I’d have this meal on my uncle’s balcony overlooking the Cut in Nelson, New Zealand, where all the big ships come in. It’s a house I spent a lot of time in as a teenager. There’s a wooden deck with a view on to the roofs of the surrounding houses, loads of pot plants and flowers and herbs, a big wooden outdoor table and a big, built-in barbecue.
We’d lay the table with an eclectic, rustic mix of crockery. My uncle was a Danish silversmith, and he had a lot of really beautiful designer cutlery. For the Danish, design seems to be part of their makeup – you don’t even think about it. Style was everywhere in daily life. He had an amazing kitchen with a big butcher’s block in the middle; I did a lot of cooking there with him over the years. He taught me a lot about food, gave me a lot of pointers. Actually everyone in my family was into food: we’d always be at the table for hours, drinking, talking …
I’d be with him and my maternal grandparents – my mormor and morfar – my cousins, brothers, sisters; a few old family friends, and my mother.
It would be late summer, in February – the sun would be low on the horizon, hot, balmy. I remember these amazing beautiful sunsets, which my uncle spent a lot of time painting. Red, orange, black, blue – it would be one of those evenings.
We’d be listening to some crazy Maria Callas, or something similar, belting out over the valley. It would be a really joyous occasion, like all meals were at his house, with lots of animated conversation; always lively, always arguments …
I’d want to eat pork – roast pork belly, brined for about 36 hours ahead of time, and slow roasted, with perfect scored crackling, all bubbling up crunchy: delicious. That was always one of my favourite meals. With it we’d have braised red cabbage with apples and my grandmother’s beautiful plum juice, as well as new potatoes from my grandfather’s garden, dug up just before dinner. And iceberg lettuce – my granny would separate out all the crisp juicy leaves and dress them with a mixture of whipped cream, yoghurt, vinegar and sugar; really tart and creamy. Delightful.
For dessert my granny would make her everyday stewed apples with vanilla, topped with a layer of whipped cream with crispy white breadcrumbs fried in butter and sugar sprinkled all over and decorated with blobs of quince jelly. So good and so simple – and so bad for you: my all-time favourite dessert. It’d be one big dish and we’d all help ourselves. When I was little, of course, there was generally enough for me to have two helpings …
We’d be drinking gin and tonics with gin from the East London Liquor Company as well as some lovely local wine – from Marlborough or somewhere close by; I’d decide on the day. I’m a red girl – we’d probably have a pinot or a syrah. And with dessert, a cup of jasmine tea.
Anna Hansen is chef patron of The Modern Pantry restaurants. Her second site, in London’s Moorgate, has just opened
