know that though, we’ve gone through it enough times for you to understand.

It was the last thing that we wanted to do, and the last thing that we wanted to think about. And yes, we were found and hour later, but it had been days. The look in their eyes as they broke through the snow wall… it was as though we had poisoned their dreams, and I suppose that we had a little. They had expected dirty faces and the whites of grateful eyes, and we had presented them with the white of an exposed thigh bone.

And that’s the look you give me, every time that I start to cook. Like you suspect me of filling the frying pan with the neighbours… is that what you think? Where did the postman go this morning? Are you sure that you heard him leave? Ah, it’s nothing. Just an old memory. What that’s got to do with anything, I don’t know.

Take a seat. I’ll be serving in a moment.

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Douglas Noble was born in Scotland and grew up all wrong. Don't blame his parents though, they tried their best.

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