LOOKING WITH FRESH EYES

I’ve been thinking about patterns of living, the entrenched patterns of cooking. What is helped by these patterns: a relaxed ease and an automatic flow. And what can be harmful: there’s no exploration of other possibilities, and the patterns may be no longer enjoyable. How to recognise when our patterns aren’t serving us well? Perhaps it’s more a question of how to admit that they aren’t.

As spring has sprung, I find I’m looking afresh at some of my habits. Moving from winter into spring is a form of whole-body travel. It’s a good time for noticing things I want to change, just as returning from a trip can be.

I realise I’ve been clinging to some of my patterns to avoid thinking about alternatives. If a lot of daily decisions are preset, there’s a certain security and continuity. And shifting away from the known can feel too challenging. It risks showing us that we haven’t done as well as we could have.

In small ways I’m trying to consciously break out of my usual routines: Yes, I’m still committed to my online yoga at 7 am on weekdays. But after that? Time to change up my clothing decisions, to choose a different cup for my coffee, to play with the order of things large and small, in the kitchen and out. It’s interesting how much conscious effort it takes to do this.

But some evolution has happened without much effort. The change in seasons has shifted my appetite. I’m less hungry. And the two fried eggs I’ve been having with leftovers most mornings now seem like too much.

one of my many “2 fried eggs over leftovers” morning meals, from three weeks ago

This morning I found myself wanting lentils. There was a stash of plain cooked lentils in the fridge. I spooned some into a small bowl, added a dollop of olive oil and a splash of soy sauce, and I was set. It looked very Lenten and abstemious, not reheated, and with not even a fried egg on top, but was in fact lush and satisfying in the mouth. Simple can be so good.

lentils topped by torn sorrel leaves, in a small Wayne Ngan tea bowl

I went out into the early sun and picked some fresh newly-emerged sorrel from the garden to sprinkle on top. That little kick of lemony edge from the torn leaves felt like an energy boost from the gods of springtime.

sorrel in the gsrden, leaping into fresh life

KITCHEN EXPLORATIONS

The farmers here have been bringing spinach to the market nearly all winter. I buy bagsful of it, mostly to cook on its own. My habitual approach, after washing it thoroughly, is to toss it, still wet, into a large hot oiled cast-iron skillet or a wok. I sprinkle on a little coarse pickling salt then turn the spinach over and over, so all sides get a chance to wilt and melt against the hot metal. Very quickly it reduces into a bundle of dense green. I press out liquid with a spatula, then squeeze it in my hands to get out even more before chopping it. Usually it then gets dressed with a little sesame oil, a touch of soy sauce, a squeeze of lemon.

But the other day I broke pattern. I was making supper for four and realised that the stash of leftover brown jasmine rice I had planned to reheat as part of the meal wouldn’t be enough for us all. I thought I’d try bulking it up with spinach, and what a lovely success. The rice transformed into a beautiful mass of white-speckled green with the addition of a whole big bag of washed and coarsely chopped spinach.

Here's a rough guideline:

Leftover brown or white rice, about 2 cups

About ½ pound spinach, well washed and coarsely chopped (4 packed cups)

Other ingredients:

Olive or other oil, Thai curry paste, chopped garlic, fish sauce, salt, fresh lime or lemon

Heat a large wok, add oil, swirl, then toss in about 2 tablespoons curry paste, if you wish, and mash into the oil. Toss in the garlic. Cook a moment then add the rice and stir-fry briefly. Add the spinach in handfuls, stirring and turning after each. If it’s not still wet from washing, sprinkle on a little water and continue to stir and turn. Sprinkle on a little salt. The spinach should be starting to soften and turn bright green. Let cook a moment, add several dashes of fish sauce, and turn and stir a couple more times, until the spinach is completely tender and the whole mass is blended.

Turn out onto a wide shallow bowl, squeeze on lime juice or lemon juice, and serve.

photos from my small garden today: hellebore in bloom; and rhubarb emerging slowly, a promise of pleasures to come