Food from the Chelsea
Kitchen December 10th 2004
It must have been 1974 when I first had a meal at the Chelsea
Kitchen. Now 30 odd years later, it seems like only yesterday. Amazingly, and
thankfully, one can still smoke in the basement and not much else has changed
either; the friendly ambiance, the inexpensive and perfectly adequate food, the
young staff from all corners of the globe – all these things are as they were.
Even the décor, once, a long time ago, a slave to the fashion of the times -
white painted brick and plaster, old church pews, quarry tiled floors, wicker
lampshades and pictures displayed ‘gallery style’ – remains unchanged. The
eclectic mix of customers, all ages and races, a scattering of couples, and
many eating alone like me (though booths are shared in a pleasing egalitarian
way) and the odd family group, seem at first to have little in common. But,
over the years, I’ve struck up conversations with other diners and have found
to my delight and surprise that a great many of us share more than one might
expect.
When political discussions broke out (as they frequently used to
do) it seemed that those at opposite ends of the spectrum were able to converse
as friends. A young radical Marxist woman might be talking to an old right-wing
colonial man and one had the impression that both had really thought about
their positions yet were prepared to be swayed. It was as if that here, if
nowhere else in the combative capital, peace between enemies would break out
spontaneously. I now wonder if it is simply a matter of economics. Because, while
the atmosphere here is certainly conducive to putting the world to rights, the
Chelsea Kitchen is for those who find themselves needing to eat out but
actually have very little money – and where else in Chelsea can you buy a big
plate of Spaghetti Bolognese for £3.50? This is a fast service establishment
selling slow food. No neon, no plastic cutlery, no take-out foam boxes and real
waitresses who actually smile. In 1974 a spaghetti, an apple crumble and a
coffee cost exactly £1.00 all in. Now I note that the same can be had for
£6.50. In 1974, low paid workers might be earning as little as £20 a week
whereas now the minimum wage plus tax credit is around £200 a week so, if
anything, the restaurant is cheaper now than it has ever been. So even the old
colonial is sympathetic to the plight of others if he is eating here out of
necessity and, what’s more, he is coming into regular contact with people to
whom he would not have given the time of day under more moneyed circumstances.
Like wise, the Marxist finds herself in conversation with a class enemy who she
actually begins to like; who, in spite of his politics, turns out not to be the
racist-bigot-supremacist of her imagination – so all are served well. And,
perhaps, in a world hell-bent on driving us all into the sea unless we accept
the MacDamning of the planet, places like the Chelsea Kitchen are the last
bastions of civilised culture in the industrialised hemisphere.
Old Lebanon hands used to talk affectionately about café culture
in Beirut, as it was when it was known as The Paris of the Middle East. Jews,
Muslims and Christians would come together for coffee, sweets and a smoke to
discuss the issues of the day. All were sons of Abraham (daughters probably
were at home and I would be the first to acknowledge the huge significance of
that debate), and all were devoted to values they shared; peace, forgiveness,
kindness to strangers and, through the love of God, a better time for us all
now and in the hereafter. As a devout Atheist myself, I applaud those of true
faith. Faith starts with conviviality with those who hold opposing views; it
starts with the breaking of bread and the quietude that cutthroat commerce
cannot provide. And our faith requires nurturing if it is to survive. Just like
Theists, Atheists can also suffer from a lack of faith. In the 1990s a
remarkable Islamic social worker and self taught advocate called Maqusood Ahmed
helped me through my own crisis of faith – not here at the Chelsea Kitchen but
20 miles or so North in a refugee drop-in centre in Watford. We had met through
our involvement with community groups and we had lunch together occasionally. I
was suffering from clinical depression at the time and felt I was loosing my
grip; all that I believed seemed to be blowing away like sand in the wind. Over
a selection of delicious home-cooked Halal curries we would discuss, as one
does, life the universe and everything and the values of peace, justice and
equity. At the end of one lunch, Maqusood paid me a great compliment that I
will never forget. He said, “ …in your Atheism you are a better Muslim than
many who profess a devotion far greater than yours, don’t loose your faith, it
is too important”.
Now, in 2004, Maqusood’s message is even more relevant. Ethics
are the structural timbers of all religions, theistic or not, and our leaders
have much to learn. In the United States, and elsewhere, The Fundamentalist
Christian Right, or Neo-cons as they have been called, are extraordinarily
disrespectful of other faiths. The Neo-con hate list is extensive. Islamic
people seem to be 2nd only to Pagans. Pagans, for some unimaginable
reason are often mentioned in the same vitriolic breath as “liberals, gays and
other un-American people”. As Pagans are a very small minority (and are,
anyway, unlikely to turn from nurturing to warfare overnight) they represent an
easy target for Neo-cons. All religions, other than the Neo-con’s own
distinctive brand, seem to be somewhere on the hate list even though there is
the peculiar neo-con affiliation with right-wing Zionism that flies in the face
of right-wing anti-Semitism - and is,
anyway, unsupported by the rest of Jewry. Indeed, the socio-political landscape
is very confusing. During and after the 2nd world war, the Vatican
was rightly criticised for its role in assisting the Nazis and turning their
backs on the suffering of Jews and others. Now it is almost de rigueur for
religious leaders to align themselves with political regimes that have little
time for the values of the religions that court them. Further, such alignments
have grown into single seamless entities that hide behind and exploit their
followers to a hideous degree. It’s as if Groucho Marx actually joined a club
that wouldn’t have him as a member (to paraphrase his famous remark), became leader
of the club and ordered the destruction of the clubs that would have accepted
him.
Over 60 years ago, the theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, writing
from his prison cell in Germany, was perplexed that, in spite of our
intellectual and technological brilliance, man (sic) has not yet come of age.
It’s as if the spiteful-bully-in-the-playground era of the human race has
lasted too long – we may even be regressing. The values espoused by the major
religions should be an antidote to war and poverty yet those values are held
most strongly by those on the periphery of religious power structures or by
those who see organised religion as somewhat of a contradiction in terms. Not
that I have done much to further peace other than to abstain from violence
against other people. But, in a way, that is all that peace requires of any
individual. I would not advocate non-violence at any cost but I am genuinely
bemused by the ease in which political and so-called religious leaders can
incite ordinarily peaceful people to acts of violence that are both pre-emptive
and extreme.
It might be that War, violence and conflict are inevitable in
the absence of Ethics. There has been much research into the anthropological,
neurological and other aspects of conflict, but while our schools teach our
children how to be productive, how to be religious, how to be competitive and
to how to take sides, they do not spend so much time inculcating Ethics and
co-operation. In the UK, popular icons espouse the virtues of consumerism,
spending, winning, fame and self-centeredness. Our political parties likewise
see Ethical virtues as affordable luxuries once the business of entrenching
competitive consumerism is deemed to be on track.
The Small School movement, started over 20 years ago in the UK
by Satish Kumar, is extraordinarily robust on these issues and young children
learn about different subjects through the study of a few basic areas of life;
how to cook, how to make clothing and how to build a house. All other subjects
can be built into these areas and, naturally, the way the children communicate
with each other through the convivial making of a meal is part and parcel of
the ethical framework upon which our religious leaders should also be
concentrating.
In Brixton in the 1980s one of the first Cultural Kitchens was
opened as a way of bringing together factions of the broad and diverse
immigrant population. The idea was simple, one group would cook a traditional
meal from their culture of origin and share it with the other groups. It was an
immense success. In Plymouth the Cultural Kitchen is helping refugees and
asylum seekers from all over the world share their joys and sorrows, provide
mutual support, network with each other and provide a focus for other cultural
and creative projects. Those working in such areas, often voluntarily, and
promoting the values of conviviality should be congratulated – they are doing
more for peace than our religious leaders and are beginning to show us all the
real value of ethics in an accessible and practical way.
Now I wouldn’t claim that a cheap restaurant in the Kings Road
could take the place of a heart-felt philosophical position and as far as I
know the Chelsea Kitchen has no agenda other than to be what it is and make a modest
profit, but I hope that in 30 years time its doors will still be open to all.
Nick Nakorn 10/12/2004