Published 1998
According to my paternal grandmother, spring no longer exists, though her lament was as much sartorial as environmental: no more spring coats, you see, because no more spring weather. Actually, I suspect the change is in us rather than in the climate: our failure to recognise, let alone celebrate, the advent of spring owes rather more to the fact that we now live in centrally heated homes. The meagre upturn in the weather cannot have quite the impact it must once have had. But I do think there is an idea of spring, culinarily speaking. Of course, seasonal produce has something to do with it, but not everything: for me, that idea is instantly conveyed by this lemony, creamy tangle of linguine which actually you could cook at anytime of the year. It is the easiest thing you could imagine: the sauce requires no cooking, just stirring (and limply at that) and it produces food that is both comforting and uplifting. There must be something about the smell of lemons, so fresh, so hopeful, which makes this instant good-mood food. But it isn’t so jaunty and astringent that you need to brace yourself to dive in.
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