When pressed to think of my first ever time eating Shakshuka, absolutely nothing comes to mind. It’s the sort of dish that has become so familiar, it feels like I’ve always been making it. You can bet your bottom dollar though, that growing up in rural Wales during the early noughties, a middle eastern dish was not on the menu. In fact, watching the world food aisle of Morrisons expand well beyond Pataks and Dolmio has bought me untold joy over the years. Last year, when Morisons was one of the only outings permitted, aisle 4 might as well have been a gap year. From India, Mexico, Korea to Japan, Poland to Italy and back to the tin’s aisle. My housemate and I took full advantage of such escapism during the first lockdown when each weekend we chose a different culture to adopt. We became Amelie and Margarite in Paris, equipped with croissants in hands and berets on heads. We wore Saris and jingled bangles as we ate curry with our hands. Explored Italy through Pavarotti and hand made pasta. It was during our Moroccan weekend that Rosanna started dating. Admittedly he found it quite odd that his new girlfriend had eaten three different types of tagines, three nights on the trot.
My favourite lunch 💛