When the label is missing...
I have a jar of powder. It’s a big jar, and it’s full.
It was in the baking cupboard, so I assume it’s edible.
I take the lid off, and cautiously sniff it. That doesn’t help. There’s a whiff of coconut but I could have had coconut in there before which, seeing as I reuse jars a lot, is more than possible. No, I don’t worry about cross contamination, as I am only cooking for me and my husband. His only allergy is mushrooms, so we just don’t have them in the house.
My label maker has been hidden for weeks due to house renovations, which is why there’s no identifying mark. (I will brook no lectures on the benefits of labelling things, thank you, should anyone feel the need to try and tell a 53 year old woman that she’s a twit.)
I close the jar and put it to one side in the vague hope that a memory will surface of just what I put in there. It’s white; it’s either extra fine coconut flour, coconut milk powder or plain milk powder.
I open the jar again, dampen a finger and taste a bit. That doesn’t tell me anything apart from that it’s powdery, and absorbs moisture.
I close the lid again.
Twenty-four hours later, here I am, staring at it anew as it sits innocently on my counter, all white and rounded with my slightly puzzled face reflected in its curved surface.
What ARE you my jar? What did I decide to fill you with in a moment of kitchen-based excitement as I found A Place to Put Something that didn’t have a place before?
I decide to dissolve a tablespoon of it in some warm water. The powder is very fine, you can press a spoon into it and it will hold the shape. The powder doesn’t sit on the surface of the water so I don’t think it’s extra fine coconut flour.
A small sip tells me it has very little flavour but what it does have reminds me a little of the mouthfeel of Horlicks so this leads me to believe that it is a milk powder of some form but as soon as I decide that I find a tin of said milk powder and…no. It isn’t that. Milk powder smells very faintly of cheese. I find myself wishing there was a type of litmus test you could use for these unlabeled items in the pantry.
Is there? Does one exist that scientists have been keeping quiet about? I have Googled this just in case, but I got lots of results on how to tell if fresh milk has been adulterated but nothing on how to test if a powder is dairy-based or not.
Cornflour! I exclaim, and then immediately find the lock n lock tub of cornflour which has a totally different texture (it squeaks) and colour. I keep opening the lid of my infuriating jar - infuriating through no fault of its own - and stirring it to see if anything occurs to me and then I turn to Amazon.
I go through all my orders to see if anything jumps out at me.
Nothing does.
I search my email for the words ‘powder’ and ‘flour’ which garners me many results, none of which are of any use.
I come to the sad yet inevitable conclusion that the contents may have to go into File 13.
I apologise deeply to the food waste gods, and I diligently wash the jar.
I know that I am not the only one who has these moments of What On Earth Is That? Today I ended up with a success despite the label having become waterlogged in the freezer; a Something with Rice turned out to be cinnamon chicken with quinces so my lunch was far more elegant than I had expected.
I don't think I have a recipe for it as it was most likely something I read about and then made up when I forgot where I’d read it. This is very typical of how I cook and also quite typical of my flighty magpie food brain.
I expect I browned the chicken thighs in olive oil, added a lot of cinnamon because there’s never enough in written recipes, some salt and a couple of cloves of garlic, then the peeled and chopped quinces. Chicken stock would have been added and the whole left to simmer for at least 2 hours. Quinces need to be subdued.
AHA! I went all the way back through my Instagram to find out when I’d made it.
You don’t want to know but it turns out that freezer meals last quite a long time with no ill effects. It was a riff on khoresh-e Beh, a Persian quince stew. So there’s that recipe link for you. 😊
I must have been having an exotic week, because a few days before I’d made this Lebanese inspired rice pudding:
Despite IG having no decent way to search your own posts, which annoys me every tie I venture back, when I do go and have a good rummage through it astounds me how much I have cooked.
I don’t post there much any more, I’ve lost the impetus but it’s still a fun way to go back and revisit foods I haven’t made in a while.
This was from Lockdown 1. 19th February 2021.
“Lockdown brain is scattered, I have to say.
I love cooking, you all know that already, but lately decision making is quite hard.
This dish, for example. My head went from a biryani, to a curry, to just plain roasted, then settled on a soup. But WHAT soup?
With beans? Rice? Avgolemono? Caribbean style? Or maybe a braise, French style with bacon and herbs? Or a cream sauce? Add Turkish spices?
I drove myself nuts, and decided to go as British, and simple as I could in rebellion, thinking of some of the stews that Nan used to make.
Lots of diced celery, onion and carrots went in. I had a ton of celery to use.
One small swede/rutabaga went in. No fresh garlic, that wasn't a Nan thing.
Cooked all the veg down a bit, added in onion salt, browned chicken thighs, a chicken stock pot and water. At the last minute, I went mad and put in a lot of dried tarragon. Mediaeval cooking used lots of herbs, I was good with that.
Cooked on low for two hours, then low for an hour uncovered.
It's delicious, and full flavoured, more layers than you expect with such a simple dinner.
Spot on.
Dear Brain. Stop faffing!!”