The Non-Binary Cook

I’d promised myself Sam’s Good Stuff would remain fun. I said it would never muddy itself with the turmoils of our times. I believed I’d never get political.

But perhaps it’s the fury of the culture wars, or the din of howling factions, or the raging pleas for emergent causes, that I can’t help but feel that I too must be heard.

There is this paradigm that shapes our world and we barely notice it for it is like water to a fish. It tells us things are black and white, and in the truest mark of oppression we submit without realising we have even done so.

I have a son. He will grow up in this world and - like his father did - will not have been equipped to see anything other than this binary split. Perhaps that’s why I feel the need to speak today. I want better for him than what I went through. I want him to know that the water in which he swims is - of course - fluid.

So listen to me son, there will come a time in the world when they will try to split you into two camps. The big question will be put to you:

“Are you more of a sweet or savoury kind of guy?”

And you must know that it’s ok to be both, or one, or neither, or somewhere in the middle, or fluid and ever changing like some brightly coloured rainbow that transports you across crisp skies between pots of sugared lemon drizzle cakes and slow cooked stews.

Don’t let them pin you down son, like they did your old man.

I spent too many years subscribed to being “savoury.” I scoffed at cakes instead of scoffing them. I cooked entrees, starters, canapes, primi, secondi, tofu and beans, but did I ever stop and say “hey what about a dessert?”

I was a savoury guy you see, the world had told me that. Yet at the tender age of 33, after expanding my mind with Orwell, Shakespeare, and Lee Child, I’ve learnt to question the water that surrounds us and gargle back in defiance.

I really like both. I love savoury, and I love sweet, and the main event of a dinner can actually be either. In this year’s early Autumn when the fruits first fell on us, I invited friends to come for a plum and marzipan crumble, where the preceding pasta was a mere filler.

Today’s recipe is pantry staple at this time of year and fittingly lies beyond these narrow definitions. As I have learnt to be, it is sweet-savoury fluid, and finds itself equally at peace nestled among rich stews and potatoes as it does dancing with cakes and brownies.

So take a learning from this apple compote son, and never let the world tell you which plates you’re welcome on.

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Apple Compote

Apple compote, living an incomprehensible life to your blinkered reality

I’ve lifted this recipe from The Nordic Cookbook, one of “the greats”, and a true ally to anyone on the sweet-savoury fluid spectrum. I’ve however added my own instructions as I don’t ever follow the quantities to the letter and think you should do the same.

One thing I would note on ingredients is that apples really are a seasonal delight even if available all year round, and if you go to Lidl now they have a whole range of British apples that are superb and flavourful and I’d say often match those of spenny’ delis (as we discussed in the pear incident). Though better yet is of course the selections at farmers’ markets, unmatched for both variety and quality.

• 500g tart apples (i.e. bramleys)

• 90g sugar

• Lemon juice

• 2 tablespoons corn or potato flour

• A stick of cinnamon or lightly crushed cardamon seeds (or both you cheeky rebel)

Put a little lemon juice (half a lemon or so) in a pan. Peel, core and roughly chop your apples. Move quickly as you chop, mixing the apple chunks with lemon juice in the pan to stop them browning (you will always get some browning so don’t worry too much when you see this). Pour in water until the fruit is covered, chuck in the spices and maybe two thirds of the sugar. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer until the apples are soft all the way through (10 - 30 minutes probably).

If you feel the mixture needs thickening (it most likely will), mix the potato starch with a couple of tablespoons of cold water. Add in a portion of your starch slurry and stir and let it cook a minute. Observe if it has now thickened to your liking, if not add more and repeat, remembering that it will thicken more once it has cooled.

Taste and think about the sweet-sharpness balance. For more sweet, add sugar, and for more sharpness and lemon juice or even lemon zest if you are extra fancy.

Serve on the day with a savoury roast, or as a sweet desert served warm with some cold cream or milk. The rest will keep a few weeks in the fridge and the sweet and savoury options are quite limitless. To name but a few; it can be put in bacon sandwiches, had with porridge for breakfast, or best yet used to make my favourite afternoon snack of a bowl of yoghurt with compote, syrup and crushed almonds.

Sam’s good stuff.