No need to speak

I'm reading an interview “with a bite”, the kind from Trini Gilbert in the ARA, at the Flash-Flash trout farm, with Karin Leiz, designer and writer, widow of photographer Leopoldo Pomés, who was a co-founder of the restaurant. The mother of the beloved Poldo Pomés says: “I learned to cook by going to the market and listening to what people said”.

Looking at the newspaper reports —I love them— on new architectural trends, one observes that kitchens are now open and aseptic. They are not prepared for "elaborating," but mostly for heating in the microwave. A ready-made meal, mom's tupperware, some popcorn to watch a movie. There's no need for walls, because you won't be spending all morning making stew. Instead, there can be a sofa, for having a snack. The dishes that were cooked before are now just interpretations and reinventions in some restaurants. And so, therefore, there's no need to go to the market. Ordering minced meat here and there to make meatballs here and there is time we can't afford to waste. If we want to make meatballs, we'll buy a tray of them, already made, at the supermarket. With Styrofoam underneath and plastic on top. To buy them —along with a jar of tomatoes, a tray of cleaned squid, a tray of mixed vegetables "for stir-frying," and a jar of fish stock— you don't need to talk to anyone. You won't even need to say "good morning." Just grab, grab, and grab, because there's everything and if it runs out they'll put more. Only if you have a problem at the express checkout, where you do everything yourself, will you be able to grumble at the employee who is there to help: "It's stuck!" And she will grab the tray (this one made of cardboard) of three avocados, one ripe and about to rot and two green and hard as stones (it's always like this), and rescan it. You won't even need to smile.