Watercress again

Thanks to goodshoeday for her lovely comment on my previous watercress post - she talks of a chicken, mayo and watercress sandwich which sounds divine. Returning home, I browsed some cookbooks for watercress ideas, and mea culpa . I spoke slightly disparagingly about my mother's cress sandwiches - no less an authority than Jane Grigson says that the sandwich is the best way to experience the full peppery blast of these wonderful greens. I also looked in Sophie Grigson's Country Cookbook (which I picked up in a discount bookstore - I can't imagine why as it's a wonderful book) and she too speaks well of the sandwich route. She points out that cooking the cress gets rid of the essential hotness, and suggest several salad ideas. I'm thinking watercress, avocado, chirizo.

Watercress week

Artichoke over at British Food and Drink has just been blogging about watercress - this is national watercress week, apparently. A good excuse to buy a bunch of this lovely, peppery beauty. My bunch comes from John Hurd in Wiltshire, but the watercressing focus seems to be in Hampshire, where they had a festival last week.
The Watercress website has a good range of facts, history and recipes, including this gem: 'The ancient Greeks called watercress kardamon; they believed it could brighten their intellect, hence their proverb “Eat watercress and get wit.” ' Yep, no-one tells them like the ancient Greeks. And Roman emperors ate watercress to help them make bold decisions. I take it that there's not much green stuff at 10 Downing Street these days.

Watercress went mass market with the arrival of the railways: the watercress line, running from Alresford to London ensured that the watercress arrived fresh and perky at Covent Garden.

Watercress sellers sold on the streets, making watercress a very early fast food.

I've eaten watercress for as long as I can remember, but I think the most my mother did with it was put it in sandwiches and salads. Those were pre-pesto days. My bag comes with three recipes: soup, yes, the inevitable pesto, and a salad of watercress, chicory, roquefort and bacon. I'll rummage in the fridge when I get home for a suitably celebratory dish.