August 13, 2024

Cucumbers - Take Two! (aka Little Chunker)

No cute lil’ Persian cuques (quck? Cuce? Cúke?) in Co-op, but I’ll take a big boi. I took that big boi and I smashed it, I smashed it good! Definitely smashed it a bit too much, and there was a delightful crack and squish moment all over the chopping board, which didn’t seem to negatively impact on the flavour of the salad, but did positively impact my levels of enjoyment in the process.

Once not so gently smashed, I cut it lengthwise (fully forgetting until now that I should have held a bridge technique, someday I will learn all the lessons I bestow to others) before slicing, and what with the aforementioned smashing, the pieces were nice uneven chunks, easier to pick a part of to taste.

Which I did! I tasted it after each addition (salt, MSG, sugar - vague quarter, half teaspoons in the form of wild pinches - and a splash of almost-forgotten lemon juice). I managed to taste each layer. The sugar seemed a mistake - the saccharine smack of a smoothie with celery secreted within - like I was trying to hide the “health” of what I was eating. Then I added the lemon juice and it tasted genuine again.

This was to go with a lunch of vegan ham on brown bread, and one of the mix-ins *shudder* that came to mind the first time I saw the basic recipe was fried onions. I poured them straight from the bag, and lo, they were in much smaller pieces than I expected, and so there were way too many. Not quite end of the cereal packet¹ small, but not far off. The taste was suddenly, and shockingly, one dominated by onion. I know, we were all surprised by that one.

It was fine though. Not a flavour that could be smoothed down by sugar or MSG, I just gave a more thorough toss and reminded myself not to scrape to the bottom when serving. Still, I there were two more ingredients. A large teaspoon of chilli crisp (a Sohla recipe based on the Lo Gan Ma classic, made to the specifications of what spices and nuts I had in the cupboard at the time) dropped on top. Now, it tasted of onion AND chilli crisp. Which is a flavour I like. In fact, a main component of the jar of chilli crisp I was using is, in fact, fried onion!

Look, the cucumber was doing a lot of hard work to be known in amongst it all. It’s an issue when I use super familiar or favoured flavours. I’m just so used to it, so happy it’s there, that I can’t really taste it. Or, more accurately, judge the whole it’s part of. I think this way about tomatoes a lot. They were the first food I distinctly remember thinking “Oh, that’s why people like them”. For years, tomato-based sauces were innocent by-standers to the injustice of being served raw tomatoes. Alternately, they were slimy strips disgracing a good, honest God-fearing buffalo mozzarella slice, or stiff wedges staring out from between some iceberg and (you gotta love ‘em for showing up) sliced cucumber. Raw tomatoes didn’t even have the grace to simply taste like solid water the way the iceberg and cucumber did. It stung.

I used past tense, not because I believe that all tomatoes being served to me have gone through a radical overhaul in the past thirty-odd years (though, maybe? Anyone heard about bananas recently? Now, that’s a story in itself), but because my ability to taste them has changed. Instead of necessarily tasting the produce in front of me, I have leant on the trusted method, once the tomato hits the taste buds, of bringing to mind all the warm, rich, herby tomatoes of my past. I won’t pretend I remember exactly when, or where, or which tomato was the one to make me realise they can taste really, really good, but it happened. And so now, when there is a pale little chunker on my plate, I eat it up, delighted to be reminded of all the good ones of my past. Auld Lang Syne and all that.

whirrs back in search of lost salads

So, when I tasted this salad, I didn’t really taste it, I tasted something I like, with a cutting through of something light and delicious. Then I added some micro coriander because it is also growing on some cotton wool on the counter and we keep forgetting to use it. That, for sure, was something I couldn’t taste after adding. It smelt heavenly, which is probably enough (maybe next time I’ll rub it on the edge of the bowl, like lemon rind and a martini. Only, I’d probably need to rub the cutlery too… I’m not saying I won’t do that).

Then it was photo² and lunch and all in all, it was tasty. Edible, even. Brought the vegan ham on brown bread in a different direction to the mustard-sauerkraut route I usually head. And there was coleslaw to finish off, so the fact that I didn’t begrudge this cucumber salad for preventing that German-ish³ vibe is good going.

Real shame the fried onions got all mushy. Smashing does have its downsides, it seems. Too much juice. Too many onions, and not sturdy enough to endure an environment of liquid + liquid solidified. The onions in the chilli crisp did fare better, so there’s something there in the science of it all - the oil, the heat when made, something, something, women in STEM. While I was thinking so much about taste, I didn’t really consider how it felt in the mouth, or how it might feel five minutes down the line. Shame about tasting, you also have to predict the variables. And none shall pass more tricksty than the variable of the fourth and greatest dimension - TIME! something, something, women in STEM, don’t want to know if I’m wrong etc etc.

I will talk more about the living of it all, the cooking to eat, not for show, but I’ll let you contemplate that little chunker all by yourself for now.

Plus, maybe not cucumbers next?