All Pursuit And No Love
On being consumed vs consuming, and the hardships that come with the pursuit of love (and food)
Food For Thought.
The pursuit of love is never easy. But it is fun. Thrilling. Enthralling. Messy. Read: it's complicated, but everyone loves a bit of drama – why else would we watch so much tv? But to me it can feel like all pursuit and no love.
I'm ruminating on this after watching the Emily Mortimer adaptation of The Pursuit Of Love, a trilogy written by Nancy Mitford following Linda Radlett, an upper-class bright young thing living in the early 1900s, narrated by her slightly more square cousin, Fanny. Long story short, Linda is obsessed with love – only heightened by the fact that she's been kept at home (an albeit very large estate with horses) by her Conservative, old school father. She dreams of every way she can fall in love; the life she'll live once she finally escapes. And eventually she does, her life constantly being led by the men she's tangled up in. Like… a Communist. A French Duke. A Bullingdon Club member.
V consumed, but are we even paying them any attention?
Lily James plays Linda and as to be expected from LJ, she's very good at playing that whole wide-eyed innocent with a glimmer in her eye. This isn't meant to be a review (it would be a terrible one if that was the case), but the point is that Linda is utterly consumed with being consumed and I wonder if she ever cares about what she's consuming anyway. She's ravenous for affection. She's hungry with desire. But once it hits her – often like a bullet – she tires of it immediately and finds a way to escape what has now become quotidian and simply moves onto the next. 100% can relate. In life. And in food.
How many times have I been obsessed with the idea of cooking rather than enjoying eating it in the moment? The ritual of roasting a chicken. The romance of pouring coffee. The long, languorous stir of a risotto. Or the seeming nostalgia of cooking rice in a Donabe pot. And when it comes to the actual eating of it, I'm exhausted already. It's not the cooking that's tiring; it's the thinking about it constantly that wears me out. Because I've woven food into my identity. Much like how Linda always tied love into hers.
Sorry, risotto.
TBC on the solution, because it's going to take a lot of therapy to remove 'thinking about food' from my list of bad habits. But if I can do it with love, then I can do it with food. Years of chasing after a love that was unkind, unreciprocated, unfeeling. Equal parts heartbreaking and heart racing. I quit the pursuit. Then moved onto love. And I won't lie. It's pretty nice. To love. And be loved. To step into its reality, rather than dramatise it.
While I won't stop thinking about food 24/7, maybe I can start to dig into the moments, rather than trying so hard to be caught in the act of doing them. To drink the coffee with as much enthusiasm as I have just thinking about it. To use up the stock that I spent hours making because it's become This Thing I Do Now. Literally no one cares if I make a stock. But if I'm doing it, I should care about using it. Because what's the point otherwise?
Here's to consuming, not just being consumed. In life. In love. In food.
Cat x
Recipes-not-recipes™️
Hopefully you’ll have Got The Gist that this section is really less of a recipe and more of a place where I write down a list of ingredients and half stumble over words that say what it eventually became, even though I had no real plan in my mind other than: eat what’s in the fridge, stop buying more food.
I (1) fried up some finely sliced smoked garlic on a low-medium heat because it smells like fire and I’m into that, with a big pinch of red chilli flakes, some lemon zest (sliced rather than grated) of half a lemon. Once the garlic looked like it was about to go from golden and sizzling to bitter and burnt (a fine line, in food and in life), (2) I added a few spoons of chicken stock I had in my fridge. Sure you could use veggie stock or even water. The main thing is to diffuse the situation.
Then and (3) I popped in some sliced leeks (I always buy leeks and then I wonder, what do I do with this allium?). (4) Then a few purple sprouting broccoli. (5) Lid on so it steams. Maybe more stock? (6) Then a few spoons of chickpeas. (7) Sliced chicken because I’m crazy like that. (8) Keep adding stock, enough so it gets saucy but not soupy. Another fine line. Don’t cross it.
(9) Twist of pepper. Pinch of salt. Taste. Lemon juice perhaps? Serve (I ate mine out of the skillet because washing up). (10) Cue: wild garlic pesto (I swirled it into some homemade mayo when I made this for the second time for lunch the next day). Also cue: parmesan. Final cue for the lemon zest. Fin.
Since I Asked
I’ve been following Rosa (aka @toomanyforks) for a while now, and much like my last SIA guest Ethaney / @tenderherbs, I feel a massive sense of calm when I watch her food stories (the ASMR of jars sterilising will forever be my sleep sound). Unlike me, Rosa is a master baker and pro at anything sweet, and her homemade rhubarb jams – made from the rhubs in her mum’s garden – sell out so quick that I’ve missed out on them TWICE already.
How does cooking make you feel - why do you do it?
Cooking and baking makes me feel like the part of my mind I love the most is happy and excited. In the last twelve or so months, it's felt like a fun punctuation in what at times has been a pretty mundane lifestyle during lockdown. I do it because when I have a project that I'm working on, I spring out of bed when the sun is coming up and create something that will make the person who's going to eat it smile.
Challenge: write a simple recipe in one sentence that is a go-to for you.
Bright, beautiful and fresh tomatoes cooked slowly on a low heat with EVOO, confit garlic, herbs, chillies and whatever beans I have in my cupboards; this meal is always there in my fridge for lunchtimes at home.
If you were a jam, what would you be and why?
Jam for me is something that is cosy and easy, a flavour that you add to those little things you already love; toasted buttery sourdough, warm porridge on a cold winter morning... So with that in mind I think I'd be a lingonberry jam; a flavour I know well, and that makes me feel comforted and content.
The meal you’ll be cooking for friends and family when you can gather them all?
Roast. Chicken. It wins every time! Roasted with lots of butter, thyme, sage, onions, garlic, lemon, salt and pepper. For sides I use whatever is in season, so for this month I might include new potatoes, baby carrots and asparagus. I can't forget dessert, that's my most favourite part to make! I'd use the abundance of rhubarb that my Mum's been growing, and make a rhubarb galette to eat with crème fraiche. Everyone in my family, and all of my friends love this meal... even my baby niece! It's something that brings us all together and makes us smile.
Leftovers.
– I love Dan Pelosi for obvious reasons, but nothing cemented it more than his guide to packing cooking utensils for an Airbnb holiday.
– Next time someone you’re drinking wine with says it tastes minerally – ask them, but does it really taste like rocks? Via The New Yorker.
– Nothing like an Ottolenghs rice and feta situation, amirite?
– Literally every reel that Carolina Gelen from Food52 makes.
– Spring on a plate, feat. fregola and asparagus.
– If you need me, I’ll just be dreaming that I own this kitchen in J Tree
