Sinae (she/her) is an illustrator living in London, who does full time design work at a skin-care company and this is her food of the week. For more, visit @carrotate
Sinae also runs Fortified with Kate.
I’ve come to Berlin thanks to my past self who paid for the 50% of the airbnb accommodation two months earlier. A substantial slice of my monthly wage had gone to see mum’s kitchen, warming up her first solo kitchen in 30 odd years. Stocking up a family size of cereal, water biscuits, oil (she questioned as I get a bottle of vegetable oil and olive oil arguing she’d had some only to find out none was left), ginger biscuits, almonds, milk, yoghurts, coffee and handful / palmful of avocados as we like to scoop up avocados as snack.
Having come back to my east London flat, fridge empty, I have started cycling to work and one particularly feeling poor Monday, my manager and I talk on our empty wallets, working all day on our bum in front of the screens only to see our pennies dripping down, further away from us. ‘D, I saw this insta reel, a solid advice from someone who works in finance (south-east asian middle age handsome lady - extra credit because I will be that person in 20 years). She said, to save, your life-style should be one grade below your income.’ I hear a chuckle from T, a manager I work close to. I don’t know what the chuckle might mean. Does he agree? Is he laughing at me stating the obvious? Well, it wasn’t to me. I am also telling my manager, D, I even considered looking into the cancellation policy of the flights and airbnb.
D, Is it that bad!?
Well, it is not looking great. But what can you do? I say
Yeah. Both laugh and return to our screens.
***
If you like coffee, there’s a really nice place called La Maison, a little expensive but coffee, (kiss gesture with her hands), so nice.
I point at the brown bag in front of me on the table. I got campagne from there on my run today! I couldn’t resist – people were queueing up to get bags and bags of bread.
I stand up and take the bread out on the board. It looks hard, this bread.
Can I help you? Sylvia says.
Yes please!
Sylvia makes three off the loaf, how many? More?
The whole loaf please, I says, she laughs. I say thank you and we return to the table, I with my buttered toast, Sylvia two cups of carrot coloured juice in her hand. One for her, another for me.
Behind Sylvia, there’s a ton of CDs, she loves reggae and soul. She takes out one and we end up listening the four albums. By the second one, both, standing up and dancing. I am more like, looking at Sylvia dancing, in awe of her movement. How natural it was to get up and take her shoes off. Bare feet, pedicured in purple, lightly brushing the wooden floor.
***
Musty head needed a good walk outside. I met up A, R’s friend who’s recently moved to Berlin for coffee in my lunch hour as I am working remotely here during the day. A good coffee and half way point, the owner of the cafe comes in, asking if he can measure the table with his measuring tape.
We walk outside after a short but sweet chat, heading to a park for a little walk before I return. I see donkeys. No way.
It is like a Hackney City Farm, A says.
***
I get a packet of cigarette from a little shop near She Said, a bookshop many of my IG friends recommended me to go. I had dropped by a Turkish supermarket as Sylvia said, so little time before its closing time. I sit down and read The Ragged Grace by Octavia Bright. She says she only smokes in Europe.
As I read, I knew I would get a packet on my way, it validates a vice of mine and it is only five days I have got left for its validity. Light one please.
Sylvia is helping me with places to go between slurps of her noodles.
We laugh at silly things. Google Translate fails us and we laugh at how flat English seems to be. She types a German word that translates her feeling towards working with young people who are addicted to drugs. Its English translation is Sad. She laughs because Sad is too simple a word for what she wanted to say in German.
***
I go out for a smoke and she says, So, you smoke! I even smoke in my room.
She follows. We talk about sausages and silly-laugh again.
She goes back in and says, it is her ‘Crown-time’ and I hot-shower this time and make my dinner.
Onion, salt, cumin, oregano, red bell pepper, Tin of tomato, white beans with its juice, courgettes, the whole springs of mint, loads of olive oil, a bit of balsamic vinegar, half lime size down, lid on to let simmer, crack one egg. Poke the courgette to see if they are soft. When ready, eat a bowl or two of it, listening to Kenny Drew.
***