Hunkering in a Bunker

Unless you're on the sort of holiday where you don't even read four-day-old copies of the Daily Mail, you will have noticed that many places in London were, last week, under seige from 12 year olds equipped with a PAYG blackberry and their older sister's scarf wrapped around their head, intent on robbing a pair of Nikes from Footlocker.

I live in Peckham, which is very much the South-East London badlands at the best of times and last week we were even more front line than usual, which resulted in the Tesco Express next door being boarded up for a week, plus the one a 5 minute walk away. My local big supermarket was also closed for a time, and the main street through Peckham was also closed to both traffic and people on foot. Which, all in all, has caused a fair bit of inconvenience, shopping wise.

What has this got to do with food? Well more than you'd think. As we have the little Tescos so close by and only a small fridge, we only shop as and when we need it. We don't have a freezer and aren't eating pasta/rice so have fewer store cupboard options. So when the shops locally are shut and the only ones open are the corner shop, what do you eat?

Post-riot, I had long-life madeleines for breakfast. GluttonBoy had a Mars muffin. For lunch I had a pot noodle and a packet of crisps. How quickly the norms of civilisation break down, right?

Which brings me to the main point. If there's one part of cooking that gives me endless amounts of satisfaction, it's preserving. A row of jars, neatly labelled and ready to be distributed while wearing a floral pinny and a self-satisfied smile, fills me with warmth and, have to be honest, some smugness.

This is a peak time of year for the jammy jammer. I particularly love preserving fruits you can't find in the shops. Damsons are a particular favourite and find themselves in jam, chutney and also some kind of white spirit, usually voddy or gin. Tbh, after the last chutney batch which took me HOURS to take the fricking stones out, I now usually sling them in a kilner with some sugar and gin and hope for the best.

I also love greengages with a passion and my nice local greengrocer in Herne Hill is overrun with them. Six jars of slightly runny jam are now ready for eating. Of course strawberry is the classic, but unless you have access to a PYO it can be a bit expensive. But the pleasure of serving homemade jam with homemade scones is pretty priceless. We bought a flat last year, largely for two reasons - it had a garage and there's an apple tree in the communal garden. Apples have ripened early this year and each neighbour recieved a jar of spiced apple chutney as a little treat. The look on their faces was worth the lingering smell of boiling vinegar.

Now I'm not saying that a shelf-ful of chutneys will keep us in rations if we need to pull up the drawbridge, but preserving appeals to a deep sense of self-preservation which, in these times of instant gratification, can help us all feel a bit more grounded and rooted.

GG