More behind the meal

Loving 3 cornered leek and sprouting broccoli

Back in March 2021, I did an online food writing course with the magnificent Itamar Srulovich of Honey & Co. Over two weekends, with lots of homework in-between we honed our styles and I came up with this.

There’s more behind this meal than meets the eye.

The rustle of juicy green chlorophyll filled leaves, hacked from their sleepy bed. And instantly the hit of pungency reaches our noses. Some wrinkled in annoyance, others with delight. Wild leaves, white flowers stuffed into bags to trap their fertility, preserve their pride. Washed and sorted, a careful check to make sure that all the leaves have 3 corners, no insect life, mollusks or grasses lurking within.

Then into a bath of cold green olive oil, a little sea salt. It’s blended into a vivid green puree.

It may go for a fortune in China Town but in my parents back garden 3 cornered leek is anathema. Pungent, rapacious, invasive, greedy. It’s doomed to end life in the green bin. So, it comes home with me, connecting me to their garden, to the seasons.

Everything I see matters as much as the garden left behind in the past. What used to be here. Where the cat used to hide in the shade. The swing; swinging so far that my feet hit the lilac tree. The photo by the daisies in my first grown up dress. And now, my parents older, still gardening, still cursing the soil.

I spot bunches of white sprouting broccoli at Parliament Hill farmers market on Saturday. It’s such a short season it would be a crime to overlook it. The farmer tells me how quickly the stems start to bud once picked and how difficult it is to source seed for it. It's a precious treat during the hungry gap, before more spring crops start to be harvested.

In a short while everyone will be worshipping at the asparagus alter, myself included but for a few short weeks I’m happy to give this modest little vegetable a place in my kitchen. I sense the urgency; if not now, then when. It’s perfect with pasta, mixed up with a hit of chilli and garlic, with a hollandaise or Maltaise sauce but I’m cooking it simply with buckwheat soba noodles and the garlicy oil. So quick to put together. First a handful of noodles are tumbled into a pan of boiling water. Chopped into even sized pieces, stems, leaves, flowers the broccoli is added after 2 minutes. In a further 2 minutes the broccoli is cooked, the stems still bright green and slightly crunchy. Noodles tested.

 My bowl is waiting for the bronze noodles. On top goes the vibrant broccoli, and I drizzle over the bright and pungent 3 corner leek oil. Sneak over a shaving of Lincolnshire poacher cheese. I eat it on my balcony in the cold spring evening, chasing the setting sun.

Tasting the slippery noodles, the delicate white sprouting broccoli and the garlicky oil together is moving in its simplicity. I want to imagine it’s like Buddhist monk temple cookery where everything has its place, but it’s not. It’s just a plate of food.

Modest, simple and cosy, it keeps me close to my family. In the fridge there’s 3 cornered leek puree for future feasts, to freeze and recapture the moment of picking and plucking, cooking and devouring the circle. A fleeting season, a few months and it’s faded. There’s nothing to worship here, just a plate of food encrusted with memories I’ve made, looking back to make sure that I’m not forgetting anything.