Nothing fawlty about basil

Spot of cooking this morning. My sous chef was in the mood to get involved. We got things ready to make some mini baked omelettes and I let him choose what herbs to put in. He sniffed three pots and made his choice: basil.

Mine too. The first herb I really remember choosing, loving. Yes, there was parsley in my mum’s cooking, maybe there were others. But somehow I found my way to basil – and knew I was onto something good.

People can be sniffy about dried basil. And yes, it’s a second fiddle to fresh. But if dried is where you started from, it’s still good. Put it with tomatoes, breath in…it’s wonderful. The sweetness. The fragrance of it.

Basil became part of my weekend routine in my teens. I would work on a Saturday night. On a Sunday, the rest of the family would head off to mini rugby, and I would get up later, and make a brunch. Cheese on toast with the addition of sliced tomatoes, sesame seeds and…basil.

The trick is to start melting the cheese first. Then bring it back out, slice on the tomatoes, and sprinkle over dried basil and sesame seeds. Put it back under the grill until you can smell the basil, and the cheese is really sizzling.

Many of us find basil through the store cupboard wonder that is pesto. Basil plus cheese. What’s not to like? Add in pasta, and you’re in comfort food heaven. I used to add in some grilled bacon and some mushrooms, for a student flat staple, though it’s less Italianate, I know.

But I also like pesto on chicken breast, topped with mozzarella, then (if you have non-stick), upended into the pan to melt the cheese. (A Nigel Slater recipe, that one.)

At some point, fresh basil and I met. Still hanging out with tomatoes and cheese (mozzarella again), it becomes Insalata Caprese, a favourite of Dan’s.

We tried to have it as a salad at our wedding (June, would have been spot on), but the caterers were clearly thrown by the name, and gave us something completely different. Oh well.

We did get the full Insalata Caprese experience with friends in Italy a few years back. Our hostess, knowing Dan’s love of this, even found us some buffalo mozzarella to make it really special.

Recently, we’ve had fun tending our supermarket basil plant on the window sill, pinching out the top leaves to encourage more growth, making our own pesto.  Sous chef has requested it in solo meals, a few times.

It becomes meditative keeping it, needing to keep up the watering on a regular basis. (Or maybe that’s just the heat on that window sill.)

For instant travel without leaving home, nibble on a fresh basil leaf…and you’re in the Med, or at least well into Continental Europe, at least. Which, in chilly early December, is a cheerful prospect.

Basil. Simple perfection. No need to cuff the waiting staff or shout at the guests.

Ode to food

December. One blog topic out – time for a new one. This month, with food on many people’s minds (whether preparing to feed the five thousand, or just hoping for thirds), I thought I’d devote this month’s musings to ingredients. A different one each day.

No, they won’t all cook up into a single dish (unless you particularly want to make glop, a la Horrid Henry). But they are all favourites, they are mostly non-Christmassy, and this way you can have your cake without it affecting your waistline.

I love food. I love shopping for it, arranging it in cupboards and fridge etc, and then bringing it out again and cooking with it. I love cookbooks, and I love feeding people.

In the last couple of years, for various reasons, my love of food has taken a few knocks. Not all my favourites are possible now, or not as often, or not for all of us.

Having taken up the role of Head Chef at home (as opposed to co-chef, as I previously was), some days I get fed up with food, meal planning, and keeping on top of snack arrangements.

So these odes to food are about falling in love with food again – with the amazing riches of ingredients that we can enjoy. It’s probably more essay than recipe based, though I may do a bit of both. We’ll see.

Trying to work out how to feature just 30 ingredients is hard. I applied a few rules here. If I were to come for a meal at your house, and you said you were cooking with…, I’d be excited.

If I had the chance to go out for a meal, and order…, that would be tremendous. And if…were to be removed from the world, and I could never eat/drink it again, I would weep. (I hope the last of these criteria never come to pass.)

I’ve ended up with a range of categories of food, and 3 ingredients each. 10 categories. 30 ingredients. Plus this preamble. [That was the plan.  One or two food types took over – like fruit, which seems to have garnered more than its fair share.]

That should cover things for December, without the risk of too many leftovers. (Though, in truth, there is no such thing as too many leftovers. More about that another time.)

Meanwhile, I’m thinking about putting the kettle on…Bring your own cup, and see you tomorrow.

Running errands

Yes. I own up. I am a list girl, and I am not ashamed of it. It works for food shopping (when I remember it – unlike this week, where I had to see whether I could work it out from memory). It works for family presents. It even works for Tintin books owned (and those still on the To Look Out For section).

But still…sometimes the list of to dos owns me. It look at me, pointedly, when I have a section on them that just does not shift. That gets written onto the next list, and still doesn’t get done. If I just had a list headed Acquire Children’s Books Second Hand, I’d be ever so effective. (Though my tummy would rumble more.)

So. The trick, I am deciding, is to allocate some list-bashing to points in the day. Or the week. But every now and then, a chunk of time to run errands is called for. Then the list has to apologise for thumbing its nose at me. And I feel freed up again for a bit.

Getting winter boots resoled and heeled. Trickier this one, when the sole type is not covered by some shoe repairers. Thanks to some profitable wisdom swapping at school pick up yesterday, I heard about a new one, and they took them straight away. Grand.

Getting the passport applications off. OK, one has to be redone, but at least we’re moving a bit. Given our enjoyment of travel, lovely friends in other countries, it shouldn’t be a ‘get on with it!’ item, but it has been. Original documents has been part of it, I think.

Heading off to the supermarket which has a photo booth, at a time when it’s quiet. So they don’t mind me sifting through (far too many) photos on the memory card to find the right ones.

Home to insert photos into Christmas cards, chop other photos to insert into Christmas makes, and also time to insert a little coffee into me, during the above.

Post some of the above cards. And head out again, on foot, into one of the brightest (and coldest) winter mornings we’ve had, this sunny month.

And when it all works? Delight? Smugness – hopefully not. Too many other items on the list. Relief. A certain satisfaction that comes from (finally) setting out to do a few things in a couple of hours – and it working.

Back off, list. I won. And I have another much more exciting list ready: my writing topics for December. Stay tuned.

Anticipation

Only two days to go until the start of Advent…are you excited about Christmas yet? Well, actually…less so than small people.

That’s the trouble. Sooner or later you get a tricky Christmas, then you start to realise that this time of year can actually be quite hard work. And that’s before the exhausting pre-Christmas schedule laid on by many schools, after school activities, and so on.

Aiming to try and have more of a slow build, I thought we’d try something new. So we went to Light Night a.k.a. turning on the lights for the Christmas tree on the Mound, and the others in central Edinburgh. And you know what? I got some of my anticipation back.

Meeting up all together at the end of a sport activity. Telling the coach where we were heading to. Getting on a bus, seeing lots of other families on board and thinking…maybe they’re going to Light Night too!

Making the slow climb up Dundas Street by bus, passing lit shop windows, giant snowflakes in the art shop window. We are prepped with hats, scarves, gloves and (the current favourite) ear warmers (great for channelling your inner DJ).

The bus diverts onto George Street, allowing for a big ooh and ah over the lights that snake their way up the pillars of The Dome, a former bank turned bar and restaurant. We turn into St Andrews Square, and catch our first sight of the big wheel, the lights, the people already bustling around the Christmas market.

The bus diverts some more along Waverley Bridge, allowing us to get a full sweep view of the fun fair, and note (importantly) where they’ve put the helter skelter. (We missed that last year. Better not do so again.)

And then, up Market Street, where we pile out and find our best viewing point for the action.

It is at this point that grown-up anticipation pales a bit. One of us is carrying the entire family’s bags. The other is holding a small but increasingly heavy person on his shoulders.

We realise we are on the wrong side of the road for seeing some of the procession, as our view is blocked regularly by buses still coming up the Mound.

It would be a metaphor for something, were the bag carrying person not increasingly convinced that, in the cold, her fingers have both left her gloves and yet are still there And Are Very Sore With The Cold. Despite Thick Gloves.

Finally, the tree goes on. But then we get fireworks. Not expected. The crowd coos appreciatively. The person turning somersaults on a trapeze on the end of a crane is given a chance to remain the same way up for a while.

And as we make our way home, gradually, we see all the places where the lights are now on. I look at the big tree on the Mound – white lights only, very simple and yet speaking to a place inside me where Christmas used to be anticipated. Savoured.

We see some more of the lights on our way back to a bus stop. Fingers thankfully agree to be reunited with hands once on the bus.

And later, I go to the Christmas box, and get out the first of the decorations. In readiness. In anticipation.

Pigeon formation team

It’s bright today. That’s good. We need a little comfort where we can find it, when temperatures drop – and here it is in the ash trees that are still in (autumnal coloured) leaf, the brightness of the sun on them…and the pigeons.

There’s a man who lives maybe five minutes away on foot who keeps pigeons. I know, because they sit on the roof, forming a perfect V over the gables. And very occasionally, he does something with them to make them different pastel colours. (I don’t know about the animal rights aspects of this, so we’ll need to move on.)

You may expect various sights when sitting on a bus on the way to work, but a roof-ful of pigeons that look like they’re made out of fondant is not usually one of them.

Meanwhile, we get occasional flocks of birds that wheel over the roofs where we are, and I think they may be his pigeons. I’m not sure. Given that they swoop over the same sections of roofs, again and again, I tend to think they are based nearby, but I may be wrong.

Whatever the origin, it’s a pigeon formation team. And I get to admire the whole performance from my bedroom window. On bright mornings, it’s easier, because there’s sun on their feathers, and the movement draws my eye.

And then I look out for them. There are maybe about twenty all together. Sometimes the circles are short, sometimes they fully disappear out of sight for a minute, then reappear.

Today there appear to be a couple of outriders going ahead of the rest. I’ve not seen this before. But as I write, they’ve kindly shortened their glide (can they tell I’m writing about them?) and are coming even closer to my window so I get a good look.

It’s not just the light on the white belly feathers. It’s the contrast of the grey on the backs. It’s also the shadows of them on the roof opposite, highlighting the motion.

The sky is cloudless. It’ll be even colder tonight. But for now, there are fast moving clouds and shadows, in the shape of our friendly local pigeon formation team.