Cravings – 26 February 2014
Do you ever find that you are getting through your day, minding your own business, when suddenly you start to crave a particular food for no discernible reason? This week it happened to me. There I was, driving in my car, when suddenly I had a very strong desire for something I don’t normally think about or even particularly like. Not chocolate, which I don’t deny myself for long enough to even develop a hint of a craving. I have decided that the only way to deal with chocolate is to eat it and I now treat myself each evening to a certain amount of the dark stuff. I figure that a slab of 100g should last me 10 days if I restrict myself to 10g a day – one large block from those bars divided conveniently into 10 squares, or a row of 3 small pieces in bars divided into 10 rows. Who said maths has no practical application in real life? Of course the stash does not last anything like 10 days as I have to share with others in my household who adopt a more laissez faire attitude to their consumption. But credit where it is due, I do manage to restrict myself to my portion when I put the rest in the cupboard immediately or leave the room.
My latest craving is savoury, crisp then yielding, salty and fully saturated fat of the highest order. It is a sausage roll. Believe me when I confess to never having been attracted to the sausage roll albeit that it was a canapé with cache when I was in the flush of youth. Only in my recent past have I realised what stellar heights a sausage roll could reach. I was visiting The Goods Shed in Canterbury – a wonderful covered market on the outskirts of town – where all manner of artisanal foods are prepared and arrayed for your pleasure. At one stall a man was rolling his own pastry which he cut carefully into long strips and then filled with a sausage mixture he had minced and spiced. I was transfixed by his patience with the pastry, the delicacy of his filling, and the simple joy of a chef in love with his work. I needed no convincing that this was the King of Sausage Rolls. Sadly they were not yet baked nor would be that day.
Sometime later I discovered that the organic butcher a mere 15 minute walk from my front door also created a sausage roll of beauty. Crispy pastry puffed up to conceal an organic sausage. Occasionally I buy them as a treat for my boys who adore them. Sadly I don’t indulge, as my concerns about my cholesterol prevent me from enjoying such an unhealthy item. Now, out of the blue, I find myself thinking daily about this very product. What does it mean?
I mentioned my affliction to my son who laughed and said ‘why don’t you just buy one, mum?’ Oh the innocence of youth. How little he realises how many foods must be resisted on the road to health, the endless passing over nibbles and nuggets as I meander down middle aged lane and its annoying (and sudden) spread. There are times when I feel my resolve is strong, but right now it feels as crumbly as puff pastry.