In what feels a perfect analogy for motherhood, or perhaps womanhood on the whole, I often find myself cooking elaborate meals for everyone else, but when it comes to my own lunch it is usually whatever can be devoured the quickest, with the least mess or fuss, so I can get back to working/cleaning/folding washing/collecting somebody (delete as appropriate). Sometimes it is necessary to have a good word with myself. ‘You are a person too’, I say, ‘you deserve more than the same noodles every day (at best) or someone’s reheated leftovers eaten straight from a Tupperware (at worst)’. Fortunately, my work necessitates that I have an almost endless supply of delicious ingredients ready to be experimented with.
There is a sandwich that I can’t stop thinking about. It started out as a sort of stuffed picnic loaf, whereby the soft middle of a crusty loaf is removed and replaced with layers of various meats, cheeses and salads, which can then be sliced in a rather satisfying way. But that squidgy, inner bread is so irresistible that I couldn’t bear to remove it, instead seeing the opportunity to use it as a sponge, soaking up the sweet-sharp vinegar and mingling oils of pickles and peppers. I get to work.
If there’s one product I can ensure will sell out at every market, it is Cultjar’s Bread and Butter Pickles. Probably due to the fact I can’t stop talking about them and tell every pickle fan that they simply MUST try them. I take a good couple of forkfuls, along with the tangled turmeric-spiked onion slivers, and plop them on a chopping board, along with a few chargrilled peppers from the jar. I chop roughly but finely, then scrape the whole lot plus any juice that has gathered into a bowl. This is covered and left to sit while the peppers and pickles get acquainted. Two aubergines sit optimistically in the fridge, as though my children will suddenly find it upon them to start devouring smokey baba ganoush, instead of what would really happen, which is to say they would call it disgusting and refuse to try it. I slice one thinly, horizontally and brush with some of the oil from the jarred peppers, and cook on a hot griddle pan until golden. Then, I take a loaf of ciabatta (the perfect spongy texture to soak up the filling), slice it, layer the aubergine slices, mozzarella and pickle and peppers, and wrap it up tightly with baking paper. And here is where I ask you to exercise restraint, as to allow the pickle mixture (which is, I suppose, a sort of pickle-y muffuletta relish) to soak into the bread properly, it needs to rest in the fridge for a short while. After 30 mins, ideally 60, it will keep its shape much better and the aforementioned mingling vinegar and oils will have soaked, rather deliciously, into the bread. This can then be sliced with a bread knife and happily devoured, leaving you far more satiated than a bowl of sad, reheated pasta ever could.
Pickle Muffuletta
2 generous forkfuls of bread and butter pickles (you can use other pickles of course, but sliced will work better than whole or cornichons)
2 chargrilled peppers from a jar
1 aubergine
1 loaf ciabatta
1 ball mozzarella or burrata
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Place pickles and jarred peppers onto a chopping board and chop roughly but finely, scraping this and any juices into a bowl. Set aside.
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With a griddle pan on medium high heat, slice aubergines thinly lengthwise, sprinkle with salt and brush with the oil from the peppers on both sides. Place these on the griddle pan and cook until golden brown, a couple of minutes on each side.
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Warm ciabatta in the oven per the instructions, then slice horizontally. On one side, add a generous amount of the pickle relish along with a spoonful of any oils which have gathered. On the other side, layer aubergine and mozzarella, deli meats would also work wonderfully. Tightly wrap in baking paper and transfer to the fridge.
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After an hour or so, remove and slice with a bread knife. This would make a welcome addition to any picnic.
Cultjar's Bread & Butter Pickles are available in our hamper, The Gourmand, or in our Build Your Own range.