1Dish4TheRoad
"1 Dish 4 The Road".. Fusing food writing with whatever else I find on the road – fiction, history, poetry, humour, diversity, family stories & London.

Bitter Herbs

Bitter herbs, the horseradish, on the Passover seder plate

It was a memorable view, out of my old bedroom window. I can picture it now, decades later, like a watercolour imprinted across my mind.

Behind the back fence, a hill climbed precipitously. It was a semi-wild space, basically scrubland, with trees and shrubs that doubled up as secret dens and climbing frames for curious limbs and bright-eyed explorers.

To the right, in the distance, loomed the cooling towers of Agecroft power station: a column of solemn sentinels belching white plumes of smoke that slowly rose and melded into clouds, before drifting beyond the window frame. I still remember how mysterious and brooding those chimneys seemed.

In the afternoon before the Passover seder, in anticipation of the long night of storytelling, singing and food, my family would always take a rest. It wasn’t a formal tradition, just what my family did. But what child likes to rest? I didn’t want to rest. So boring! Passover seder was far too exciting for that.

Still, I would try and lie quietly on my bed, and stare out the window, contemplating the hill outside: the dens to be built, the traps to lay for would-be invaders. Or imagine the smoke stacks as mighty stone giants, marauding the earth. Eventually though, my patience would wane, and I’d tiptoe downstairs – to the kitchen, where everything happened. View Post

“Picnic As…”

Even now I’m in two minds: is “picnic” really the right word here? Do I really wish to conjure up bucolic images of gallivanting about the countryside, all wicker baskets and gingham blankets, pink-stained fingers pinching the wet tops of strawberries, a knocked-over glass of bubbly fizzing over a clump of summer daisies?

The traditional British picnic has its roots in French pre-Revolution aristocracy. But when the posh pique-nique-ers feared for their heads, rather than lose a requisite piece of anatomy for a spot of outdoor munching, off they sailed for Blighty instead. And before you could say ‘rillettes de lapin à l’ancienne’, the craze was sweeping Georgian high society.

Picnics were then social affairs, events to see and be seen in. Their settings of countryside meadow or urban pleasure garden immersed the wealthy and privileged in a rural idyll, an escape from the bustle and grime of the city, bestowing them with an air of salubrity and restoration.

Nowadays, picnics are more democratic, but the word itself – if not the act of taking food outdoors – still seems entrenched in a genteel world of supermarket dips, served with a dash of whimsy and a sprinkling of kitsch.

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Passover, food and memory; Chocolate babka at HONEY AND CO

Passover food as depicted on the Passover seder plate

Food memories. They’re possibly the most powerful memories we have. There’s some science behind it – our perception of food is primarily streamed through our nasal olfactory system, a region of the brain closely associated with long-term memory. But beyond the biology, food memories form such a large part of our own life story, they cannot help but evoke a potent sense of longing and reminiscence. The weekend roast. Our first sip of wine. School pudding. (I didn’t say all memories had to be good, mind you!)

When we recollect a food memory, we are remembering a time in our lives that food made meaningful. Alternatively, food memories may emerge because of their association with a particular person, place or time. However they became, whatever their provenance, they’re then woven into our tapestry of experience and assimilated into our own life story. And there they remain, little nuggets that we stumble upon again and again.

For me, my fondest and most indelible food memories relate to the week-long Jewish festival of Passover. There’s a myriad of reasons for me why Passover food elicits such an emotive reaction, all of which inter-connect like an intricate dance. View Post

Ode to Charoseth; celebrating the stalwart of the Passover seder plate.

Charoset, the stalwart of the Passover seder plate, and the various recipes which can be used.

Jewish cuisine. To some, an oxymoron. To others, the warmest cosiest hug your stomach could ever have.

Either way, laden with heavy carbs and cloying fat, regular consumption guarantees a lifetime of Gaviscon dependency, with the very real possibility of major cardiovascular surgery by the time you’re 60. Or even 50. View Post