05-23-2023, 03:39 AM
The L Word
Written jointly with Laeral
Harra badenjan was a rustic dish, the kind of meal grandmothers had their own special recipes for, which adorned dinner tables on the same days the good porcelain and mother’s best tablecloth came out. Roasted lamb, rubbed with a special spice blend, served atop a base of smashed eggplant to make a hearty, aromatic dish. All in all, a humble thing to steer the course of a nation’s policy. But months before, harra badenjan had become a new gastronomic sensation in Laeral, of all places, where the exoticness of the dish’s flavors and its popularity on a noteworthy cooking show had made it a chic dish in the country's trendiest restaurants. The dish seemed to have been somewhat warped in translation—notably, diners paying M650 per head for the prix-fixe menu at Zélé 24 in a trendy section of Laeralsford’s North Bank savored “deconstructed” harra badenjan with the lamb sliced paper-thin and the portions miniaturized. A hearty rural meal became an “artisanal dish.”
When harra badenjan became the dish featured on the cover of Cook magazine and highlighted on Masters of Cuisine, much of the Lehvantian highlands, and the tourism ministry, was thrilled. Harra badenjan would stake out a central spot for Lehvant on the culinary map, and officials prepared a culinary trail in the Shiraz valley, traditional center of harra badenjan production, for tourists. Unfortunately for the farmers and herders of the mountainous Lehvantine highlands, neither the surge in interest in harra badenjan among fine dining establishments nor its bastardization as an upscale frozen dinner (retailing at 13.99 in frozen-foods aisles across Laeral) would bring wealth and interest to rural Lehvant. The boom passed these many millions by, leaving their meager existence no easier and slimming the market for Lehvantian lamb abroad.
Harra badenjan was spoken of as a Laeralian dish, its spices were substituted for those catering to the Laeralian palate, and, perhaps worst of all, the pomegranate-grazing lambs of the Shiraz valley were eschewed in favor of cheaper, factory-raised lambs in a flat, nondescript stretch of northwestern Laeral. It was a robbery, not least because the livelihoods of farmers relying on the export of agricultural goods were threatened by the emergence of Hesperidan companies producing en masse cheaper alternatives which, like a tapeworm, grew to swallow up the market abroad for Lehvantian agricultural goods. The same glossy magazine covers and TV features which had brought hope to the farmers and herders of the Lehvantine highlands now provoked curses and scorn from a more impoverished populace.
Scholars of the 1970s made varying predictions on how Lehvant would do as the pallbearers of French colonialism in the IDU. There was, however, consensus that they would reform and modernize from this fraught legacy. Nowadays, those expectations have shifted towards Laeral, as they have been hailed as a successful example of post-colonial democratization. Laeral seemingly finished what Lehvant had started by building on French institutions without ever falling for the trap of assimilation. Lehvantian resistance was known for its wit, intelligence, and charm, so losing in this head-to-head against Laeral stung. That, combined with Laeral’s appropriation of Harra badenjan at the expense of Lehvantian farmers, was more than enough for Lehvant to want to hit Laeral where it hurt. It just so happened that that was skiing.
The communications office loved how marketable this rivalry was. For one, Laeral also had a skier named Delphine. “The Battle of the Delphines” narrative was tested on social media and once it took off, it was inescapable. It was most unbearable at the Blockade Ski Resort in southern Acadia where Delphine would train. She resented the campaign, how the emphasis on the two girls sharing a first name stripped them of their individuality – most of all, Delphine hated how people comparing the two would refer to her as “the brown one”. The two girls also had a complicated history, as they had started out as close friends during middle school at Blockade Mountains Academy in Greater Acadia, an elite boarding school that had an extremely competitive winter sports program. The girls were always pitted against each other, but remained close friends up until high school. Seemingly, they both had a visceral sense that skiing was what they did, not who they were. When their friendship broke off suddenly when they were 16, neither their instructors nor peers could make sense of it. While both have been asked about their friendship in interviews amidst the recent media campaigns, both the Lehvantian Delphine and the Laeralian one clamped up whenever the subject was raised.
As a rule, to be a winter Olympian in a place like Lehvant was much less desirable. For one, to achieve the kind of excellence that your country demanded from you, one would need to begin practicing extensively at a young age – which meant moving to a far-away boarding school at the tender age of 10 or so. Once, overwhelmed by homesickness, Delphine had used some of the money her parents had sent from home to buy herself a package of microwavable harra badenjan from the frozen aisle at the grocery store. It tasted like cardboard.
Written jointly with Laeral
Harra badenjan was a rustic dish, the kind of meal grandmothers had their own special recipes for, which adorned dinner tables on the same days the good porcelain and mother’s best tablecloth came out. Roasted lamb, rubbed with a special spice blend, served atop a base of smashed eggplant to make a hearty, aromatic dish. All in all, a humble thing to steer the course of a nation’s policy. But months before, harra badenjan had become a new gastronomic sensation in Laeral, of all places, where the exoticness of the dish’s flavors and its popularity on a noteworthy cooking show had made it a chic dish in the country's trendiest restaurants. The dish seemed to have been somewhat warped in translation—notably, diners paying M650 per head for the prix-fixe menu at Zélé 24 in a trendy section of Laeralsford’s North Bank savored “deconstructed” harra badenjan with the lamb sliced paper-thin and the portions miniaturized. A hearty rural meal became an “artisanal dish.”
When harra badenjan became the dish featured on the cover of Cook magazine and highlighted on Masters of Cuisine, much of the Lehvantian highlands, and the tourism ministry, was thrilled. Harra badenjan would stake out a central spot for Lehvant on the culinary map, and officials prepared a culinary trail in the Shiraz valley, traditional center of harra badenjan production, for tourists. Unfortunately for the farmers and herders of the mountainous Lehvantine highlands, neither the surge in interest in harra badenjan among fine dining establishments nor its bastardization as an upscale frozen dinner (retailing at 13.99 in frozen-foods aisles across Laeral) would bring wealth and interest to rural Lehvant. The boom passed these many millions by, leaving their meager existence no easier and slimming the market for Lehvantian lamb abroad.
Harra badenjan was spoken of as a Laeralian dish, its spices were substituted for those catering to the Laeralian palate, and, perhaps worst of all, the pomegranate-grazing lambs of the Shiraz valley were eschewed in favor of cheaper, factory-raised lambs in a flat, nondescript stretch of northwestern Laeral. It was a robbery, not least because the livelihoods of farmers relying on the export of agricultural goods were threatened by the emergence of Hesperidan companies producing en masse cheaper alternatives which, like a tapeworm, grew to swallow up the market abroad for Lehvantian agricultural goods. The same glossy magazine covers and TV features which had brought hope to the farmers and herders of the Lehvantine highlands now provoked curses and scorn from a more impoverished populace.
Scholars of the 1970s made varying predictions on how Lehvant would do as the pallbearers of French colonialism in the IDU. There was, however, consensus that they would reform and modernize from this fraught legacy. Nowadays, those expectations have shifted towards Laeral, as they have been hailed as a successful example of post-colonial democratization. Laeral seemingly finished what Lehvant had started by building on French institutions without ever falling for the trap of assimilation. Lehvantian resistance was known for its wit, intelligence, and charm, so losing in this head-to-head against Laeral stung. That, combined with Laeral’s appropriation of Harra badenjan at the expense of Lehvantian farmers, was more than enough for Lehvant to want to hit Laeral where it hurt. It just so happened that that was skiing.
The communications office loved how marketable this rivalry was. For one, Laeral also had a skier named Delphine. “The Battle of the Delphines” narrative was tested on social media and once it took off, it was inescapable. It was most unbearable at the Blockade Ski Resort in southern Acadia where Delphine would train. She resented the campaign, how the emphasis on the two girls sharing a first name stripped them of their individuality – most of all, Delphine hated how people comparing the two would refer to her as “the brown one”. The two girls also had a complicated history, as they had started out as close friends during middle school at Blockade Mountains Academy in Greater Acadia, an elite boarding school that had an extremely competitive winter sports program. The girls were always pitted against each other, but remained close friends up until high school. Seemingly, they both had a visceral sense that skiing was what they did, not who they were. When their friendship broke off suddenly when they were 16, neither their instructors nor peers could make sense of it. While both have been asked about their friendship in interviews amidst the recent media campaigns, both the Lehvantian Delphine and the Laeralian one clamped up whenever the subject was raised.
As a rule, to be a winter Olympian in a place like Lehvant was much less desirable. For one, to achieve the kind of excellence that your country demanded from you, one would need to begin practicing extensively at a young age – which meant moving to a far-away boarding school at the tender age of 10 or so. Once, overwhelmed by homesickness, Delphine had used some of the money her parents had sent from home to buy herself a package of microwavable harra badenjan from the frozen aisle at the grocery store. It tasted like cardboard.