I begin shopping with an orderly list. Well, a crumpled scrap of hieroglyphics, some of which are decipherable, if only by running past it. But not being methodical, I often get led astray in the aisles. Not by offers, but just because I’m bored. The display of ‘cooks’ ingredients’ in Waitrose led me to pause recently, wondering what distinguishes those products from any other food. Then I noticed a jar labelled Puttanesca Mix. They know ‘puttanesca’ is Italian for ‘whorish’, right? Delia Smith sanitised it for her pasta recipe by translating it as ‘tart’, but whorish it is. Anyway, if Waitrose believe a combination of anchovies, olives and capers is the sort of thing Roman prostitutes might enjoy, I thought I should buy some. It would work in a pan bagnat, literally ‘wet bread’, which is like salad niçoise squished between bread, minus the beans and potatoes. I also leave out hard-boiled eggs because I don’t think they are worth the effort. The ‘wet’ bit refers to the fact that, after you’ve scraped out some of the middle of the bread (either a crusty white roll, baguette or loaf) and rubbed the insides with garlic, you slosh in a little olive oil and red wine vinegar. Then you layer slices of ripe tomato, cucumber, lettuce and red onion, add tuna, anchovy, capers and black olive slices (or a spoon of Puttanesca Mix, if you’ve been seduced by marketing ploys), and black pepper. Wrap in cling film, put a weight on top, and leave for an hour or two for the juices to soak in. I used the time to plan a range of hors d’œuvres called ‘the pimp collection’. EC