I’m coming round to brunch, you know
This weekend we have visitors and – because I’m always keen to fit in an extra eating opportunity – I’m making kedgeree for brunch. Yes, brunch, the meal to which I was once ideologically opposed.
My nephew Angus and his fiancée Olivia are visiting. This summer, they’re getting married here so it’s been a week of wine tastings, venue visiting, and conversations about canapés, oyster stands, table centres, bridal Birkenstocks and whether to croquembouche.
With our days dominated by such monumental decision making, it’s been very important to keep our strengths up. Which is where brunch comes in. That extra meal, which no one really needs but, hell, why not?
I experienced my first brunch on November 10, 1991.
I used to be very anti brunch. I even wrote a whole chapter about how much I hated it in my book, Notes from a Small Kitchen Island. To give you an idea, I’m sharing an extract below.
But I’ve mellowed. I made kedgeree and it was good. Worth getting up and brushing your hair for.
From Notes from a Small Kitchen Island: recipes and stories from the heart of the home:
“No one, outside of a Nora Ephron movie, wants brunch. What is it, for a start? Who needs to be up, hair brushed, dressed, and talking any earlier than they have to, particularly at the weekend when such things are most likely to be inflicted upon us? No one knows what to wear or – like the time I had that job interview with a famous chef in a yurt – how to sit. Upright at the table? Slummocking on the sofa? I know I may look like I’m wearing an old, grey school sweater, but it’s clean and it’s cashmere, surely that’s enough? What more do you want from me?
I experienced my first brunch on November 10, 1991. I know this, not because I have a profoundly accurate memory for mid-morning brioche, but because I was in New York with a boyfriend, The Correspondent. The previous Wednesday somewhere off the Canary Islands, shady newspaper mogul Robert Maxwell shadily transitioned from the deck of his yacht, The Lady Ghislaine (yes, her), into the water in the middle of the night. Splash. And it certainly was the splash in all the Sunday papers, behind which The Correspondent camouflaged himself. I sat on a mint green velour banquette in the self-consciously shiny dining room of an Upper East Side hotel, heroically, silently, working my way through smoked salmon, cod’s roe and scrambled eggs as a pianist in the corner of the room gently plink-plinked his way through songs from the shows. Look at me, living.
Put your life on big plates. Make it fun.
Back in London, we had a Jewish friend who in his North London mansion block used to throw an open house once a month on Sunday mornings. He piled his kitchen table with bagels (plain, sesame, poppy seed), tubs of Philadelphia cheese, and a big platter of thickly-cut smoked salmon. I think there might have been finely sliced red onion, bowls of capers and wedges of lemon too, or I might just be making that up, embellishing the memory for perfection. There were pots of coffee, loads of supermarket champagne, and all of the papers. It was lively and loud, and taught me a wonderful thing about generosity and what people really remember. Serve a few things generously. Put your life on big plates. Make it fun.
Having once been a brunch sceptic, I have slowly come around to the idea, though not the 90s performative version of LOOK AT US SPENDING A FORTUNE ON TOAST ON THE LORD’S DAY. I prefer a version of our friend’s bagel breakfasts. If you’re keen to see your friends, but don’t want to spend a fortune or put on shoes, inviting people round for brunch might be for you. Just make sure you get the time right (godssake don’t expect people to be upright and hammering out their best anecdotes before noon). You want something that starts about midday, and then ambles gently through the afternoon.’
Kedgeree
This is my own version of kedgeree, the one I’ve adapted and tweaked over the years. When I’m being extra, I throw some prawns on the top, but of course it is delicious just with the poached haddock.
Serves 6
400g basmati rice
700g smoked haddock, undyed if you can get it
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