Cat Sarsfield’s happy meal is a hearty, umami stacked salad

Happy Meal is where we hear from upcoming chefs about the foods that mean the most to them, that combination of ingredients that act as a bespoke and personal soul-soothing concoction, a happy meal. A meal that makes you happy.

Since late 2020, I’ve been a loyal subscriber to Cat Sarsfield’s newsletter Since No One Asked, where the writer makes sense of life through food. Wondering what that looks like? The mailer has personal essays on the nostalgia of long-loved recipes, how cooking builds and disrupts a home, failing at making seemingly simple dishes and often seeing that as a reflection of life itself (we’ve all been there, burnt toast anyone?)

The personal stories are layered with weekly recipes – my go-to is the “sad pasta” – written so poetically that it feels like a love letter to the ingredients, a kitchen and your ability to make it. Then there are “leftovers”, a careful curation of recommendations from Sarsfield that range from hidden wine bars and which pan to use for what occasion to select playlists and reads that romanticise life. Basically, it’s a gold mine for anyone into anything and everything culinary.

When a writer understands and experiences the world through food, surely their Happy Meal – a dish that brings them joy and comfort – is bound to be special. As a fan and follower myself, I was intrigued to learn what recipe never fails to tick the boxes for Sarsfield; a Substacker whose food advice has brought me immense solace on my first week in a new house and whose recipes accompanied me from university to unemployment to employment. Luckily, the food writer bares all below: the steps to her hearty Happy Meal and the stories that shape her relationship with food.

Sarsfield: I’d like to say that all meals are happy ones, but of course that’s not historically true, nor will it be in the future. My happiest meals are such a varied spread and rarely depend on ticking all the boxes of favourite ingredients, good quality produce, amazing company, or blissful solitude. If I was to really define it, I think a happy meal is one that makes you pause — even if just for a moment — during that first bite. You want to remain in that state forever, but you know it will pass, and that’s why it’s so good.

Sarsfield: I have so many, and honestly they range from a McMuffin — stuffed with an extra hot and crispy hash brown, eaten at Waterloo station aggressively hungover about to visit my brother and niece — to a nourishing bowl of Korean seaweed and garlic soup as soon as I step through my parents’ front door. Instinctively I want to say it's roast chicken, which I love to cook almost every Sunday – but I actually think my favourite thing to eat is a really stacked salad! This one is on rotation in my kitchen and would probably be referred to as the salad you’ll get if you come to my place – in fact, I’m about to serve one up tonight with a few crispy fried chicken cutlets.

Sarsfield: I’ve had a complicated relationship with food. I had a pretty bad eating disorder all through my early twenties, and I don’t think that will ever truly disappear from my brain. So it’s a constant choice to feed myself delicious things that will make me feel good. I make salads almost everyday and they bring me so much joy because of the sheer variety, colour and flavours you can bring into them. You’ll never catch me making a salad with just lettuce leaves. I like mine super wholesome, hearty and full of crunch, zest and umami.

Sarsfield: I do have a few playlists not just for this meal, but for most meals I make. When I’m not rewatching The Parent Trap, I’m probably listening to this Since No One Asked playlist that runs from breakfast moods to dinner vibes. Or I’ll put on Maggie Rogers and sing really loudly alone in the kitchen.

Sarsfield: I started the newsletter during lockdown, like so many other writers — desperate for an outlet for my swirling thoughts. It began as a way of looking at my past experiences through food, which I still do in many ways, but instead of it always being about nostalgia, I use food as a lens to interrogate my thoughts and feelings about modern life – from dating and loneliness to family and social trends. I guess it’s not just important for me to figure life out through food – it’s simply how I’ve always operated! My family instilled a really wonderful sense of importance on the act of eating. It’s definitely the thing that ties us all together, and I wanted to spread this out to a wider community.

Sarsfield: I think it’s really easy to get sucked into the overly trendy, small plates version of food culture. And I also think it’s easy to feel like you have to be cooking really complicated versions of things in order to make a good meal. But I honestly think a cracker smeared with paté or really crunchy carrots dipped in hummus or the simplest curry or just a bowl of rice doused in chilli oil can be just as spectacular as a whole roast chicken or some elaborate pasta dish. I guess what I like about the food space since entering it, is seeing how much diversity there is not just in food culture, but in how people enjoy it. My goal this year is to be more tapped into the fringes of London’s diverse food scene; and to not eat only at modern European small plates listening bars, because honestly I cannot eat another £14 plate of burrata!!!

Sarsfield: It’s so cliché and simple, but it really is just about starting and keeping experimenting. I’m a strategist when I’m not writing this newsletter, so that side of my brain is always encouraging me to tap into what feels the most authentic and true to me. Comparison is really damaging, so while you can be endlessly inspired by people’s voices, you have to cultivate your own. It will come with time – don’t rush it, but don’t wait to start, either. You can write 100 words and that can be the beginning of something big.

Sarsfield: Here you go:

What you need:

• a big bowl
• one lime
• white miso paste
• one clove of garlic
• apple cider vinegar
• hot honey
• olive oil
• grated ginger
• kale
• cabbage
• rocket
• avocado
• cucumber
• white rice
• protein of your choice

Steps:

• The main thing is to get a BIG bowl (I like a metal one). I make my dressing at the bottom and it’s the same every time: a lime and miso vinaigrette, which is basically the juice of one lime, a tbsp of white miso paste, one grated garlic clove, a splash of apple cider vinegar, double the amount of olive oil to lime juice, a big squeeze of hot honey (or just regular honey with a pinch of chilli flakes) and then you whisk it all together. Sometimes I’ll add some grated ginger or turmeric.
• Then it’s chopped kale, finely sliced white cabbage, a handful of rocket, avocado, cucumber and leftover white rice that’s been crisped up in a pool of butter.
• The trick is to spread it flat, turn the heat to medium and place some weight on it so it crisps up evenly. When it starts to really crackle and you peel it up and see the bottom is golden, then flip it for a few minutes and add to the bowl.
• Then it’s just a case of adding your favourite things: sometimes it’s some leftover chicken, salmon or feta. Sometimes it’s beans.
• I always have some sort of nut topper or breadcrumb to stir through.

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