We were staying in an old wooden townhouse in Liepāja, on the Latvian coast. I had chosen it because of its proximity to a boundless beach with floury dunes, just like those I remember from my childhood holidays on the Polish side of the Baltic Sea. When the owner learnt of my food mission, he motioned for me to wait in the courtyard while he ran inside his own house to look for something. Returning with a small, unmarked tin, he explained that his family spent their holidays in the forest, where their neighbour was a hunter. Inside the tin was some recently caught wild boar preserved in oil and spices, which remained in my suitcase for the remainder of the trip. But I had a plan for it ... I knew that when we got home, there’d be no fresh food in the house. However, there’s always pasta in the cupboard, tomato puree at the back of the fridge and thyme in the garden. If you have the time, I implore you to make your own noodles — these ones are based on my grandma’s recipe and, uncooked, will keep in the fridge for three days, dusted with flour and stored in a freezer bag or lidded container.