SEAWEED À LA PROVENÇALE

Who was it got the dippy notion
of plumbing briny depths of ocean
to raise this seaweed from its bed,
and in his ancient wisdom said,
“Seaweed is a dainty dish,
more delectable than fish,”
and, having taken this posish,
left us with these lanky strands
dripping from our hapless hands?

Before it passes through our lips,
are we to cut it into strips,
or do we simply boil and boil
and also fry? If so, what oil
will do the trick to make it tasty?
By no means let us now be hasty.

Such culinary challenges
do not really need unhinge us.
This one leave us quite undaunted.
“Just what I have always wanted!”
are the words we hope to hear
round our board, resounding clear,
as the connoisseurs proclaim:
“Seaweed! Yet another name
to conjure with in cooking books
and rouse your neighbour’s envious looks!”
As, with lightly racing pulse,
you graciously serve up your dulse.

While I was writing these verses, my husband got down to business in the kitchen. He seized the seaweed and cut it into strips, stared at it meditatively, then sliced the strips into diamond-shaped pieces. These he fried lightly in olive oil, adding soup flavouring, fennel, thyme, garlic and tomato sauce, but deliberately  omitting salt. He topped up the  mixture with water, covered it and simmered it gently until tender. Then we tasted it.
It tasted like seaweed soaked, fried, smothered in tomato sauce and herbs and gently simmered until tender.

©Helen Heubi, 1977