In praise of bland

“You can't smell a hug. You can't hear a cuddle. But if you could, I reckon it would smell and sound of warm bread-and-butter pudding.” Nigel Slater

This week I have had a couple of bouts of a stomach upset. No big deal - we all have these from time to time, and this time at least there was no vomiting. But it occurred on a couple of separate days, so I took myself to the doctor just in case - who confirmed what I thought - just a mild viral infection that would go away. But drink and eat bland food. Which I had already decided to do.

I have the bread and butter pudding on show here because of the quote above, and I'm sure that many would put it in the nursery food category of bland. Actually I think this would not really meet my doctor's criteria of bland - probably rather too much butter and sugar. But sort of bland, and definitely comforting. And did I mention - delicious?

I tried to find a quote about bland that met my feelings about bland. However they were all derogatory and patronising I thought. Sure - sometimes bland is just plain tasteless, although I can't really think of anything that is absolutely tasteless. When I criticise something as bland, it's rather more likely to be because I was expecting something really tasty and different. Indeed I have been guilty of noting against the occasional recipe that it was a bit bland.

My feelings about bland generally however, sort of correspond to soothing, comforting, gentle, kind ... Possibly ordinary - but then we and everything around us, can't always be amazing, exceptional, out of this world ... can it?

Many, many years ago I remember my father had a duodenal ulcer and had to eat bland food. So there was a lot of poaching and soupy things. Soup said my doctor, and soup was indeed what I had been planning for that evening. So I gathered together a few different green things - leeks, a stick of celery, a couple of asparagus, a few leaves of kale and some potato, sweated them in a little butter (probably not strictly allowed) and then cooked them in home-made chicken stock. When cooked it was all given the stick blender treatment and served - with a slice of baguette. Which on reflection I should probably have floated in the soup, but in fact I just ate with that forbidden butter. And readers it was pretty good. My husband said so, so it must have been. I didn't take a photo, but it looked a bit like this.

The next night I turned to risotto and NIgel Slater - a simple asparagus risotto - I fear the asparagus season is ending. A few slices of leek softened in a little butter - the butter is obviously my downfall - or it would be if I had been seriously ill - rice swished around in the butter - a glass of wine and then the gradual absorption of more home-made chicken stock with occsional additions of the juice and zest of a lemon. Again I took no photos, but this is his asparagus risotto as made by an admirer, and ours looked similar - a little darker because our stock was a little darker. Bland - sort of - but deliciously, lemony so. Asparagus has a - shall I say - delicate - taste.

The doctor had suggested rice and so my next thought was chicken and rice - of the Greek kind.

I was going to make this tonight but once again we have been invited to a family dinner, so I have no control over the food. Besides I am now back to normal, so probably no need to continue to be so careful about what I eat. But tomorrow I shall cook a half chicken and rice according to the recipe I talked about a long time ago from a Big Issue article about how a Greek grandmother (a yiayia) helped two young men recover from the death of their mother by providing them with comforting food such as this dish. When I read the recipe - Kotopoulo Me Rizi I could not believe that it would be worth doing. But I did - and it was absolutely delicious. All you do is poach the chicken and then place it on rice mixed with onions, pour over the some of the stock from the poaching and cook in the oven until it's falling apart and deliciously brown. That's it. I might add a touch of lemon juice. We'll see.

Nigel is also a fan of rice - the simplicity of it:

"A bowl of rice. Not too much, gently mounded, sticky or with each long grain separate from the others. Silent, white, pure. Sitting quietly in its bowl, devoid of adornment, it is quite the most beautiful thing on earth. A little bowl of calm."

Which as he points out, you can dress up any way you like. But even plain rice is worth eating. And it's not tasteless. Pasta and potatoes too. They are blank canvases.

There are lots of other foods that I eat - and love - that comfort and soothe. Soups are possibly at the top of that list, followed by things like plain pastas - buttery ones - so not really invalid food. Fish cakes; poached chicken with tarragon - you must have the tarragon - is divine; fish cooked with lemons and maybe something green in paper or foil in the oven, apple crumble, scrambled eggs on toast ... I'm sure you have your own list of such things.

So here's to bland. Exciting, different spicy is good too, but probably in smaller quantities.

YEARS GONE BY

November 22

2024 - Nothing

2023 - Cutting up onions

2022 - Chicken and dates from New York

2021 - Nothing

2020 - Missing

2019 - Laying the table

2018 - Potato salad

2017 - Lucky dip part two - learning to cook from a book

2016 - Something new to do with spinach