A love letter to tins
Pea, leek and bean soup recipe
I was 18 before I realised that salmon didn't taste of Sarson's malt vinegar. That's because until that point, the only salmon I'd eaten (or had wanted to eat) came from a tin, which my Nannie Gwen (or any other member of my large extended South Wales family happening to have a buffet) would douse liberally in vinegar and white pepper. It used to fascinate me how my nan would pick through the tin discarding the skin, and bones, often crunching the odd bone between her teeth "because it's good for your brain". Whether this was true or not, I was unwilling to find out, but I would happily munch on white bread, pink salmon sandwiches (or white bap halves with red salmon if it was a party, because that's posh). I still love tinned salmon now, although I tend to forgo its infamous acidic chip-shop dressing.
Back then, all good things came in tins according to my picky palate: peach halves in syrup, rice pudding, chicken soup, Big Soup, beans and sausages, Fray Bentos pies, tuna chunks in brine, fruit cocktail (minus the gross cherries), Bigga marrowfat peas, minced beef in gravy, and of course, my beloved corned beef.
There's something magical about food in a tin. Bear with on this one. First and foremost, it's such a simple, clever idea to preserve food. And I hate food waste, so canning goods that would otherwise spoil – or for you to enjoy out of season – fills me with glee. Secondly, there's the ritual of opening a tin. The exciting pop of a ring pull, the mechanical hardware of a tin opener, and the frankly bizarre unfurling of a corned beef tin with its key. It's like opening a present. Even though you might know or guess what's inside, unlike most other products, you can't see it, so there's still an element of surprise.
Besides, tins are so handy. They’re always there in the cupboard when needed. Empty, they can be recycled or upcycled. Particularly nice ones I've made into pencil pots, plant pots and ornaments.
I think we have a slight image problem with tins in the UK, both the physical appearance of them (look at Portugal for how to make tins an artform), and also the reputation of them. We seem to value them almost as a wartime souvenir, filled with cheap, poor-quality products. The truth is that this couldn't be further from the truth. Often, tinned vegetables can rival frozen and fresh for nutritional value. But where we seem not to give tins their glory is regarding tinned fish.
I recently had the delight to be invited to a seafood canning factory in Galicia in northern Spain (the bit above Portugal). Not only do factory and production lines hypnotise me, but I love to see where food comes from and how it gets to our plates. The factory, Conservas La Brújula, cans all sorts of shellfish and seafood, from mussels to tuna, sardines to mackerel. I was fascinated by how the seafood comes in, is cleaned and cooked and then so carefully and purposefully placed into the tins. These tins are considered premium but after seeing the work that goes into them, their price tag still seemed modest. I couldn’t help but snaffle some tins to bring home in my hand luggage.
I got to see firsthand where the mussels come from with a boat trip out to the bateras (mussel farm platforms). Long ropes are strung down from these floating jetties and the mussels grow on the rope. Here in the Rías Baixas region, seafood is highly prized and each of the bateras are often owned by single families – and no wonder, as one recently sold for more than a million euros. Our captain deftly served up mussels and razor clams from the tiny galley onboard and we washed it down in the sunshine with local albariño wine from Martín Códax. Heaven!
Anyway, back to tins. I’ve always got a line of tins in my pantry: anchovies (they make a great base for all sorts of dishes from Spanish-style rices to Bolognese), corned beef (for stew, sandwiches, pie etc), beans of all kinds, chopped tomatoes as they are so handy, tuna and salmon, mackerel in olive oil (one of my favourite lunchtime treats on toast), laverbread, and then some random product I’ve picked up on my travels or found in the supermarket and want to experiment with (canned jackfruit is a recent example). With that, I might have to have a squirrel around in the cupboard to see what intriguing tin is hiding at the back.
The Recipe
Pea, leek and bean soup
Today’s recipe seems apt, firstly because the weather has taken a turn and autumn is certainly upon us, and secondly, as it uses a lovely tin of cannellini beans. Peas might just be my favourite vegetable (excluding potatoes), and this combines fresh, bright peas with gorgeous, sweet leeks and buttery cannellini beans. I put half the tin in before I blitz it to give the soup some heft, and then put the other half in after so that there are some whole beans and a bit of texture. I’m topping mine with some crispy chorizo, but it would also be great with some crumbled cheese, or crunchy croutons.
Ingredients (serves 4 with bread)
Butter/olive oil (bacon fat also works well!)
Two medium leeks, roughly chopped
1 bay leaf
1 tin cannellini beans (or butter beans)
500ml pork stock (or another stock of your choosing)
300g frozen peas
Drop of cream/milk
Salt
White pepper
Chorizo/cured ham, diced (optional)
Method
In a saucepan, gently soften the chopped leeks in a little butter or olive oil together with the bay leaf.
Add the stock and half the tin of beans. Allow to simmer for 10 minutes.
Add the frozen peas and simmer for a further 5 minutes.
Fish out the bay leaf. Blitz the soup using a blender until smooth.
Tip in the other half tin of beans, and stir through a little cream or milk to loosen up the puree. Season with salt and pepper.
Meanwhile, gently fry the chorizo or ham until crisp.
Serve the soup sprinkled with the crispy chorizo, a drizzle of the chorizo oil and a dusting more of pepper.
If you try the recipe out, don’t forget to tag any photos with #mywelshkitchen.
The Playlist
To me, cooking and music go hand in hand, whether that’s singing at the top of your voice using a wooden spoon as a microphone while waiting for pasta to boil, or dancing around with the oven gloves on as the oven timer counts down. Here are this week’s ideas for your Welsh Kitchen playlist.
First up, we have Olivia Newton-John, who would have turned 76 last week. Her dad, Brinley “Bryn” Newton-John was a university professor born in Cardiff. Here she sings the classic All Through the Night. Secondly, we have Sir Tom singing on the latest series of The Voice UK with fellow coach LeAnn Rimes.
All Through the Night by Olivia Newton-John
Let It Be Me by Tom Jones and LeAnn Rimes
Ross Recommends
Good food is nothing without good ingredients and thankfully there are plenty of fantastic Welsh products on the market. Here is where you’ll find recommendations to stock up your cupboard, fridge or fruit bowl, or a really great place or event for food.
I’ve three events for you this issue. Firstly, I’m going to be on a panel discussing how food and drink producers can work with journalists, influencers and creators at Neath Food Festival – if you’re there, do come along and say hello.
Then we’ve got a London-based concert with my choir, Côr Y Boro. It’ll be an evening filled with music, poetry, some chat from me, and a good drink and some nibbles afterwards.
Finally, the Welsh Autumn Market is returning to the London Welsh Centre on 19 October. There will be lots of lovely Welsh producers selling their products – and you might even catch me floating around making a nuisance of myself while stuffing my face with some good Welsh grub.
