what to cook when in a spot of bother

Say you’re in a mood. You have some­thing on your mind you don’t want to think about, some­thing you can’t help, can’t con­trol, can’t stop from affect­ing the peo­ple around you that you love. Say, per mirabile, you also like mess­ing about with food. I have you covered.

Get your long-suf­fer­ing hus­band to pick up a baguette for you, the only fresh thing you won’t have to hand when you get home. Then stand in the hail and snow and freez­ing rain watch­ing your child go round and round on a pony and think up cros­ti­ni ideas. What are cros­ti­ni, you ask? Ah, let me enter­tain you.

Cros­ti­ni are, quite sim­ply, crusty slices of bread (in my case the baguette brought home by my long-suf­fer­ing hus­band) driz­zled with olive oil and toast­ed on a cook­ie sheet, then set aside. Now comes the fun. Gath­er up all the tasty bits and pieces in your fridge. No, don’t tell me there aren’t any. You’ve got fresh moz­zarel­la, I bet (if not, add it to the hus­band gro­cery list). And a jar of tape­nade from your adorable friend Becky who often gives you comestibles just to see if you can fig­ure out what to do with them. If you don’t have tape­nade, you can chop up some olives. Then some­where in your pantry you’ve got a jar of anchovies. Scoop out five or six in their olive oil and put them in a tiny saucepan with some but­ter, over low heat, and with a pota­to mash­er mash them up and simmer.

Then how about that dish of pesto you made and did­n’t do any­thing with, except slather it on a chick­en sand­wich? Get that too. Goat’s cheese? Left­over roast­ed pep­pers? Mar­i­nat­ed arti­choke hearts? Sure, you bet. And for a tru­ly scrump­tious added touch, if you have a lit­tle glass of sage leaves, stand­ing in water by the side of your sink and lan­guish­ing slight­ly, pull off the leaves and put them in a skil­let with some melt­ed but­ter, on low heat, until they’re crispy. That’s heavenly.

Now, line up your lit­tle toast slices. Start pil­ing things on. You could also add some tiny toma­toes cut in half, open sides up. Just add any­thing to any­thing. By the time you’ve fin­ished assem­bling them all, a sort of zen calm has come over you (trust me, it has). At that point you make:

Total­ly Lazy Creamy Toma­to Sauce
(serves four)

1/2 stick butter
3 tbsps olive oil
1 large can or two soup-size cans peeled plum tomatoes
4 cloves garlic
1/2 cup ricot­ta cheese
salt and pepper

Melt the but­ter with the olive oil in a medi­um saucepan. Whizz the toma­toes and gar­lic togeth­er in your Mag­im­ix and add to saucepan. Sim­mer low while you fin­ish your cros­ti­ni, then boil water for pas­ta. We used a sort of snail-shape whose name I can­not remem­ber. Whisk in ricot­ta and salt and pep­per. Drain pas­ta, add to sauce, and sim­mer while you put your cros­ti­ni in a medi­um oven for 8 min­utes, or until the moz­zarel­la is melt­ed, then arrange them on a plate. If you hap­pen to have a ripe avo­ca­do, you could add a lit­tle slice and a squirt of lemon juice, to any of your crostini.

Pro­vide plen­ty of grat­ed pecori­no, parme­san, moz­zarel­la or a com­bi­na­tion of all three (I did end up hav­ing all three sit­ting around) to scat­ter on top of the pasta.

There. Easy, cheap, com­fort­ing. And with the added bonus of cosy prep and assem­bly which helps you feel in con­trol of life. (Hint: you’re real­ly not. In con­trol of life, I mean. But tonight’s din­ner: you’re all over it.)