Gastrosophical Manifest Sol de Noite.
We want smells of strident colors, textures that make us change our skin, flavors with infinite notes, sharp, acute, spicy, bittersweet, warm, perfumed, crispy, capable of revolutionizing the ears and intoxicating us to the tip of our feet.
We venture unreservedly in search of the gastrosophal stone on the infinite path of enjoyment, we erase the imaginary lines that separate the alchemist from brush and ink, we descend from the false height to once again look from shoulder to shoulder at the poetess of the day to day, the provocateur, the insurgent: the kitchen.
We are hungry to be! We internalize the world through the gut, we stimulate the senses, we taste life, we chew ideas, we digest feelings and perceptions to finally expel propositions for change.
We are hedonists, conspirators of pleasure, tireless pursuers of joy, provokers of irreverence because our only faith is to resist. Nothing like doing it yourself!1
Eating is an action analogous to the exercise of thought, cooking a poetic, political and artistic act. In each tasted piece we devour mouthfuls of reality or fantasy, love or violence, dreams or resignations, abuse or justice, each food has a history, a social, economic and anthropological approach.
We are interested in the characters that work the land every day to deliver food to us, we thank them for blessing us with their hard work. We abhor all those mercenaries who get rich exponentially thanks to the work of the honest.
We declare ourselves errorists2, masters of improvisation. Our method: the drift; our tactic: the game; our strength: me, you, him, us… Our code: the pirate; our map: independent art.
We do not swallow whole, we doubt the status quo and flee from the caves3. We fight those who are comfortable with life4 because they affirm that water is not a right but a commercial good, we refrain from buying the elixir of life because one does not buy what already belongs to him and because we do not want more plastic. Spot.
We support the small producer, the neighborhood store, the supply center, the peasant market, artisan cuisine, organic farming, local and seasonal products. We tear down the industrial chains, of commerce and of any form of oppression established by the multinationals and neoliberalism. We want the global economy and its tyrants to fall.
Heroes? The seed guardians who guard the only sovereign future, a hope that seems lost. We ask the stars to keep us from Monsanto, AMEN!
Long live the crossed!5 Anyone who dives into the interstices and finds there new spices to flavor the bland pulp of the consumer society. We reinvent ourselves day by day, we take to the streets and occupy public space, everyone is welcome, the city is yours!
We worship the Pachamama, all the ancestral gods, the water, the earth, the fire, the wind, the sky. We resonate with all the sister stars, because we are stardust, incandescent bodies thirsty for beauty made food.
We revere the divine fruits from the skin to the stem, relishing every sour, sweet and juicy whiff of a fleshy fruit. We combat waste and unmask the nature of orchestrated scarcity.
We understand that meat does not come on a tray6. Vegetables and legumes either. What is the end of Styrofoam! We know that there is no better packaging than the one designed by nature, hail almighty creator! Cigarette? Bag? Packaged food? Canned? Fast food emporiums? NO THANKS, I prefer to live.
We are aware of the interests of the drug mafias, we will not fall into that trap again! Headache pills? Capsules for instant relief? NO THANKS, I prefer good food.
We claim the kitchen as a meeting place, a laboratory for collective creation, a nucleus for political action from culture and an analogous network.
We rave about every spoonful of tradition, we reject gourmetization and the false poses of haute cuisine that serves and promotes capitalist demands. We embrace the simple and beautiful cuisine, the one from home, the one that allows us to travel through time and space in the first contact with the palate.
We rise up against consumer outrages, the fine print insults us! We want to know what we eat, we can no longer stand the show lights of supermarkets and we vehemently avoid setting foot in those dens.
Let the spirits tremble when swallowing because the new times are approaching, the revolution of the spoon is coming and it does not come to take a turn, it does so to turn around.
New aromas are approaching, the Sun announces its rise from the plate, it comes with new horizons where to establish the kitchen as a new language of plastic arts, proposing a new order of the senses in the interaction of the public with the work. Good gastrosophical will come!
HEALTH AND GOOD ENJOYMENT!
THE SOUTH IS MY NORTH
Sol de Noite
Itinerant Laboratory of Creative Cuisine