Nettle & Quince in July

A summer way of eating — Brotzeit

I would hardly be exaggerating in saying that, since May, I’ve barely cooked. Having prepared more meals in the first few months of 2021 than any full year before — give or take two a day, every day, for a family of six — motivation, and certainly inspiration, may have faltered. So what have we been eating?

Brotzeit — a tradition that has become ensconced in our lives more than ever before. As an informal way of eating, it is not so very distant from apéro, which I wrote about in the last newsletter, though the primary purpose of apéro is to meet friends, while Brotzeit fulfills a more basic need for nourishment. Tradition suggests it was originally a hearty ‘meal between meals’ (Zwischenmalzeit) — sustenance to last the day for farm workers and shepherds.

Brotzeit is different from Abendbrot (‘evening bread’), a more ascetic, light, German evening meal of bread, cheese, salami, and pickles. In contrast, Brotzeit is a hearty Bavarian tradition though it features similar protagonists: breads (and pretzels), ham and cold cuts, cheeses, pickles, radisches, and salads, ostensibly enjoyed with beer and friends between meals. Perhaps, also, in lieu of. In our family, it has claimed full status and become practically synonymous with dinner: our favourite way to eat, not least because it is also, incidentally, the easiest to prepare.

As its name suggests, bread is at the heart of Brotzeit. In Germany, this means sourdough, often rye, sometimes seeded, or with caraway. After more than two decades since I lived in Berlin, I have finally come much closer to recreating the German breads I’ve missed all these years. This seeded sourdough (also conveniently the easiest sourdough I know) has the best attributes of the moist sunflower or pumpkin seed breads I love most. It has pride of place in our family Brotzeit, which also features ham, always cheese, and often fish (pickled herring, tinned sardines, smoked mackerel) although I hear fish apparently has no place in a traditional Bavarian Brotzeit! Thanks to French influence, we usually also smuggle in pâté or rillettes…

In winter, our Brotzeit is accompanied by soup; in summer, salad. Anything that can be cobbled from what is around, following a personal reflex: leaves (I prefer sturdier ones such as cos or romaine) // colour (tomatoes/peppers) // some more green (fennel/cucumber/peas/avocado) // herbs if available (parsley/mint/basil/tarragon). I rarely make a formal vinaigrette and so the seasoning is simply salt, a generous pour of good olive oil, a bare drizzle of balsamic vinegar, and just a little more of either cider or red wine vinegar. Finally, freshly ground black pepper. It’s very quick and simple and, judging by the regularity of compliments, makes a very good dressing.

Brotzeit is a perfect summer way of eating. It inhabits summer’s unpredictability and espouses the elasticity of unstructured days, when meals, family, and friends seem to ebb and flow with the tide.

I am still in London, but my head is already in Brittany.

// Things to make and cook //

Other frequent candidates that lend colour to our Brotzeit in summer are this green bean and tomato salad, or avocado cucumber and red peppers, simple grated red beets (or carrots), and a top family favourite, cucumber yogurt salad [all N&Q].

But salads can be meals in their own right, of course, and Nigel Slater’s sweet and sour summer recipes [Guardian], ‘that fit comfortably with the long, easy days of summer ahead,’ are beckoning to bridge the interstice back into cooking…

… and straight into the unctious lap of this Slow cooked tuna with herbs and white beans from Alison Roman [Youtube/A newsletter]. It sounds incredible and I can’t wait to make it.

As travel will remain largely vicarious this year, I will transport to the arid hills of Corsica — where I haven’t been since I was 16 — through these ‘quiet’ ‘husky’ ‘anise-scented’ Canistrelli cookies [David Lebovitz].

// Things to listen to, buy, watch, and read //

Even though our house is never without a few good cheeses (usually of the raw milk, small production variety), Jenny Linford’s podcast A Slice of Cheese [FoodFM radio] has me craving more. Every one of the cheeses she talks about, some of which I haven’t had in a long while, becomes an urge that has me darting in out of cheeseshops even when I don’t have the time. The podcast is so well made and I love Jenny’s interviewing style — she dives deeply into every theme and gives her guests time and space, with just the right punctuation in between.

Here are some of my favourite cheese shops here in London —

First and foremost of course Neal’s Yard Dairy. I used to go to their shop in Borough Market until they conveniently opened one close to home in Islington. My favourite source of French cheeses (and charcuterie) in the neighborhood is Provisions on Holloway Road, they have a great selection at good prices. This year we’ve also become addicted to JUMI on Newington Green — perhaps we’ve been missing the mountains... I especially love their mild and unctuous ‘breakfast cheese’; I don’t know its real name and this moniker fits perfectly. And this week I finally — finally — went to historic Paxton & Whitfield on Jermyn Street for the first time, in a mad dash, and no one will be surprised that it won’t be the last.

The Netflix documentary series High on the Hog: How African American Cuisine Transformed America [Netflix] is a captivating journey that reframes American food history in unexpected ways. Fascinating.

And I leave you with this heartrending and very beautiful article on food and grief by Yasmin Khan [Vogue]. One of the most moving pieces of food writing I have read recently.

Summer has finally arrived here in London. Wishing everyone a break and a true change of pace.