It is at this time of year, dearest reader, that the mind turns towards the creature comforts. Dreary mornings spent de-icing windscreens, days at work where you don’t see daylight, cold, dark evenings – it can all get to be too much. We are, of course, still some days away from erecting the Christmas tree in Chez Peas (although I am turning my mind towards the annual conundrum of what to use to top the tree...) but even without the festive lights and the hedonistic promise of Yule, I am doing my best to warm my spirits and those of my nearest and dearest Mr Green. And how am I doing that? You may well ask. There are many techniques, though for the purposes of this column we had best restrict ourselves to discussing food.
Soups, my dears. Stews. Savoury foods cooked on a long, slow, simmer. Scents that fill the house, promising the visitor warmth and comfort, an evening of conversation and well-chosen wine. It is a different way of cooking from the instant gratification of those summer months, when you pick a perfectly ripened ingredient and hasten home to transform it, almost instantly, into something fresh and succulent. No. This is the time of year when you choose carefully, shop days before you want to eat, bring home the bacon, the butternut squash, the parsnip, the shin of beef and plan, oh so carefully, when and how you will cook it, when and in what company you will eat.
Cooking now takes a little love – you have to respect the ingredients before they will give you their best. You have to treat them gently, give them time. This is not a moment for haste or reckless abandon.
Let me share with you a stew, so savoury and full of promise that it won a place in the heart of even the once-vegetarian Mr Green.
