Norfolk

is a very long way away but definitely worth it

In between plucking chin hairs and going back and forth to my room to scribble yet another item on my to do list, un-crick my neck and thinking how to build a toad house that’s safe from cats I decided to sit down and write.

Last weekend I was in Norfolk, a long, long way away (note to self, book a holiday out that way next time, too far for a weekend, but SOOO lovely) for two family bashes. And that’s all you’ll get on Norfolk vis a vis travel writing I’m afraid so th e title for this stack is very misleading. Apologies.

We had a celebration of my twin brother’s birthdays and a small, circular gathering in memory of our mother the next day. If I didn’t have a toad house to build I would go into long and meandering reflections on what it all means, but Toad needs a home so I will sum it up as a heart warming (sorry for cliche but it’s accurate) long weekend with family, mostly siblings and partners. Not all, it rarely can be all, but enough and with the others represented by talk and love. The circle gathering was very moving and while I would normally roll my eyes and slouch deep into my chair in an adolescent throwback at the very idea of a talking stick I managed, this time, to be a grown up and participate, even using it, and understand that these ceremonies are designed purposefully and that they work.

My time as an actual adolescent was spent avoiding these type of things and all the hippy shit, as I saw it, that was thrust on me by my parents and older siblings on our move to the building site that was to be our new home in Scotland, as much as humanly possible . I was thirteen. It’s not a good age to be uprooted and have your normal life thrown up into the air only to have it fall between the two stools of ‘normal’ life with cousins in Surrey or mad hippy life living in a caravan, but with siblings and parents and the security that can bring. So, you know, I have baggage around talking sticks and the like.

Anyway, things were said, tears were cried, smiles and laughter too. Having felt somewhat untethered after mum died, having lost the family anchor, I feel a kind of freedom now, still untethered but relishing the unknown that comes with that as we feel our way as a family and discover who we all are without her. As my sister said at the end of the ceremony, “you can go now Mum - you can go”. We are all going to be fine.

My lovely brothers, Andrew and Mark, in the words of Russell "Side by side right from the start, bound by their DNA, and bound by the heart" / lunch table / circle ceremony table in Mark's garden glade during and after.

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With barely a breath caught we will be off again next weekend to celebrate another family event, my sister’s 30th wedding anniversary. Emma is my little sister and married Stephen all those years ago. I can hardly believe she is old enough be married, let alone for 30 years, but there you are, time will keep a-moving on.

Lots of people are contributing food to this epic event and I have chosen to make panzanella, which is a luscious bread and tomato salad I first stumbled across working at the River Cafe in London around the same time these two got married. It is a really delicious thing, as a main lunch dish or a side to something light like grilled mackerel.

I tested it yesterday and Russ and I ate the whole lot before going to the pub to meet friends. It’s good way not eat 10 packs of scampi fries with your half of Guinness.

Panzanella

(Serves 2 generously, 4 as a side)
This is based on River Cafe original recipe and Felicity Cloake’s from the Guardian.

• 1/2 red onion, thinly sliced

• 1 red pepper or 1 yellow pepper (or both if you’re scaling up)

• 4-6 big fat ripe tomatoes

• 200g stale bread - needs to be good bread, sourdough or similar (we used ciabatta at RC)

• 2-3 tbsp white wine or cider vinegar

• 1 tbsp capers

• 3-4 anchovies, finely chopped

• 1 small clove of garlic, crushed

• 4 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• Small handful of fresh basil

1. Put the onion slices in a bowl of cold water with a pinch of salt, and leave to soak for an hour (or you can use quick pickled onions of this which might in retrospect be nicer).

2. To blacken the peppers you will need to either roast them, dry, in a very high oven, or dry fry on the hob until the skin is scorched and peeling. If you cook on gas you can hold them directly onto the flame using tongs, until the skin is scorched. When this is done put them a bowl and cover with lid or plate and leave for 20 minutes.

3. To peel or not to peel a tomato is the question. For me it is preference but I have to admit I won’t be doing that for the big party. If you choose to peel make a little cut into the skin and put them in a bowl. Pour just boiled water over them and leave for 2-3 minutes. Discard the water and peel the tomatoes when cool enough. The skin should be very easy to remove.

4. Cut them into large dice, removing the hard stalky bit, and place in a colander set over a bowl so the juice runs into it. Salt and leave to drain while you prepare the other ingredients.

5. Tear the bread into large bite size chunks. Some people like to toast them at this point, which gives a nice crunch to the salad, but I like the chunks to be soaked and soft fluff the vinegary tomatoey flavour, so you do you. Put them into a big salad bowl and add the vinegar, tossing them around until every piece has had access to the vinegar. Drain the onion and add to the bowl, along with the (drained if north exalted version) capers.

6. Scrape as much black skin off the peppers as you can, and cut them into long strips discarding the seeds and stalks.

7. Gently press the tomatoes to squeeze out the last juice, then put the flesh in the bowl with the bread.

8. Stir the chopped anchovies and crushed garlic into the tomato juice and then whisk in the olive oil. Season to taste.

9. Pour on to the salad and toss thoroughly. Roughly tear the basil leaves and sprinkle on top. You could add extra anchovies on top at this point if you are partial to them. Allow to sit for between 15 minutes and an hour, then serve.

   

   You can chuck all sort of other things in this as you like - it’s a great use up base, olives, pickles, bit of old sauerkraut - bung it in. I don’t believe in authentic - we are in a state of flux, nothing stays the same, not people, houses, fashions, governments or salads - make it your own.

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   Off to put a roof on Toad’s house now.