Proclivities
and a recipe for rosamarina devilled eggs
I’ve been on a bit of a spring cleaning kick.
Closets purged, winter coats optimistically put away, cabinets cleaned and reorganized. A million “why did I keep this?” questions asked, and answered with another item added to the donation bag.
These are the kind of chores I can only do best when Richard is away, as he was these past two weeks. While the end result is orderly bliss, the process to get there involves a bit of orchestrated chaos: clothing on the sofa, toiletries on the kitchen island, papers to be sorted strewn across the dining table. It’s exacerbated by my short attention span, a found item leading me down a rabbit hole of discovery that distracts me from the task at hand.
It’s sheer bliss.
pro·cliv·i·ty
/prəˈklivədē/
noun
plural noun: proclivities
a tendency to choose or do something regularly; an inclination or predisposition toward a particular thing.
When you systematically go through your possessions, themes and tendencies emerge. A propensity for black turtlenecks; more red lipsticks than I will probably use in this lifetime; a fondness for salt.
But it’s when I hit the kitchen pantry that my true proclivity is revealed: an obsession with offbeat ingredients. There is no greater thrill for me than to wander into a grocery store and come across a condiment that I’ve never heard of before, a bottled sauce, a spice that I may use someday. These precious finds inevitably find their way into my pantry, jars and bottles lining up like soldiers in that space, each one punching above its weight in importance.
Yet, somehow, these treasures have a bit of a touch-me-not quality to them. Many remain unopened, unused, eventually jostled to the back of the shelf by their more popular cousins. Those that are opened for a brief shining moment might also languish in the refrigerator purgatory. In the annual clean out, many of these finds find their way to the dust bin, expired and unloved.
Lighting the spark
It’s not that I don’t want to open that jar, use that spice. There’s a bit of reverence I have for these found ingredients, a sense that their presence hints at all the possibilities in cooking that lay before me. The anticipation somehow outweighs the joy that surely will come with usage.
In our habitual groove of cooking what we know best, our sense of adventure and discovery may be more difficult to activate, buried beneath the comfort of routine.
But inspiration is everywhere. I’ve been loving Shell Plant’s new Substack, Cooking the Stacks, where each week she features a different Substack writer and cooks meals for her family using their recipes. As she’s worked her way through Balinese and Hawaiian food, I ruefully realized that many of the exotic ingredients she struggled to track down in her corner of England were quietly gathering dust in my own pantry.
It’s inspired me to crack open my treasures.
FIRST READ BELOW.
THEN DO ALL THE THINGS.
Directions on the back of McDonnell’s Slimmers Curry Sauce
So be it resolved. This time next year, when I do my pantry sweep, I’m determined to find that the buried treasures have been unearthed, explored, used and incorporated into my cooking repertoire.
I’ll decide whether McDonnell’s Slimmers Curry Sauce (Ireland’s favourite curry sauce since the 1980s!) or Gouda’s Gloria is my go-to for a quick curry fix, and better yet, what else they can be used for. I’ll figure out whether Marmite works beyond being slathered on a piece of toast with butter; what I should use Maldive Fish Chips for (early research indicates a flavourful fried rice); what dishes best benefit from those beautiful spice blends I bought in Munich.
Most of all, I’ll revel in the memories and motivations that inspired their purchase in the first place. A wonderful seafood lunch at Fisch Witte in Munich; currywurst street food in Amsterdam; eating Vegemite in Normandy with a rollicking group of Aussies; the incredible cuisine of Sri Lanka. And the countless places I still want to explore—both real and imagined cultural journeys that make my heart sing.
Food is the great unifier, the global table around which we all sit. How wonderful that I can pull up a chair anytime, just a Narnia-door away through the magic of my cupboard.
If you liked this post, let me know by clicking the ❤️ button. It helps spread the word about Delicious Bits and brings me joy. Thank you, dear readers and eaters!
Devilled eggs alla rosamarino
makes 16 devilled eggs
Is there anything more adaptable than the wonderful devilled egg? With infinite variations, the devilled egg adapts easily to whatever you have in the house. Most recipes call for mayonnaise to bind and add creaminess and smoothness to the mixture; after that, the sky’s the limit.
These delicious bites were the perfect way for me to begin to experiment with my stash of condiments. You can find recipes for Rosamarina, a Calabrian condiment with tiny fish and hot chilis, but why not buy an authentic version that’s ready made and will keep well? The Rosamarina gave the eggs a vibrant kick and just the right amount of heat. If your palate can stand it, by all means turn up the volume. I’ll be looking for ways to incorporate this find into other dishes pronto.
Note: if you don’t have Rosamarina sauce, any interesting chili mix will sub in nicely. Do try to find a condiment that is more than just straight chilis though—the layering flavours will add depth to your wee little devilled eggs.
Ingredients
8 hard-boiled eggs, halved
2–3 teaspoons Rosamarina sauce (or to taste)—see Note
1-2 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 teaspoon lemon juice
Garnish: chopped parsley or celery leaves
Scoop yolks into a bowl. Add Rosamarina sauce and olive oil or mayo. Mash with a fork until creamy. Taste and adjust with more Rosamarina or a splash more lemon for brightness. Pipe or spoon filling into egg whites. Garnish with parsley.
You speak my language & share my proclivities. Loved the post.
Now I’m inspired to reach waaay back into my pantry and spice rack!