The rare perception of my mother-in-law now comes to the fore. She often said to my wife, “You can make a meal out of a dishcloth.” Was that what attracted me to Ann in the first place? What a talent, as obtaining food becomes more challenging in the pandemic. Also, our early experience as council house children, has suddenly proved advantageous. I would even go back to the broken biscuits. However, now classified as vulnerable and shielded, my food parcel, for one person, has arrived. It contained a sliced white loaf, the talisman of council house existence and constipation. Ann soon had that magicked into a bread and butter pudding. A good dash of Bacardi in the recipe removed any taint of poverty. As a result, coronavirus and cooking is proving an interesting concept.

Doomsday

For certain, the coronavirus has a hint of the apocalypse about it and that can raise some humour. The ‘preppers‘ are those doomsday people who move to remote spots and hoard food and guns. One, having done this, pushed it too far. His wife deserted him. No problem, he thought, I have loads of food. The trouble is, it needed cooking and he could not cook. Does this mean that it’s really cooking that is the key to survival?

Prehistory

Similarly, I have to resist the urge to become tiresome in referring back to the past. My pagan ancestor Zuri could forage countless meals from her vicinity. Perhaps that is why I am attracted as much to her as I am to Ann. That said, Ann has yet to come up with a recipe for gorse flowers. Cooking is a form of resilience on a par with having a mask available.

Coronavirus and cooking

Ann and I agreed not to plant any tomatoes or other crops this year. Consequently, the greenhouse was to remain empty to enable us to walk the South West Coast Path. Now, due to lockdown, online tomatoes are headed our way. Spicy salad leaves are already sprouting. Runner beans and spinach beet will soon meet their compost. My role is to nurture the plants; and the cook. The dishcloth is safe, for now.