Corn, raspberry, and mascarpone ice cream

spoon of raspberry corn ice cream

I’m no statistician but I’m confident that there are likely more people throughout the world whose cultures celebrate corn in dessert form than there are those who think it’s weird. Nevertheless, you might need warming up here, ironic, when it comes in the form of something frozen — corn, raspberry, and mascarpone ice cream. This inspiration came to me via another, entirely savoury recipe that I’ll also post about down the line at a discreet remove; but it’s implicitly influenced by all those corn-based desserts and puddings consumed worldwide; if not by the same logic that presumably drove those recipes into existence: corn is sweet! Where else are you going to put it?

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Pork meatballs, fennel, apple, mustard, creme fraiche

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The irony of the “Florals for spring? Groundbreaking.” quote from The Devil Wears Prada is that invoking it has also become something of a cliche; but like most cliches, it is a useful shorthand. I rewatched this film back in January when I had Covid, assuming it would be exactly the sort of undemanding fare that my diminished self could handle, and weirdly, though I do not dream of labour I also have come to realise I hate movies where the main character gives up an incredible job opportunity for love — make of that what you will. Meryl Streep’s icily supercilious performance is of course easily the high point, but I could hear her imperious murmur encircling my brain as I planned out this recipe. Pork meatballs with fennel, apple, mustard and creme fraiche — for late autumn? Groundbreaking. What next, maple syrup? Cinnamon? But, remember what I said about cliches being useful? Well, they can also be delicious.

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Pappardelle with Fennel and Bean Escabeche

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Sometimes I’m not sure who my recipes are for, other than myself. It’s not that they’re so very different, as you can find ice cream and pasta anywhere without vigorous effort. It’s more that they’re neither technically whizz-bang nor weekdayishly practical, on top of which they aren’t arriving with any reliable consistency and when they do, there’s caveats. Caveats like: this Pappardelle with Fennel and Bean Escabeche is too fancy to be truly humble, but too humble to be truly fancy; small children probably won’t like it; it’s as pale as a pile of crumpled cashmere mock-neck sweaters; and it contains four tablespoons of vinegar.

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buttered greens with basil

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Not wishing to minimise time in the kitchen and having a genuine proclivity for drama, I don’t energetically seek out recipes solely based on how easy and quick they are as a rule. But I also won’t say no. With that in mind, it’s possible I can’t quite be trusted when I claim a recipe is both easy and quick — though I’m very, very confident that this recipe for Buttered Greens with Basil fits that bill. Easily. It is, in fact, so work-of-moments that it’s more of an idea, really — just a bit of light chopping and a few turns in a hot pan and it’s ready to become your next established side dish.

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shorbat jarjir | rocket soup

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You know a soup recipe is good when I can overcome its exo-seasonal heat through my sheer demanding curiosity to know what it tastes like. Sure, every time I step outside it feels like I’ve been clamped in a pair of hair straighteners, but I also just had to taste this Shorbat Jarjir, bustling with rocket and spices, from Yasmin Khan’s Palestinian cookbook Zaitoun. It was the rocket itself that lured me in, tangled and peppery, then the warm dusting of spices, then the promise of a satiny puree. I had half-planned to make some dukkah-crusted croutons to accompany it but this soup needed no extra distraction; nor could I be bothered, to be honest. They might have been great, I’m telling myself they weren’t necessary.

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Banadora Wa Sumac — Tomato, Mint and Sumac Salad

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It’s a new year! To paraphrase Dorothy Parker — out of indolence, not because she needs editing — another one? How? 2024 feels too far into the future for my taste, we all know too much but we’ve learned nothing and Google doesn’t work anymore and the date of my birth is shrinking in the distance to the point where it’s improbable that I existed both now and then. But, here we are, now, and based upon experience I approach the early days of January 2024 cautiously — like I’m throwing a steak to distract and appease a pugnacious neighbourhood dog — but not without hope.

On that somewhat discordant note, I’m beginning the year with Banadora Wa Sumac, an ebullient salad from Palestine on a Plate by Joudie Kalla that echoes the nation’s flag colours and cools the brain while delighting the palate.

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Avocado, Labaneh, and Preserved Lemon Spread

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I’ve never had a library card that didn’t carry with it fines of some shape. How many other eleven-year-olds have you known to get debt collection letters from Baycorp? That was me, starting as I meant to go on. Some two years ago, Auckland City Libraries — my newish local — stopped enforcing fees, unlocking a new level of relaxation I hadn’t known possible to access. It’s amazing how quickly one adjusts, how quickly things feel normal. I love getting out a stack of cookbooks periodically from the library for inspiration without having to worry that the brisk passage of time will suddenly incur mounting fines; one such book that I rented six weeks ago, and still haven’t quite yet returned, was The Palestinian Table by Reem Kassis.

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Easy Pear and Parmesan Tart with Chilli Honey Walnuts

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As a kid I used to wonder – worry, even – about how rich people worked out what presents to get their loved ones each year. If everyone around you can buy whatever they want, whenever they want, how do you get them something special? I’m still yet to be in a position to find out; but I’m not alone in this fear if the Succession through-line of characters being utterly woeful at giving and receiving gifts is anything to go by (I still cringe to think of Connor offering his aging billionaire father a sourdough starter for his birthday).

I was reminded of this when considering the majesty of the frozen puff pastry sheet: the way it turns a humble handful of ingredients into culinary elegance, lending instant opulence. Even if people are quite well aware that it came out of the freezer ready-rolled, its presence suggests time and sedulous care.

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roasted brussels sprouts with agrodolce and feta

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In this charmless era where the murmurs of backlash begin to brew before a rising entity has time to be completely perceived, let alone overrated, I do enjoy a good slow-burn image rehabilitation. When deserved. In the case of the blameless brussels sprout, that metonymic representative of a small child’s innate suspicion of greens, that dinner-as-punishment vegetable, it’s unsurprisingly much more palatable when roasted or generally scorched over high heat in some fashion than boiled into limp and pallid reprehensibility.

And when you add agrodolce and a snowfall of crumbled feta? The brussels sprout is not only rehabilitated, it’s utterly impervious to the backlash cycle.

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