Maybe it’s the recent spell of summery weather, maybe it’s the return to grey skies and the inevitable wish to be in Spain, sipping red wine and eating tapas, but whatever it is, I found myself the other day thinking about a dish called pulpo a la Gallega, or Galician Octopus.
It’s difficult not to notice the arrival of autumn, even if you’re still waiting for a summer that never was. The chestnuts are about to burst through their armoured shells, wild mushrooms are shyly poking their caps through the soil, and summer fruits are looking unhappy and getting pricier on the market stands. Today we’ll welcome the change of seasons with a recipe that makes the most of a traditionally autumnal vegetable, fennel, but has the lightness and playfulness of a summer dish.
This is not a cooking column, at least not in the traditional sense. Sure, there will be recipes, but they will always be part of a bigger picture, a grander scheme. This grander scheme is food. This is what this column is about. It is all about understanding where good food comes from, who grows it and who sells it. It is about learning how to take simple, but honest ingredients and making the most of them. This is the essence of this column and my attitude towards food and, though it may appear simple on the surface, it has more depth than meets the eye.
We all know carrots as those adorable orange roots with the tufted green hairstyle and their promise of superhuman eyesight, but that’s not what they really are. Not what they used to be. In the grand scheme of things, orange carrots are very young. Only a couple of hundred years old. Babies! Still immature and infantile.
I have been wanting to get into food writing for a long time now, but somehow never felt the need; the time and place was never right. This changed this morning when the first article of a new food column for the University newspaper was published. The column is called The Epicurean and will be published once a fortnight. At least that’s the plan for now.