Welsh Rarebit

Rain on the window. The heating on for the first time in months. You open the fridge and there's a block of cheddar, half a bottle of ale from the weekend, some bread that needs using. This is a Welsh rarebit evening.

It's cheese on toast, but it isn't. The difference is the sauce: cheddar melted slowly into ale, sharpened with mustard and Worcestershire, spread thickly over good toast and grilled until the top blisters and turns the colour of a bonfire. It puffs slightly. It bubbles. The kitchen fills with a smell so good it borders on unreasonable for something that takes fifteen minutes and costs almost nothing.

I've made this hundreds of times. It's in the notebook more than once, usually with a one-word note beside it: "rain" or "Tuesday" or "needed." It's the meal I make when I want something that feels like someone is looking after me, even when that someone is just me, standing at the counter with a wooden spoon and the grill on. We're only making dinner. But sometimes dinner is the whole point of the evening.

The cheese matters. Use something with real bite, a mature cheddar that crumbles when you cut it and smells of something. A mild block from the supermarket will melt, but it won't say anything. You want cheese that has opinions.