Imagine spending the majority of your evening meals alone in your room for around seven years of your life. Imagine spending roughly 2,000 dinners bingeing solo and silently through spaghetti bolognese, sharing bags of Doritos and boxes and cream cakes. Picture the grease, crumbs and shallow breath clinging to your face, as you slump safely and freely from the gaze of judgemental eyes.
Good. Now, imagine the social anxiety of being thrust into a room full of beauty, lifestyle and food bloggers you don’t know and being asked to share conversation and food with them.
Exactly.
I had been avoiding immersing myself within the Birmingham blogging scene since moving back home almost a year ago. I’d been enjoying some relief away from London’s digital spotlight, and had ignorantly assumed that blogging didn’t really exist up here anyway. I’d dabbled somewhat, by introducing myself to Delicious PR over email, but until Monday, hadn’t committed to attending any of the events they had organised.
Only when I arrived five minutes too early and sat in my car until the parking meter turned free, did I consider the overwhelming anxiety I was headed for. In London, I knew the majority of food and health bloggers on the scene through Not Plant Based, but this was a whole other experience entirely. Greeted by awkward hellos and a glass of soft, pink fizz, I gulped back introducing myself shyly, as I watched everyone else remember each others faces and names. Normally in these situations I’d get smashed in order to drown the nerves, but I hadn’t planned that far ahead this time…and drove.
As canapés and more fizz to decline skated from blogger to blogger, I relaxed into hostage-networking with a few women, trying to explain the concept of my blog without wanting to reveal the extent of my mental health issues to strangers. I settled into a rhythm, holding both my phone and an alcohol-free cocktail so I’d have something to do with my hands. I tend to drink and eat far more when I’m anxious. I think so that I have a way to clog my mouth to prevent conversation lulls. But this time, I’d made an error choosing this tactic. I missed a valuable opportunity to grab a seat next to a blogger I’d become acquainted with so I could refill my drink at the bar. Before I knew it, everyone was already sat down. Shit.
I lurked toward what appeared to be the more popular table. “Is this seat free?” I asked. “No.” I got. Twice. Those had been reserved for the lionesses, not the wounded antelope they weren’t yet ready to hack to bits should the menu not be to their liking.
Second table it was.
A little socially torched, again I went against my introverted nature and tried to make friends through mouthfuls of soft shell crab pakora. It’s an interesting concept – to eat in front of people you don’t know. On the one hand, it’s nauseating to think of accidentally spitting quasi-chewed seafood bits onto their face mid-sentence, but on the other hand, the food sparks conversation. “How did you find the chargrilled salmon fillet?” “How was the reshmi lamb tikka?” “Oh, I love this salmon and seabass fish cake tikki!”
Appetisers and starters over, I almost began to enjoy myself, even without alcohol. Itihaas – meaning history – is exactly that, a historic staple within Birmingham’s Indian food scene with ornate furnishings, imperial vegetation and staff that won’t quit until they’ve filled you with enough food and booze that you pop. Mains arrived intimidatingly, too much for our table to cope with. Beautiful, artistic palettes of jaipur lamb tikka, methi murgh mirch (chicken), tandoori soya tikka masala, truffle oil and poppy seed naan, chilli olive naan, murgh biryani and my favourite, goan lobster curry. I couldn’t help thinking, as I spooned each onto my plate in brightly coloured mountains, that I wouldn’t be eating as well as this again in a very long time.
Although I didn’t stay for dessert, being sweettoothless, I’m glad I went to Itihaas. Despite initial anxieties, I met a few real blogger gems that I’d love to see and talk to again. It’s always a great opportunity to be invited to a plush restaurant in terms of filling your stomach, but to do so with likeminded souls who don’t give a shit whether you take more time photographing your food than eating it, is priceless. I mean, what other group of people would whip out their phone torches in sync to light your selfie? Not many, I can tell you that for free.
I also didn’t spit on anyone’s face so that’s nice isn’t it.