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Covid one. Smell and taste nil. Bring on texture.

About five days into our Covid-ridden self-isolation, The Husband and I congratulate ourselves that we’re continuing to survive on garden produce, store cupboard items and what’s in the fridge – we haven’t even run out of milk yet. However, none of this really matters as two key elements of life have gone missing in action.

We asked friends to drop by a copy of yesterday’s paper. It’s as if Rachel Roddy is mocking us in her taste and scent-infused column in Guardian Feast Issue No.189 about pizzette fritte – little fried pizzas. She writes:

Frying dough – like grating lemons, opening a new packet of coffee or cheese snacks, chopping herbs or grinding spices – is one of the great smells.’

Rachel’s right, of course, the smell of toast, grilled bacon, sweet blackberries, toasted nuts and seeds, all up there too: mmmmmmmm… but the simple truth is, Covid has taken our olfactory sense. We can’t smell anything. De nada. No taste either.

The first time I really noticed the lack, was after a particularly robust fart. I know we all think our own gassy expulsions are either fragrant or odourless, but I’ve lived long enough with mine to know that they are vicious incendiary devices. However, The Husband brushed close by without his customary ‘Oh!’. And so began the listing of all the things we could not smell or taste: that’s everything. A sort of never-ending no-smell I-Spy. When you’ve been banged up together for a week, you get your kicks where you can.

The Husband and I agree we can’t live on crisps and jelly tots. But what to do about our zero powers of taste and smell?

It is all very weird and quite distressing. But also interesting.

We still get taste groups: sweet, sour/bitter, heat (spice), salt, but that’s it. We can taste the bitter back taste of coffee but not the pleasing aromatic beany earthiness; we get the spicy punch of our Thai prawn curry but no hint of the sea or richness of coconut.

What is scary is that you can’t do the sniff test on on-the-brink items in the fridge. You also can’t smell burning (as The Husband discovered when he burnt his potato waffles – he’s working his way through his crime-buys from Iceland). The aroma of your cooking is absent as is the taste-as-you-go option – no matter the deliciousness of the ingredients.

Of course, we are by no means alone in our unhappy state – and it’s a salutary reminder that many are permanently without their sense of smell and/or taste. The eldest stepson suggests it’s a good year to release an unsatolfactory cookbook – and I’m sure there are clever people who are already on the case.

The Husband and I agree we can’t live on crisps and jelly tots. But what to do with our zero powers of taste and smell?

The juggernaut of cooking at least one recipe from Guardian Feast each week must keep rolling on. We decide our food should be as much about texture and intensity of the taste groups as possible.

My take on Yotam Ottolenghi’s peanut butter cornflake brittle: it’s all about the texture!

Yotam Ottolenghi’s peanut butter cornflake brittle has several things in its favour: it’s crunchy, sweet, salty and it’s a great use of the desultory pile of cornflakes left by the departing grandchildren last week. The only substitutions are desiccated coconut instead of flakes and salted peanuts instead of unsalted – but that’s probably a positive in the circumstances.

This is a cracking granola-esque snack which would be nice crumbled on your morning fruit and yoghurt. It’s got a great crunch and very satisfying mouthfeel. It certainly brightened up our bitter coffee water. Very easy to make and definitely one for the cupboard in future.

By yesterday (Saturday) evening, all I could think about was Rachel’s little fried pizzas. The very idea of them made my mouth water. They had to be made: we have basil coming out of our ears, four ripe tomatoes, parmesan and plenty of flour. Yes, it would use some of our dwindling milk supply, but needs must! I set to.

All that tomato, olive oil, garlic and basil, you know it’s going to be good. And even if you can’t smell the dough frying or taste the full nuances of flavour with Covid palate (no basil or garlic zing), these are satisfying, fun-to-make bites. Rachel says the dough usually only puffs on one side – not mine – dough balls of delight! After juggling the unctuous sauce onto the first few, The Husband devised a press-and-plop method which worked well.

A bit like making Japanese gyozas (which we’re very fond of doing), these little darlings are a communal effort – particularly the tearing off of plum-size pieces of dough, flattening them and the sauce distribution – oh, and eating them while they’re piping hot with a glass in hand. Student Daughter has already put in her order for them when she’s allowed back home. Bring it on!

Original recipes:

Yotam Ottolenghi – peanut butter cornflake brittle

Rachel Roddy – pizzette fritte

My take on Rachel Roddy's 'pizzette fritte' from Guardian Feast Issue No.189, August 2021.
My take on Rachel Roddy’s pizzette fritte – from her Guardian Feast column: Tales from an Italian kitchen

Feast-ing: pastry, cabbage pasta, memories

I’m celebrating my love of the food columns and supplements in The Guardian by trying to cook at least one recipe from each issue of Guardian Feast in 2021. Find out a bit more about that here.

I tackled three recipes from Guardian Feast Issue No.158: Rachel Roddy’s citrusy Budini di riso fiorentini (little rice pudding tarts), Thomasina Miers’ lip-smacking Savoy cabbage and fennel sausage ‘lasagne’, and Yotam Ottolenghi’s rich and dreamy Macaroni with yoghurt and spicy lamb. Read on to find out how I got on and which recipes hit the spot. Link to original recipes at the end of the post.

Yes, the pudding rice went out of date in 2018 and there’s not quite enough but… I hum a happy tune, use the rice anyway and top it up with arborio – fine, right?

I’ve never been a great one for making pastry. It does, however, remind me of my lovely mum. When we were little, she always seemed to be wearing an apron dusted with flour and making pastry of some sort for something: steak and kidney pie, sausage rolls, apple pie, jam tarts. Let’s face it, back in the 60s pastry was a good cheap filler.

My participation in Mum’s very own Great British Bake Off was limited. Once I’d graduated from turning pastry offcuts into grey bobbly blobs, carefully arranged on a tray and baked in the oven (and always semi raw in the middle when they came out), I was allowed to rub the fat into the flour. I found it tedious. Mum always had to redo my rubbing. I still leave a lump of butter or six – nuggets of gold – in my bowl of ‘moist sand’.

Goats cheese instead of ricotta’s good, right?

Reading Rachel’s wonderful build up to the recipe for little rice pudding tarts gives me a false sense of peace and security. Additionally, these little tarts give me a warm glow as they remind me of pastel de nata – those delicious Portuguese tarts which I’ve enjoyed cooking with my youngest daughter.

But it was time to stop procrastinating and get on with the recipe. I feel the tension build: I can’t do pastry, there’s lots of stages to this and I’ll get it in a muddle. I breathe deep and think of my friend Pauline Beaumont, author of Bread Therapy: The Mindful Art of Baking Bread. Pauline advocates that baking is a stress buster and if approached mindfully can help us cope with the setbacks and imperfectness of life. My tendency is to try to ‘get ahead’ with recipes, but I determine to follow Rachel precisely. No running around with pastry daggings hanging off my hands grabbing forgotten items – I get all the ingredients out upfront and lay them out neatly.

Pauline Beaumont’s book. Pauline says you can learn lessons on living life by mindful baking.

Yes, the pudding rice went out of date in 2018 and there’s not quite enough but… I hum a happy tune, use the rice anyway and top it up with arborio – fine, right? One other little thing, Billy the fruit and veg man at Berwick’s depleted Saturday market has only Seville oranges. I understand there’s just a tiny window to make marmalade from this fruit but (hangs head) I’ve never really engaged. But Seville orange instead of ordinary and sweet sherry instead of vino santo – all good, yes?

Rice pudding tarts a la Jackie – I rather like the art-deco look of my blind-baked pastry cases

As you’ll note from the pictures above, I did blind bake the buttery sweet pastry. Not altogether successfully. Ah, well, ‘we move’ as my youngest daughter has taken to saying. The final result was pretty good, I think. The daughters felt the rice was a bit al dente (maybe to do with the date – I certainly cooked it for what felt like forever). I was rather partial to the effect of the Seville orange – a bit like a citrus version of the famous numbing Szechuan peppercorn. The Husband declared the pastry ‘like shortbread biscuits’. Perhaps pastry and I will eventually reach a truce.

Life’s too short to grate tomatoes, Yotam!

Next up, Thomasina Miers’ savoy cabbage and fennel sausage ‘lasagne’. This turned out to be a delicious and pretty easy supper. It feels as if it’s going to take ages with the blanching of individual cabbage leaves and so forth but all very manageable. I’m not used to tipping milk along with the tomatoes into a meaty sauce, so that was a bit of a revelation. I did double up as suggested by Thomasina. In these lockdown days, the four of us also eat lunch together, so it’s handy to over-cater the night before.

As you’ll see from the pics, my ‘lasagne’ was a lot sloppier than Thomasina’s, but that was probably my use of a tin of lentils from my cupboard. I assume Thomasina used dried lentils in the original (note to recipe writers – it’s useful to know these things). We all enjoyed the zing of the fennel seeds and were surprised at how effective cabbage leaves are as a sub for pasta. I used goats cheese I had in stock instead of ricotta – I can only get ricotta from the supermarket and it’s not supermarket week. Definitely on my list as a go-to easy-ish supper dish. However, the daughters declared that Yotam’s recipe (see below) trumped Thomasina’s.

My take on Thomasina Miers’ ‘lasagne’ made with cabbage leaves, sausages and fennel.

And, finally, Yotam’s macaroni with yoghurt and spicy lamb – probably the overall favourite of the week in a strong selection. It was interesting to make two recipes involving layering and dairy in the meat sauces (this one and Thomasina’s above) – and creating such different effects. I used fischiotti pasta (because that’s what we had) not sedanini – but any tuby pasta’s good, I think. Also I had no fresh coriander but had picked up a bag of frozen last time I was in our nearest food shop – Iceland – it worked fine.

The eldest daughter made positive murmurings about the ‘flavour profile’ of Yotam’s robust comfort dish and also enjoyed the texture the pine nuts delivered. It was quite a faff to make – so many largish pots crammed on the cooker at once – and I was glad it was a Friday night rather than a weekday ordinaire. And, just one thing, Yotam: ‘roughly grated tomatoes’? I mean, I did grate a couple and put the skins to one side (see pic below) but then I thought: dang it, I’ve got the processor out to finely chop the veg (which works a dream, by the way!) might as well make the most of it. So, in the tomatoes went, skins and all. It made the getting out, washing up and putting away of the processor worthwhile.

Life’s too short to grate tomatoes, Yotam!

This week’s recipes from Guardian Feast:

Rachel Roddy’s Budini di riso fiorentini

Thomasina Miers’ Savoy cabbage and fennel sausage ‘lasagne’

Yotam Ottolenghi’s Macaroni with yoghurt and spicy lamb

The jury’s out on what delights I’ll find to cook in Feast Issue No.159… the larder’s running low, so substitutions and invention will certainly be on the menu.

Cannellini bean challenge – more veg (ish) tales

I was inspired by an article in The Guardian Cook back in April (for recipes follow the link) about one pot of cannellini beans making four meals. I’m a great one for using tins of beans – particularly silky, creamy cannellini – but a bit lazy about soaking overnight etc. Since Rachel Roddy insists the flavour is better if you use dried beans and soak them, I went for it. Pretty delighted with the results – although my soupy-stew looks more like a gloopy stew, it tastes good. I left out the pancetta to keep it veggie but then caved in to a bit of crisped up organic chorizo on top from Peelham Farm here in the Borders. Job done!

Soup bubbling away nicely...

Soup bubbling away nicely…

More 'gloopy' soup than soupy stew but well tasty  even with the naughty addition of crispy chorizo!

More ‘gloopy’ soup than soupy stew but well tasty even with the naughty addition of crispy chorizo!

Next on my list was to freeze some of the beans and cooking juice for another week (none of us is up to beans four days a week) and then on to ‘the quick dip’. I really love this dip – it’s nearly up to my absolute favourite beany dip cum meal from (you guessed it) Yotam Ottolenghi – ‘Butter bean puree with dukkah’ – which, if you’ve never made it, has to be done. However, Ms Roddy’s recipe is jolly quick and a very credible alternative.

Cannellini bean and lemon puree - creamy and dreamy.

Cannellini bean and lemon puree – creamy and dreamy.

My third meal will probably be the ‘Creamy cannellini beans with sage and sausages’ – so more sneaking away from the veggie – but once you’ve got the base bean dish I reckon you can take it just about anywhere you want to go – the world, as they say, is your oyster (mushroom oyster for vegetarians).

With thanks to Rachel Roddy for the inspiration – you’ll find her on Instagram @rachelaliceroddy.

 

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