'The Good Life
Pie in the sky
Pamela Vandyke Price
One form Qf temporary relief from self-perpetuating ills (such as politicians pursuing their careers while the rest of us burn, the English climate and my weight), is to concentrate on detestable trivia. Currently I am soothing my mind by pondering which of two plats garnis served to me on aircraft could be considered the most wholly idiotic, as regards work, cost involved and result: steak with pommes parisienne, or roast chicken with stuffing, bread sauce and roast potatoes.
Now consider: a steak is done to the , taste of the eater, those pornmes should glitter with the crispness of their ilk. With the chicken, the skin should crackle from the flesh, the potatoes crunch' open to admit the richness of gravy, while the stuffing exudes from the interior of the seasoned bird and the bread sauce — well, my friends, those constant readers will know that this has rated a column from me in the past, and therefore it should not be relegated to being a mere dab on a plastic tray. How can such food — which is a
delight when well done — be attempted if it has to be pre-cooked and then served, literally, on the wing? Yet my fellow-travellers (phrase of ill-omen — they were sufficiently ungastronomic to be precisely this, except would there , have been so many at one time?) all ate everything up. What will happen to me on my next air journey I do not know, because I intend to take a small portable collation, which will be delicious, nutritious and appropriate. I suppose the purveyors of and requirers of the illchosen viands demand peche flambee at the top of a fire escape and send their brandy glasses to be warmed at the conflagration; they can take in plastic cheese, polystyrene. rolls and the aforementioned supposed food, so they are, truly, capable de tout.
As we were flying to and from the Middle East, where so many delicious "smackerels," as Pooh might have said, were evolved, southern versions of the srnorrebrod, I feel that airlines, with such a captive audience, might try and get away from the sort of thing that, even on the ground, needs doing very well indeed to be any good. After all, people can't get off — and they might find they actually liked something with taste and texture.
So, while voyagers like us have to cut back on our caviare canapes, here is a recipe for what, in some books, is called "Poor man's caviare," and which is a delicious party dip or spread, or ingredient in an hors d'oeuvre. The aubergine or egg plant (Solanum melongena) appears to have sprung to life in India, but to have been first eaten by the Arabs; Avicenna mentions it in the fourth century. (What with mathematics, distillation and all sorts of lovely things to eat, the Arabs are responsible for much.) The Italians got to know the aubergine when trading vessels brought it to Italy in the thirteenth century, according to Yann Lovelock's Vegetable Book (Allen and Unwin), but they thought it was poisonous and it was not eaten until the fifteenth century, when the Spanish and Portuguese exported it to their then possessions. English names for the aubergine include guinea squash and Jew's apple, but one of the Arab names is badinjal, which, in Bengali, becomes brinjal — and, in the West Indies, has become Brown-jolly. Yann Lovelock indicates that the Portuguese name, beringela, and the Spanish albei.engela are obviously of Arabic origin.
A recipe I have used for years comes from a book of Turkish recipes called Sultan's Pleasure by Robin Howe and Pauline Espire (Peter Garnett), now out of print. For Pathcan Salatasi you grill two whole aubergines until the skins are brown, .then peel this off and pound the flesh. To this add a chopped onion, tablespoonful of chopped parsley, salt, black pepper and juice of half a lemon, with three to four tablespoonfuls of good olive oil. It shortens the pounding to put the lot through a liquidiser — and I add a clove of garlic. You scoop up this puree with slivers of brown bread and butter.
In another charming out-of-print book called Turkish Cookery (Tredolphin), Nezih Simon, who.founded the first cookery and domestic science classes in Cyprus, suggests combining an aubergine puree with lemon juice and salt, plus two dessertspoonfuls of tahini (which you can buy at health food shops). I made the puree and then stirred in the tahini — I think it needs the oil — and the mixture is excellent scooped on to slices of ScandaCrisp. At least it distracts from more fearful problems. And it makes a pleasant and unusual first course.
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