W hen we’re cooking up a storm for this column, my assistant Gillian and I sometimes indulge in a bit of Top 10 Foods, listing off our all-time favourite foods. It can get heated, with me coming down firmly on the side of veggies and she swearing blind that life without dairy isn’t worth living (in fairness, she has a point).
Top 10 Foods is a fun way to pass the time, but Desert Island Foods is a whole other ball game. You see, Top 10 Foods assumes there is an abundance of goodies from which you are free to choose your favourites.
With Desert Island Foods, however, you have to imagine yourself alone on a windswept (preferably tropical) island, where you’ve been shipwrecked with just a few supplies to live off until help arrives. Think about it. What would be on your list?
It’s tougher than it seems, this little exercise, mainly because certain foods we love spring to life only when buddied up with something else, such as olive oil, gently heating up clumps of crushed garlic. It’s the smell of possibility and of so many beginnings. Others are so everyday it’s almost impossible to imagine life without them. Take butter. It’s probably the one reason I could never be vegan, though vegetables take centre stage in 80 per cent of my home cooking.
But pole position in any game of Desert Island Foods I ever play is firmly occupied by a humble fruit: the lemon.
Whether a recipe calls for the zest, pulp, juice, or even all three, lemons can lift a dish out of the ordinary into the realm of the sensational. Whether it’s there to cut through fat or throw sweet flavours into sharp relief, lemons are something I could not imagine doing without.
And lemons are essential to this week’s recipes. In both cases it’s a subtle role they play, while highlighting just how hard-working these little guys are.
In the chicken dish, they bring an acidic note to the party, which cuts perfectly through the fattiness of the olives to create a really lovely sauce. I used some preserved lemons I discovered stashed in the larder – probably since 1992 – but normal ones would work almost as well.
In the second dish, an anchovy vinaigrette for bitter greens, lemon juice stops a robust dressing from being overwhelming. With a few shavings of Parmesan or Manchego thrown in, this salad is perfect for mopping up the sauce from the chicken dish.
It’s an homage to one of the many starters I have had in a great New York restaurant called Charlie Bird. If you get to go there, order the Albariño, order plenty of sides, and say “Hi” from me.
Food cooked and styled by Domini Kemp and Gillian Fallon
For more lemon ideas, take a look at The Lemon Cookbook: 50 Sweet and Savoury Recipes to Brighten Any Meal, by Ellen Jackson (published by Sasquatch, £14.99)
