Discovering other tastes

Whether from the Greeks, Italian or Chinese greengrocers, I’m sure it wasn’t that my mother didn’t like (or couldn’t afford) some of the more foreign looking fruits and vegetables that may have been there, I just don’t think she knew what to do with them and maybe, introducing them to the family as a trial, may have met some stares and confusion (and no doubt out and out rejection) The brussell sprout incident may have been nothing in comparison to introducing an ‘eggplant mousaka’. I can imagine the comments that would have come from the table.
I started working in professional kitchens when I was around 14 years old. I very quickly learnt two things. One, I learnt a lot about this thing called ‘flavours’. Discovering that you can create some amazing flavours with the incredible variety of meats, vegetables, fruit, and these other things called ‘seasonings and spices’ that are out there in the world (and what a world of seasonings and spices I have discovered over the years). And Two; I didn’t want to be a head chef in a commercial kitchen for a hotel or resort, for all the tea in China. Every chef I met while working in these kitchens was angry, spiteful and aggressive (Gordon Ramsey definitely wasn’t the first). But regardless of this, there were some wonderful chefs, Executive and Head Chefs (the undisputed authority in the kitchens), Sous Chefs (the busy second-in-command) and others I encountered, Chef Steward, Working Chef, Chef's Assistants. I did this a lot, as the main kitchen I worked for, finished at Working Chef, but mostly I was also the chief dish-washer. And most of the dishes and pans were washed by hand, with a rinse sterilizer to finish.
I was shown some wonderful foods, methods and techniques by the various chefs, and some thanks should go to (‘Rickhard) the German born Sous Chef who had been working at the restaurant for the last two months. Despite what our ‘Executive Chef’ screamed at me at times, he understood I tried hard, even if I made the odd mistake and, based upon casual discussions and questions I asked, while they sat around discussing the next menu, or drinking a bottle of wine at the end of their evening, as I finished cleaning up their mess of pots, pans and utensils, he realized I was actually interested in food and, that I was a keen reader. As I was leaving one evening, after finally clearing up the kitchen some time after 10pm (I was only paid till 9pm when the kitchen closed, but had got behind at the start of the evening). He passed me a paperback book. It’s cover appeared somewhat ‘tatty’. He said I should read it, after I complete my homework. He said, “It is the book, to put kitchen work in perspective”. It was a paperback copy, very well thumbed, of George Orwell’s ‘Down and Out in London and Paris’(1933).