Slightly ashamed

"I don’t follow recipes. In fact, I think anyone who does is a giant baby." Nell Frizzell/The Guardian

Following on from my ditherings of yesterday - what can I do with chicken and asparagus? - and also just returning from a walk, I now am going to do a sort of post mortem on what I made, why I made it, and the gloomy place to which this has led me.

This photograph is not it - it's a dish I made some time ago. I assume that because I took a photograph I was pleased with the result, and it's very similar to last night's dish, although it's possible it includes pesto. Different pasta - orrecchiette, and more sauce - some of it slightly tomatoey and there were peas, leeks and carrots as well. But otherwise very similar. For, dear readers, I chickened out of being adventurous and went for the same old, same old, something and everything choice. A bit of leftover tomato sauce here, a touch of wine so that I didn't drink too much, some stock because I had considered Rachel Roddy's braised/poached chicken and greens and taken some out of the freezer, but otherwise pretty much the same. I was lazy and just made it up as I went along.

I can't say it was awful. Indeed to many eyes it was probably pretty good. David liked it, and even some of my favourite recipe writers often produce something very similar. But to me, although absolutely eatable, even tasty I suppose, it was definitely not brilliant and with a slightly undefined merging of tastes, that seems to be the default taste of most of my food. Not exactly bland, but not much better than that. Comforting I suppose. Alright.

Today I think I should have gone for the Miso honey chicken and asparagus in The New York Times. I really need to learn more about what to do with the very fashionable miso. I've made a couple of recipes that included it and it was good, but I am not experienced enough with it to know how to used it ad hoc as it were. The asparagus would have starred a bit more too - it just got absorbed into the general overall taste of the pasta dish, but I lazily used the fact that I had no spring onions as an excuse. I could have done some crispy shallots or onions instead. Or just left them out.

So I am feeling slightly ashamed of myself - of chickening out - pardon the pun - of being more adventurous.

All of which brings me to that quote at the top of the page: "I don’t follow recipes. In fact, I think anyone who does is a giant baby." which I remembered from Nell Frizzell's article about cooking without them and which I had read yesterday. I thought about it all as I walked, and am now trying to remember what those great thoughts were.

Most of my friends and family seem to think that I'm a wonderful cook but what does that mean? Because the dishes that I cook for them which provoke that praise are usually dishes I have made from recipes. I have just followed the recipe and so the result really depends on how good the recipe is. If it's wow as in Ixta Belfrage's Fish poached in charred tomato broth, shown here then really I can't take the praise. Anyone who can read can do it. Although, I must admit that, when you look at other people's attempts at this - and I include myself in this - see below's pretty awful photograph - we may not get it quite right along the line. Different ingredients, different pots, different stoves, a bit of distraction ... But also bear in mind that the picture from the cookbook has been styled and the photo taken by a professional photographer. Who knows whether the original was really as red as that, rather than the sludgier orange of mine? They probably took dozens of photos before they got it right too. Nevertheless I do remember that the taste was just wow. And you too - anyone - can reproduce it - near enough anyway.

Yes I know there is a lot of somewhat emotional stuff written about learning to cook at mother's side and how wonderful she was - and yes I did indeed learn a lot from my mother who was a really good but plain cook. But then nobody experimented much in the kitchen back then. They stuck to the tried and true - roast meats, stews and casseroles - we used to call them casseroles back then - fried things and pies. I was privileged in that I then had the opportunity to watch French housewives in their kitchens which did indeed expand my repertoire - and my mother's too. That and the fact that I then had to cook for myself, combined with the advent of those great cookery book writers - Elizabeth David, Robert Carrier and Jane Grigson for we Brits. The Americans had their gurus and the Australians too. The women's magazines and newspapers began publishing recipes too. Suddenly the possibilities seemed endless.

For most of my early years of cooking I cooked from recipes, other than the things I learnt to cook at home. I did not do the something and everything dishes that I do so often now. I didn't really know what went with what, and I hadn't mastered all the techniques. When I came to Australia and needed to taste Indian food because there were no Indian restaurants here, I bought books on how to cook Indian food. However, even now, when I cook something Indian it's from a recipe. I'm not that confident in mixing spices. So when left to my own devices I will use a curry powder - admittedly home-made, or a jar of curry paste from the supermarket, of both of which I am a little bit ashamed. If I really dare to mix my own spice base, I am more than happy if it works, but also certainly do not feel that I have produced something new and amazing that's worth writing down.

I have now been cooking for myself and my man for almost 60 years and obviously have learnt a lot. And most of that has come from following recipes by trendsetters, the adventurous and the experimental, the educators and those who have collected recipes from around the world. Without recipes I would not have learnt the basic technique of putting together a curry, or a pasta sauce, or a marinaded roast. I would not have known of the existence of spice mixes like harissa and za'atar, herbs like coriander or pickles like preserved lemons. How are we going to learn those things from our mothers unless she is skilled in that particular cuisine? It's certainly not just in our heads and ready to burst forth into the world.

And yet I definitely do not feel that I am a giant baby. If you don't make something from a recipe sometime in your life then you are stuck in a rut.

So yes, perhaps I'm a little bit above average when it comes to cooking. A little bit above average in all the things that I am considered to be good at, but nothing really special. And there's nothing wrong with that.

When it comes to cooing I more or less know what goes with what - at least in a European sense, and so I can throw together a pasta dish that is pleasing, satisfying and occasionally really delicious. Honestly though my best meals are those entirely concocted from cookbooks. And I don't consider myself to be a baby - at least when it comes to cooking.

So I need to choose a book and make something wonderful. Tomorrow.

And look what I found as Iwas flicking through old photos looking for illustrations for this post. Chicken and asparagus - kebabs. Nobody suggested that. Although I doubt I thought of it myself. But then again, maybe I did.

YEARS GONE BY

October 13

2024 - Last night's dinner

2023 - Apples from Winton

2022 - Serve with?

2021 - What happened to afternoon tea?

2020 - Missing

2019 - An impulse buy - now what? Fenugreek leaves

2018 - No cure for cramp

2017 - Spiral Foods - what's in a name?

2016 - Anchovies and anchoiade - courtesy of Robert Carrier