We grew up on breakfast cereal. All my cousins and my older and younger brother, sister, grandmas, we got a big pot, a whole box of cornflakes, eight spoons, a whole can of evaporated milk with water from a kettle, and everyone was in deep.
We grew up poor but close, fighting over food. There’s an old-school saying: “What take long serve two masters.” Which means, if you’re going to leave your piece of chicken ’til last and eat all the potatoes first, don’t be surprised if someone takes your chicken.
I come from a Caribbean family, so it was rice and peas, jerk chicken, lamb, oxtail. During the week, Mum would make a lasagne, a spag bol. I give her top props for her munch. Saturday was soup day and Sunday was special, with her spicy marinade chicken. I’m so thankful that Mum taught me to cook; because not every day is a takeaway day. The first thing I learned to cook – my first experiment with a pan – was boiled eggs. Then fried egg; a fight in a frying pan and me dodging oil bullets. Then I discovered scrambled eggs and tuna, which I’d make for siblings. Then I had an infatuation with honey chicken, going to Iceland and getting five chicken fillets for a fiver and adding basmati rice.
My kitchen is an imitation, really, of my mum’s, except for the big American fridge. I’ve lived in Essex seven years now, but when I’m in Brixton I take all of my mum’s seasonings out of her cupboards and I leave 40 quid on the table so she can re-stock.
I’m scared of fish – the way they look at you. I do eat tuna, with salad cream, but I’m telling myself it tastes like chicken.
Whenever I go through Tesco’s and see something on offer, I want to pick up one or two. My missus says: “Babe, we’ve got six bottles of ketchup already.” But I’m thinking: “They were on sale for 90p.”
When I’m romantic I’ll make minted lamb. Yeah, man, I do have my romantic moments.
My girlfriend was in a coma for three days during pregnancy. She had pre-eclampsia then went into the coma. I thought I was going to be a single dad and it was really scary. We have a beautiful daughter now, aged three. I fed her when little; now she wants to feed herself and make a mess, from a lot of concentrates, fruit, vegetables. And she prefers pasta and cheese to meat. She’s not really a meat person, to be honest. Ed Sheeran is her godfather.
I love to eat and my eating pattern’s crazy, because I might do shows at 2am, and so I eat at night but I try to have smaller portions. When I’ve performed recently I’ve arrived on the afternoon and brought a packed lunch or I stick to chips. I’m scared sometimes of eating out at festivals, because of people’s hygiene. I don’t want to vomit from the bum again. I’m not about that life.
Big Narstie’s album BDL Bipolar is out now (Dice). The Big Narstie Show is on C4, Friday nights, 11.05pm
