‘Cooking lasts, kissing don’t’
quoted the magnificent Clarissa Wright in today’s Guardian.
how poignant, how both sad and life-affirming..I must be going through that nearly-Christ-age-syndrome, as my weekends lately have been increasingly filled with the luscious (or nauseous?) amount of naps and oven-cooking.
Daddy Freud would have been probably happy to declare my sublimation, but I prefer to go with Clarissa’s sentence. There’s some higher, more eternal philosophy to taking raw food and turning it into pleasure; rather than exchanging fluids with human beings (granted, many will disagree).
Or, put simply, there’s a healthy doze of reassurance in knowing that double my nearly-Christ-age, and it’s the cooking that will still matter…
And so (or despite?) I’ve decided to share with you, my patient reader, one of my recent conquests.
Potato cutlets in Kama flour
I did say satisfaction of needs, did I not?
Well, and I am quite chuffed with this one, for I have been both frugal and authentic to my roots (ish).
This is the kind of creative and knowing-of-the-basics exercise that the best of cooking – and sha…oops kissing requires I suppose.
1. the frugal bit – take some left-over mash – 50/50 with sweet potato. chill for a bit, and shape into ample sized cutlets, or you would probably call them patties.
2. the authentic bit – Kama (written before here) is a flour of roasted grains, fairly unique to Estonia, my place of birth for those not in the know. I had acquired a couple of packs from this shop recently as I’m quite addicted to Kama’s utterly nutt(erl?)y flavour.
I often have Kama mixed into cottage cheese or yoghurt for a resemblance of a ‘heatlhy’ (ough, a horrible word) pud, but it’s fab in savoury dishes too. like these potato patties, or maybe fried herring…or minced veal.
Anyway, dip your cutlets into a bitten egg, and then into Kama. Fry gently in butter until crisp.
Serve with sourcream or creme fraiche mixed in with a spoon of mild mustard.
Delivered with a mountains of brightly green vegetables, wild mushrooms and capers plus a chunk of good, white bread and a glass of fruity white – this is a kind of supper to which I would happily invite both Clarissa and Sigmund.