Asa teen,youhelpedyourfatherathis
ChickenUnlimitedrestaurantinChicago.
I wasthedeliveryboy,anddrovethis
tricked-outChevyvan.Ourrestaurant
servedasa gatheringplaceforlonely
peoplewhohadnowhereelsetogo– an
oldmandyingofcancer,a manicwoman
whousedtochain-smokeandchain-drink
Pepsis,wholaterjumpedintotheChicago
Riverandwassaved,againstherwill,by
a guypassingby.So,greattrainingfora
writerinthemadvarietyoflife,butalso
inthepracticeofhavingtenderfeelings
for people who, at first, you might dismiss.Didthejobkillyourappetite
forchicken?I stilllikeit.But
I sometimesthinkbackwith
horrorat thesheernumber
ofcaloriesI ate.I wasalso
tryingtobea bodybuilder
andwasveryskinny,somy
missionbecame“bulkup”,
whileworkingat a fast-food
restaurantwhereeverything,includingthe
softdrinks, gets deep-fried. It was not hard.Youonceworkedasa fieldgeophysicistin
Indonesia.Didyouenjoythelocalfood?
I’dgetsentintothefield,deepintothe
Sumatranjungle.We’dsendina “rintis”
crew,whowouldcutverynarrowpaths
intothewoods.Ourguyswouldcatch
troutfrompristinestreams,spicethem
withlocalspicesandburythemina
firepitfortheday.I havenevertasted
anythingthatwonderful.It waslike
eating beautifully flavoured air.GeorgeSaundersappearsatSydneyWriters’
Festivalon2 May,swf.org.au.Hislatestbook,
Fox 8 (Bloomsbury, $21.99, hbk) is out now.George
Saunders
TheBookerPrize-winningauthor
onchicken,writingritualsand
his affinity with maîtres d’.
EATING WITH
Youhavecomparedbeinganauthorto
beinga maîtred’ata restaurant.Why?
Well,as a writer,youhavea chance- a responsibility– tomakea beautiful
experienceforyourreaderbyanymeans
necessary.Youareina servicerole that
allows for infinite creativity.
Yourstory,“Two-MinuteNotetothe
Future”,wasprintedonpaperbagsby
fast-foodchainChipotle.Howdidthatfeel?
It gotmoreresponsethananythingelse
I’dpublished– forexample,fromold
friendswhohadnoideaI wasa writer.
Sothatwasnice.Formynextproject,
I amgoingtopublisha storyliterallyon
a series of McDonald’s hamburgerbuns.Is consumingcaffeinea writingritual?I am
a coffeeman,yes.That’saboutmyonly
habit.I heardthelovelywriterLyndaBarry
talkonceaboutpatternsofinterruption
thatartistsenact,andI’vesincenoticed
that,whenI getona goodrunina story,
I willonly(lapsedCatholicthatI am)let
myselfgosofar.ThenI goupstairsandget
a pretzelrodora grahamcrackerand,just
bydoingthat,myelationwilldieback
down enough for me to go back to work.What’sthemostunconventionalplace
you’vehada meal?I dida storyforGQ
a fewyearsago,whereI livedincognito
ina homelesscampforabouta week.
Churcheswouldcomeandpassoutfood
forthepeopleinthecamp.Atoneofthese
meals,I hadgottensotiredofpretending
tobea homelessguy,I confessedto
oneofthechurchmumsthatI was
a wr iterworkingforGQ. Shelookedat
mesceptically(partofmyapproachwas
nottobatheorchangeclothesthatwhole
time)andthensympathetically.“No,
seriously,”I said.Shebegantoedgeaway.
I hadthatmomentofreallyfeelingwhat
it wasliketobedownandout– I was
auto-assumedtobecrazyanddangerous,
andthemoreI triedtoexplainmyself,the
crazierandmoredangerousI appeared.
Andtheonlywaytoputherat peacewas
totakemydryhamburgeronmyplastic
plate and vanish back into the crowd.●26 GOURMET TRAVELLERINTERVIEW LEE TRAN LAM. PHOTOGRAPHY CHLOE AFTEL.How I eat