Airport picnics
Chorizo and scallop skewers recipe
As a travel writer by trade, it’s a touch odd that I can’t really travel abroad at the moment. No packing lists, no hunting high and low for my passport that I’ve put ‘somewhere safe’, no getting my travel money, no excitement of the airport. Usually, it’s not until I arrive at the check-in desks that I get that little flutter of joy in my stomach that I’m off on a new adventure – even if it’s only a fly and flop break in Spain.
I like the ritual of the airport: watching your bag disappear down the conveyer behind the check-in desk, emptying all your worldly possessions into a grey plastic tray and walking guiltily through the scanner even though you know you don’t have even as much as a butter knife concealed in your pocket. There’s something exciting about a quick spritz of after shave in duty free while trying to avoid the salesperson, and then, finally you get to the departure lounge.
Recently, I’ve seen reports of ‘flights to nowhere’ – flights that take off from the airport, circle for an hour or two and then land – that give the idea of going somewhere for those desperate to travel again. Sorry to disappoint the Quantases of the world, but pretending to go on holiday is not a new thing. My childhood was spent going on day trips to the airport – albeit firmly grounded.
It could be a bank holiday or one day in the school summer holidays that we would go for a ‘run’ to the airport in the car – my brother, mum, and Nannie Gwen and sometimes my Great Auntie Den. My nan would prepare the picnic. I’d sit on my Nan’s draining board watching her every move in the kitchen. It was pretty much the same routine every bank holiday regardless of the destination. She’d reach into the bread bin (do people still have these?) and pull out a loaf of Brace’s thick-sliced white bread. She was one of the only people I knew with a breadbin. Mum just kept ours in the cupboard with the toaster – the toaster with the ears wheat on the side. Nan would grab the butter dish (see previous statement about breadbins) that was stainless steel with the little wooden handle on top. I’d watch as she buttered rounds and place them on top of each other, butter to butter. Then she’d go to the fridge and return with a tin of corned beef. My Nan loved corned beef (I wonder where I get it from?). I don’t think I ever had a sandwich in my Nan’s house that wasn’t either corned beef, or pink salmon, which Nan insisted on plastering with white pepper and vinegar. It wasn’t until years later that I learned that salmon didn’t in fact taste like Sarson’s Malt Vinegar.
She’d then prize the corned beef out from the tin using a knife and it would make that great squelching noise, she’d cut thick slices (it had been stored in the fridge to make it easier to cut) and make the sandwiches, cut into triangles. I still think that they taste better that way somehow. Nan would then boil the kettle to make the tea. Unless tea is nuclear hot, Nan nor Mum would not drink it. She’d brew it up in a teapot – also stainless steel – before tipping it into a Thermos flask – orange with a brown lid that I reckon she’d had since the 60s. Finally, she’d carefully cling the sarnies with a deftness that only comes from working in the steelworks’ canteen for years.
We’d all get in the car and head from Newport to what was then Rhoose Airport but is now Cardiff Airport. We’d park and head into the terminal with our bags full of sandwiches, tea, crisps, chocolate bars, cake, games, puzzles, paper and pens and head up the stairs straight past the check-in counters and into the lounge area before security. It was much bigger in those days. We would try to snag a spot near the full-length windows so we could watch the planes taking off and landing. In typical Welsh style, we’d talk to everyone, and everyone would talk to us, asking where we were jetting off to, only to be told that we were just having a day out. After the look of surprise lifted from their faces, they’d all agree that it was a great idea and something they’d never thought of doing. At one time, you could also go onto the roof of the airport to watch the planes, too. After a couple of hours, we pack our things back up, bid “safe travels” to the people around us and head back home.
It seems crazy to think of our airport picnics now, what with the current restrictions on travel and with how airports have changed. And yet I do wonder now if these airport picnics – watching the planes jet off, not knowing where in the world they were going – in some small way made me became a travel writer.
The Recipe
Chorizo and scallop skewers
Following one from last week’s barbecue theme of charred leeks, this week I have another one to impress your garden party guests, using glorious Welsh scallops. In Pembrokeshire, the scallops are hand-picked by divers, so you know you are getting the very best. This simple recipe pairs them with chorizo, perfect for quick and ever-so-satisfying nibbles.
Ingredients (serves 4)
8 fresh ready-shucked Welsh scallops
150g chorizo
Zest of a lemon
Method
Firstly, prepare your scallops by discarding the bright coral roe. You can actually eat this as well but for this recipe we are just going to use the fleshy white part. Cut each scallop in half so you’re left with two circular rounds.
Next cut up the chorizo into rounds of a similar thickness to your cut scallops (about 2cm). Carefully thread the chorizo and scallops onto skewers – I use about two scallops and three pieces of chorizo on each.
Pop them on the hot barbecue for about 3-4 minutes on each side until the chorizo has started to char and the scallops have taken on a tiny bit of colour. You could also do this in a griddle pan, on a bakestone that has a lip (some of the chorizo juices might run off otherwise), or under a hot grill.
Remove to a plate, and dust with the lemon zest before serving.
If you’re using bamboo skewers, it’s a good idea to soak them in water for at least half an hour beforehand so they don’t catch fire on the grill!
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.
This week we have songs from Sir Tom Jones and Rebecca Hurn. Rebecca is originally from Porthcawl and has been making waves in the folk music scene for the past few years, winning multiple awards for her EP ‘Waves’. It was named Best Folk Song at the Independent Music Awards in New York. I’ve chosen another of her pieces here, called Panic.
Tower of Song by Tom Jones
Panic by Rebecca Hurn
The Pantry
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.
Steeltown Gin
I had the great fortune to visit the Spirit of Wales Distillery this week in… wait for it… Newport. Who knew that there was a cool gin distillery in my hometown? Certainly not me until last week when it came onto my radar. Started in October last year and only opening in April of this year, Sprit of Wales is the brainchild of Dan and James, two master distillers with Welsh roots. They say that their spirits (they produce gin, vodka, white and spiced rum) embody their Celtic roots and Wales’s industrial heritage of steel production, coal mining, agriculture, and fishing.
Steeltown is aptly named, as Newport was once one of the world’s most innovative steel producers and the Llanwern works were cutting-edge when they opened in 1962 (although steel production goes back a lot further in Newport), employing more than 13,000 staff. The team at Spirit of Wales was inspired by the coach day trips and holidays that were arranged by the steelworkers to Porthcawl or Barry Island, which is why when you sip Steeltown, you should get a hint of the seaside on your palate.