94. Prawn Cocktail

Despite being a child of the (ahem) 70s, I don't really remember that decade. I remember my denim winnie-the-pooh suit and the yellow transparent mac that I wore with it. I remember OshKosh B'Gosh dungarees. I remember wellie boots and the consequences of drinking Auntie's glass of wine down in one and the flat and the cottage and all sorts of things but not the food.

Food from the 70s is still a source of wry humour as, for most normal people, is the memory of the 'fashion'. So black forest gateau, avocado mousse, quiche lorraine, cheese and pineapple chunks and good old prawn cocktail are considered irretrievably naff, because they came from those style-blighted times.

But Herself and I have reclaimed the prawn cocktail and so have many chefs and restaurateurs. Hurrah! It all began ten years ago in Amalfi, in a little place at the bottom of the cathedral steps. I ordered bresaola. Herself, with a slightly self-conscious hesitation, ordered prawn cocktail. It's called summink much smarter in Italian. Anyway, the prawns were large and juicy and immaculately fresh. The sauce was perfectly balanced between sweet and sour and the lettuce was clean and crisp and crunchy. I say all this but I didn't get to eat it myself. I hadn't opened my mouth to ask for a taste before it was all gone. I think she would have liked to order another one but then her fritto misto arrived and distracted her...

Since then, prawn cocktail has become a favourite. I've been practising with the Marie Rose sauce and I've got it just about right. Sometimes Herself likes it with avocado, at which point I excuse myself briefly and return wearing a full paisley Muu-Muu and a turban, but it does taste really good. Mainly we have it with Little Gem lettuce.

So next time you're wondering what to have as a little amuse-bouche, consider making Prawn Cocktail. Don't buy it ready-made, please, it's cheating, and only Waitrose make a nice one.