Friday nights have been a night for easy food, relaxing, visiting and have as little schedule as possible. At least that is how it has been for me since childhood until I entered the food industry. Friday nights became a night for others to relax and have no schedule, and I was part of the team behind the scenes in the kitchen preparing the meal they had ordered. Working in a commercial kitchen has tended to dull my focus on what the Feast can be. The time has come to journey more deeply into an understanding and appreciation of it, and practically find the Holy moments of experiencing it. This past Friday evening became one of those ‘experiencing’ moments.
We had been away for a few days but I had wanted to keep up my training for a half marathon I'd registered for. On the first morning half way into my run, I had turned my head to look across the road, and then misplaced my left foot, resulting in a spectacular fall on the side of the road. The result was a broken ankle, dashing my hopes of running this first half marathon! Limping around the house, once we got home, I was feeling really sorry for myself because I was missing my running and I was missing my regular schedule of work in the cafe. So comfort food was definitely in order on this Friday night and maybe creating it would be it own soothing affect. As we had been away I was not sure what was in the fridge and pantry so I had to do some sleuthing to see what had potential to become ingredients for our evening meal. There was some chorizo in the fridge that needed to be used somehow, there were onions and carrots (which should be a staple in any fridge) and some fresh spinach. A tin of tomatoes, some fusilli pasta in the pantry as well so all of this looked like it could become something for dinner that would be fairly decent. I had time on my side so if I was to make a tomato sauce it could simmer away for at least an hour. There were a few bottles of red wine in the wine rack and so I chose the one that had a screw top and was not a pricey bottle. After all if I only used a little wine in the sauce at least I could easily close the bottle up again. Well, actually I rather like drinking a glass of red wine while I am cooking so maybe we would have enough left to enjoy with dinner!
The onion, carrots and garlic were laid out ready to go. Peeling carrots becomes a nice easy rhythm as they are stripped of their outer coat, looking clean and smooth afterwards. I love my chef knife and how it feels in my hands. Chopping the carrots and onions into small dice size has its own rhythm and beat. The garlic is peeled and sliced and then diced small. I love the feel of holding the blade of the knife sideways, giving a flat surface to press down onto the garlic and as you press and drag the knife blade over it is releases some of the juices. This time of year my home grown garlic is long since eaten and so I have only the much dryer older garlic that comes from the local grocery store. Oh how I look forward to a new crop of garlic once summer arrives! In fact the tender shoots of what was planted last fall are already making a timid appearance in the garden. I reach up to grab my saucier pan that hangs on the cast iron rack above the counter and get it heating up. Once it is hot that lovely golden olive oil is poured into the pan and quite quickly it is hot enough to throw in onions, carrots and garlic. They dance and sizzle as the edges change to a slight golden colour. Salt, thyme and oregano get sifted through my fingers and fall into the pan, mingling their flavours and doing their bit in drawing out the flavours. This is the moment to splash in the vibrant red rich red wine and let it begin to simmer and reduce, its fragrance rising as mist off the ingredients that are softening and absorbing each others flavours. Oh yes it does smell quite lovely! I don’t mind using tinned tomatoes at all, in fact my friends in Italy used them all the time in making their simple and rich sauce. Once the tomatoes were in, rinsing the can with a touch of water it makes sure everything ends up in the cooking process. Last ingredient is a sprinkling of sugar. Now all that is left is to bring it to a rolling bubble and then reduce the heat to let it simmer slowly, ever so slowly, and in doing so reduce it to further intensify the flavours. It cooked slowly for about an hour so then it was time to once again bring out the invaluable chef knife and cube the chorizo. As it sautéed in the fry pan, the fusilli cooked its way to a soft but el dente edible pasta. The pasta gets added to the cooked chorizo and a ladle or two of the sauce are added. When I was working with my friend Eddie, a fantastic chef, I learned a lot of tricks from him. One, he made a great tomato sauce and two, he always put his pasta into the fry pan with the ingredients he was adding to it, then added a little sauce and brought it all up to a hot temperature just before serving it. I love throwing in a big handful of fresh spinach and tossing it, allowing the heat of the pasta and sauce to wilt it. Last thing - throw in the finely grated pecorino, myzithra, and a bit of sharp white cheddar in to the make the last toss. That was the cheese I found in the fridge. I poured the completed pasta dish into a beautiful blue pottery bowl that my husband has had for many years. It looked so good on the table and the aroma was tantalizing. It was a simple pasta, one meal in a beautiful pottery bowl. A feast indeed, not because of lavishness or abundance, but because of the joy in the preparation, the anticipation of enjoying it, and the blessing of sharing this evening meal to nourish my life, and the life of my husband.
Feasting, in this Lenten season, seems to be drawing my focus to the simplicity of a feast, the essence of what nurtures us mind, body and soul. Take the bread and wine, the simple ingredients of the Christian Eucharist. I don’t fully understand yet the depth of this simple but profound Feast, but I do know that each time I come to the Communion Table, I am seeking more of what it offers. That is a subject for another time.
