Still Making Plans π€π½
the future unravels in our minds β
Plans are made. We imagine, dream and wish. We think of every scenario, play out every scene and hope for the best. Trips to distant lands; a move across the country; a lover here, a dog there. When I close my eyes, I see restaurants opening, dance floors heaving, bellies and hearts full. And yes, definitely a German Shepherd puppy named Scout.
We've never felt so uncertain about the future. Right now the only plans that can be made consist of: what are we cooking for dinner; which iteration of the neighbourhood walk can we make; maybe a sneaky walk in the woods with friends. All those dreams we have, they feel untenable, intangible β like lightening which strikes too far away. And then the sound hits. Weekends away, trips to the coast, time spent with family, campfire cooking or cross-country drives β all of them a far-off ideal.
So, we make the most of them. I spend Saturday mornings scouring new fruit and veg shops, lost in a sea of seasonal produce. Hands reaching for bright citrus, deep purple bitter leaves, forest greens, wild and wonderful mushrooms and carrots the colour of bruises. Walking the long way round to stay out a little longer. Long, elaborate brunches. Drinking champagne in bed listening to the rain because when else can we celebrate?
Although we can't exactly plan for the next few months, I still write down what I hope to do. This mainly consists of:
All the meals I'll eat with friends and the restaurants we'll sit in
The shimmering sun and cold cold wine, rooftop picnics and lying on the grass until 10pm
A trip up to Scotland to celebrate my 30th, where I've declared that everything must happen in groups of 30 β 30 miles, 30 dips in 30 lochs, 30 Shetland ponies, 30 cuddles with dogs (those last two might be slightly more challenging to source)
Hugs with my not-so-new niece who I've only seen once since she was born
Hugs with my parents who I haven't hugged since February 2020
A hopeful trip to Portugal to slide on waves with old friends
A sun-soaked South London summer and multiple dips in Hampstead Heath
Velveteen dips in the Helford River at sunrise with my favourite people
A GERMAN SHEPHERD NAMED SCOUT (who has the swishiest tail and wears a red bandana)
So here's to all the plans we have in the face of uncertainty; to holding onto them tightly and wishing them into reality; and to hugs. The main thing I plan to do as soon as I can.
Cat x
mushies + cream
Cold weather begs for comfort food. Anything creamed, mashed, slow-cooked, simmered and stewed. Or... pasta. Always. Forever. Particularly one which involves mushrooms cooked slowly in butter and cream, infused with flecks of chilli flakes, garlic, fresh thyme and parsley.
In a large, shallow, heavy-bottomed pan, heat up a large knob of butter with a splash of olive oil (so the butter doesn't burn) and when it starts to melt add two fat cloves of garlic (minced or finely chopped) with a pinch of chilli flakes and a leaves from 3-4 big stalks of fresh thyme. Make sure the heat is on low-medium so it doesn't burn the garlic.
Put on a pot of salted water and add your pasta of choice (we went for tagliatelle, because it's *chef's kiss*).
Add some lemon zest, another knob of butter to the garlic and then a big bowl of sliced mushrooms (I used two medium portobellos and four big oyster mushies). Coat the mushrooms, add a pinch of salt and pepper, a splash of white wine then pop a lid on for a few minutes so everything softens.
Once the pasta is cooked, use tongs to transfer to the mushroom pan, adding a few spoons of pasta water (obviously!) and then about 1/2 carton of single cream (around 110ml). Add more pasta water if it's looking a little dry.
Remove from the heat then stir in some more lemon zest, however much parmesan you want, a big handful of chopped parsley and finish with a swirl of olive oil and any amount of seasoning you feel is necessary.
Serve with a simple bitter leaf salad (radicchio, juice of half a lemon, olive oil, salt + pepper, lemon zest and a mountain of parm) and if you're anything like us, eat while watching the 2002 Scooby Doo film and fall asleep on the sofa.
food stories.
β The way Ruby Tandoh writes forever, especially this piece on why your hands are your greatest kitchen utensil (strongly agree).
β "I worked with countless founders like this, like me, who were obsessed with image: constantly tweaking the look, feel, and tone of voice of their companies." When you launch a food biz but you lose yourself, from Ali Francis for Bon AppΓ©tit
β I appreciate anyone who loves salad as much as I do, so here's Sam from London restaurant Leroy on why their three-ingredient salad changed his life (via Rooted)
leftovers.
β Speaking of Bon App, listen to this podcast series on the scandal that consumed their summer last year
β An old profile on Sweetbitter author, Stephanie Danler, on her food experience and writing the book (which I've read seven times and counting)
β Weirdly obsessed with making this beer-braised onion and cheddar dip
β Everything you need to know about bitter leaves
β How to cut citrus for salads and make them look extremely pretty
β Also this podcast, The House Specials, from Peddler Journal + hosted by food writer Hetty McKinnon. Season two features all women of colour chefs.
β More salad inspo from my LA favourites, Botanica, feat pearl couscous + dates
β Alison Roman's Home Videos are the content I need, especially this version of chicken with dates
β It was my mum's 71st birthday yesterday (I mean, she doesn't look a day over 40 tbh) so go ahead and follow Kie-Jo Sarsfield on Insta for even more food content than I could ever serve up β especially like the posts where she refers to my dad as "my old man".
before you go.
Obviously in more normal times, I'd suggest going for an IRL coffee (or more likely, a martini). But if you like what you're reading and want to support my writing, I've set up a Ko-Fi account.
and if you like what I'm putting down?
Tell your friends! Tell your family! Tell your lovers!