Respect your elders

It's now late May, nearly everything is fully laden with flowers and the leaves hang heavily from the trees and bushes looking like a 1950's film star in a fur coat.And now there is also a legitimate reason to lurk in the bushes in your local park. Here inLondon the elderflower is showing off at every turn. So grab a bag and some snippers and head out foraging.It's such an exciting part of the year and I wait for a day where the sun is blasting down, (not always an option, I know) before heading out. Let the morning dry the flowers a little with its light and warmth then carefully snip from the tree. Be gentle with them, try to keep as much pollen on them as you can, fill a bag and scamper home.You can make cordial too if you like, I reckon a carrier bag full is enough for both, you don't need that many for fritters. If you want these to be vegetarian, you'll have to make sure all the bugs are out first. Tap them over a white tray or plate until you've got rid of as many as you can.You can leave the spicing out if you prefer a subtle and pure elderflower taste, they're still delicious. Either way, it a lovely way to fritter away a morning.IngredientsA bagful of elderflowers on their stalks100g plain flour1tbsp baking powder2tsp ground cardamom4 cloves, ground1tbsp ground cinnamon1tsp fennel seeds, ground1 egg185ml fizzy waterIcing sugar to dust1l rapeseed oil to fryMethodHeat the oil to 180c in a deep-fat fryer or heavy-based deep saucepan making sure it doesn't go more than halfway up. It will expand when the battered flowers go in.Whisk together the batter ingredients and let it rest for five minutes.Dip a head of elderflowers in the batter and when the oil is hot enough gently drop them in. Cook for a minute or so, turning over every now and then until light golden and crisp. Drain on some kitchen paper then lay out on a tray while you repeat and finish the rest.Leave to cool a little then dust with icing sugar to serve.This weekRead:Out of Africa by Karen Blixen. I had no idea she wrote Babette's Feast, nor did I think this book would be as charming and readable as it was. I even laughed out loud at one story such is her gentle style. I thought it would be all Meryl Streep-y gnashing of teeth and wailing about 'My Africa'. Not that I've seen the film, but that's the impression I had.Listened:A R Rahman. Lots of his excellent film music, beautiful and uplifting and at times melancholy. Although most upsetting was hearing the Pussycat Dolls appear on one trackEat:Far too many slices of very bad supermarket pizza with sweetcorn and barbecue sauce on. I know. Don't judge me, it's all there was on the shoot and I was ravenous.Saw:Brooklyn 99. As the final series draws to a close (although apparently it's been taken up by another network) I remembered so much of what I love about it. The relentless positivity and the camaraderie is a refreshing change in a hard-hitting dark cop drama. (Err? - Ed.)

Kashmiri pink noon tea

Gunpowder tea's in the pot.

A miserable bag, a teaspoon of sweepings from the floor and a whole nation relaxes as the National grid switches to auxiliary power during the ad. breaks in Corrie.But the drink that quenched an Empire's thirst and caused quite a lot of trouble has rather a lot more than just one variety.Tea has come to symbolise a particular type of relaxation, it's probably the closest the English get to a spiritual meditative moment and as a panacea it is unbeatable. Everything can be cured or solved with a "nice cup of tea".Unless you're on holiday in France of course. Better off sticking to coffee -- or bring your own with you.My own tea collection is ever expanding. The everyday Twinings Darjeeling or Ceylon I enjoy mid-afternoon is kept in the cupboard at the front. But delve a little deeper, and even in to the tea drawer (yes, I have a dedicated drawer now) below and you will find a cache of tea for any occasion. There are so many exciting types to try, some delicate, some perfumed, some strong and muscular and some that taste like you've spilt the kettle into the ashtray. Take your pick.I have always taken my tea black in the strong belief that milk is for baby cows. I really don't get on well with it unless it's in the form of cheese or ice cream, and then, well, those calves can go thirsty.But with this tea, milk of some kind is essential. It rounds everything out, softens it, gives it a comforting velvetiness. I use almond milk, it accentuates the nuttiness from the ground pistachios and has the creamy texture you need.And the tea itself? Well the pink is dramatic. That comes from the addition of bicarbonate of soda to the water. The colour is fantastic, and the green nuts and pink rose petals give an elegant delicacy.The flavours and colours transport me to an exotic world, where spice meets desert and mountain and the little extra effort involved in this drink is worth that alone. But it's also delicious and the colours really cheer you up at a London lunchtime. The noon, however, means salt in Kashmiri and I've tried it with some as it should be and with sugar as an alternative. They both have their positives, but the way I prefer it is with neither. Just a lot of cardamom and certainly as close to 12 o'clock as possible.You can get gunpowder tea easily online (try this brand for a basic type). I tend to top up when I go to Tooting and the Indian shops that line the high road.Ingredients4tbsp Kashmiri tea or 'gunpowder' tea450ml of boiling water plus 200ml of cold1tbsp cardamom seeds, briefly crushed in a pestle and mortar1tsp bicarbonate of soda1 star anise4 clovesA pinch of salt, sugar or honey if you likeA handful of pistachios, ground in a pestle and mortar. You can also use almondsA few rose buds to decorateAlmond milk to serve. (I use Plenish -- which admittedly sounds like a dishwasher tablet -- as it has a high nut content and no added sugar or unnecessary rubbish.)MethodBring the tea to the boil in 450ml water with the cardamom, star anise, cloves, bicarbonate of soda and salt (if using) and simmer gently for about 20 minutes.Pour in the remaining cold water, stir well and bring back to the boil. Simmer gently for a further minute or two. Strain into a jug. You can keep this in the fridge for a few days, which saves you the bother of making it like this every day.Heat as much milk as you need to fill each cup 3/4 full, pour in the prepared tea until you have a vivid pink then serve hot with a sprinkle of nuts and flowers.

Rhubarbade - ying and tang

We found ourselves in the garden centre again the other day. A weekday and all. We passed through aisles of green and shelves trailing leaves and branches like lazy octopi.I bought a tarragon plant and a gooseberry bush, spurred on by the constant disappointment on the supermarkets shelves. I'll leave the tarragon a while to get established, unlike the parsley which I have had to plant a few extra pots of. We seem to use a lot in this house and the poor little things can't keep up.As for the gooseberries, those furry little fruits that seemed to be a permanent fixture of my late childhood summers, I shall, with hope and care, now have my own supply. And each year, when the season dawns, I'll be able to have the simple joy of having grown my own sour little bombs of flavour. They are so good turned into a sauce with mackerel.It dawned on me, as I eyed the cakes and considered a nice sit down and a cup of tea, that perhaps I'm not freelance, I'm retired. It'll be a tartan shopping trolley in the supermarket, grey slip-ons and annoying everyone by travelling to leisure activities at peak time on the commuter trains next.Or not. Life, after all, is about balance. And the joys of the garden, especially this time of year, when every day brings a surprising new burst of colour somewhere, have given me a new pastime. One that appeals to my inate talent of 'pottering' about. A place of calm in the morning before a busy day, or a place of contemplation and unwinding after one, as you walk around with a drink in one hand and the hose in the other. However, I can see the amount of greenfly attacking the rosebuds may lead to swearing in a quiet corner, out of earshot of the children.And talking of Ying and yang, there is the heavenly balance when startlingly sour meets incredibly sweet: a sweet spot. Just the hint of something on the edge of tartness, almost mouth puckering but not quite. Rhubarb is the king of this. Perhaps it's just me, but that feeling of being just on the edge, when chillies in a curry are almost unbearable, when bitterness is almost too much in a sour cherry tangfastic, when lemon juice or vinegar just hits the acidic edge in a vinaigrette is where the flavour is at its best. It's almost thrilling to be there.But this is only a drink, so we'll stop with all that. There comes a point in life when you have bought too much rhubarb and you have to hold back. And you can't -- although Noah would vehemently oppose this heretical idea -- have crumble every day. So to use the remaining spears, I've made this rhubarbade. It's delicious and makes a refreshing change from the lime and mint  I love, or the cider vinegar and honey tonic I make. This vivid pink rhubarb at the height of its season is a real highlight of the year so get it while you can, and get it into as much as you can.Ingredients500g rhubarb500ml water50g maple syrup50g grated ginger (this helps bring out the flavour of the rhubarb, not that it needs help)1tsp citric acidJuice of a lemonMethodBring the ingredients to a boil in a saucepan and reduce to a simmer for about ten minutes. Leave to cool completely then strain into a bottle and chill.Dilute with sparkling water to serve, adding a sprig or two of mint if you like.

Don't throw those bloody spears at me

White asparagus with salsa verde. toasted chilli almonds, Parmesan and lemon zestI blame the Ancient Egyptians. What did they ever do for us? Cat worship lead to domestication and ultimately to them sneaking into my back garden overnight where I’ve left the paddling pool out, because I thought I’d put it away another time, and trampling all over it with their claws and leaving tiny, impossible to find holes in an absurd variety of places.Every small success, every patch glued over an excitedly-discovered hole led me to believe it would stay inflated. This time. And half an hour later, sagging sadly and listlessly to one side, the water started pouring out. Again. I sagged sadly and listlessly to one side.But now the bank holiday weekend is over, and we are not prone at the feet of the sun god, we have a paddling pool that is more puncture repair patches than paddling pool (I don’t know where the pool ends and the patches begin). I have folded it away and put it in the garage. And ordered a new one. It seems even garden leisure goods can teach you a lesson about not doing just half the job.But all this does show that we have been spending a lot of time outside, which is a good thing. I have used the barbecue more times in the last month than I have in the past year, even lighting it last week after picking the children up from school to make them pizzas, using it succesfully as a makeshift pizza oven.And as the sun is still shining, today’s lunch was light, quick and zingy. While people rend their clothes and cry tears over how fantastic British asparagus is when in season, the white variety is just not as popular here. But it is delicious and tender, and somewhat striking. If you see some, snap it up, snap off the ends and cook it in some butter, lemon juice and water and serve it with salsa verde. Toasted almond flakes add a little crunch and lemon zest a little highlight and lunch is ready to eat sat outside with some shades on and bandana tied around your head ready to point the hose at any cat that comes near the garden. I’m also sure one is trying to bury poo in the rosemary. Remind me of that next time I cut some to marinade the chicken in for another barbecue.Ingredients10-12 white asaparagus spears, peeled and the tough part of the stem snapped offA handful of basil leavesA bigger handful of parsleyFronds from a few dill sprigs1tsp capers1tsp Dijon mustardA small hadful of flaked almonds1tsp smoked chipotle chilli flakes (or standard red chilli flakes)A few shavings per person of Parmesan or Grana PadanoZest of a small lemonOlive oilButter and lemon juice for the asparagus waterMethodBring a pan of water (enough to cover the asparagus) to the boil and add a tablespoon or two of butter and the juice of a lemon.Cook the asparagus in this for about five minutes, depending on the thickness of the stems. Drain and plunge into cold water to stop them cooking any further.Blend the herbs, capers and mustard together with enough olive oil to make a pourable sauce.Toast the almonds with the chilli flakes until the nuts are turning golden and remove from the heat. Don’t walk away from them or they will burn and you’ll have to start again, which is a pain.Divide the asparagus between two plates, spoon over the salsa verde and sprinkle on the chilli almond flakes.Top with some shavings of cheese and some pared lemon zest and serve immediately.This week:Read:India, by V.S. Naipaul. A fascinating and engagingly written insight into an enigmatic and enormous country. Bonkers and beautiful.Watched:Episodes; the first 20 minutes of 'Hampstead'; the first half of 'The Florida Project'; and painfully continuing with 'The Woman in White'. Excellent; clichéd and tedious; Good but got bored of watching a six year old be a six year old even though the film has its merits, just not when we're tired; and oh God when will this tedium of a series end but it's too late to give up now.Eat:Gosh we have been loading the barbecue with marinated chicken, aubergines, sausages and the rest. We've had tomato salads, carrot salads, green salads. I puréed green chillies and coriander and garlic and smothered it over a chicken which I split grilled then poured over a quick coconut, chilli garlic and ginger sauce and served with homemade naan. We've had Fried chicken and tacos at an American style bar in Shoreditch because we are so trendy and much more. It's been a good week.Listened:Radio 4s Book at Bedtime, 'The Valley at the Centre of the World' by Malachi Tallack. We miss the excellent telly programme 'Shetland' so this has come at a good time. It was even read by Steven Robertson who plays Sandy and has the most fantastic accent.

Tom Kha and Harry

I bought a bird feeder from the hardware superstore the other day. Along with a new huge barbecue and quite a few other things you're allowed when you graduate from Dad school.Except it seems to be badly calibrated. In this part of South east London it seems the only birds it attracts are squirrels. And three very shifty looking pigeons. And while I may proudly wear a 'For the many' lapel badge on my jacket, in this situation I am taking a hardline stance on scroungers and layabout animals wanting something for nothing. I threw a tennis ball in their general direction earlier and they retreated to a safe distance, eyeing me with beady contempt.But while the level of seeds and nuts dimishes quicker than my enthusiasm for the new season's hot weather after two days of sneezing my face off, my excitement at the garden grows daily as new things pop out here and there, seemingly overnight. Violets and forget-me-nots appeared from the garden's edge like a very slow jack-in-the-box and the tulips opened wider than I thought possible to soak up the strong, bright sunlight shining constantly on the borders.We cooked outside for the first time this year. In April. Which surely is unheard of. I over-catered in my excitement. Chicken, slender sausages, langoustines with garlic butter, burgers, lamb chops marinated in harissa, za'atar, cumin and rosemary, flatbreads, charring in parts until the edges shatter when you tap them. I roasted aubergines on the coals until soft and blackened then mashed them with olive oil, plenty of garlic and some more cumin and we sat outside stuffing our faces in the late afternoon warmth.After a weekend of overeating and behaving as if we were battery chickens busted out into the freedom of the garden, Monday night called for a calmer supper.I made this tom kha, trying to recreate the one from our local Thai restaurant. And while not quite the same as theirs -- I have a feeling they may lace it with sugar -- it was fresh tasting, spicy (but with a nice heat that sort of punched you in the face then left you alone, rather than one that slowly builds like a kind of gaslighting) and ready in about 20 minutes. Halve the amount of chillies if you like, but I do rather enjoy the rush you get from something that is almost too much.I put prawns in this one, but chicken is equally delicious. As is pigeon or squirrel. Possibly.IngredientsA thumb sized piece of galangal, finely sliced3-4 red chillies (birdseye or finger)2 sticks of lemongrass, bruised and sliced into 3cm pieces1 tin of coconut milk (400ml)6 or so kaffir lime leaves1 shallot, finely sliced2 medium-small tomatoes, choppedAbout six meaty mushrooms (I used chestnut, but would have preferred oyster)300g raw tiger prawnsJuice and zest of a limeA dash of fish sauce and a little pinch of salt to tasteA bunch of coriander, choppedMethodThrow the galangal, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, shallot and chillies into a saucepan with the coconut milk and slowly heat, stirring gently and occasionally.Cook for about five minutes then add the mushrooms and prawns and bring to just below the boil. Cook for another 5-10 minutes, until the prawns are cooked through then season with the lime juice and fish sauce to taste. Try to get the balance between salty, sour, sweet and sharp.Add the chopped coriander and lime zest and serve straight away with more lime wedges and chilli slices on the side.This weekWatched: Swan Lake ballet for children at the theatre. About my level really. I still found the whole thing preposterous though. I mean really...Read: The Leopard, by Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa. Sicily, a prince in the 1860s. I mean, it's perfectly readable, but I had no great desire to rush home and pick it up.Eat: Neil from Eugene cooked us great steaks the other night, before he and Linda returned home. Delicious food and great company.Listened: Some new English jazz, would you believe. Ivo Neame featuring Shabaka Hutchings. Good stuff, interesting, and wide-ranging.

Pizzoccheri, broccoli, garlicky, buttery

The past is a strange mirror to look into. And sitting here, in the attic surrounded by boxes and old sketchbooks from art college I feel my breath catching a little with memories.And all that work I did in college? Well, looking at it now, it wasn't very good. Does everything we do pale and fade into the average when we look back, only the occasional thing really standing out as any good? Or is everything preparation for what is to come, footnotes and experiences on our journey?But life isn't about everything being incredible, the highlights wouldn't be highlights if there was nothing to compare them to. Mostly we go along, quite happily, occasional highs, occasional lows, but mainly somewhere in the middle.Most of the food I cook is nice enough, nothing spectacular, but then there is the occasional thing that goes into the canon of special food that's a real treat. Simple things generally, like a roast chicken, drowning in tarragon butter and encased in crisp Parma ham; softly scrambled eggs infused with curry leaves and spices and served with lots of green chillies; beans, chorizo and broth with pork; simple fish curry; tagliatelle with chestnut mushrooms, chilli, garlic and olive oil; salmon with curried spelt; a tomato salad at the height of summer, dressed with shallot vinaigrette and chopped parsley.*All these things are in contrast to an average midweek meal of a risotto for example, or even a jacket potato with butter and cheese. A meal made with not much more than an easy supper in mind. Perhaps some cubes of garlic courgette liven it up a little, or a salad on the side cuts through its comforting richness, but it's still the everyday. And that everyday should be celebrated as much as the extraordinary. A little touch of something extra here and there can make things livelier than you think. If things are done with care, no matter how simple, they mean something and are greater for that thoughtfulness.We last had pizzoccheri about seven years ago, cooked for us by Mary Ann in her apartment in the Alto Adige, northern Italy. Hearty and rustic it was served with the traditional chard which I've swapped for tender stem broccoli. For some reason, it's a dish that has stuck in my mind. I don't know why particularly, it's nothing special. It's comforting and homely, just the meal to get your strength up for a long day's Italian sheep herding, or whatever they do that close to Switzerland.The pasta is so easy to make, you roll it by hand so there's not even a need for a machine. I'm of the belief that drenching things in garlic butter will generally improve them -- unless its the jam knife for your morning toast, which has the opposite effect -- and that is the case here. You would think buttery garlic potatoes, comforting ribbons of pasta and healthy greens cooked together with melting cheese is heavenly. I thought so, but the rest of the family were less than impressed. There were upturned noses and downturned mouths.Maya liked the potatoes (who wouldn't?) but not the rest, Noah seemed like he'd spent the meal having to read a report on boredom and Bee said it "had potential, but even if it is a 'classic' recipe that doesn't mean we need to eat it."If you don't want to make the pasta yourself, use a wholemeal tagliatelle or something with a little weight to it. And you can use shredded savoy cabbage or chard as the original does. I used Tilly Whim cheese from Farmdrop instead of the traditional Fontina or Tomi. It needs a semi-soft cow's cheese that will melt deliciously over everything. You could use coarsely-grated Gruyere too if you like.IngredientsFor the pasta:50g plain flour150g buckwheat flourA pinch of saltEnough water to bring it together into a nice softish dough. About 150mlFor the rest:300g small potatoes, or Maris Pipers, cut up200g tendereste broccoli, sliced in half, lengthwiseA good few handfuls of cheese such as Tilly Whim or FontinaA generous grating of Parmesan50g butter2-3 cloves of garlic, finely gratedA drizzle of olive oilSalt and pepper to seasonMethodMake the pasta by bringing together the flour, salt and water in a large bowl and mixing until it comes together in a flaky dough. Continue kneading, rolling and stretching it in the bowl until you have a smooth, silk and slightly elastic dough. Add more flour to it to help keep it from sticking to your hands as you go.Leave it to rest, covered for about half an hour.Heat the oven to 180c.Make the garlic butter by heating the butter until melted, seasoning well then add the garlic. Heat gently for a few minutes being careful to not let the garlic colour. Remove from the heat.Flour the worktop and roll out the pasta to about 1-2mm. Roll up and slice into ribbons then cut into pieces about 4-5cm long. Toss with a little flour to keep from sticking together.Bring the potatoes to the boil in salted water for about five minutes then add the pasta and cook for ten more minutes. Add the broccoli and cook for a couple of minutes then drain everything.Put a layer of the potato mix in a baking dish then sprinkle with half the cheese.Cover with the remaining potato, pasta and broccoli then add the remaining cheese.Season with a little salt and pepper, pour over the garlic butter and cook in the oven for about twenty minutes, until the cheese is melted and starting to brown.Drizzle with a touch of olive oil and serve hot.*There are of course, plenty of disasters and things that were best glossed over, never to be repeated, but certainly to be learned from.

Two carrot gold

How are bricks made? How do they make glass? How do they build a roof? Frieda Kahlo was a famous painter. Is turmeric food colouring? Have we ever seen a caterpillar? Daddy, Noah's looking at me. I don't like it.These are the pressing issues of the day. And apparently must be addressed before I've had a cup of coffee. And although I woke up 20 minutes before everyone and had blissful calm before I had to turn into a human Wikipedia, it was still an assault on my delicate surfacing senses.And so to this week's food. I have such little space in my brain at the moment for anything other than the impending house move that the meals this week have needed to be simple and quick. We've had spaghetti and meatballs in tomato sauce; the meatballs browned from frozen and then cooked through in tinned tomatoes blitzed with chilli flakes, a spring onion, two cloves of garlic, olive oil and a large, large pinch of dried oregano.As is often the way, just adding a little dash of something can elevate a dish from the everyday. In this case, a large handful of chopped parsley, a good sprinkle of breadcrumbs, lemon zest and probably half the Parmesan and pepper grinder just gave it the edge on what is already delicious comfort food.The other night, we had some broccoli florets, blanched and quickly fried with garlic, ginger, spring onion and kohlrabi. I tossed that with sesame oil and seeds, soy sauce and some rice noodles and supper was on our laps in front of the telly in fifteen minutes.And as for the children, they've had Greek bean soup, corn on the cob with lime and butter, stewed rhubarb and chicken and mushroom in a creme fraiche and tomato sauce with rice and broccoli. Which was pronounced acceptable. But I do think they are starting to raise an eyebrow here and there at the sudden and often appearance of soups at the dinner table. Noah seems to think he can only eat it if the bread to soup ratio is one to one. And still complains it's not the same as the pumpkin soup they have at school. Ingrate.The best thing by far we eat this week though, was the carrot salad I made on Saturday night after we'd had dhal and naan and were still peckish. I had to use a packet of the children's Peppa Pig raisins, and perhaps that's where the secret to the success of the dish came. Or perhaps it was the amazing olive oil from I got from oliveology the other day. Or perhaps it was just the freshness and simplicity of it. Whatever, it has taken on an ineffable quality and almost mythical status in my memory so I'm going to make it again for lunch today. And it just goes to show, sometimes when all you can do is do things simply, that's when you do them best.Ingredients2 fairly large carrots, scrubbedA tablespoon or two of tarragon vinegarA packet of Peppa Pig raisins. Or a small handful of normal ones if you can't get theseA good pour of great olive oilA large handful of chopped parsley2tbsp of ground cuminSalt and pepper to seasonA pinch of turmeric for the hell of itMethodI generally use the medium grating disc on the food processor to grate the carrots, but do them by hand if you prefer. I'm far to important and dynamic, plus I just love the way it eats them up, cartoon-style.Add the grated carrots to a large serving bowl and add the remaining ingredients. Mix well, taste and add more seasoning if you feel it needs it.Leave to rest for about ten minutes to allow things to mingle a little and the carrots to soften a touch then serve. And sigh.This weekReadRedbreast by Jo Nesbo. Sometimes it feels as if it's been written by a child, but enjoyable nonetheless.EatFood not worth waiting the hour and half for on Mothers' day at Wing Yip in Croydon. And the tea tasted like it had been brewing since the Ming dynasty. Let's hope Darjeeling Express tomorrow night is better.SawShetland, again. Thoroughly cosy, and Steven Robertson's accent is still brilliant. Noah and I are catching up on old Simpsons episodes on the sofa at 6pm every night.ListenedEnigma, MCMXV ad. for a blast from the past, and Hollywood Town Hall by the Jayhawks. An excellent album still as good today as it ever was.

How empires crumble

It's very hilly where we live in Crystal Palace. And the park has wonderful sweeping tree-lined slopes, some Aspen pines among them. If you close your eyes there in winter you could imagine you're in Colorado. Except by the time we eventually got round to buying plastic sledges for the children (at an ambitious 20 quid each I hasten to add -- I'm sure the shop owner rubbed his hands together as Bee bought them) the snow was melting quicker than a 99 flake in Marbella. It was snølosing, as the Norwegians would have it among their many descriptions.So it was more like a muddy Colorado parking lot in late spring by the time we arrived. Sludging is more of an apt term. But seeing as the children didn't know any better -- we haven't had decent snow here in their young lives -- they had huge fun until Maya's lips started turning blue and she wanted her home comforts. Immediately.That morning had already seen me up at the crack of the ever earlier dawn having a text by text instruction from the chap who fitted our alarm ten years ago. For some reason, after all these years of perfect behaviour, it decides in the weeks leading up to our selling the house to start beeping loudly every 45 seconds.After disconnecting various panels he instructed me to disconnect one of the two wires. Sweat trickled down my brow in slow motion. With my breath held, I pulled out the red wire expecting alarmageddon. Nothing. Silence. Bliss. And seeing I was up, I went outside to get the paper that hadn't been delivered and grumbling like Muttley from Wacky Races came back in to make coffee. At least you can rely on coffee.So with all that excitment, after all that fresh air, some comfort food was just the thing. As a little treat for the crumble-loving fiends the children are, I secretly made these for them while they were glued to the telly. Individual crumble pots using up a couple of apples we had in the fruit bowl and some blackberries from the freezer. The braeburns are a great cooking apple for holding their shape and are a nice change from the cooking ones I normally use. It seems almost classier. Still, it takes a while for them to cook but you really don't have to do much. Perfect after an hour in the melting snow.It's such a quick to put together dish and much more delicious than the time and effort would suggest.Ingredients for two2 braeburn apples, cored and cut into segmentsa child's handful of frozen blackberries (or fresh if it's the season)1-2tbsp of golden caster sugar, dusted over the fruitA small shake of ground cinnamonA pinch of ground turmeric50g butter50g sugar100g plain flourMethodBriefly cook the fruit in a saucepan with some sugar, cinnamon and turmeric until starting to soften and the blackberries give up their juices.Make the crumble by mixing together the butter, sugar and flour until sandy and well combined.Divide the fruit between two tapas-style terracotta dishes top with the crumble (there will be some left over) and bake in the oven at 180c for about half an hour. Keep an eye on it and perhaps turn the tray around halfway through if it looks like it's catching. Serve warm.This weekRead:Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck. Funny in parts, bleak in others. And short. Which was a blessing.Watched:Derry Girls. Some great lines in there, and it's one hit after another on the soundtrack. I licky boom boom down.Listened:The Final Countdown, by Europe. Noah's eyes bulged with joy when it came on, as if he couldn't believe such amazing music could exist. He ran off to note down the songs in his notebook of music to listen to. He then informed me they sing 'The eye of the tiger' in assembly. What a school that must be.Eat:Roast chicken on a layer of thinly sliced potatoes with rosemary and garlic. It takes about five minutes to put together and then goes into the oven for a couple of hours to cook itself. The Parma ham on the top goes as crisp as frazzles and is delicious. The chicken came from Farmdrop which is doing great things.

Roast garlic. Simple.

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.

A right coq up

 

They don't make music like they used to do they? It's just noise now... in my day you could understand the lyrics... young people today... don't know they're born... And what do they think they look like?... We eat at Numero Uno in Clapham this week, a restaurant of the classic Italian-restaurant-in-England type from the good old days of package holidays and candles in Chianti bottles. Long before everything was sourdough this and artisan that. It was rubbish.Well it wasn't actually, Bee and I had a very nice time, the food was fine, in a kind of fine way. The type of food that would have been seen as 'classy' Italian back when Gazza was crying to Nessun Dorma in slow motion. There was even a waiter in crisp white shirt and a black waistcoat polishing glasses behind the counter. Yes, it was fine.There's been more Italian at home. We had risotto, creamy, rich and comforting arborio rice with prawns and courgettes filled a Sunday evening hole after a roast lunch with apple crumble for pudding at the in-laws. Now there's a meal. The children have eaten trofie with ragù which they hoovered up, I've had clams for lunch, as I wrote about here (although I think one or two may have escaped as there's a very strange smell coming from behind the bin) and last night we had home made orecchiette with jerusalem artichokes and pancetta. And while we are still tilted away from the sun for a little while longer, I made coq au vin. This is a proper winter dish; rich, meaty, dark, and served with a smooth mash and garlic green beans it was just the thing to send us to bed weighing a ton. I'd forgotten that it's not really a quick meal for midweek, so I may save it for a languorous Saturday afternoon cooking session in future. But it's delicious. Noah had it for his supper the next day too. Maya didn't eat hers because she was having a tantrum over not having been given a lollipop at the hairdressers like her brother. Her loss. A night with no supper seems a high risk stake over a lolly if you ask me, but children do get stuck in their emotions sometimes... Ingredients1 chicken, about 2kg. Get the best you can. In the restaurant we used to use Label Anglais, but that seems a little excessive for a Tuesday.A bottle of red wine, preferably Burgundy, but something similar if not.2 large carrotsgreen bits of a leek1 bulb of garlic2 medium onions2 sticks of celeryRosemary sprigsFor the garnish:8 baby carrotsA handful or two of pancetta cubes6-8 small round shallots, peeled and left wholeA handful of button mushroomsSome more rosemaryA few slices of crusty white breadA lot of chopped parsleyMethodThere is a quick version of this recipe in my head somewhere, I'm sure, which probably involves marinating the meat overnight, draining and browning it then simmering it with the veg and wine for an hour before straining out the veg and serving. Even that is fairly involved. Try it the following way first, then you can adjust as you like.Joint the chicken into 8 pieces (legs, thighs, breast, wings) then marinate the meat with the vegetables, rosemary and wine overnight. Drain the meat, reserving the marinade and vegetables and fry the chicken all over until browned. Set aside, drain and fry the vegetables.Add the wine marinade back to the pan, bring to the boil for five minutes then simmer for about 20 minutes. Remove the vegetables then add the chicken. Bring to the boil then simmer for about 45 minutes to an hour. Skim the surface every so often to remove the impurities. While that's cooking, roast the garnish ingredients with a little olive oil and seasoning until golden and cooked through.Cook enough potatoes to make mash for four people, steam them dry then put through a ricer. Beat in some hot, melted butter, cream and milk until silky and season very well. Slice the bread into triangles and fry in some olive oil until golden then dip in the chopped parsley. Divide the mash between four bowls, top with the chicken and a good ladleful of the sauce. Add the roast vegetable garnish, top with a crouton and a good sprinkling of parsley and black pepper. This weekSaw:Three Billboards outside Epping, in Surrey. As brilliant as everyone says. Worth watching more than once. The two lead parts are brilliantly played, as are all the supporting roles.Listened:Rumours by Fleetwood Mac. An old favourite, and yes, they don't make them like that any more do they? Eat:We had supper at Chit chaat chai in Wandsworth one evening. The star of that meal was the lamb and potato patties with a green chutney and crisp, spicy fried okra on the side. They are worth travelling for.Read:Out stealing horses by Per Petterson. I felt like I was in the cold Norwegian forest, alone with the emptiness, staring wildly into the void.

Clams, potatoes and green sauce

Simplicity is beauty. I've had more pleasure from a ripe and juicy nectarine than I have from a complicated fondant.According to William Morris, things should either be useful or beautiful, and if you mix that with the idea that less is more and apply it to food, you should be OK. It's something the Italians know well with their cooking; start with good ingredients and you're pretty much all the way there. And, the Spanish as well, which is where the idea for this dish came from.Today's recipe is elegant and parsimonious in its ingredients, it uses clams which are at their best at this time of year from the cold waters around the UK. It's much more than the sum of its parts. I've used Cornish ones but this dish would be equally delicious with what the Scottish call 'spoots'. I'd call it Occam's razor clams.Ingredients12 baby potatoes, halved1 small white onionA bunch of parsley200ml garlic oil (made by grating four cloves of garlic into 500ml olive oil and heating until golden. Leave to cool then strain and keep in the fridge for up to a week)1tbsp flourA bag of clamsSherry vinegar to tasteWater for the sauceSalt and pepper to seasonMethodSoak the clams in cold water for about 20 minutes in a few changes of water then give them all a good slosh about until all the grit and sand has been cleaned away.Make the green sauce by blitzing together the parsley, a good load of garlic oil and a generous splash of sherry vinegar. Season well, taste and perhaps season a little more, not forgetting that vinegar is a seasoning and brings out flavours too, so adjust as you like. You may want it sharper, saltier or sweeter with more oil.Cook the potatoes in salted, boiling water until tender. About ten minutes. Drain them and run them under cold water to stop them cooking any more.Heat the garlic oil in a large, heavy saucepan, something like a le Creuset casserole.Finely chop the onion and gently sauté in the oil, well seasoned with salt, until soft and just starting to think about turning golden.Add the potatoes and cook them for a few minutes until they start to catch here and there and colour a little.Stir in the flour and add a splash of sherry vinegar then stir in a good splash of water until you have a thick sauce the consistency of double cream.Add the clams and cook with the lid on for about five minutes, until they've all opened. Or at least until all the ones that are going to open, open. Throw the others away.Add the green sauce to the pan, stir well, warm through and serve with some more chopped parsley and a little bread to mop up the incredible juices. 

Lime, coriander, green chilli and spring onion salsa

Here's a quick way to liven up a simple supper of grilled chicken or perhaps some salmon, lightly poached in a stock with some white wine and parsley. It's a zingy and fresh tasting combination of flavours.I used it the other day on top of a Texan-style chilli I found in the bottom of the freezer that I'd made a batch of about  a month ago and it just lifted it from the comforting to a notch above delicious.It takes about two minutes to chop together so make it fresh and spoon it on just before you serve.Ingredients2 spring onions2 green finger chillies1 small bunch of corianderZest and juice of a limeMethodSlice the spring onion and coriander, zest the lime and finely chop the coriander. Put everything in a bowl.Squeeze the juice all over, mix well and serve.

Curds and wa-hey!

It's a constant, if not full-time job to keep enough food in the house for the seemingly hollow children. And while bergamot curd may not be up on the list of household necessities, as the saying goes, when life gives you lemons...I had a box of bergamots hanging around as one does, and after trying palm them off here and there on unsuspecting family and friends, the remainder were destined for a slow and sad decline. I'd used some in a pasta dish with broccoli, garlic and Parmesan in place of lemon and I'd squeezed the juice into sparkling water for a touch of the bath bomb in my evening drink. I was considering using the rest for a lemon-style tart, but seeing as the children seem to have developed a new and mysterious love for lemon curd on toast I had my solution.And it's very nice. Perfumed but not like walking past a soap shop, it's citrussy and delicate. I know bergamots are not really the kind of thing you come across that often --it's almost exclusively grown in Calabria -- but if you do, this is a good use for it. And, as a bonus you can spoon it into little sweet pastry cases for a speedy little tart.This recipe works just as well with blood oranges, which is my next stop if I'm lost for curds.Makes: 2 jarsPrep time: 5 minutesCooking time: 10-15 minutesIngredients4 bergamots, juice and zest (giving up about 160ml juice)4 eggs1 egg yolk200g golden caster sugar100g unsalted butterMethodZest the bergamots into a heatproof bowl big enough to sit on top of a small saucepan. Halve the fruits and put them in a bowl. Microwave them for one minute. This will give you all the juice from them. An astonishing amount comes out. If you don't a microwave, roll them really hard on the bench before slicing open. It will help, but isn't as good as the micro.Put some water in the bottom of the pan and bring to the boil. Add the butter, sugar and juice to the bowl and stir well. Put on top of the pan, making sure it's not touching the water and reduce the heat to a simmer.Stir, dissolving the butter and melting the sugar.Lightly whisk the eggs and yolks and tip into the bowl. Whisk in well until incorporated and cook for about 10-15 minutes, very gently. Stir occasionally with a spatula until the whole thing is beautifully and gently set.Remove from the heat and put into jars. Leave to cool and store in the fridge.This weekWatched:Jiro dreams of sushi. I now want to retrain as a 90 year old Japanese sushi master, but I feel some ambitions are impossible.'Somebody feed Phil' on Netflix; another travel-food-ologue, but as usual, interesting and hosted by someone who seems genuinely enthusiastic and nice.Coco, from Pixar with the children. I didn't know where to look there was so much going on.Listened:Blind Melon: not listened to them for a long time. Uplifting in a melancholy way.Kodaline: thought I'd try them out, see what the youth of today are listening to. Or something like that. They probably aren't, it's more likely to be hairdressers in Newbury or somewhere that listen to this boring snorefest of a band. Ate:Dull Indian takeaway. Dull Italian food at Ecco, Clapham and a dull lunch at Franco Manca after the cinema. Followed by heavenly gelato from Odono's on Lordship Lane. Homemade spinach and ricotta ravioli with sage butter. Children hated it. Savages. Philistines. It's one of the world's finest dishes.A steak sandwich with anchovy, melted cheddar, watercress, salsa verde, chillies, radish, cucumber and gherkins. That was a sandwich alright. Nico dreams of sandwiches.Read:Death in Sardinia, '60s set Italian detective novel, lots of good food descriptions as well as the usual detective formulas.

Ooh, Saucy fish Pie

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.

Ham and green lentils

The warm smell of cooking as you get in from school is like a blanket covering you on the sofa in winter or a hot chocolate by the fire. My favourite, the one that always said something good was on the way, was -- and still is -- garlic and onions softly sautéeing in olive oil. That, for me, was when I knew there is some proper food coming, something prepared and cooked with care and attention, something that says "you are being nurtured". You can't smell a salad, can you?I do quite often cook the children fish fingers and peas for supper; sometimes we're all on the edge of sanity and even slicing an onion may just break me. And sometimes, I'll work over a hot stove for hours, wiping my brow with the towel of martyrdom just for the children to decide on a whim they don't like something they've wolfed down countless times before. They'll never turn down a roast on Sunday though. Sometimes you can never win, and sometimes, they'll surprise you by loving sparrow soufflé with chillies. But knowing there's always a hot meal on its way, and the kitchen is a place of happiness is something we all need.This recipe is perfect to fill the house with the kinds of smells to make you feel happy. The aromatic vegetables softening, the slight spice from the garam masala, the fresh bay leaves. And the simmering broth. It's also quick, if you take into account that you can cheat by using tinned cooked green lentils. But even if you cook them from scratch, it still doesn't take forever. I've made a courgette purée to go with it -- lentils are quite filling -- but if you feel like mashed potato instead, go for it.Ingredients200g cooked ham chunks. I had some in the freezer left over from Christmas250g cooked green lentils1 carrot1 stick of celery, plus leaves1 small onionThe white of a leek you've had hanging around for a few days2 fresh bay leavesChicken stock to cover1tbsp garam masalaSalt and white pepper to seasonFor the courgette:1 largeish courgette2 shallots1 fat clove of garlicOlive oilA tablespoon or two of butterSalt to seasonMethodSlice the carrots, celery, onion and leek into dice as small as you can manage.Heat a saucepan with some olive oil and throw them in. Add the bay leaves, season and stir.Cook gently for ten minutes until softened then add the ham, lentils, garam masala, seasoning and stock.Bring to the boil for a few minutes then simmer for a further ten with a lid on.Make the courgettes by heating a sauté pan with some olive oil then adding the garlic and shallot. Season well and cook for a few minutes, until starting to colour.Turn the heat up and add the courgettes, toss around and cook until turning golden here and there.Transfer to a blender or food processor, add the butter and blend to a purée. Taste and adjust the seasoning. It probably needs more salt. And butter.Serve with the lentils and ham.

Tahini-meenie-miny-mo

It's normally always there, lingering in the back of the cupboard, the lid slightly encrusted with a beige residue and the oil separated from the paste, sitting on top in a questionable pool. Then there is a fight to get the near solidified clay out of the bottom and not bend the spoon. And that's all before you discover you haven't got a tin of chickpeas anyway so have to go to the shop. Again.But fear not! This homemade tahini will save the day. And if there's ever a houmous crisis in the shops again, you can whip up your own in a jiffy. And then you can put it in a jar in the fridge and the whole family dip a carrot stick in it for lunch on Saturday then forget about it until you throw it away a week later as you wonder why you bother.Of course, this all depends on you having a bag of sesame seeds in the cupboard. I'd suggest that it is a staple worth having, and really, it's nicer making your own tahini anyway. It just (as with most things that are freshly made) tastes so much better. And you know it only has what you put in it in it.MethodTo make a jam jar sized amount of fresh tahini, sprinkle sesame seeds all over an oven tray, you can be very generous. Heat the oven to 180c and roast the seeds until they start to colour a little and toast. Stir them round occasionally so they don't burn.Leave to cool a little then put in the food processor and blitz until you have a crumbly mix. Slowly add in some neutral oil, such as groundnut or rapeseed and keep blending until you have a creamy paste. Transfer to a jar and keep in the fridge.Apart from houmous -- which I would recommend making using dried chickpeas for a better finished dish, but, if you only have tinned I'm not going to judge you --  tahini can be used in dressings, sauces with some yoghurt, drizzled over roast carrots or even put into ice cream. And what's more, there's a little more cupboard space and the satisfaction of the homemade.

Thai me up

Before Christmas I was invited to eat at Hot Pot in London's Chinatown. Think meat fondue, but with fireworks, dancers, a full orchestra and a jousting tournament.I have never seen so much food on a table, it would have seemed excessive even to George IV, but we made a good go of it. Fresh fish, squid, mussels, tofu, dried beancurd, steak, pork, vegetables, cardiac heart paddles, elastic waist trousers and more. For once, sharing plates actually had enough food on them for me to not feel hard done by.There were a lot of base stocks to choose from. "Beauty rich" collagen broth, a thick, deep stock from pig bones, "longevity mushroom", "ancient pork stomach" (not sure if it's the recipe or the stomach that's ancient, but I thought if it's piping hot throughout, it's probably ok) and quite a few others. Plenty of sauces on the side made it a real mix and match meal, every bite different.Now we're in January, soups and broths are just the thing fill you with an enormous sense of wellbeing as you look to eat more healthily until at least next week when the chocolate, crisps and self-loathing resurface. I occasionally have a hot mug of broth in the morning in place of coffee. It's a refreshing way to start the day.But I've never made a proper tom yum, always making it up as I go along. Ben, the chef at Hot Pot (who is from Thailand), gave me this, his recipe, and watched over me as I made it. "Good" was all he said. So I'll take it that this is the way to do it. I like it fiery, almost lip-numbing, so I've gone quite far with the chilli here. Tone it down if you prefer.If you have a fondue set, you can recreate the hot pot experience at home. Just use the fondue dish as the bowl for the broth, keep it hot and bubbling and dip slices of  fish or meat or whatever you're cooking in to it and keep going until you've had enough. Put everything on the table and tuck in. You could even invite some friends round.Ingredients1l chicken stock2tbsp galangal or some sliced ginger (I used galangal paste from the supermarket)3-4 shallots, pounded in a pestle and mortar2 lemon grass sticks, sliced1tbsp dried chilli paste (you could use harissa at a push)6 kaffir lime leaves1tbsp sugarFish sauce and lime juice to tasteGreen chilli, sliced, to tasteA bunch of coriander1-2tbsp tom yum paste. You can buy this or make it yourself by blitzing together:1 shallot (echalion or banana. Don't bother with the small round ones, they are a bugger to peel)Lime juice (about one lime)2 lemongrass spears1tbsp galangal (or ginger)Roots from a bunch of corianderSome dried red chillies (I used about six)Enough rapeseed or groundnut oil to make a pasteMethodBring the stock to the boil, reduce to a simmer and add all the other ingredients apart from the coriander leaves and green chillies. Cook for a few minutes, taste and adjust the seasoning by adding more fish sauce or lime juice and more chilli if it's not hot enough. Dress with coriander and sliced green chilli.That's it. It freezes well, too, so you can make batches of this and defrost it as and when. 

Haricot again on my own

Now the Christmas tree has been cut up and put in the bin by the dead of night and the year gently settles into itself, I find myself staring out timidly from the duvet, slightly scared of the outside world.The fondue set has also been put back into storage; it is a dish we only get round to on new year's eve. This time we had thin cubes of beef fillet tail and dipped them in hot melted butter, loaded with grated garlic or a punchy, herb-laced olive oil. A game of Jenga later and we were all tucked up in bed well before Big Ben bonged.It's now back to more normal meals, things we can leave to bubble in a pan for an hour or two, or cook gently in the oven on the weekends behind the scenes for use midweek  while trying to find socks for school tomorrow.In that vein then, here is a comforting bean dish that is rich, easy and nourishing. There is no need to soak the beans overnight, cook them from dried for an hour and a half, they are more flavoursome and equally as tender. You could, if you prefer, use tinned, cooked haricots, making this even quicker and easier to bring together and perhaps something you would make on a cold January Wednesday.For this recipe, I used the stock I'd made from the chicken left over from Saturday's lunch of pot roast chicken which I'd cooked on leeks, garlic, lemon and onions. A good few handfuls of cubed leftover ham went in and then to serve it, I made a roux, loosened it with the juices from the chicken and blended in a little double cream. It was rather like a chicken, leek and ham pie without the pastry, and none the worse for that. In the past, with equal success, I've used on of those little gel stock pots. Whatever you've got.You can have this with a quickly seared and caramelised pork chop, on it's own pretending you're a cowboy, or like we did this week with some shredded savoy cabbage, buttery and sloshed with lemon juice and pepper. There was a howling wind that night, and this is real food for those dark winter evenings of which we still have quite a few ahead.Ingredients100g haricot beans500-600ml boiling water1 celery stick1 medium carrot1 small onion100g chorizo180ml chicken stock2 fresh bay leavesParsley to serveSalt and pepper to seasonMethodPut the beans straight into the saucepan of boiling water with a little salt and simmer gently for an hour and a half. Keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't boil dry. Most of the liquid will be absorbed by the end. You can leave them to cool and use later, or keep refrigerated for the next day.Cube the chorizo, quite small, and fry in a sauté pan on a fairly gentle heat until the rust orange oil comes out. Add the bay leaves.Finely dice the celery, carrot and onion and add to the pan. You could blitz them in the food processor if you prefer, but I like to chop by hand, to be a little more connected to the food. There are enough machines in our lives, if you've got time to go on Facebook, you've got time to chop an onion. And to be honest, I'll let the machines do the rubbish bits like washing up.Stir well and cook gently until softened. Season a little and cook gently for about ten minutes.Add the beans and stock, bring to the boil and then simmer for about five minutes before serving with a good amount of black pepper and chopped parsley.If there is any left, you could serve it for lunch the next day with a crisp fried egg, the yolk mixing in to be scooped up with a good slice of toasted and buttered bread.This weekWatched: 'Mindhunter', a '70s precursor to 'Criminal Minds, but without the gore. 'Little Women' completely charming and emotional. I felt like I'd watched the entire series of Dawson's Creek in three hours. In a good way. The Miniaturist, which was beautiful to look at; Les Oubliées, a ten year old French 'policière' on All Four, a little depressing, but we're waiting for the new series of 'The Bridge' to start so need something European.Read: 'Quand sort la recluse', 'Oor Wullie' and 'The Broons'. Quality.Listened: 'Kiss you all over' by Exile, '70s ridiculousness; France Gall, another French treasure buried; Creedence Clearwater Revival, perfect for a steamy winter kitchen.Eat: Plenty of risotto which then turned into mini arancini the next day. I also made a huge vat of chilli with thinly sliced brisket and some pork chops with a huge layer of fat on. We eat this with a pile of homemade corn tacos and all the trimmings. Another day there were meatballs in tomato sauce with strips of red pepper sautéed and charred with garlic, rosemary and spring onions and a pile of cubed and quickly sautéed courgettes with yet more garlic. Good, real food.

Don’t you (barquette about me)

This week's recipe is a good one to make with and for the children now the Christmas holidays have started. A simple recipe for simple minds, if you will...You may not have children of your own, in which case, feel free to borrow some. They will devour these little sponge biscuit treats in a flash if they are anything like the gannets that mine turned into when a plateful of these alighted on the kitchen table. It was like the pigeons of old in Trafalgar Square.The shop bought version of these are crisper, so you could add more sugar to the mix if you like, but these ones are softer and lean a little more toward madeleines crossed with sponge fingers. I filled the first lot with some of mother in law Sue's chocolate sauce that she had mistakenly left lying about the place, the next batch used spoonfuls of Nutella. Both were delicious.If you want to make your own chocolate sauce, melt good, dark chocolate, a little milk chocolate, some honey, cocoa powder and butter together with a little splash of water until glossy, smooth and rich. This will keep in a jar, probably for eternity, highly unlikely that will happen though. Just reheat to pour over ice cream as and when.The week ahead should bring plenty of opportunity for fun meals, but with the big day approaching you may want a few simple meals such as the sausage, lentil and potato stew I made for Saturday lunch after the children's swimming lessons. Red and white onions, a tin of tomatoes, garlic, carrots and celery gently simmered in the oven while we decorated the tree. It was wholesome and tasty and practically cooked itself.Maybe you'd also like chicken thighs braised with a creamy mushroom and Dijon mustard sauce and some buttered, shredded savoy cabbage to keep out the cold. Or perhaps a big bowl of orzo with tomato and gently spiced meatballs. Whatever you eat in the run up, I wish you a happy Christmas.Ingredients4 eggs100g icing sugar100g plain flourChocolate sauce, Nutella or JamA madeleine tin, or similarMethodSeparate the eggs and whisk the whites to a light snow.Cream together the sugar and egg yolks then gently fold in the whites. Add the flour a little at a time and mix well.Spray the moulds with cooking oil or grease with a little butter then spoon the mix into each mould.Bake at 170c for 10-12 minutes until turning a delicate gold. Immediately make a large dent in the middle of each with the back of a spoon or your thumb. Fill with the chocolate and leave to cool.This weekSaw:London Mozart Players Christmas concert at the incredible St. John's Church on Auckland Road. It's like a local cathedral. Featured Noah's choir singing 'Yesterday Like You & Me' by composer David Braid. Also a fantastic recital of Winter, from the Four Seasons. Uplifting.Read:Deliverance from 27,000 feet. An incredible tale of death and survival on Everest from the New York Times. You'll need to set aside a little time to read it though.Listened to:Michael Bublé's Christmas album. Come on, it's great. Also, the soundtrack to White Christmas.Eat:Mince pies, stollen, mince pies, pannetone, mince pies, gianduja. Mince pies.

Tarte Bordaloue

Clearing out the kitchen this week, before I put everything back in the new cupboards, I found some antique yeast, a vintage packet of baking powder and many other long expired historic foodstuffs.There were baking trays which had developed their own culture and civilisations and substances that NASA may well be interested in. I'm sure the black treacle stuck to the top of the shelf is really from a Tudor roof and certainly would have been something the children could have used in a science experiment.Now we are approaching the end of the year and December has its icy tentacles wrapped around my neck like a frozen octopus disguised as a scarf, we need to start getting into the spirit of things. The children are tired, as they always are by the end of term -- if their toast is a little too dark there are howling tears -- and I'm ready to wear a festive jumper and eat mince pies for supper.But before we go full steam(ed pudding) ahead into Christmas, and while a little of me is still mentally in Paris, I've made these Tartes Bordaloues. They are named after the bakery named after the Parisian street named after the Jesuit preacher where they were invented. It's a simple poached pear and frangipane in a short and sweet, buttery, crisp pastry. Easy to make and impressive looking, it's as if they've come straight from the patisserie. And with a strong, black coffee they make a perfect elevenses. Forget the partridge in the pear tree, just go for the tart rich in pear, see.IngredientsFor the pate sucrée200g plain flour130g butter40g icing sugar1 egg, beatenFor the frangipane115g ground almonds115g icing sugar115g melted butter1tsp vanilla pasteFor the pears4 small and firm rocha pears or similar. Soft ones will collapse to mush1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise800ml water (enough to cover the pears)300g sugarMethodPoach the pears in the vanilla, water and sugar until al dente then leave to cool.Make the pastry by mixing the flour and icing sugar together then stir in the ground almonds.Add the butter and mix well. Add the beaten egg and bring together to a dough. Lay in between two sheets of baking paper and roll flat. Put in the freezer for 15 minutes or in the fridge for half an hour.Make the frangipane by beating all the ingredients together until you have a paste, then put into a piping bag. Set aside.Heat the oven to 180c.Remove the pears from the syrup and slice.Line 4 small tart tins with the pastry. (With removable bases)Pipe in the frangipane then layer the pears into each.Bake for about 30 minutes, until golden.Leave to cool to room temperature and serve.This weekSaw:Glengarry Glen Ross. Christian Slater at the Playhouse Theatre. Excellent, and swearyBraquo on Netflix, gritty Parisian cops from about six years ago.Listened:Maya's Christmas carol concert at school. So, so sweet. She was very excited, saying it was "the BEST day ever."Johnny Hallyday. French radio playing nothing but his songs. Sounded the same as usual to be honest.Eat:Flatbreads with and Sicilian oregano and harissa slow-roast lamb leg . Piled with houmous, guacamole, olives and chilli oil. Sort of Moroccan tacos.Lahore Karahi fenugreek chicken as we sat surrounded by our house still in boxes.I made a sausage, pea and tomato risotto for the children which they hoovered up. As did I while I was dishing it up.Bratwurst hotter than the sun at Herman ze German on the way to the theatre. Thank God I made it through the whole play.Read:Fred Vargas' Quand Sort la recluse. Still enjoying this French thriller.Viz Christmas issue. Obviously a little levity is good for the soul.