Is It Autumn? I Hadn't Noticed
in the words of future islands –
seasons change, and I’ve tried hard just to soften it. The last few weeks have been a whirlwind blur of rain, fallen leaves, big emotions, floating and falling, and a lot of bechamel sauce. I might have turned into a stick of butter. Or a loaf of potato sourdough. Or a block of mature cheddar. Or the scattered flour on the hob after blindly making a roux with no indication of measurement.
These days fresh summer pastas have been replaced with lasagnes; chopped salads with bowls of beans; morning granola with toast and butter and jam. Coffees still remain, a true morning consistency – so I’m taking in the smell of beans after they’re freshly ground; the bubble as the coffee travels up the percolator; the crema as it finishes its ascent.
Autumn has historically been my favourite time of year. London Fields on a crisp, blue-skies day. Hampstead Heath in the mist as the sun rises. Walking through the woods at home. Driving through Cornish lanes on the way to the Helford. Almost ice-cold swims. Sausage and mash season. Fish pie season. Pubs and fires season. Roasts every Sunday season. One pot meals and endless sides. Bread dipped in everything. Sandwiches filled with hunks of cheddar and lashings of caramelised red onions. Soups and sammies. Root veg every which way. Garlic forever.
It’s funny how the way we cook changes. Different pans emerge as September melts into October. The colours of your grocery shop change. As someone who has ardently opposed cooking one thing (as opposed to 15 different dishes, which is my usual MO), I’ve found myself putting things in trays in the oven, which is very unlike me. Judging by the amount of time it took to make a lasagne last weekend, it’s safe to say that my relationship with flour is changing. We’ll get there eventually.
Autumn is that sweet spot of cooking before the harsh winter arrives. Before it gets so cold that all we crave is heat. You can still mix and match cold salads with hot dishes. Autumn meals are the kind you want to eat in the middle of the afternoon, when the sky is still lit and you can drink a pint outside without shivering. It reminds me of solo 3pm lunches at Jolene, reading a book, drinking a glass of wine, eating things like polenta and ragu or their ham and cheese toastie with a ribollita soup. Writing and writing and writing. Then going home to try and recreate it all in the kitchen.
If summer is a zingy everything-and-anything salad served with a cold glass of pale rose, best served in an Italian garden with the sun beating down on your back, then autumn is a pot of beans simmering in a cast iron, bread rubbed with garlic toasting under the grill and a sour beer waiting for you next to the sofa, best served with you under a blanket in the afternoon light, windows cracked, the air sofrito-soaked and wanton with promise.
the not-so-usual roast –
Less a recipe as such, more a collection of dishes I made for a recent roast with close friends the other week. Roast chicken, heavily salted, left for 30 mins, patted dry and then stuffed with lemon, thyme and sage and several slices of butter under the skin, alongside a pestle-and-mortared parsley, garlic and olive oil paste; then roasted in a 190º oven for 40 minutes, checked to see if the juices run clear and then left to rest for 20 minutes.
Beans (this time a cup of kidney beans and a cup of chickpeas and a cup of fresh borlotti beans, left to soak all morning) simmering in a high-sided pot with a quartered shallot, some crushed garlic cloves, a few sprigs of rosemary, fennel tops, a pinch of chilli flakes, a big spoonful of salt and a generous twist of pepper, left on a low-medium heat for 2.5 hours.
For the veggies, a whole head of romanesco broccoli cut into steaks and slow roasted in a cast iron pan for 40 minutes at the bottom of the oven while the chicken is in, then put on the top shelf under the grill for 10 minutes to char, seasoned with dukkah.
Orzo for the win – boiled until slightly al dente, then added to a pan where shallots, garlic, chilli flakes and cherry tomatoes have been frying gently for 20 minutes, ladles of pasta water making it all glossy. A bitter leaf salad (radicchio and sliced fennel) scattered with chunks of parmesan and simply dressed with lemon, olive oil and salt and pepper.
A loaf of sourdough warmed up in the oven then broken up into big chunks, left for the end when everyone is a little wine-drunk and wants to soak up all the juices with pillowy pieces of dough.
It takes a bit of maneuvering when it comes to the hob/oven action. Just let everyone have a good old time in the living room and sink a few glasses of wine in the kitchen, and all will be fine.
a few leftovers –
– I've been following Toronto youth-and-femme led CSA Sundance and love founder Cheyenne's new programme, Growing Within The Margins, which supports low-income youth (BIPOC+/LGBTQ2S) who face barriers within the food system.
– This is the perfect autumn salad c/o LA's Botanica and I can't wait to recreate it
– More salad inspo from the ceramics dream queen Ana Kerin (aka KANA)
– Autumns in De Beauvoir are truly marked by lunches at Towpath Cafe, especially when they're serving up squash/sage/ricotta vibes
– DUSTY KNUCKLE SANDWICHES ON PRE-ORDER
– Yeah, meatballs, by Bon Appétit
– Pasta with mushies – always a vibe
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