It was a chance discussion with a friend earlier in the week that lead me to open up the cupboard in the kitchen where I keep all my recipe books, and take down the tome that is titled, "Gourmet Delights". It's an old tin with a flip top lid hinged to the side that opens like the cover of a book. I bought it in a flea market decades ago, and originally it contained chocolates. These days it contains scraps of paper and newspaper cuttings of recipes that I promise I will one day write down and store properly for posterity.
Do you annotate recipes? Do you keep those snippets that are gifted to you by others? When you comment on the deliciousness of a friend's meal, do you hastily scribble down the recipe as they breezily toss off the ingredients and method (seemingly in one breath) before pouring you another wine?
Elizabeth David was prolific in her commentary of other people's recipes. Perhaps it was the habit of a lifetime, but nothing would stop her from scribbling in margins, and later, on post-it notes, her commentary on the suitability of a recipe - or otherwise.
The conversation with my friend started because he mentioned surprise that I didn't actually annotate, or record any adjustments to any recipe I keep. "Nothing?" he asked, "Not even, 'add more garlic'?" Well, actually, no I don't. I do adjust recipes; my great grandmother's recipe for christmas pudding calls for cooking apple and grated carrot. I've substituted glacé pawpaw, prunes and pineapple. I just haven't written down the changes.
The gourmet delights in the old chocolate box revealed some wonderful snippets of times past. Frequently, there were simply ingredients scrawled down on the nearest paper to hand, but without a title or recipe to identify what food it is. From these scribblings emerged recipes for strawberry muffins, complete with the name and phone number of a carpet cleaning company, a muesli slice, underneath which my daughter had written in kindergarten handwriting, "Mami", some bagna gauda and a corn chowder... On the back of a recipe for a mango salsa was a note to my kids telling them to PLEASE bring in the washing. There was a chutney recipe written down by my grandmother, which I had completely forgotten about and was unexpectedly touched by given she has been dead for over fifteen years.
Another, in spidery writing in green ink on thick pink paper was for brownies, the author unidentified. Then another, written on greaseproof paper, for a rich chocolatey fudge cake, which I instantly identified as that of my friend Allegra, which, when explained to my young children, soon became known as 'A Legless Chocolate Cake'. But my favourite, and the reason for today's topic, was the recipe I wrote down shortly after returning from a particularly romantic - and boozy - dinner some twenty five years ago. It was fine dining, and the waiter cooked the meal of seafood at our table. Very quietly, I asked if he would mind telling me what he was cooking, and he agreed.
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A bottle of wine later, I returned to our hotel room and wrote it down as quickly as possible in case I forgot anything. I grabbed the only paper I could find - the back of a piece of cardboard that was in a pantyhose packet - the pen was an eyeliner pencil, just slightly thinner than a crayon. What follows is the exact way I wrote it down. I still use it, just as it is, as a speciality of the house each Easter time. Typically for me, it has no recipe name and hardly any method attached, and I've forgotten the name of the restaurant I ate it at but now it's yours – add a note in the margins as you wish.
Garlic}fry butter
Onion}
Lobster }
Prawns/green }
Mussels }add – about 1 cup ea.
Squid }
Scallops }
Brandy – ½ cup flambé
Seafood bisque – 2 cups
Stir thru’ add 1 cup tomatos, skinned and chopped
1 tblspn ea pernod
chopped basil
tomato paste
Whipped cream
Stir thru 2-3 mins
Serve garnish 1/c chives
Seafood bisque: fish/prawn stock, thickened 1/c rice
Puree – add tomato paste and seasoning