Does the colour of the food we eat affect its flavour? When you google this question, the rabbit hole of the internet elicits 304,000,000 responses. I’m clearly not the first person to ponder this. There’s a plethora of studies researching the impact of colour on flavour from a molecular perspective, the science of the visual and indeed its interaction with the other senses co-mingling to form an impact on the palate is not new. Findings from such research is used far and wide by food producers and manufacturers in an attempt to entice our dollars from our wallets, food scientists wanting to manipulate ingredients to whet our appetites more and visual creators like myself to draw the eye in and evoke emotions and feelings around the food featured in the imagery we create. And it’s on this last piece where my intrigue sits. If colour does indeed influence flavour does it do so by affecting the emotions and visceral reactions it sparks when we see a dish featuring particular reactions?

We use colour to judge food every day, often times without even realising. Imagine, if you will, that piece of steak in the fridge no longer a shiny, healthy, blood red denoting freshness and flavour, it’s lack of fleshy shine and colour making us turn our noses up instantly before we’ve even ventured a smell to check. Fresh herbs who’s emerald green chlorophyl fuelled verdancy as they age, wilting and fading to a dull earthy green immediately switching our thoughts to imagine a lack or perfume and vigour when sprinkled onto a hot dish as a final flourish. And those strawberries and raspberries who’s glistening ruby tinge have lost their lustre waning to a dull garnet shade turning our thoughts away from berry jewelled desserts and leading us to fruity flavourful smoothies. The march of a few days in the fridge or pantry pushing prime harvest colours to different shades on the one hand can take our minds from one dish to another even though at times such maturity can also signify an evolution of flavours held by that piece of produce.

But it’s not just the knowledge of the food colours that drives our thoughts on how to use them and what they’ll taste like there’s also a strong connection to how they’ll make us feel as we consume them in whatever dish we create. There’s a theory that the colour blue for example is appetite suppressing. For me, however, it sparks memories of visiting my grandmother who always kept a stash of the uniquely Australian milkshake syrup blue heaven in the pantry. A combination of vanilla and raspberry flavouring tinted with blue colouring (quite possibly not at all good for us) it does indeed always bring a smile to my face and strangely if I’m asked to describe the flavour of blue that’s precisely what comes to mind. Or the rich red of a plump tomato still warm from summer’s glow forming the base for a bowl of spaghetti making me think of both my child self and my own sons as small children wrangling wiggly strands of pasta, filling our bellies with a traditional hearty and comforting ragu. Hungry tummies sated by a bowl of what feels like love, ironically a food, the same traditional colour of love. And of course the beautiful colours and tones of sunshine, from yellow all the way through the spectrum to orange. Tones that evoke feelings of joy through to cosiness crossing seasons from summer’s sparkling sunshiney days to autumn’s days of shinking daylight, falling leaves and cosy nights. Where squash and pumpkin appear on the menu and fruit snacks feature a selection of mandarin and figs as one orchard fruit wanes in favour of the next and summer’s harvest draws to an end mingling on menus with the burgeoning harvest of the dawning season. The two coming together always puts me in mind of comforting food, ones which immediately bring warmth and contentment to mind. Think pumpkin and tomato soups, peach and raspberry galette or perhaps my Sunshine Tart.

A simple tart of gently cooked creamy leak, butter and thyme under ricotta and egg whipped together, dotted with cubes of caramelised roast pumpkin and the last of summer’s cherry tomatoes encased in flaky filo pastry bridges the two season as one shifts to the next. When you crave more than the light salads of summer but are not quite ready for the heartier fare of the cooler months a tart can be just the thing. The flaky filo pastry gives this tart satisfying crispness of pastry without being heavy, the ricotta filling a smooth salty foil for the sweet luscious veg and she’s delicious both warm for dinner and cold in a lunchbox or picnic enjoying the last of the temperate warm days.

And you’ll feel warm, cosy and joyful at the end of a colourful slice too. Indeed maybe next time you see those autumnal tones in nature you’ll think about sunshine tart and smile just a little.

Ingredients:

150 gm of pumpkin cut into cubes of roughly 2cm

1 leek white part only, sliced and washed if necessary

1 tsp fresh thyme leaves, roughly chopped

1 tb Extra virgin olive oil

10 gm butter

500 gm fresh ricotta ( the firm one shaped like a dome not the spreadable variety in a tub)

2 eggs beaten

20 gm finely grated romano or parmesan cheese ( please grate yourself it does make a difference. The pre-grated style is very coarse)

½ tsp salt

Freshly ground black pepper

2 Tbs sour cream

100 gm cherry tomatoes halved

4 sheets of filo pastry

Extra melted butter for layering pastry

1 tsp dried sweet bell pepper flakes

½ tsp of dried oregano

Method:

Preheat oven to 180c. Toss pumpkin cubes in a couple teaspoons of olive oil spread in a single layer on an oven tray lined with baking paper and roast in the oven for 15 minutes. They won’t be completely good but that’s fine, they’ll finish in tart.

Warm a medium pan on the stove over low hear with the olive oil and butter. Tumble in the leek and thyme and cook gently until soft and almost creamy, 5-10 minutes over a low heat. Remove from heat and cool on a plate to speed up the cooling process.

Combine the ricotta, crumbled, beaten eggs, grated cheese salt and pepper. Whip together with a whisk and set aside.

Grease a 24 cm, loose bottomed flan tin. Without cutting to shape lay one layer of fil across the tin gently moving it into the edges. Lightly brush with melted butter. Lay a second sheet perpendicular across the first and again a light brush with butter. Repeat twice more turning 90 degrees each time until all four sheets are layered in the tin. Lightly dot butter on the edges and gently scrunch to form a crust edge.

Spread the leek evenly across the base. Spoon the ricotta mixture over the leek and gently smooth over. Dot the cooled pumpkin pieces and tomatoes over the ricotta and sprinkle over the red pepper flakes and oregano. Pop in the oven for 45-50, turning 90 degrees halfway through to ensure the pastry crust edges cook evenly.

Allow to cool for at least 10 minutes before serving.