Taxi Drivers as Culinary Muses
Looking for a food discussion, recipe, or restaurant rec? Hail a cab.
We live in the English countryside, in Hampshire, on the south coast. Its near Portsmouth, and about 4 kilometres from the sea as the crow flies; by road (winding twisting roads) its more like 25 kilometres. And its not easy or quick.
Still, the whole area is lovely and leafy, with meandering lanes, and so many oh so Britishly captivating places to visit and/or take afternoon tea at. Drive through some rolling hills and forest, and you’ll find Stansted House with its surrounding park; Petersfield’s little outdoor swimming lido; drive a little further and you’ll find Stonehenge. Its a fairly short drive almost anywhere.
The problem is: we don’t have a car. In large part it is my stance against car culture, pollution and fossil fuels; still, a car would make life more convenient. There are buses, but long walking distances inbetween; and not everywhere we want or need to get to is on a bus route. The veterinarian, doctor appointments, train stations, shlepping heavy packages home from the shops; not to mention a small dog to carry (and keep from growling and nipping at all who, unsuspectingly, walk by and get a big fright from this tiny dog). So yes: I’ve been taking a lot of taxis lately.
Since our local car service recruits drivers from Eastern Europe, these days especially Romania, this means we talk a lot about food. I mention mamaliga and the driver’s face lights up: “You know about this?”.
And, mention pickling cucumbers or pickled small tomatoes and somewhere on a twisty forest-lined road between the outskirts of Portsmouth and the heart of Waterlooville your driver might treat you to a sincere, heartfelt tutorial on the proper way to pickle.
My discovery of a culinary muse in taxi drivers is not new; almost everywhere I have travelled they have been a great source of food tips—even if we don’t speak the same language. Want to know how to make Eastern European soup? Ask a South Coast taxi driver. Where to find an excellent tamale in NYC? Stick out your hand and hail a yellow cab; ditto for Pakistani food; and when you get to the recommended spot you’ll see the yellow cabs lined up in front.
In Cyprus it was a taxi driver who brought us to our favourite country village taverna, Stella and Louis’, which eat ended up visiting nearly every night for 2 weeks. On Malta it was a taxi driver who drove me to a bakery practically on the other side of the island, and introduced me to the baker, when I mentioned I liked the local bread. In Athens, I learned to make the best moussaka in the back seat of a cab (and tips on growing the aubergine/eggplant/melanzane too).
And so it is now, with several cab rides a week, I’m learning a lot about Eastern European cooking. Which is okay, in fact, its great: my own heritage comes from Eastern Europe, these flavours are my very own soul cooking. So, its delightful to hold my own in the conversation; these drivers work long days and nights; I doubt anyone speaks to them about anything, let alone food. So when I tell a driver about Auntie Mildred’s aubergine/eggplant salad and how she made it, the driver goes into a near swoon of happiness.
“We don’t have such good food here” he says sadly. (and I nod, equally sadly, because it is terribly terribly true). “Where are the soups?”. I think he wiped a tear from his eye. Today a different driver told me: “We have a saying at home: a bowl of soup a day keeps the doctor away”. I told him that up north, in Scotland, they are famous for their soups. He brightened up a bit.
Last week, en route to the veterinarian, I brought up the subject of pickles with my driver (once again, always we share pickle advice, recipes and lore). And we spoke the usual, how to make them properly, where (and when) to find the right cucumbers…how they really need a lot of garlic in the jar, and also spicy hot peppers! Then, he turned and asked: What kind of dishes do you put pickles in? I told him soup; I told him salad; I told him various pies and savoury pastries. Then he told me about this: a sort of stew, a little saute perhaps, of beef, potatoes, tomatoes and pickles.
Alas, I do not have the name of the dish. Pickle stew does not do it justice: its so tasty!
Meanwhile: A personal tip—as so many stewy/sauteed/simmered things are, this is better then next day.
Andicar Cabdrivers’s Soup
Serves 4
300g/12 oz lean ground beef
1 onion, coarsely chopped
5-7 whole pickled garlic cloves from the pickle jar (optional; if you don’t have them, just add a little pickle juice and 2 or 3 cloves of fresh garlic, thinly sliced)
1-2 tablespoons vegetable oil
2 medium sized baking potatoes, cut into bite sized/smallish chunks (I didn’t remove skins; you can if you like, but I like the skins).
1 can (about 350g/13.5 ounces) diced or whole, broken up with a fork, tomatoes, plus their juices
2 medium large pickles, thickly sliced or diced (preferably fermented rather than marinated)
Fresh dill, chopped
Generous pinch sugar
Generous pinch cinnamon
Salt and pepper to taste (you probably won’t need salt as the pickles are salty)
In a heavy frying pan brown the ground meat, breaking it up with a fork or spatula, but keeping fairly large chunks here and there. If the meat is fatty, pour off the fat as it melts out; if it is dry, add a little bit of vegetable oil.
When the meat is browned, add the onion and the garlic, cook together a minute or two and remove to a separate bowl/pan while you saute the potatoes.
Heat the pan to medium high, add a drizzle of oil, then add the potatoes. Cook over medium high heat, turning once or two, until they are lightly browned (they do not need to be cooked through as they will continue to cook when you add everything else to the pan.
Now, return the meat and onions to the pan, and add the tomatoes, raise the heat and cook over high heat for about 5 minutes, then lower the heat and add the pickles.
Cook together 10-15 minutes or until the tomatoes are no longer liquidy or very saucey. Add the dill, sugar, cinnamon, salt (if needed) and pepper and cook together another 5 or 10 minutes. If pan seems too dry, add a little bit of water, stir together, and continue to gently simmer.
I garnished it with leaves of fresh coriander/cilantro. I hope the driver would approve.
