Dearest Gentle Reader,
I haven’t quite got back into a routine yet so I am blaming that for the lateness of this letter. Its either that or take responsibility for it myself and that’s far too sensible behaviour for January. Its a weird month, no-one behaves quite normally. Its as if completing one more turn around the sun sends everyone a little off kilter, a little panicky that there just isn’t enough time for everything so they must make themselves the shiniest versions of themselves they can be, and set goals to complete everything they had ever planned for their whole lives squashed into the next twelve months.
People calm down eventually but its a strange energy to spend time around, especially if you don’t feel that way yourself. I spent much of the weekend reading a lot around a fascinating food topic and then writing a proposal for something really interesting. I won’t know until March if I’ve been successful but even if I haven’t then all I’ve learned in the process will be completely worth it. I have you all to thank for this learning experience because I probably wouldn’t have thought of attempting it if I hadn’t starting exploring around the topic because I wanted to write to you about it last year.
The sun is setting as I write this in the strange yellow light of a winter sunset, interspersed with dense yet still fluffy clouds. The train means that the view changes constantly as if moving from one photo to another in this disjointed landscape rather than the normal smooth descent below the horizon. I get to enjoy this with a mini train picnic of yellow stickered items from the station M&S. Why is it that picnic food automatically tastes better? Is it because food eaten literally on the move has a sort of liminal quality or because eating prawns dipped in cocktail sauce is just good anywhere? Especially at a fifth of their original price whilst eating them staring at a gorgeous sunset.
I once read a beautifully written cookbook which had a chapter for food to eat outdoors and in my mind I prepared a full fantasy picnic from it. Whenever I had a free moment in the next few days and I needed the distraction I would remember the fantasy picnic and create scenarios where my picnic and I together would be incredibly appreciated just by our very arrival. This picnic became incredibly real to me, I had even imagined a white on white embroidery pattern for the napkins and designed my own sea glass green wine glasses. It became almost a meditative exercise and even helped send me to sleep.
I may be one of the few people in the world calmed by imaginary picnics and even find cheap deconstructed prawn cocktail to be stress relieving but I think I have worked out why. I think its because when I was a little girl it was a big treat to have a dinner made from picky bits and eat it not at the table, but taken down onto the sitting room floor and eat it there on a blanket. It was a big deal because we always ate at the table, with napkins in rings and good table manners always in evidence. The indoor picnic was always fun, a break from routine. We didn’t always have picnic food exactly just not proper meals. My absolute favourite was when we had boiled potatoes with three dips on the plate: mayonnaise, Greek yoghurt and M&S sour cream and chive dip. I was a picky child but I would always eat this and still occasionally have it now but just with new potatoes in the summer. Its not exactly haute cuisine but eaten sat on a blanket away from the table it was heavenly.
So that’s my thoughts in a slightly disordered world: picnics, no matter whether you plan to travel, just eat in a different bit of your house or even incredibly detailed, imaginary ones can bring you calmness and happiness. If you are particularly lucky they may also involve a yellow stickered deconstructed prawn cocktail, sour cream & chive dip, tiny sausages, and a chocolate eclair.
I also have a short cautionary English folktale for you about wishes & sausages today. There is a much older, NSFW variant of this story from 9th Century Persia in The Book of the Seven Sages if you are interested, see if you can see the sausage connection ……….
A woodsman went to the forest to chop some wood. Just as he was swinging the axe towards the trunk of a huge old oak, out jumped a fairy, who begged and begged him to spare the tree as it was the only home she had. Moved more by his own fear and astonishment than anything else, the man consented, and as a reward for his help was promised the fulfilment of the three next wishes for him and his wife.
Whether because he was naturally forgetful or a touch of enchantment was in the air we know not, but one thing is certain, long before evening all remembrance of his visitor passed from his head. At night, when he and his wife were dozing before a blazing fire, the old fellow began to feel hungry, and wished out loud for sausages and black pudding. No sooner had the words escaped his lips than a rustling was heard in the chimney, and down came a bunch of the wished-for delicacies, depositing themselves at the feet of the astounded woodsman, who, thus reminded of his morning visitor, began to tell the all to his wife.
“Thou bist a fool, Jan,“ said she, incensed at her husband‘s carelessness in neglecting to make the best of his good luck; “I wish they were stuck on your nose“
Whereupon, they immediately attached themselves to the nose in question, and stuck on so tight that the woodsman, finding no amount of force would remove these unsightly appendages from his nose, was obliged, reluctantly, to wish them off, thus making the third wish, and at once ending his brilliant expectations.
I hope I haven’t made you want a sausage sandwich, veggie or otherwise, wonderful as hot and crispy sausages with soft bread and tangy sauce sounds right now. I sensibly won’t be wishing for one, just to be on the safe side.
There’s just time for me to share my vintage recipe and remedy before I must go:
Our remedy today is very seasonal and from The Prudent Housewife: or, Complete English Cook, for town and country : Being the newest collection of the most genteel, and least expensive receipts in every branch of cookery by Lydia Fisher. I have no idea if it is effective but at least you get yummy roast turnip.
Our recipe is for Malaret Soals from ‘England's Newest Way in all sorts of cookery, pastry, and all pickles that are fit to be used’ by Henry Howard, 1726 edition. This is so similar to a Venetian recipe that I make, except that I don’t leave it for that long to marinate.
With that, Gentle Reader, I must bring this letter to a close. Please don’t hesitate to get in touch via the comments or via any of my social media profiles/my website . If you have enjoyed this and would like to read further such nonsense and have not yet subscribed, please don’t hesitate to subscribe for free at the button below. You’d be very welcome and it would be a joy to write to you.