Getting Some

It was the start of the first lockdown, and everyone was keen on getting some.

Mike was getting some, Lily was getting some, hell, even my mum was getting some.

Alyson Rogers, an old friend of my mother in law, oh she was definitely getting some. She was getting some in the house, in the garden, bent over in the fields. It seemed like everywhere she looked, she couldn’t get help but get some.

I know this because she sent us pictures of her doing it. This was all the while we were in a seemingly barren streak, or stretch of land even, and here was gloating Alyson who snapped selfies as she was getting it; plucking wild garlic from forest floors so matted with the stuff that you could no longer see the soil.

When that pungent scented wild garlic arrives, there’s always a clamour in the food world; everybody’s gotta get some.

The thrill is two fold. There is wild in its title and that you need still to forage it lends some feeling of survival in a sanitary existence. Then unlike other things that god-willing would only appear once a year and instead are always there (your strawberries and your asparaguses), it maintains its mysterious rhythm and an appeal only granted when presence is fleeting.

Human ingenuity has sent dogs to space (was that actually so smart?), created nuclear power plants and grown meat on petri-dishes, but it cannot summon wild garlic outside of Spring. That is a fact (it surely has nothing to do with commercial interests making out of season growing unviable).

The urge to go and get some is always strong in March, but it was never stronger than during that first little locky-D. Especially among me, Jane and her mum. We would vary our daily walk route each day, search tips on how to hunt it (seek the scent not the sight… watch for where the bluebells grow… beware the Jabberwokkie… ), and endeavour to remain calm with each failure despite the ever dwindling window of opportunity.

And Alyson’s teasing photos would continue to arrive. Teasers in that they would show little enough of a hint to guess at where the wild garlic may lie, but never enough to be certain. She lived more than the five miles from us that were permitted to travel in those times, and knowing that if she were to share her secrets we would certainly flout the rules, she withheld what she knew.

So instead we’d huddle over the photos and postulate. These postulations would climax at certain points in the working day when Clare (my mum in law) would load us into the car to search a suspected area near Alyson’s. We’d drive real slow with eyes peeled and alert, like some gangsters on a drive-by straight out of Boyz In The Hood, except not like that at all because we were a bunch of middle class honkies cruising provincial Reading looking for seasonal herbs.

I strangely didn’t get much work done during that time. However I worked in aviation during a global lockdown so I wonder what work I would have even done if I weren’t predisposed with a hunt for wild aliums. I strangely also don’t remember if we found any in the end, but like Ithica such things often end up being more about the journey than the destination.

Today’s newsletter is received in a freer time. There are no restrictions, apparently covid doesn’t exist anymore and maybe it never even existed (was it 4G?). Seeing wild garlic arrive out the front of my Peckham grocer is an expected herald of Spring and if I wish to forage for it, I know a spot in South East London that I’m reluctant to share.

I’d say reluctant like Alyson, but that would be not be fair. When the rules abated, she told us where to go and the following Spring Jane, Clare and I made the trip and paid a small homage to the fervour that had taken us the year before.

We came back with bags of the stuff and after so long awaiting, the temptation was to do something quite grand. But one has to remember that wild garlic is a herb and should be treated only as such. I personally like little more than to chop it roughly and wilt it into some just cooked scrambled eggs, but for a particular occasion - say the first picnic of the year - I also like to take the same idea, and go a little further.

Frittata & Wild Garlic Green Sauce

These two good things have an affinity that goes beyond flavour. They are those beautiful recipes that you in fact make without recipes, pulling them together with whatever you have in the moment. They are also both things you will not finish in one go, so your fridge will keep treats for you in the following days.

The below shares just one version of each, but let this be just a start of a journey, one that is paved with tiles of frittata and sails forth on a sea of bright green.

Frittata di patate

Rachel Roddy summed it up best in Five Quarters;

“When I don’t know what to cook and I’m too tired and hungry to think, the answer is usually frittata. Far from being a tired compromise (which it is), it’s always the most reassuringly tasty and comforting thing”

The frittata di patate graces our table most in these moments. This is largely due to there always being some potatoes and onions knocking around, but also because this trinity of onion, potato and egg makes a sum greater than its parts. The starchy potato gives weight to the egg, while the egg absorbs the sweetness of the onion, and despite their initial differences the whole thing moulds into a stack of total textural cohesion.

A frittata is often described as an Italian open-faced omelette, but I see it as a more forgiving version of the Spanish tortilla. The difference between the two is that the tortilla is often thicker and is cooked briefly on both sides with higher heat so that it remains a little runny in the centre, while the frittata is cooked low and slow so that it barely colours on either side and becomes set and uniform throughout.

Ingredients

• 6 eggs, beaten lightly

• A couple of good sized potatoes (~600g), yellow & waxy is best (baking potatoes are usually good for this), sliced into ~2m discs.

• 1 onion, sliced thinly

• Olive oil or butter

Method

You can make a commotion about certain techniques and what a good frittata is, but I ultimately see this as a very forgiving thing so try not to overthink it.

Grab a 10-inch non-stick skillet (mine is cast-iron and not even non-stick, so you can still manage even if you don’t have one), pour a good covering of olive oil onto its bottom and stick it on low heat. Shove in the onions and potatoes and season with salt, then give a good mix and put a lid on it and cook for about 20 minutes until the potatoes are very soft (you don’t want them to have any give), mixing once or twice more during this time. If using floury potatoes (eg. Maris Piper) as I did this time, make sure not to cook them too long lest it turn to mash.

While this is happening you can make your green sauce (see below).

Pour the cooked onion and potato into the beaten eggs, and add some more oil or butter or both to the pan so that its surface is lightly covered. Set the heat to lowest (and if using butter, allow it to melt) and pour the mixture in, flattening it out with a fork. Allow to cook for twenty minutes or so until only the surface is runny.

There are two ways now to finish the omelette. If using a pan which can go under the grill, you now place it under a preheated grill for a minute, watching carefully and taking it out as soon as the top has set.

The other way is to place a plate on top of the pan, invert the pan and plate, then slide the result back into the pan and allow to cook another minute.

Wait at least 10 minutes before serving to let the egg relax and the frittata to become one.

Green Sauce

One thing that seemingly all can agree on is that green sauce (aka salsa verde) has no recipe. This makes it one of the most relaxed preparations as you can forget entirely any notion of a perfect green sauce, and know whatever you concocting is the most perfect one possible for that moment in space and time that you occupy.

That is not to say that it has no prerequisites, some must-haves are capers, herbs (arguably with parsley always in there somewhere) and olive oil. Anchovies would probably also be on that list, but I think a vegetarian version would do fine without.

A little acidity does not go amiss either and I follow the council of The Book of St John on such matters; lemon juice for fish (to which I’d also add if using as a condiment for pasta too) and vinegar or mustard if for meat or vegetables. Given that wild garlic already has a slight fire of its own, I’ve forgone the mustard and instead stuck with a little red wine vinegar.

Ingredients

• Wild garlic

• Parsley

• Olive oil

• Capers (if salted, soak in water for 15 minutes first, then drain)

• Optional: Mint, basil, coriander, whatever else takes your fancy

• Optional: Spring onions

• Choose one: mustard, lemon juice, vinegar

• Optional: anchovies, just enough to lend their salty depth but not so many as to make it taste particularly of anchovy (salted are best as they turn to mush, but fillets in oil of course work well too)

Method

I deliberately left the ingredients unquantified as this is not a time to fret about how much of this or how little of that. Instead it’s a time to act with abandon, throwing what you have or feel most strongly toward into a jar with the knowledge that there is no wrong answer.

First pour some good glugs of olive oil into your jar. Chop your herbs finely (though they don’t have to be super fine - do not use a blender as this would be an entirely different thing) and add them to the oil. Top up with more oil if it is not all covered. Chop a big spoonful of capers, mix them in, give a taste and see if it needs some more. Smash up an anchovy or two, and repeat as with the capers.

Finally adjust for acidity, adding a little vinegar, mustard or lemon juice at a time and tasting - remembering you can always add but can’t take away. The amount is up to personal taste (and is also quite forgiving so don’t worry about the perfect blend), but what you’re looking for is a hint of sharpness to provide a little fight against the smooth oil. Season with salt and pepper.

Serving

Take your frittata and jar of green sauce to a picnic to be the star of the show, or serve as a part of a selection of antipasti or have as a simple dinner served with some salad or in my case, the only thing I had in the fridge, a bit of cucumber.

don’t knock the cucumber until you try it ok?