David Suchet’s Hercule Poirot is a family favourite, especially his relationship with food. His first introduction to fish and chips is one of life's small joys.
He is less impressed with fish paste. In Sad Cypress, salmon paste and crab paste are the red herrings (red herring paste is a step too far). When Poirot samples the salmon, his face screws up in anguish and disgust which intensifies as he goes on to consume a small spoonful of the crab. ‘It was bad enough the first time!’ He refers to it later as ‘slurry.’
It’s in this context I bought a small ‘joke’ present for my son on his birthday: two jars of Princes Salmon, and Crab paste.
His reaction was very much like Poirot’s. And yet, I remember loving Shippam’s* salmon paste, indeed the whole range, as a child —especially with a small, pickled onion.
The following day, I tried it on toast. I tried it in a sandwich, the result didn't change. It tasted beige, a nondescript sludge with just a faint whiff of sea, and I understood the wisdom of the pickled onion addition.
It got me thinking of other childhood treats and whether it was worth risking the same disappointment.
Our local fishmonger in Walton Vale sold virulent pink salmon paste. In the window it resembled a large rocky island glowing in a Pacific sunset. Irresistible to a small boy and so bought as a treat on a Saturday. The memory of its taste lingers still, like one of Proust’s Madeleines—one I will never sample again. The shop closed in 1961.
There remains one other childhood taste I intend to re-sample next week. Primula Cream Cheese.
I loved the picture on the original cardboard container, that of a smiling Nordic woman against a backdrop of sky and green hills, a window to another world. I loved the cheese too, with its sharp and tangy taste—even tangier with chives, celery or prawns.
With or without my imprimatur, Primula cheese is a survivor. Developed in 1924 by a Norwegian business man, Olav Kavli, it was the world’s first spreadable cheese, and is still available albeit in rather attractive tubes which you squeeze out in the form of edible toothpaste.
I was a little put off when I read the answer to a random question online: can dogs eat Primula cheese? It made me question the sanity of the unknown questioner, and the answer was not all together reassuring. ‘Primula cheese is safe to eat for dogs; it won’t cause any immediate health issues. But Primula is a highly processed food which contains lots of additives, so it’s not a healthy treat.’
My body is my temple and all that; I carefully read the ingredients: cheese (57%); reconstituted skimmed milk powder, water, whey powder, emulsifying salts (sodium phosphates, triphosphates, polyphosphates) modified maize starch.
Well, to hell with the consequences. This weekend I’m buying into a memory, Primula and Chive cheese spread on fresh white bread or toast, perhaps even both. I will not, however be experimenting with their recommended ‘Easter Squeezy Cornflake Cakes.’
* Shippams were taken over by Princes in 2001
1 comment:
But when we were kids, though, weren't we more accepting of whatever was put in front of us?
There was stuff I ate back then that I would never eat now. Yet the emotional attachment of mom making menudo, or dad making steak tartar makes the food memory all the more special.
PS I would eat steak tartar today, but I'm a little skeptical of the freshness of the meat unless I got it at an old fashion butcher's shop.
My father in general did not cook, but he worked in a restaurant. When he watched the chefs, he would try the same recipe at home as a treat for my mom.
Post a Comment