Tin cans gave way to aluminium cans. For years, if not decades, can-openers remained unused in my kitchen drawer. There were rare exceptions;  canned snails came back in our luggage whenever we went to France. But otherwise,  purist that I was then, chick peas for hummus were soaked and boiled, asparagus only made its appearance on my table when it came from Norfolk in April, red peppers were scorched and skinned.

 Spain changed my attitude to canned food. Choosing white asparagus with mint and orange vinaigrette as a first course in a highly-regarded restaurant in Sevilla and realising, with some dismay that it came from a can, encouraged me to investigate further. It became evident that the maitre d’hotel thought we were loco to dismiss juicy white asparagus from Tudela. In Spain, canned vegetables, fish and shellfish are considered a delicacy, not just for reasons of convenience but because of the quality of the produce being preserved.

 I visited a small family-owned cannery in northern Spain, to see vegetables and shellfish being  prepared for preserving and was impressed at the artisanal approach with local produce. Peppers were roasted and skinned, asparagus was quickly steamed, clams and mussels were cooked in a light, herb-scented broth. After the visit, a lunch made entirely of canned food was not an enticing prospect, but the smells were those of home cooking, and the flavours were startlingly pure and intense. Nearby, on the Basque coast, I watched tuna and anchovies being cooked and canned. More cans and jars were sampled. I was converted.

Canned food (Image: Frances Bissell)

 During lock-down, cans and jars proliferated somewhat, and my cooking today makes unashamed use of a variety of preserves.  Pimentos de piquilla are a favourite, because I simply cannot be bothered to roast and skin peppers any more. One or two added to a tomato soup gives added colour and richness. A one pot lamb casserole with shallots and broken potatoes is enlivened by a scattering of peppers added towards the end of cooking.  Their small neat triaangular shape calls out for stuffing. Sometimes I make a potato and egg or prawn salad and fill the peppers with that. Or for a hot dish, I fill them with a fish cake mixture, add a light sauce and finish them in the oven.

 Beans of all colours and shapes are amongst the most useful ingredients in my store cupboard. Black beans are essential for a thick, Cuban-style bean soup, served with a mound of steamed rice, sour cream and quarters of lime. I prefer them to red beans in a chilli,  con or sin carne. Butter beans I drain and mix with parsley, garlic and olive oil to make a version of the Maltese bigilla; there it is made with dried or end-of-season broad beans. Cans of chick peas are to hand when I want to make a trio of dips to serve with warm pita; hummous, taramasalata and baba ganoush. For the latter, I’m still happy to stand at the stove charring a shiny, plump aubergine, until I can find a some in a jar or can. Cannellini beans are a staple in our house; my winter minestrone would be the poorer without them. Recently I’ve been using them as often as green beans; why bring beans halfway across the globe? Why not try what’s in my cupboard? This I did with very pleasing results alongside a fillet of lamb. More below.

 While hunting through the cupboard, jars and cans of  tuna caught my eye. Useful, in a pinch, in a range of recipes where you might otherwise use cooked fish – kedgeree, omelettes, soufflés, fish cakes, stuffed vegetables, for example, it makes the ultimate tuna salad sandwich filling; the best mayonnaise, chopped celery, optional chopped chives or spring onions and black pepper, or pimentón. My version of salade niçoise often has tuna. But my favourite recent recipe was a platter of vitello tonnato, which, if you eat veal, I cannot recommend highly enough. It might be a summer dish, but tasted so good that we forgot the wintry weather outside.

Sea urchin with pasta (Image: Frances Bissell)

 Apart from tuna, I give shelf space to anchovies, – for anchovy butter and for Caesar salad – sardines, smoked sprats and sea urchins. Perfect for easy snacks and amuse bouches, we always seem to have a bottle of chilled fino on hand to accompany these salty, savoury mouthfuls.  And fresh pasta with a scoop of sea urchin, finely chopped parsley and lemon zest, makes for a feast in five minutes.  

 Whilst I don’t keep cans of mandarins in my cupboard, I like the flavour and texture so much that I often make up a batch. I make quite a dense syrup, adding a splash of lemon juice and a little orange flower water. When the syrup is cool I pour it over a heap of mandarin segments in a bowl, stir, cover and chill. These are very nice in small tartlet cases with a scoop of crème fraiche or ice cream. I prepare Conference pears in the same way. Instant nostalgia.

 Lamb loin fillet with cannellini beans

(Serves 2)

 1 lamb loin fillet – about 200 g

salt

pepper

1 x 400 g can cannellini beans

1 or 2 garlic cloves, or to taste

grated zest of half a lemon

1 heaped tablespoon chopped parsley

Fabas asturianas (Image: Frances Bissell)

 This is a quick to cook dish; don’t be tempted to use the less than tender neck fillet.

 Season the lamb and put to one side while you heat a griddle or heavy frying pan.

Prepare the beans. Drain off most of the liquid, saving it if you use aqua faba. If I’m making minestrone, I add all of the bean liquid. Put the beans in a sauce pan with the garlic, crushed, grated or chopped, the lemon zest and the parsley. Cook gently, crushing some of the beans.  

 Meanwhile, cook the lamb fillet on a very high heat in order to get plenty of colour on the outside. I find, for rare, two to three minutes on each side is sufficient, then I let it rest in the pan, off the heat, for about five minutes. Slice across the grainn.

To serve, pile the beans on a platter and place the lamb on top. More parsley and lemon adds a nice touch.

 Vitello tonnata

(Serves 2)

 200 g cooked veal

150 g tuna from can or jar, drained

2 tablespoons best mayonnaise

grated zest of half a lemon and some of its juice

seasoning

2 teaspoons small capers

 For this you can use cuts of veal that you would roast or fry. Some left-over thick veal chop or rib of veal works well. I used part of a particularly thick escalope of veal.

 Thinly slice the meat and arrange on a platter. Blend the tuna, mayonnaise and lemon. Season to taste and spread it over the veal. Scatter the capers on top.

 

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