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Im not a Valentine’s guy. The pressure to perform, in every sense, the expectation of a well selected restaurant and wholly unseasonal strawberries dipped in cheap chocolate form a rather uncomfortable menage à trois that I can’t quite bear. While a candle lit dinner in Bella Italia screams missionary-lights-off-apologise-when-I-cum, small plates in a HOT East London haunt surrounded by other feckless twenty-somethings also seems altogether impersonal. There is something about a room full of eager-to-please couples that seems wrong without the benefits (?) of a shared “keys in the bowl” sensibility.
Despite this, I often buckle under the aforementioned pressure and perform like a well-trained zoo animal - but on my own terms. Good food and copious amounts of red wine in the comfort of my own home are the preferred conditions. A blanket ban on D’Angelo or any baby-making R&B classics for the evening is non-negotiable. Naturally, some cliches are granted, namely oysters.
My case for oysters on Valentine’s day centres not on the ludicrously inflated sexual connotations, but the sense of occasion. Aside from the fact they are fucking delicious, it’s hard to ignore the gravity of a food that costs north of a pound for every mouthful. After two summers spent shucking, dressing and cooking thousands of the fuckers on a double decker bus (a story for another time), I have seldom gone a month since without consuming at least a dozen. Their meat, giving and chewy in all the right places plays second fiddle only to the restorative brine that surrounds it.
Once separated from the attached pretence, oysters are a declaration of love worth more than all the Pandora bracelets in the world. But please, can we try not to labour the aphrodisiac angle? If it takes a bivalve to get your partner in the mood, you are probably doing something wrong. A smattering of vagina jokes, is, however permissible and encouraged.
Once things have got a little too romantic after a strong start, you might crave some light relief. While the post ironic flex of eating skewered chicken hearts on Valentine’s day might seem somewhat counter intuitive, it could be the ice you need to temporarily put out the flame. Culinary edging if you will.
CHERRY B GLAZED YAKITORI CHICKEN HEARTS // SERVES 2
Soak 4 small wooden skewers in water for half an hour or so. Tip 75ml of Cherry B and 75ml of soy sauce into a jug along with 2 tbsp of caster sugar. Mix to combine. Fry the chicken heart skewers in a ripping hot frying pan with a small splash of oil for 1-2 minutes on each side, until golden in places but not cooked throughout. Tip in the Cherry B mixture and continue to cook for a further 2-3 minutes, shaking the pan all the while until the liquid has reduced to a sticky, glossy glaze that clings to the chicken hearts.
Serve with steamed rice or a crunchy slaw cut with sesame.
luv it
luv it