Cooking simply doesn't have to be cooking boringly. A fresh piece of wild fish or some high-season asparagus doesn't need much doing to it. Meals like this are quite often the best, in terms of flavour, sustainability and time. Vegetables at their freshest and most seasonal take almost no time to cook and with something like a flavoured butter or herb oil to complement them you are going to eat very well.
You can make many of these things in advance, butter freezes well to use as and when you like; spice mixes; freshly toasted and ground, will keep well in a jar in the cupboard for a couple of weeks to sprinkle over a finished dish. Try this gunpowder recipe for roast squash or this za'atar one to add to stems of tender broccoli or to sprinkle over.
Flavoured butters are one of my favourite way to add flavour and excitement to a dish and -- contrary to the advice given by the idiots in charge of dietary 'guidelines'-- it is good for you. Why on earth you would substitute a natural and delicious ingredient for an industrially produced trans-fat laden 'spread' which is one step away from plastic is beyond me.
Last week I made a batch with wild garlic as well as a harissa-laden one. I used them liberally to cook salmon, melt into a butter bean and chorizo stew and pour over fried eggs. This version, using a bunch of fresh fenugreek leaves (I threw the stalks into the blender too) is an elegant pale jade colour. Its maiden voyage is going to be with cauliflower, the florets first boiled until just starting to soften, next a coating of turmeric powder and mustard seeds, then caramelised in a pan and poached in the butter until ready.
Ingredients
250g softened unsalted butter (homemade from pasture-raised cows milk would be best, but failing that, Yeo Valley butter is a good supermarket one, if you must use those vile warehouses of sugar, food-type products and palm oil)
5g Maldon salt
1 bunch of fenugreek, well chopped
1tbsp extra virgin olive oil
Method
Melt 25g of the butter with the olive oil and add the salt. Throw in the fenugreek and stir well. Cook for about five minutes, until everything is well wilted then remove from the heat and leave to infuse for half an hour.
If at the end of the infusion the butter has started to solidify again, gently heat it.
Strain the mixture through a sieve into a large bowl, discarding the leaves then add the remaining butter and whisk well until it all comes together.
Pour into a jar or dish and chill until firm.
The more I cook, perhaps the older I get (or is it tireder), the fewer ingredients I want to use in a dish. And the simpler the food I'm making, the more delicious it seems to be.This week it's been a case of taking a vegetable and using that as the starting point for a meal. A little more thinking has had to be applied rather than thoughtlessly going with the usual starchy suspects you reach for on a rapidly darkening Tuesday evening.As if dealing with the sad acceptance that we don't live in an endless Swallows and Amazons summer wasn't enough, now we have to start eating properly again. No more cream teas and cake for the evening meal. Out has gone the pasta, rice and potatoes that form so many daily meals, and in, the sad acceptance that we are no longer inhabiting our 20 year old bodies.But it need not be dull as we slip headlong into turnip season. We are still heavy with aubergines, broccoli, cauliflower, courgettes and sweetcorn among other things. The salads are fading, but my appetite is growing. And as we lose nearly two hours of daylight over September's delicate and gentle colour change, we can start to get bolder and deeper with flavours.This recipe is based on the gloriously named Pushpesh Pant's 'curried aubergine in coconut sauce', which he says is from India's 'coastal region'. So just a small area then. I've added saffron, almond flakes, green chillies and coriander to mine to pep things up a little.Rich and exciting, it's texture is indecently silky, as if Liberty's had opened a dodgy Soho alleyway silk scarf shop. We had it twice this week, the juices mopped up with spiced 
I've been away. A week in Devon for half term, fires every night and a week in Mansfield for work and I can't remember a decent thing we've eaten the past fortnight.The fish and chips on the beach at Torcross bay was pretty good, as far as that kind of thing goes. The baguettes at the Pilchard inn for a fiver were awful, as you'd expect at that price in a touristy part of the country. Even the children turned their tiny button noses up at them. One night I seem to remember us having crisps for dinner.Oh hold on; we did have a nice afternoon tea at the Thurlestone Hotel. No cucumber sandwiches though, which is criminal. Nor egg mayonnaise, compounding the problem. And to be honest, the cakes weren't that great either. Still, we enjoyed it, mostly, until Maya started getting bored and arsey about where she was sitting.This Sunday afternoon after a walk round the lake and the park we eat chocolate buttons and watched Wacky Races under the throw on the sofa. That was good food. And it reminded me of the Sundays of my childhood where I used to watch Knightrider eating crumpets. Now the children have Netflix and the watch five series worth of the same bloody programme in a row. I miss normal telly.Good food can be the most simple of things. And sometimes the most simple of things can be done so badly. Still, we are home now, so we can eat food made with a little love and respect.To that end, I've roasted the extra garlic bulbs I had in the fridge, just to squeeze on fresh toasted bread. Peckish, but not lunch hungry, a good scoop of soft, sweet, golden garlic spread over lightly toasted sourdough and served with a little dressed greenery on the side is enough to take care of you when you need something light. And it's so tasty, you wonder why you need anything else. And how hard is it, actually, to just serve something decent in a pub?And after the hotel food, the bad pubs, the sameness of town centre restaurants on holiday with their trope burgers and trope croquettes it's a reminder of how much better real food is. And how well you can eat at home.This week, perhaps we will have butter chicken one night, with daal and the naans from the bakery in Tooting. Another night may be a quick pile of prawn and spring onion pancakes with chilli and basil dipping sauce. There could be room for some lamb chops one evening, marinaded in turmeric and dried mint and served with a roast tomato, red onion and prune salsa. And perhaps tortellini in brodo, except instead of arsing around stuffing tortellini, I may make gnudi out of the filling and serve cut up sheets of fresh pasta in the broth instead. It all ends up the same doesn't it?Ingredients6 -8 large garlic bulbsOlive oil (I used coriander infused oil for this)Salt and pepper to seasonMethodHeat the oven to 170c.Slice the tops off the garlic and lay the bulbs on a large sheet of foil.Drizzle with olive oil and season well.Wrap in the foil and roast in the oven for about an hour, or until soft and squeezable.Serve warm.They can, apart from being spread on bread be used in pasta sauces, salad dressings, anything where you want a soft and sweet garlic note. Just not as toothpaste.This weekBoughtNaan bread from Iraqi bakery in Tooting. More than 2,000 per day they make. Sometimes I feel I could happily just only eat great bread for the rest of my life. Sandwiches, Naan, even pizza counts at a push...DrankHot ginger, chilli, lime and mint. A real zingy cup of tea. Perfect for winter and approaching colds.Listened toThe Archers. Traumatic and devastating.WatchedShetland, gave up on The Bureau. Dougie Henshall and the dramatic Scottish emptiness is pure telly joy. Even if there are no trees on Shetland and it's obviously SO FAKE according to Sheena's dad, who's from there.ReadOrphan X sequel, 'The Nowhere Man'. Highly enjoyable and thrilling, but not a patch on the first book. Too much of a single set piece stretched over a novel. It reads rather like a terrible film starring Tom Cruise that didn't really work.MadeChicken with pistachio and yoghurt by Meera Sodha. Tasty stuff and plenty left over for a quick Monday night supper. I also resuscitated my starter after putting it into a coma for a couple of weeks. They're pretty hardy things.
Every time someone suggests fish pie to me, or says that's what we're having to eat, I die a little inside. And it's not that there's anything wrong with it, as such. In fact, it's a rather lovely dish. Comforting and rich, and a good way to get lots of fish into people who don't particularly like it.And yet yesterday I woke up with a burning desire, a craving for it. Perhaps Bee, who seems to have a liking of it that doesn't seem normal, has been whispering in my ear repeatedly as I sleep.It is really a very simple dish, and in its favour, you can make it ahead and heat it through for supper, as I did for the children. And, predictably, Noah liked it but tried to pick out the spinach and Maya said she hates prawns (the lunatic). Bee thought it was a bit too saucy and had too much spinach, whereas I, the least enthusiastic fish pie eater thought it delicious. But then I made it.You may squeal with delight at the thought of a fish pie and having made this, I feel a little less antipathy toward it. It's something comforting, tasty and healthy. Do as you will with it. More cod, fewer prawns, not so much spinach, extra scallops, a thicker sauce with a touch more cheese and flour. It's up to you, and that is the joy of cooking, we all like things certain ways and you can't please everyone.This recipe is a good one so I offer it to you to run with. You can even add hard boiled eggs to the mix if you like. And as far as the bonito and kombu go, that's up to you too, as is the golden, warming turmeric and citrussy coriander. But it's little things like that that can make a dish just a little above the ordinary. And actually, looking at the photo reminds me, there's a portion left in the fridge...Serves: 6Prep time: 30-40 minsCooking time: 45 minsIngredientsFor the top:4 medium potatoes such as Maris Piper, skin on, quartered100ml double cream50ml milk70g butterA grating of Parmesan for the topFor the filling:175g Queen scallops250g smoked haddock or cod, cut into chunks250g prawns100g spinachA small bunch of chives, finely slicedA grating of nutmeg1tsp ground turmeric2tsp ground corianderFor the sauce:30g butter30g flour300ml milk25g grated mild cheddarA sheet of kombu (seaweed)A pinch of bonito flakesMethodThe bonito and kombu are optional in this, it's just to give it that extra kick of the sea. But if you're going to use it, heat a little of the milk to just below the boil and pour over them both in a small bowl and leave to infuse while you make the mash.Cook the potatoes in salty, boiling water until soft, but not falling apart. Drain and leave to steam dry in the colander, otherwise, your mash will be to wet.Put the spinach in a heat-proof bowl and pour over some boiling water from the kettle. Stir a little then drain and rinse in cold water. Squeeze dry and chop well.Make the white sauce by melting the butter in a saucepan and mixing in the flour. Season well and gradually whisk in the milk, a little at a time, until you have a smooth white sauce. Add the bonito flakes and milk, leaving out the kombu and then stir in the cheese until melted.Put the fish and seafood in a bowl, add the chopped spinach, turmeric, coriander and the chives (keep back a little for the mash), season well and stir thoroughly. Pour in the white sauce and mix.Heat the butter, cream and milk in a small pan until the butter has melted then rice the potatoes into a bowl and discard the skins. Add the butter mixture, season well and mix until smooth. Stir in the chives.Put the fish mix in an oven dish and top with the potato and any remaining chives. Give a twist of pepper and sprinkle over the parmesan and cook in a 180c oven for about 45 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling. Garlic green beans are delicious on the side.
It's that time of year when the low-sun sky dazzles my eyes at every street corner and I have to walk with an arm half-raised in defence. Sadly the raised arm technique has not stopped the attack of the seasonal cold that this house is full of.It's at times like this that we need an old Italian nonna come round daily and look after us, feed us and let us revert to child-like states while she takes care of everything. Sadly, this is not going to happen. At least the children, thank God, are not too ill to go to school. Yet.Last week I eat more food cooked by others that by me. Not through choice, but through circumstance. Sautéed mushrooms tossed with Parmesan and served on a crisp disc of polenta; layers of aubergine with pecorino, honey and pinenuts; octopus with green lentils and romesco sauce; asparagus with crisp-coated egg and wild garlic (seasonal right?!) and a delicious Sunday lunch sat outside in the warmth of a sunny September afternoon with family and friends over (escaping?) from The U.S of A.Sue cooked us all tender and pink beef fillet, a Persian salad studded with pomegranate seeds, the dressing creamy and richly coating the cucumber. A huge bowl of kasha meant I could happily fill up, denying myself nothing as my September free of bread, rice, pasta and potatoes and sugar nears its climax. I averted my eyes as the ice cream, damson fool and homemade almond biscuits were passed around. I could eat ice cream until the cows came home and started churning their own milk, but for now, drastic measures are in place as I slowly come to the realisation that my metabolism is not that of an 18 year old. And as much as I admire Pavarotti, it's for his voice, not his girth.What I did cook was a simple tomato and egg curry, using the tomato 'sugo' leftover from the children's pasta a previous night, as a base. A pile of chickpea flatbreads mopped up the sauce and baby courgettes quickly sautéed in garlic gave some crunch.Another night saw me top some southern fried chicken fillets with a fried egg, some chopped cornichons and crisp chorizo cubes in a strangely tasty emergency supper. If you squint, you could pretend it was a schnitzel a la Holstein... It's been one of those weeks.So in tribute to the American visitors (some tribute, eh?), the fact I have a massive bag of cornmeal to get through and not much more reason than that I had a bag of hot dogs in the fridge which I thought the children may enjoy, here is a trashy-in-the-extreme recipe for corn dogs. I love them — mainly for the fact they make me feel I'm walking the streets of New York city or sitting in a car park at the ball game — but the children peeled the batter away and just eat the sausages. They may have thought I was turning into a the 'dangerous cook' that Bruce from America said of his mother. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of battered saveloys from the chippy.Ingredients8 hot dogs200 fine cornmeal150ml milk50ml buttermilk1 egg, beatenSalt and pepper, a large pinch and a twist1tsp ground turmeric gives it a healthy colour1/2tsp bicarbonate of sodaRapeseed or groundnut oil for fryingFor the chutney12 cherry tomatoes, halved and quartered randomly2tbsp chopped coriander1 clove of garlic1tbsp tarragon vinegar (or cider vinegar)2tbsp olive oilFor the avocado1 avocado, crushed with a fork to which added the juice and zest of half a lime and one chopped cherry tomato. Season well with salt and pepperMethodMix together the batter ingredients and leave to rest for about ten minutes.Lay the hotdogs on kitchen paper to dry well so the batter doesn't slide off.Make the chutney by cooking the ingredients in a small saucepan on quite a high heat until the tomatoes start to soften and collapse. Turn off the heat and leave to cool a little.Pour the batter into a tall glass, like a highball and cut the hot dogs in half.Stick each one on a skewer that is not too long to fit in a large sauté pan.Heat about two centimetres of oil in a large sauté pan to about 180c.Dip a hot dog in the batter, turning and twisting it until well covered. Let the drips fall off then gently lay it in the hot oil.Turn it over after about five seconds and cook on all sides for about five minutes. You should be able to do two or three in the pan at the same time. Be careful to cook them evenly on all sides so the batter is golden and crisp. Be gentle with them too, you don't want to knock the batter off.Drain on kitchen paper and serve with the chutney and avocado and a sprinkle of coriander.I would also highly recommend American mustard with these (Frank's is my favourite), and when I say highly recommend, I mean do it.Read: Christ Stopped at Eboli by Carlo Levi, the account of his banishment to a Southern Italian village by the fascists. Brilliantly and gently written, a portrait of poverty full of warmth.Saw: Mummies at the British Museum. Overwhelming place, mainly fascinating and occasionally a load of old jugs. Seen one dirty pot you've seen them all...Lawrence of Arabia at the British Film Institute. Brand new print of this enormously long film. So long there was an interval and as magnificent as it was, I think a part of me is still attached to the seat.Eat: Chinese hot pot skewers from Chinatown. I had beef tripe, fish cartwheel (?!), pig intestine (quite a little funky if I'm honest), fried beancurd and cuttlefish. A little broth and coriander coated them and the heat from the chilli was spot on, enough to be a little painful but not too much to overpower.Listened: Accidentally to Camille while trying to put The Archers on; Jorja Smith on Jules 'Boogie-woogie' Holland's programme. Mesemerising. Mac Demarco a Canadian chap. Rather good.
Two weeks into September and I think we are just about surfacing from the shock of returning to real life after a leisurely August with the children attached to our legs 24 hours a day.While it's great they are back at school with their pals, the Stockholm syndrome we've developed for our captors has left the days quieter and although we are back full steam with work, I miss having them around all the time.Still, it will be half term before we know it, then Christmas, then the summer holidays again, then all of a sudden they will have graduated from University. (Assuming of course we somehow manage to find a million dollars in a jacket pocket to pay for it).But the end of summer brings my favourite season, and while I look happily toward autumn, it has this year somehow managed to bring a fruit fly colony into the house. I suppose this is what happens if you go away having forgot to empty the bin before going away for the week, but honestly, it's ridiculous. It may be necessary to knock the whole place down and rebuild. I honestly don't know where they keep on coming from. Roll on the cold, with hope that'll do for them.I'm also now two weeks into a no carb and no sugar month. And while dutifully making the family a weekly sourdough and other loaves, filling the Saturdays with the smell of freshly baking bread, I'm coping well. The sugar part seems remarkably easy for some reason, but I do really miss the bread. And I'm not counting the bowl of pasta I had at the River Cafe. I mean, you can't go there and not have a pasta dish, but it has to be worth it as an exception, and that was most definitely worth it.So by the end of September, hopefully feeling a little lighter around the middle I will be looking forward to tucking in to a fresh crusty loaf straight from the oven. In the meantime, pearl barley and chickpeas are filling in place of rice and pasta (gram flour flatbreads are excellent with dhal).Last night's supper was this incredibly quick and simple fish with celeriac rémoulade. A fresh and flavoursome dish that just feels summery enough to complement the fading evening light but with the earthy celeriac nodding a quick acknowledgement at the gold autumn knock tapping at the window. And the fish only takes four minutes to cook, which I'm pretty sure makes this even less work than a quick bowl of pasta on a frazzled Wednesday evening.Ingredients for two2 seabass fillets, scored lightly on the skin1tsp turmeric powder1tsp seaweed flakes (such as 
The slow change from vivid green to red, yellow, orange. And then how quickly the trees become bare and the glorious colours give way to brown and grey sludgy streets.In the seemingly few hours of daylight we have over the winter months we celebrate the warmth of the fireside. Scarves, gloves, hats and thick woolen jumpers wrapped around us keep us cosy when we venture outside, often leaving and returning home in the dark.I welcome the smells from the slow cooker more than any dog's wagging tail as a greeting. And here we are, only at the gentle tip of the cold months, yet it feels like it's the time for stews. Meat falling from bones into rich and thick broths, individual flavours combining like the instruments in an orchestra to create one symphony.A cast-iron pan with a lid in a very low oven does just as well as a slow cooker, and if you're happy leaving the oven on all day it's the perfect way to cook. However, you may not fancy chopping and browning chunks of meat while drinking your morning coffee and wondering why you have to ask the children twenty times to put a sock on. I have neither the time nor inclination, getting out of a warm bed is tragedy enough. In which case these are best done the night before, or on a weekend when you have a more leisurely start to the day.Of course white potatoes work just as well as the purple ones, which may be a little tricky to find; crushed Anyas would be a real treat. Whatever you use, nothing quite beats the deliciousness of all those juices soaked up by the buttery potatoes. This really is one of those meals that feels like you're back home in the warmth of the family.Tarragon adds a little last of the summer sparkle to the flavours, hinting with its warm aniseed at the comfort to come. If you don't have any, a good handful of chopped parsley running through would be just as nice.Ingredients500g ox cheek, cut into chunks1 onion, roughly choppedA thumb of ginger, chopped1tbsp oregano1tbsp flour1/2 a bulb of garlic1 red pepper, chopped2tbsp tomato purée500ml beef stockLarge pinch of dried mushroomsSalt and pepperPotatoes to serve, cooked and crushed with butter, spring onion and some shredded tarragon.MethodHeat a heavy sauté pan with some oil and sear the beef well until browned. Try not to smoke out the kitchen and set of the smoke alarms in a panicked succession as I did. And sear the meat in batches to avoid boiling rather than caramelising it.Add the flour and stir well, coating all the meat. This will help thicken the sauce. Add to the slow cooker or casserole. Deglaze the sauté pan with a little water or wine and add the juices along with the remaining ingredients.Cook on high for four hours or low for eight hours in the slow cooker, or eight hours in a very low oven. (140c. Gas mark 1) Serve with the potatoes and perhaps some broccoli or garlic green beans.