Page 52 of The Missing Ingredient

“Fair enough. But don’t forget that Britain has been a pioneering nation since the sixteenth century. Vegetables, fruit, herbs, and spices from all over the world that could either be cultivated here or easily imported became readily available. The potato, for example, originally came over from South America, probably Peru, either brought back by the Spanish or Sir Walter Raleigh—depending on who you believe—and became a mainstay for much of the population. Same goes for the tomato, which is thought to have come to the UK from Spain in the late 1600s. During the age of the Commonwealth, incredible ranges of produce, herbs, and spices came to our shores. Does that make English recipes less authentic? I don’t believe so. If anything, it makes them all the more adventurous.”

“Okay, we’re going to open the switchboard now, so if you have anything at all you’d like to talk about—problems, questions, opinions—with either Marcus or me, we’d be happy to take them. Wouldn’t we, Marcus?”

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

Dr. Billie Rix laughed then. She had a nice laugh, friendly and open, which probably explained the popularity of her show. “We have Jason on the line. Who’s your question for, Jason?”

“For Marcus. Hey there, Marcus.”

“Hi, Jason. How can I help?”

“My boyfriend and I have been studying family and consumer sciences for the past two years. We’re planning to go into the restaurant trade once we graduate. And you’ve been a huge inspiration. But my question is a simple one. Neither of us have ever heard of rumbledethumps? What on earth are they?”

Marcus smiled. If only he had a pound for every time somebody asked him the same question. “If you had Scottish relatives, you’d know already. Many countries have their own version, but rumbledethumps is basically a traditional Scottish dish made from potatoes, cabbage, and onion, which is mixed together in a baking dish, seasoned, sprinkled with either cheese or breadcrumbs—depending on whether you’re vegetarian stroke vegan—and then baked. I suppose the closest English relative would be bubble and squeak, leftover vegetables from a roast dinner.”

“Wow. That simple?”

“Absolutely. But delicious. In my restaurants we offer mini portions as a side dish, or larger ones for sharing. Parents approve because it’s popular with the youngsters, even though it contains cabbage.”

After allowing a few more calls, Dr. Billie Rix took the reins and started to talk more generally about Marcus. “Marcus,” continued Dr. Rix, “congratulations on your award from Stonewall this year. During your modest rise to fame, you’ve been an inspiration to many young gay people. What’s your own coming-out story?”

“Hang on a moment. I can feel another book coming on.”

Dr. Rix laughed at the comment, while in the waiting area, Tina nodded enthusiastically and held a thumb in the air.

“I was very lucky. My parents work in theater and television, so they’re both liberal and broad-minded and supported me fully when I came out. At school I was never what you’d call macho, but I was taller than most, so perhaps that’s why I never got bothered by the big boys. Or maybe it’s because my closest friend was the best-looking girl in school and they all thought we were dating. Funny looking back on it now, but I only came out to everyone when I was at university, at the age of twenty. I think I’d known I was gay since the age of twelve. My best friend, Lorraine, certainly did.”

“And what piece of advice would you give to any listeners who are struggling with their own sexual identity?”

“Not even my close friends know this, but I used to be terrified of heights. I went out of my way to avoid standing near the edge of anyplace with a big drop because to do so would make me a trembling wreck. Until the age of twenty-two, that is. I joined some college friends on one of those outward-bound camps in North Yorkshire that entailed hiking, canoeing, and other active and supposedly fun stuff. And then one day the instructor split us into four groups and told us that we had team tasks to complete. One of the activities involved each member of our team scaling a cliff face to pick off an envelope with our name on. Unless all members of the team collected their own envelope, however, we would spend the night outside in a flimsy tent, in sleeping bags, on rough terrain, and in whatever conditions the weather brought. Each envelope contained a card with ‘gifts’ written on them on how comfortably we would spend the night. Things such as cooked food, warm clothes, access to washrooms with hot showers, even alcoholic drinks. But only if every team member picked an envelope would we get to eat in the mess kitchen and sleep in comfortable bunk beds in a cozy dorm.

“Staring up at the cliff face at the darkening sky full of rainclouds, I repeatedly told myself, ‘There’s no way I can do this.’ And then, one by one, my teammates climbed up the cliff and collected envelopes, some just as terrified as me, but all harnessed safely by professionals. The last one remaining, I remember standing there, getting more and more angry with myself, still scared but with the fury getting louder than the fear, at letting my teammates down. So I climbed. And I climbed. And I reached for my envelope just as the heavens opened. And still I climbed until I reached the top of that cliff face and was pulled over the crest by a climbing supervisor, a big bear of a man who wrapped me in a huge hug. Talk about incentive. And when I turned around and looked out through the rain, the view was incredible, and I wondered what the hell I’d been afraid of all this time. For me, that’s what coming out was like. Letting my anger overcome my fear and finally seeing things clearly.”

“Sign me up for that book. Now I’m sure you’ve heard a lot of people say that it gets easier. What advice do you have for our listeners?”

“It does. But keep in mind that self-acceptance is only the first step. After that, you need to start living your life. Being true to yourself, being honest about who you are. Standing tall and beating down any self-talk that tells you that you’re diminished in any way just because you’re different from many of those around you. Diversity is a gift in our society. One person being different from the next makes us stronger, not weaker. We become more interesting and certainly more tolerant of each other. And that can only make for a better society.”

“Well said, Marcus. Donald Kitter from theObservercalled you the best-looking and most eligible gay bachelor in London. Is that still the case?”

“Thanks for that, Dr. BR,” said Marcus, his voice softening. “I was seeing someone. Someone very special, actually. But for various reasons, that didn’t work out. So I’m keeping my options open. And to be honest, right now I don’t get a lot of time for anything but work.”

“So what’s next, Marcus?”

“Next? My manager and I will probably head back to the restaurant for last knockings. It’s not far from here and—” He faltered to a stop when he saw Tina through the thick glass window, rolling her eyes. “Or do you mean my plans for the future?”

“I think listeners are more interested in what the future holds.”

“Oh, yes, sorry. Well, I’ve got my hands full right now with the new restaurant opening in Birmingham at the end of January, but we’re always looking for new opportunities.”

“No thoughts about doing a television show?”

Marcus could see Tina nodding her head and grinning broadly. She’d set him up. They would have to have words when he was done. “Not sure people want to see my ugly mug on their tellies.”

“Oh, Marcus. I don’t think there’s a single listener on right now who would agree with you on that score. What do you think, Tim?” she said, addressing her sound engineer. “Would you like to watch Marcus live in action on your television?”

Tim, a bald bear of a man, grinned at Marcus and nodded eagerly.

As soon as they went to commercial, Marcus stood up, put his hands on his hips and glared at Tina, who shrugged and tried to look innocent. Fortunately they were approaching the end of the program and he just had to wait for Dr. Billie Rix’s trademark sign-off.

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