Food For Thought
It's 7am in a high-rise hotel in Boston. The sun is bouncing off all the other buildings and I am fully dressed. My dad and I are about to embark on the unspoken yet crucial ritual that always marks the first day of our holiday. We creep out of the room because my brother and mum are still fast asleep. And we walk.
The destination? McDonald's.
The order? Four sausage and egg McMuffins™️, four hash browns, two orange juices and three coffees (at ten years old, my palate hadn't yet developed a taste for the bitter intensity of caffeine).
We pick up the food and weave through the city. It was our way of getting the lay of the land, surveying the streets and discovering the best routes back to our hotel. We'd return to the room, where the other two would have just woken up, their eyes widening from sleep thanks to the unmistakeable smell of salt and grease. The tang of orange juice. The bittersweet aroma of coffee. We'd eat in the hotel room, discussing our plans for the day. It was the beginning signifier of weeks spent driving on long and wide open roads; of swimming pools I'd refuse to leave; of beaches that stretched for miles; of sprawling supermarkets where we'd buy food to tide us over; of sleeping in crisp hotel cotton; of making friends with girls who looked just like me over snow cones (true story); of meals that I can still remember the taste of. Lobster dripping in golden butter. Velvety clam chowder.
My brother and I reinstated this ritual when we arrived in LA in few years ago. Desperate to fight the jet lag, John stayed up as late as he could in our airport-side hotel that we were staying in for a night before picking up our car. I was not that strong. I fell asleep as soon as we got into our room, and as a result woke up at 3am with no desire to ever sleep again, it seemed. By 4.30am, I'd already scoped out the food situation near us (that close to an airport, the options were limited).
Me & McDonald’s around 7am PST. LA, 2018.
At 6am, my brother still asleep, I got dressed and headed downstairs. A two minute walk away there was a McDonald's. It was something I hadn't eaten for a long time, owing to a slightly more refined palate and years of disordered eating. But it reminded me of those childhood trips. I made the usual order and returned to the room. I thought it was funny that as someone as obsessed with food as I am would choose to eat McDonald's the signify the beginning of our West Coast road trip. But it was a meal tinged with nostalgia. And it tasted good.
I'm still not a Maccy D's regular. But once in a while, I'll pop in. For the nostalgia. But also because over the years, I've realised you don't have to be eating in a top restaurant or cool neighbourhood spot, or even be eating epic meals at home to remember the moments. Often food isn't even about what it tastes like at the time, but the mark it makes in our memories. The drive-thru meal we ate when driving late at night in London means as much to me as the Jolene dishes we ate the first time we went to a restaurant together. The TV dinners we stick in the oven because we're too tired to think of an alternative hold just as much laughter as the all-dressed-up nights at Quo Vadis (although, miss you QV).
So here's to all of the food that marks our memories, whether it's shitty hangover sandwiches eaten on road trips, unforgettable restaurant experiences or the worst meal you ever cooked.
Cat x
Recipes-not-recipes™️
We first made this sausage and pesto pasta on New Year's Eve. And in my drunken stupor, I remember it being the best first bite of my life. But thanks to the magnum of champagne (and the rest) we consumed that night, my mind goes blank after that. So I remade it the other evening, and it was as good as I (vaguely) remember.
For two people you'll need:
Pasta of your choice – would highly recommend mafalde corte (bc it's cute) or conchiglie mezze (the medium sized shells that the pesto + sausage meat can really nestle into)
3-4 sausages/5-6 chipolatas (or veggie equivalent – would use more like 5-6 veggie sausages because they're usually a little thinner)
1 tsp olive oil
1/4 cup torn parsley
Zest and juice of 1/2 lemon
For the pesto:
2-3 cups basil (2 packets would work)
1/4 cup toasted pine nuts (or your choice of nuts)
1/2 cup grated parmesan
1 garlic clove
1/4 extra virgin olive oil
Salt & pepper to taste
Start with the pesto. I like big chunks of parmesan and pine nuts in this dish, so either blend in a food processor but not for very long, perhaps just pulsing and checking to see how coarse it is. You don’t want a liquid pesto (made that mistake before).
Or use a big mortar and pestle, starting with the pine nuts, then add oil, garlic, basil and more oil. Add salt and pepper to your taste.
Next: remove the sausage meat from its casings. In a shallow frying pan, heat a little glug of olive oil and once hot, and add the meat, breaking it up with the back of a spatula. You want to make sure the meat is really broken up so it can crisp up. Boil the pasta in salted water until the pasta is just a bit softer than al dente. Obviously save some pasta water.
When the sausage meat is looking golden, add the pasta, a few tablespoons of pasta water and coat. Add in about 2-3 tbsp of pesto, stir through so the pesto and sausage meat becomes encased in the little nooks and crannies of the pasta. Add the lemon juice (you can use less – I think the lemon balances out the richness of the meat). Stir through until all the liquid as evaporated.
Stir torn parsley and lemon zest into the pasta. Serve it up with some extra grated parm. I put together a bright and zingy salad with a dressing that was equal parts white wine vinegar, oil from a tin of anchovies, honey, wholegrain mustard and a squeeze of lemon, plus salt + pepps. Eat while watching re-runs of Sex And The City wondering, what ever happened to The Russian?
Since I Asked
I sent over a few questions to SNOA reader Tegan Minzie, who joined the community earlier this year and has shared the newsletter with some very sweet words attached before. Without being too earnest – because we all know I can really Go There – connecting with new people is one of the best things about writing this newsletter. If you fancy answering a few questions on random food memories, hit me up! Tegan’s answers have got me craving curried goat, and hell yes to her tomatoey pasta that heals her heart. Same.
What is the food/meal/dish that makes you get up in the morning?
On a typical day, all it takes is a bowl of Cheerios. However, if someone wants to make me Blueberry pancakes, then I definitely will not hesitate to get my lazy self, up and ready to eat. Pancakes are my go-to breakfast/brunch dish.
What was your favourite food growing up and why?
Curried goat with rice 'n' peas. Whenever I have this, it always reminds me of being a kid and going on trips to Jamaica to see my Grandma. It's still one of my favourite meals and my mum normally makes it on big family get togethers.
The world has been fixed, the pandemic is over, travel and restaurants are back. Where are you going and what are you eating?
Everywhere! The list is so long, but I'll probably start with a few countries in Europe because I have friends scattered in different places, Sweden, Italy and France are the first stops. In terms of what I'll be eating, take me somewhere that serves Thai food, I can't get enough and there are so many more dishes I want to try.
The recipe or meal that sews up your heart when it's hurting?
A tomatoey pasta of some sort with lots of cheese. I think it's because it's so quick and simple to make so whenever I feel rubbish, I can just throw it together with minimal effort and I always seem to have the ingredients already in. I don't know what it is but it always makes me feel better, it's great for hangovers too!
Leftovers
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The why of cooking – The Atlantic explores Samin Nosrat’s the most efficient path to kitchen wisdom. I’m still searching.
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