A very odd collection of things
Yesterday at the market in my lunchbreak, again contemplating supper, my eye was caught by far too many good-looking things. Bunches of baby artichokes, with long stems and leaves; mizuna; the dramatic scorzanera roots; bundles of raazor clams, their bodies lazily poking out like tongues onto the ice; langoustines. I resisted all those on the basis of economy, but I couldn't resist the purple sprouting broccoli, my absolute favorite vegetable. So good. And then on the fish stall, I saw cods' roes all laid out for a cheap price, and remembered the delicious recipe I'd read in 'guru' Slater's book for real taramasalata, so I bought one of those. Then cheese from Neal's Yard (we get a fantastic discount due to working in the same building) and an oak-leaf lettuce, and some beautiful rhubarb stems. I didn't want any meat after the previous night's poussin and quite a lot of eating out this week.
I didn't really have a plan for how all these things might hang together as a meal - it was just what I felt like tasting in my mouth. (By the way, on my way back to the office I think I actually saw guru Slater himself right outside our door, loading himself and a cake from Konditor and Cook onto his scooter. Does anyone know if he really does have a scooter? Anyway, he looked exactly like his picture.) I picked up a huge loaf of bread from Flour Power at 6pm, when everything becomes half price and they give you loads more for free, and I figured I would just sort it all out later.
Fast-forward a few hours to the incredible, soul-eating humger that descends after a couple of after-work pints without anything in your belly. Rushing home back into the kitchen, I open Nigel's book to the tarama and realise I've made a schoolboy error. Raw cod roes, not the smoked ones. Stupid! What to do? Starving, I throw them into a frying pan and saute them, then decide to go for a sort-of tarama after all, crushing them up with garlic, plenty of lemon and salt and pepper for a sort of spread. Meanwhile, the broccoli get briefly steamed, bread gets cut and toasted, and we descend on the table and cram everything into our mouths.
Actually, the weird cod roe spread wasn't bad at all. If I had been less frantic, I think raw onion would have been a better addition than the garlic - more tart and fresh. The broccoli was divine. We polished it all off and then recollected some calm. A salad was made, cheese came out onto a plate, red wine poured and we started to talk rather than just eat. But still, I forgot entirely about the rhubarb, so that is simmering away as I write now, ready for our lunch.
I didn't really have a plan for how all these things might hang together as a meal - it was just what I felt like tasting in my mouth. (By the way, on my way back to the office I think I actually saw guru Slater himself right outside our door, loading himself and a cake from Konditor and Cook onto his scooter. Does anyone know if he really does have a scooter? Anyway, he looked exactly like his picture.) I picked up a huge loaf of bread from Flour Power at 6pm, when everything becomes half price and they give you loads more for free, and I figured I would just sort it all out later.
Fast-forward a few hours to the incredible, soul-eating humger that descends after a couple of after-work pints without anything in your belly. Rushing home back into the kitchen, I open Nigel's book to the tarama and realise I've made a schoolboy error. Raw cod roes, not the smoked ones. Stupid! What to do? Starving, I throw them into a frying pan and saute them, then decide to go for a sort-of tarama after all, crushing them up with garlic, plenty of lemon and salt and pepper for a sort of spread. Meanwhile, the broccoli get briefly steamed, bread gets cut and toasted, and we descend on the table and cram everything into our mouths.
Actually, the weird cod roe spread wasn't bad at all. If I had been less frantic, I think raw onion would have been a better addition than the garlic - more tart and fresh. The broccoli was divine. We polished it all off and then recollected some calm. A salad was made, cheese came out onto a plate, red wine poured and we started to talk rather than just eat. But still, I forgot entirely about the rhubarb, so that is simmering away as I write now, ready for our lunch.
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