Deliciously bland?

1 day ago
7 min read

"you need to be proper greedy to do leftovers well." Jay Rayner

I know this photograph of yesterday's soup - now cold, contrived from the leftovers in my fridge, doesn't look that appetising, but David said I should write the recipe down because it was so delicious. He almost sort of went 'wow' when he took his first sip which was flattering - and honestly I'm not at all sure it was that good. Good, comforting, surprisingly tasty. But also unrepeatable, because of the way it was made - which I shall come to, so even David realised that it was all a bit pointless to write it down. But worth repeating - in theory anyway.

And yet. It was sort of bland in the way that what they call comfort food often is. There was no outstanding taste of a specific ingredient, or even style. In a way it's all a blur and sure, you can waffle on about the nostalgic comfort such food bestows, but really - in my case anyway - it's just relief that it tasted alright. I feel the same even if it's actually just me following somebody else's recipe because even that can be disappointing. Sometimes because of the recipe itself, sometimes because I did something wrong.

I'm finding it incredibly difficult to define the kind of taste that gives you that warm glow. A taste that it is almost bland because it is not exciting, or spicy, or presents you with a new kind of taste. No - the taste is just somehow right, almost familiar. Sometimes if it's something like Shepherd's pie or fish cakes, or Cornish pasties, that you know you are supposed to regard as boringly beige and unexciting, but which you regard as delicious, perhaps then it's because they remind you of childhood. Comforting in the nostalgic sense and therefore unique to each individual.

I suppose at least a goodly part of my pleasure with this particular soup was that it worked. That it did taste good. After all I had 'invented it.' And whilst Nigella might say of this kind of cooking:

"I’m at my most comfortable when I just open my fridge and have to wing it. When that works, I know I have not just supper but a recipe."

She has a recipe. And sometimes I might have a recipe. But in this case I do not, because it was made of a unique set of ingredients, at least half of them made from leftovers themselves, which I shall never have again.

I was originally going to call this post A dustbin recipe - which for me is a way of saying it is a recipe that is compiled from kind of rubbish - the kind of things that most people might throw away. But which people who like cooking regard as a kind of treasure. David, quite rightly says that was rather off-putting, so I've changed it - partly because I also got caught up in trying to define what made us both like this particular soup.

This is the central part of my fridge today - still, as you can see, stacked with leftovers, and jars of this and that even after having removed some of them for my soup. The task is obviously not over. It is however, the kind of cooking that I mostly do, which Yotam Ottolenghi tells us:

"At first glance, we might think of it as the food we make and eat at home after a tough day. It’s the food we make without thinking too much."

And for which Henry Dimbleby, in The Guardian tells us:

"Be brave: mix those bowls from the fridge together to create a new dish."

And that's what I did. Without much thought. Yes - a new dish, but in this case, once the leftovers of those leftovers are gone - yes there is leftover soup - because it's virtually impossible to make a small amount of soup - once they've gone we shall never experience that taste again.

So what was in this soup that is not repeatable - because of course there were some things in it that were repeatable? Let me try and remember.

I began with onions - sliced, and softened in oil. As one does. To this I added a small amount of shredded cabbage - I have about an eighth of a small cabbage, ever so slowly mouldering away in my vegetable drawer. I didn't add it all because I thought that might make it too cabbagey. At this point I also added some leftover salad leaves, cos in this case, complete with their dressing and also shredded. Not much. I thought about adding some carrot but decided not - although on another day I might have. But I did add a diced medium sized potato - you always have to have potato in a soup - and half a cup of frozen peas - for the goodness of legumes.

So far there is nothing really unique in this soup - other than the leftover salad leaves I suppose, but they are easily replicated.

Now however we digress. First with some of the green sauce I made a week or so ago. I now have no memory of what went into that sauce - for it was also made from green things that were wilting in the fridge. I put in about half of my remains, but really I should have added them all, because I've still got some to use up elsewhere.

Next to go in were the remains of a dish of pumpkin gnocchi which had partially disintegrated when cooked in a tomatoey, cheesy kind of sauce. I don't remember now what went into it, other than the inevitable cream and cheese. An unrepeatable ingredient for this soup.

Then - and this was perhaps my bravest - and possibly weirdest addition. A square of leftover pizza, also itself made with leftovers - halved foccacia, mozzarella cheese, and leftover grated tomato from an actual recipe I made a few days ago. I cut the pizza into pieces about 2 cm square I suppose. My reasoning was that it was sort of bread, and that people make soup with bread frequently - think Pappa al pomodoro. So why not leftover pizza?

Then I added liquids. The strained tomato juice that dripped from the grated tomatoes that went into the pizza, water - I would have added wine, but at that stage I either didn't think of it, or there was not an opened bottle. I did add a good amount of tomato passata however to enhance the taste of the tomato juice, and topped up with water.

Then I went away and left it to cook for half an hour or so. When I came back the liquid had reduced somewhat so I added some milk - just because really, and some thyme because I suddenly remembered I had a gift of thyme from my green-thumbed friend.

Unusually for me - I am very bad about this - I then tasted it and decided it was lacking in something, but, not having a sophisticated palate I didn't know what, so decided to do the 'always add ...' thing - in this case lemon juice - about half a lemon - and yes it did make a difference.

And I think that was that. The bread from the pizza had by then virtually melted into the soup. There were no lumps of bread. As had the gnocchi.

Today as I write this I realise that in true cheffy fashion I should have added a Parmesan rind or two. But I didn't. Also the remains of the 'stroganoff sauce' from Ixta Belfrage's chicken skewers.

So there you have it - a delicious, heart-warming and soothing soup eaten with leftover baguette from my book group lunch. Half made with basic ingredients I always have on hand, and half with this and that, wilting, leftover or about to go off.

My fridge always has something like that in there, so I was heartened to read Nigel - talking about Christmas leftovers saying:

"Inevitably, we shall have something made with ingredients of which I’ve bought too many. ... Truth told, I have a suspicion that I over-buy certain things deliberately, with these post-Yule feasts in mind."

and also Jay Rayner who also always has leftovers because of:

"a nagging tension which insists that the Cossacks are probably coming tomorrow, and if not tomorrow then certainly the day after so you need to eat NOW. I live in fear of the phrase "just enough". I regard just enough as nowhere near enough. Just enough means too little. It means one each. And only one each. That is plain wrong." Jay Rayner

For further reading on this type of cooking - almost everyday in my kitchen - you can do worse than read Jay Rayner's Leftovers are the beginning of a beautiful relationship, Henry Dimbleby and Jane Baxter's Creative ways to cook with leftovers - which is more of an 'ideas' piece and Ruby Tandoh's Reheated rivalry: why I’m the champion of leftovers which is more about ingenious ways to improve reheated food, than making something new, although some of her ideas leave you with something quite unlike the original dish.