I was sitting on the train back to Wales from London Paddington the other day and across the aisle was a toddler whose mum had just given her some little chocolate biscuits (like the animal biscuits you used to get. Can you still get these?). Her eyes lit up as the mum produced them from her bag like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat. Her arms reached up eagerly to clasp the bag, which she peered inside before pulling out a single biscuit and studying it, and then gently nibbling the end – the biscuit getting softer and the chocolate suitably melting on her fingers and thumb.
I love seeing children eat. I like seeing adults enjoy their food too, but children eat differently. Adults are usually too rushed, non-plussed or too well-trained to really savour and sense their food. Children seem, in the moment of eating, to go into their own little world. They focus their attention on what they are eating and how they are eating it. They react with obvious glee, disgust or indifference when it rolls across their developing tastebuds. They eat with their hands, eyes, lips, and they chew (mostly).
I remember back when I was working on a checkout in Tesco when I was about 17 and a little boy about five years old came through with his stressed-out mum. He was in his school uniform of grey trousers and red sweatshirt. She asked if I’d scan the pack of jam doughnuts first, which of course I did. She then handed them to him, he said thank you and then walked to the trolley buffer barrier against the wall next to the checkout and sat down. He reached in and grabbed a doughnut from the bag, and brought it up in front of his face and eyed it momentarily, a bit like an athlete holding a medal or perhaps a diamond valuer holding up a stone. He grinned and his eyes darted around, almost planning on the best way to eat it. And then came the first bite. His eyes closed and he smiled as he chewed the soft fried dough. He was neat about it – something very difficult to be with a jam doughnut. We’ve all been on the receiving end of a surprise jam escape. He carefully finished the doughnut, licked each of his fingers in turn with a generous slurp, and then brushed off the sugar that has fallen down his jumper, sitting contentedly and waiting patiently for his mum to finish packing and pay. The moment has stuck with me ever since.
Why don’t we all eat like that? Not that I want to eat everything with my hands (although I often do, much to the dismay of my grandmother if she were still alive), nor do I need to savour every single mouthful, but perhaps the first crisp out of the bag, the corner off a triangle of buttered toast? I went to a short workshop about eating mindfully last year. I’ll be honest, I couldn’t keep a straight face as the instructor told us each to take a fruit kebab and, “Look at it. Really look at it. Now smell it. Really smell it”. But afterwards (pineapple juice running down my arm and chin sticky) I thought that I probably don’t stop and savour my food enough.
I do look out for adults having that childlike nature when they eat, and once in a while, I’ll spot someone. Visiting Prosecco vineyards in northern Italy a few years back, I sat at the carefully laid-out tasting table housed in the long roof space room at a historical vineyard villa. My eyes were distracted from the glorious Prosecco tasting in front of me and the charming delivery of our hostess by an intriguing yet warming sight. To my left, sitting at the far end of the table, was an elegant mature lady with perfectly coiffured hair (the lady of a villa it turns out). I watched as she carefully snapped a boudoir finger (trifle sponge) in half and dropped it in the glass of Prosecco with satisfying plop and fizz. She peered over the top to ensure it was fully submerged and fizzing. Then in a quick, limber action, she scooped it out and placed it in her mouth – like you might do with a Rich Tea Finger in a hot cup of tea. After devouring the Prosecco-drenched sweet sponge, she tipped up the glass and washed the last drops all down with a graceful finishing flourish that seemed many years in the making. As if coming back into the real world, she glanced around at us and started to clear away our glasses. But you could see this was one little moment of bliss where she wasn’t listening to anything being said or paying attention to anything other than savouring that soaked sponge and glass of bubbly.
If you’re cracking open Easter eggs today, don’t forget to eat them like a child.
Pasg hapus!
The Recipe
Seaweed and spring greens risotto-style rice
I love fresh spring greens and in this risotto-style recipe I’m using leeks, spinach, courgettes and peas. But as usual, use whatever you can get your hands on or whatever your preferred tastes are. The laverbread brings a wonderful saltiness and depth of flavour (as do the anchovies if you’re using them) without being fishing or overly marine-like.
Ingredients (serves 4)
Small knob of butter
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
1 small leek, finely chopped
1 fat clove of garlic, finely chopped
1 small tin of anchovy fillets (optional)
2 bay leaves
120g arborio rice
100ml white wine or vermouth
1 medium courgette, coarsely grated and dried with kitchen paper
150g prepared laverbread – I used fresh, but a tin works just as well
Handful of frozen peas
2 large handfuls of spinach
300ml vegetable stock
100g hard cheese such as Parmesan or a strong Welsh cheddar
Fresh mint and parsley
Method
In a large pan, melt the butter over a medium-low heat and gently fry the celery, leek and garlic until softened.
Tip in the anchovies and break them down slightly before adding the bay leaves.
Sprinkle in the rice and give everything a good stir.
Turn up the heat and then add the wine/vermouth and stir.
Tip in the courgette, laverbread, peas and spinach and mix together, letting the rice start to absorb the moisture.
Bit by bit, add the stock, stirring after each addition until absorbed.
When the rice is tender, add the cheese and mix together until creamy.
Sprinkle with fresh mint and parsley to serve.
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 issue we’re listening to this wonderful, haunting rendition of love song Myfanwy by cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason. He says of the piece, “I spent a lot of my childhood in Wales with my family and particularly my Welsh Grandma, so this is for her.” Secondly, we have Glain Rhys from Bala. You might recognise her as part of Welsh of the West End, but she’s a musical theatre star and recording artist in her own right.
Myfanwy by Sheku Kanneh-Mason
Ned Wylan Deg by Glain Rhys
From the archive
As it’s Easter, here’s some lamb and egg inspiration from the archive: