Lime caramel pork belly noodles
Plus a tale of a phone stolen out of my hands, and the comfort to be found in the last hurrah of summer fruits
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I’m in a bit of a funk this week. We’re at the fag end of the summer in the UK, so the garden has segued from blooming marvellous to tatty decline, my son is packing up his stuff to return to university, which sucks, and I had my phone stolen. By that I mean it was taken out of my very hands as I sat on the Tube heading off to
a nice lunch in London.
I guess it was my mistake to sit right next to the train doors, which I hadn’t realised was an open invititation for thieves to pretend to get off, reach around to snatch my phone and then leap out just as the doors closed behind them. Folks, it’s not just phone bandits on scooters and bikes we need to watch out for.
Anyway, I’d like to tell you I came home and found comfort in my kitchen, soothing relief in chopping and frying, distraction in peeling potatoes, and the like. But I can’t. To be honest, I’ve never taken much truck with that trope, as much as I love cooking. For me, ill-humour seeps into the pan, just like Esmeralda’s does in Like Water For Chocolate. Mayonnaise splits. Onions burn. Eggs overcook. Flavour flattens. When
my spirits are low, ingredients refuse to play ball. It’s hard to find joy in the voluptuousness of risotto when you feel like screaming, surely?
But when ill-humour strikes, there’s comfort in eating, of course, and this week I found it in the last hurrah of summer produce. The nectarines were ambrosial, honeyed and so running with juice I had to hold a napkin held under my chin to eat them. Blackberries punctuated my morning walks; they’re plump and abundant at the minute so we (my dog loves them, too) stop every few yards to nibble on them. And also, figs!
Figs are the ultimate end-of-summer treasure, or as I saw them described recently, “summer’s luscious swan song”. Their purple bloomy skin and jammy flesh always revive memories of summer holidays in the Mediterranean where, if you choose your location correctly, there are figtrees aplenty from which to pilfer the ancient fruit.
I scoffed a bagful on my own this week and was reminded that once upon a time, England was also famous for its figs. When I first heard this claim I was sceptical - how could figs flourish and ripen on this damp and grey island? But I checked and it’s true. In the 19th century, Hampshire boasted some particularly gorgeous fig orchards, and fig lovers would travel all the way from London to stroll in their shade and sample the fruit. Remnants of these orchards still exist, in a secret spot that I discovered a while back. Perhaps I’ll write about them one day?
In any event, I eventually recovered my equilibrium after my run in with the phone bandits and I craved the dish I offer you this week. There are few things quite so reassuring and satisfying as a bowl of slithery noodles lubricated with a sweet, salty, spicy, deeply savoury sauce. To be more precise, this sauce melds a loose caramel with the brightness of lime juice, bolstered with salty, umami flavours and a thwack of heat. It’s absolutely delicious and takes about 15 minutes to get to the table.
I’ve used those scandalously under-utlised pork belly slices you can buy from the supermarket (or butcher, obviously) that look like chubby bacon rashers. They’re popular in Europe but in the UK not so much, I don’t why. You get that glorious pork belly experience without waiting hours for a whole belly to do its thing in the oven.
Please enjoy - and hold on tight to your phone.