Staycation Meals
And the art of thinking ahead.
Food For Thought.
You recognise it when it hits you. The scent that fills the air after it rains. Earth. Minerals. Petrichor. It's fresh and heady and softer than freshly cut grass. Less manicured. More real, somehow. It's 8pm the night before my 30th birthday and we now understand the true meaning of Lake District weather. Hazy sunshine as we dipped in a tarn – the water fresh but not biting – and then a hike up through grey clouds and a descent to the road as hail hits our faces. But it's worth it for that smell.
While I hope my 30s might teach me a thing or two about relinquishing control and letting go of plans, there is something to be said about thinking ahead when it comes to food. I put my hands up and admit I'm addicted to dreaming up meal combinations, grocery list-making and grocery shopping. Sure, it would be far more sexy to be loose and spontaneous and just be able to 'go with the flow', but I've never been the kind of person to be super-casual-just-walked-in (although I spent most of my 20s trying to convince people I was, and then bitterly disappointing them when they got to know the true inner control-freak that I am. Luckily the good thing about mates is they accept you for all your flaws and make you realise you don't have to try so hard to be someone else in the first place. Lessons).
Anyway the point is we arrived in Windermere and the first place we went is Booths. Booths is heaven. It's a supermarket you only find in the North and I think if I could I would live in it. My mum described it as 'the Waitrose of the North' but it's so much better than that. The sauce section alone is a testament to everyone who has ever made a sauce and bottled it (Lancashire sauce 4eva). The best part about it is loads of the vegetables are sourced from Lancashire (my dad's county), so I feel a certain sense of nostalgia and duty buying tomatoes, kale and parsley grown just next door.
Armed with enough booze to supply a small wedding party (Oyster Bay savvy b, a bottle of Primitivo, champagne + ten tins of Fosters from my parents – a classic combo; a bottle of Tillingham's Col '19, champagne and ten tins of Stella from us), and two coolers given to each other as birthday present (his a Snow Peak cool bag, perfect for taking packed lunches on hikes; mine, a massive Yeti Tundra, perfect for car picnics), we were blissfully happy not popping into pubs or booking restaurants. On my birthday we ate a perfect caf lunch of scampi + chips and jacket potato, beans and cheese (Red Leicester, what a dream). And on our last night we scoffed down fish and chips and mushy peas by Lake Windermere because holiday, and also washing up.
Breakfasts were farm-fresh eggs purchased from down the road either fried, boiled or poached on top of crunchy sourdough and doused with Cholua hot sauce (you've got to bring the condiments) and always sprinkled with chives (an apparently never-ending supply). Lunches were leftovers packed in Tupperware: chicken sandwiches eaten on the side of winding mountain roads, and a combo of wild garlic pesto, chicken, potato salad and pasta eaten in the car as the rain rippled the water on Lake Coniston.
I guess my point is, sure be free to see where the proverbial food wind takes you, but don't knock knowing what meals might serve you when you're staying in a cabin during a pandemic when pubs and restaurants are only operating with outdoor tables and it's pretty likely it will rain. Also a PSA that champagne is the ultimate accompaniment to any meal, but you don't want to get too used to pairing pesto pasta with a bottle of Moet.
Here's to the holiday meals, that taste that much sweeter when you've stepped away from your daily life and stepped into your dream alternate reality (or in my case, my past Shed Life).
Cat x
Recipes-not-recipes™️
Yes you can buy mayo, but there’s nothing like getting stressed over your egg yolks not whisking properly and crying over the kitchen counter on your birthday, slightly drunk on champagne and wondering why you made life so hard for yourself, is there?
Moët + Mayo anyone?
The great thing about homemade mayo is the myriad things you can make from it and feel pretty smug about. It elevates the humble sandwich, makes a chicken caesar salad feel less like side and more like the main event and allows you to eat asparagus as a snack because who doesn’t want warm asparagus sprinkled with sea salt and dipped into homemade mayo?
So for this vibe you’ll need:
1 large fresh egg yolk
175 ml of neutral oil (I use sunflower)
Finely chopped chives or wild garlic
Lemon juice
Salt + pepper to taste
Not a large-ish bowl, nor a wet tea towel; must learn to follow my own advice.
Pop the yolk in a large-ish bowl and wrap a wet tea towel around the base so it doesn’t move when you’re whisking. Ideally you’d want the oil to be in one of those fancy squeezy chef bottles so you can slowly pour it in. Start whisking the egg and pour in the oil super slowly to begin. It should start to go a bit stiff and once you’ve got halfway through the oil, you can add it in a bit quicker. Add salt, pepper + lemon juice to taste then whisk in the chives or wild garlic for that allium kick. Use as the base for Caesar dressing (just add chopped anchovies, more wild garlic if you’re into it – or just grated garlic, parmesan and more lemon juice); smear on sandwiches, mix into chicken salad or keep in the fridge to dip into whenever asparagus finds its way to your kitchen.
Leftovers.
Super into this hash brown + wild garlic aioli situation.
Firmly in the preserved lemon and herb-baked orzo camp from Anna Jones.
Obviously sheet-pan chicken with crushed olives from Alison Roman is next.
It’s asparagus season, but it’s always asparagus pasta + guanciale season for me.
Baked eggs but minus the tomato. I’m in.
I want to make this coq au Riesling mainly for the morels.