3 minute read
Cupboard Pleasures
Cupboard Love
Myfanwy Alexander
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Friends, I have fallen in love and the love is requited. We were brought together by a wise friend who understands us both and we are now living together in great felicity. In fact, I can only with di culty remember what life was like when I did not share it with this paragon, who happens to be a glorious cupboard. Its bulky magni cence has made the rest of the kitchen look very shabby but I cannot wait for the improvements to be complete before inviting friends to come and worship. e installation of the love of my life meant the removal of hideous units but before demolition, I had to empty them…
First went out-of-date tins, bought when dinosaurs roamed the earth and over which the fear of botulism hung like a cloud. Next, obscure items which had smuggled themselves in via hampers, not with delicacies in wicker, more a cardboard box wrapped in Christmas paper containing whatever they had in the Londis. ere is a tin of evaporated milk which I literally cannot imagine how to use, unlike condensed, that harbinger of creamy delight, in home-made Baileys or a luscious bano ee. Last to be cleared were the student remnants; crumpled packing containing half a nest of dried noodles, three sachets of instant soup which look as if they were the sole survivors of a bitter military campaign, and a dark, mysterious bottle whose label is not written in any language I have ever seen before and whose qualities are a mystery. Next I faced the challenge of lling it with items which were equal to its levels of handsome utility. e shelves sweep out on elegant little rollers so there are no unseen corners in which grotty jars might lurk. As it is the season for preserving, I am on a mission to pickle and jam my way to full cupboard status.
In the season of gluts, friends invite you round for a tea, but you leave with a marrow the size of the Gower. I sourced some rather elderly cucumbers from a ‘help yourself’ box and they were delicious, with an almost oral scent and esh which proclaimed kinship with melons. e skin, however, was suitable for footwear or pub upholstery so I removed it before pickling the slices in vinegar embellished with star anise.
Next in the ‘free to a loving home’ category are the runner beans, which require suitable treatment. When I was a child, we had a rectangular frame of Bakelite strung across with blades of legendary sharpness. I was allowed to pull the runner beans through this frame, aware that I was risking death if I sliced myself instead. Even this device did not deal with the tough strings which run the length of even the most carefully bred bean. ey need to be removed before preserving takes place, otherwise the resultant pickle has the consistency of a Brillo pad. But good bean chutney is a rare treat.
Jams are just for fun, really, so should be acquired or made in a spirit of excess. Never do I feel more spoiled when asked, at the Ivy Café in Montgomery, what jam I would like with my scone? (I always go for Morello Cherry, but if I ate a scone a week there for a year, I’d hardly taste the range.) I tend rather to make strawberries into ice-cream or add them to basil and peppercorns for a knockout Pimms so look for less usual jams. Apple, though it never achieves a strong set, even with lemon added, is delicious on toast, with cinnamon or ginger and you can also use it with blackberries, if you struggle with pips and llings. Lurk around market stalls for bargain boxes; nectarines, plums and limes can enhance your cupboard in curds and compotes as well as jams. But with companies throughout Wales producing such delights as e Preservation Society’s Apricot, Almond & Amaretto Preserve, Calon Lan’s Damson Jam or any of the jewelled glories from Radnor Preserves, maybe I’ll hang up my preserving pan and sit down with a slice of toast by the Rayburn, admiring my open cupboard with its dragon’s hoard of glittering treats.
