Eating with the seasons.
It’s about so much more than shopping and cooking from a list of fruits and vegetables that are at their best.
Yes, this is important. But there is more to it than that. So many patches, layers and stitches that make up the rich tapestry of how we eat throughout the year and throughout our lives.
It includes the ebb and flow of one’s energy, the changeability of one’s appetite, as well as the availability and changeability of ingredients.
A mug of salted hot chocolate sipped on the sofa in late January can be just as seasonal as the peach you eat over the sink in August, despite not involving any strictly “seasonal” ingredients. It’s what feels just right at the time, what your appetite longs for in the moment, in tandem with the seasons.
Similarly with today’s recipe, while not strictly seasonal in its ingredients, leaning on the store-cupboard as well as perhaps the most seasonally agnostic variety of mushrooms, it feels just right for now.
It offers nourishment, which is what I’m seeking out at the moment during these frosty weeks (months?) of the year. Nourishment in a way that recalibrates my eating more heavily in favour of vegetables and whole foods. Nourishment in a way that happily fills our freezer, as well as our tummies. Nourishment in a way that only a steaming bowl of ragu can provide.
Mushroom ragu
The building blocks of this ragu are traditional and familiar; however, the most important and defining moment comes at the very end of the cooking, just before serving. The last minute additions, although perhaps not traditional, lift the earthiness of the mushrooms, simply yet so significantly that I would go so far as to say it’s a case of everyday kitchen magic.
How you serve the ragu is up to you. Toss through pasta (a long, wide shape would be my preference here) and top with snowy parmesan. Spoon onto polenta, either in its soft form, or its crisp, baked form. Nestle next to a heap of wilted greens. Pile onto a thick slice of bronzed toast.