Split pea

The bone gives salt and gelatin; the pea gives body. Neither needs stock.

Smoke into a pea that already tastes of hay. Rendered first, crisped last.

Green on green: the pea's hay note needs a cold edge or it becomes a blanket.

Sweated to nothing at the start. It is the only aromatic that survives an hour.

Sweetness with an edge of earth, and it is the only colour in the bowl.

Eucalyptus over sludge. Two leaves, and pull them before serving.

Ground at the table. Cooked in, the pepper turns dusty and flat.

The pea has no fat; a knob stirred in at the end is what makes it taste finished.

Mustard heat volatilises in a hot bowl and reads as a green top note.

Smoke and brine over sweet starch, which is bacon-logic with a different animal.

Resin against hay. Crush three berries, no more, or the pot turns to gin.

Juniper resin over pyrazine hay. A spoon stirred in off the heat, never cooked.