Have you ever tried food for the first time and found the flavour to be oddly familiar?
You know that kind of feeling as though your paths have crossed but your palate has zero memory of the when, where or how.
This is me with a plethora of flavours - and counting.
The taste is peculiarly familiar yet this is our first encounter.
I discussed this very subject with a friend of mine the other day who it turns out, shares the exact same experience. As our conversation unfolded, we found we share one commonality. We are both third generation immigrants. Both of us having very little connection with the countries our grandparents left, or travelled through to reach their final destination here in the UK. There is a lot of undiscovered pieces to our family jigsaw. But the one piece we both cling on to is flavour.
Flavours we have not yet experienced - or have we?
Okay, call me crazy, but I have this theory.
What if these unfamiliar flavours (yet oh so familiar) were in fact everyday flavours consumed by our grandmothers? Could these flavours have been passed on to us, lying dormant in our microbiome waiting to be woken? This I have yet to proven scientifically, but for now I think it’s pretty profound, right?
Take the humble beetroot.
I came to these earthy, ruby red root vegetables a little late in life, Simply because I remember my younger self thinking beetroots smelt akin to mud - and let’s be honest, nobody wants to eat the soil they walk on. It was never a vegetable brought to the family table yet fast forward some 30 or so years later and I have learnt not to be afraid of that delicious earthy taste. Because when combined with their natural sweetness, beetroot’s are really quite special.
And as it turns out my late maternal grandmother did too. No surprise having been born and raised in Baku (then a Russian city) for the first decade of her life, beetroot was deeply ingrained in her veins. She never spoke of her painful primitive life, but according to my Mum, she served up snippets on a plate. Borscht being a regular feature in her household when growing up. She tells me with a slightly grimaced look, although clearly not too off-putting as to do this day she lovingly slices cooked beetroot on her salad, despite it staining her hands for the next week.
Perhaps this explains why a little fire is lit deep within my belly whenever I consume the humble beet. That flavour recognisable yet not a part of my own food foundations. Something so very warm and familiar - even if it did take me 30 years to reconnect with it.
Beetroot Kebabs with Spiced Yogurt and crunchy Dukkah
I saw a bunch of beetroots at our local Friday Farmers Market and got a little too excited. Fresh back from holiday, I felt like a kid in a candy shop picking from a myriad of late summer goodies. Still in holiday mode, I had my sights on grilling fine slices of beetroot threaded on a stick over embers. I could taste the delicious smoke dancing with sweet, earthy flavours on my tongue. As it turns out, I didn’t get round to lighting the barbecue, but they turned out just as well on the grill.
In this recipe the grilled beetroot kebabs are placed on a bed of delicious zesty spiced yogurt with a sprinkling of crunchy hazelnuts, coriander seeds and black sesame seeds. The floral notes from the coriander seed take this plate to whole new level. You will note I have omitted the usual cumin seeds from my dukkah mix because quite simply put I am not a fan (despite trying numerous times). Instead I replace them with some wonderfully fruity Aleppo chilli flakes because let’s face it, cooking is all about enjoying the food on your plate, and this I did.
When preparing this dish you are best placed to use a pair of gloves to save your hands from looking like they’ve been involved in a massacre for the next week. I use my marigolds just as my Nanna would, although those gloves handed out freely at the petrol pump will do the job just as well.
I love the sound of that, thank you
The recipes sounds really delicious