Stories from my pasta bowl ……

Once every two decades I have a clear out of the books on the shelves.

Of course, there are some I will never part with because they were inherited from my parents or given as gifts from someone special, and like the scratches on an LP they are books which instantly take me back to a girl friend or a significant moment.

And then there are the cookbooks of which I have plenty. 

Most have been acquired after holidays with the fruitless attempt to replicate a dish but are more about recreating a night when good food mixed with interesting company and made for a magic night.

We have all had them and most of mine were in southern Italy or one of the Greek islands.  

The food was simple but delicious and the house wine came in anything from a rustic jug or on one memorable occasion at the foot of the Acropolis in a recycled glass bottle that had once held orange juice.

The best of these cookbooks come with stories which can be anything from the history of the dish to the region they came from, or just the people who cooked them.

What most of the recipes have in common is that they are simple and are really just a rehash of what is available and will change depending on what is in the garden or in the market that day.

And so long ago I stopped being precious about recipes and just went with what I found in the larder or the fridge or what was in season and on sale.

Not rocket science I know but worth restating.

So yesterday I tossed some pasta with a light tomato sauce, a bit of cauliflower and a handful of olives, while the day before it was pasta and peas with a splash of olive oil and pecorino.

And tonight I might cook up some mushrooms and garlic in cream or green beans and tomatoes with fresh basil, only leaving the serious decision as to whether to accompany them with rice, pasta or something else.

Alas I cannot dredge up any stories of encountering a Sicilian peasant or Greek farmer who offered up the secrets of these dishes.

Mine were made up and while they owe something  to heaps of dishes I have eaten across Italy and the islands, they were just made up.

But then always being an inquisitive chap and willing to talk to those in the know, I was always prepared to ask about the meals we were served.

And that led on quiet evenings to the invite into the kitchens and my favourite dishes in preparation.

So on one eventful night I shared the individual secrets of the chef on how she made green beans and Gigantes. 

We were in a small taverna on  Kefalonia looking out on the sea on the night that the news broke of the death of the late Queen.

As that news  filtered out on countless mobile phones my own memorable revelation paled against the bigger story.

But I came away with the knowledge of how to make two of my favourites dishes and a bonus account of how our chef served up grilled halloumi during a power cut amidst a thunderstorm. 

Pictures; cook books from the kitchen, and dishes I have made, 2026, from the collection of Andrew Simpson