017. Testing Tests.
On the cricketing cave of perpetual anxiety and low level sicky feeling, a controversial football stance, and a bread salad.
On account of being a neurotic control freak, I’ve always veered clear of drugs. I would not be fun to be around, sapping the fun out of the ride by compulsively checking my heart rate and maniacally staring at my own pupils. An all-round expensive waste of time, the vibe in a shambles. I am, however, currently on a come down. We are two tests into the Ashes, the first one culminating in a loss for England after a breathless five days. Sometimes Test cricket feels like being on a rollercoaster that just goes up and up but doesn’t always feel good. Is that what being on drugs feels like?
Just as we were catching our breath, England women played a blinder, broke records and held on until lunch on day 5, where they too succumbed to defeat. The rollercoaster belted onwards, towards Lord’s – another loss, tonnes of heartbreak. But guys, I absolutely love it.
Cricket wheedled its way into my brain without me noticing. When I was younger, before we had Sky and MTV was on constantly on loop, summers were spent with either tennis, cricket, or athletics on in the background. Beefy Botham loomed large over my childhood, flitting between the pitch and Question of Sport (another firm family favourite.) By the time I was at uni, hunting for a security blanket (all of half an hour away from home) cricket was only on Sky. I would spend my days writing essays to Test Match Special on the radio, researching legal statute to the background hum of a bat thwacking a ball interspersed with the cheering of a crowd. Fast-forward to today and I’m roping family members into trips to Sophia Gardens as often as feasible, forcing friends to find their wi-fi password so I can set my iPad up their garden with the Ashes on in the background.
It’s hilarious to try and romanticize a sport that’s mostly associated with old men sat alone in raincoats and straw hats with packed lunches, but I can’t think of a nicer way to spend an afternoon. There’s no greater sunset than the sun disappearing behind the stands at Sophia Gardens, Glamorgan tapping away at the ball, chattering to friends over a cider. I’ll watch any format, but Test is my poison and where my heart lies. Long days, breaking for tea, a field of white, the steady ticking over of the scoreboard with the occasional explosion of runs and egos. Umpires stood with assorted hats and jumpers and sunglasses stacked on them as bowlers shed their accessories for an over. The theatre ticks on despite, or perhaps because of its continuing efforts to eat itself. Each busy summer comes with the usual commentary around “saving Test cricket,” and each year cricket seems to find its way.
It’s hard to explain the allure of Test cricket to those who don’t follow – it doesn’t have a reputation as the most riveting or at times the most welcoming, but once it’s got under your skin you can write off days at a time. I’m firm in my belief that all football matches should simply be 15 minutes each way and then straight to penalties, cut out the main bit of it and eliminate the risk of a draw. I cannot fathom spending two hours watching something where people who are paid handsome amounts of money to score a goal simply do not score a goal. Five full days of cricket that might have substantial delays due to rain and also a not minimal chance of ending in a draw? Where do I sign? Take my money now, cancel my plans, tell my loved ones I’ll see them next week. Or rather, next month.
This is going to be my dirty little secret all summer, I’ve planned my leave around which days are likely to see the best days play, I’m very sorry to say I will more than likely flake on plans if things start to look extra spicy, which let’s be honest - they will? Declarations, sledging, maiden centuries. All grand words thrown around about this silly little game which broadly speaking, will make or break many, many people’s summers, whilst ultimately not really meaning anything at all. Which I guess sums up sport in a nutshell really. And tomorrow, we go again.
Panzanella
Traditionally Panzanella calls for stale bread, but if your house is like mine, bread doesn’t hang around long enough to get stale. If you put fresh bread into the dressing, however, it’ll just end up a soggy mulch. So, we’re going to very lightly oven bake the hunks of bread until they’re on the softer side of dry so they maintain some bite and still drink in the dressing. This is perfect as a light lunch for two, or a decent side for four, going gorgeously with some baked salmon and garlic green beans. It also takes less than 40 minutes to cook and eat, which, incidentally, is the length of a test match lunch.
Ingredients
Half a loaf of crusty bread
Extra virgin olive oil
1/3 cucumber
A handful of mixed baby tomatoes
2 tbsp red wine vinegar
2 fat cloves of garlic
1 tbsp capers
A handful of fresh basil leaves
Method
Pre-heat the oven to 180 degrees fan.
Tear the bread into crouton sized chunks, put into a bowl and mix through 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil. Get your hands in there, you want to make sure each chunk is coated but not dripping in oil. Lay out flat on a baking sheet and sprinkle with salt. Don’t over crowd the sheet or the bread won’t dry out properly. Bake in the middle of the oven for 12 minutes - you want the bread to be dried and crispy, but not quite at the crouton stage. Leave to cool whilst you assemble the salad.
Chop the tomatoes in half, put in a sieve over the bowl you used for the bread and add a good pinch of salt and stir through. Leave the salt to draw out any moisture whilst the bread bakes and cools, stirring occasionally (roughly 15 mins.)
Dice the cucumber and tear off some basil leaves and mix them in with the tomatoes in the sieve. I think some small peppers would also be nice here, you know the mini sweet ones? I could even stretch to some avocado. Whatever’s hanging about your salad drawer that’s got a bit of firmness without being overpowering really.
Make the dressing by finely dicing the garlic and adding it to the bowl that’s been collecting the tomato juice, stir in the capers and the red wine vinegar and then whisk in the extra virgin olive oil - I’d say 3 tbsp’s - but do this to taste - you want the dressing neither too sharp nor too claggy. You’ve already salted the bread and the tomatoes so shouldn’t need any in the dressing too, but who am I to deny you an extra kick if needed?
Mix the bread in with the dressing and then add the salad, and serve, sprinkling some more fresh basil over and some cracked black pepper.
Micro Doses of Joy
A few interior tweaks needed, but I can really see myself making a home here.
True Love by Judith Viorst from her collection It’s Hard to be Hip Over Thirty (hard recommend.)
Tweet of the week.
Really Good Reads™
On absent dads and cricket trips.
A fascinating look into the roles interpreters for the MLB play.
Maggie Smith on friendship and divorce.
That’s it from me, I hope you have an abundance of fresh tomatoes in your life at the moment and your favourite team is winning. Please share with anyone you think will enjoy! Thanks for reading, N xo