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 
It's a crisp blue morning, a slight fresh chill to the air. The car windscreen, condensation covered, needed time to clear. This is how autumn begins, bright skies and the day gradually warming a little to remind us summer isn't quite over.The leisurely feeling of holiday, nothing more pressing than deciding what is for lunch or whether or not we can fit afternoon tea in as well as lying around reading, has passed.Gradually we are getting back into the swing of a routine. The children — I'd finally accepted having them around all day every day, a kind of Stockholm syndrome — bless them, have gone back to school giving me a break from Noah's non-stop cricket statistics and ball by ball descriptions and Maya's constant demand for paint supplies or sellotape.Autumn is when food starts to get more serious. No longer will a mimsy salad be enough. It's time to start breaking out the swedes and turnips. The long stews and rich sauces. "Out of the way you pathetic leaf", shouts the butternut.As we are still on the cusp of seasons ("ooh, yes, a cold, that'll be the change of weather") it's not yet time to quite let go. There is still sweet corn on the cob, boiled and drenched in butter, salt and pepper to eat messily and deliciously.Occasionally, lime zest with chilli flakes and melting, grated cheddar will appear on top of it. Maybe there will be a final opportunity for a barbecue, the cobs still in their husks, smoky and ineffably summery.So until the clocks change there will still be a hint of summer in our kitchen. The slow cooker can wait a few more weeks.
The height of a very hot and unusually consistent summer means cooking has ground to a halt in this house. Almost. The sheer willpower needed to move takes away any enthusiasm we have for eating, let alone heating pans. A cold drink and perhaps a Cornetto seems about the limit of my ability.But life is dull without good food, so the simplest things are on the table. Prawns, quickly fried and doused in garlic butter is enough, as was a little spinach and ricotta tortellini in some chicken and vegetable stock for last night's supper. On the side, a pear, Gorgonzola and walnut salad, simply dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.We had friends round on the weekend, so I did have to grudgingly cook for them, the freeloaders. But a few chickens, jointed, browned and then chucked in the oven to slowly cook with tomatoes, bay leaves and cinnamon and left to cool to room temperature made an easy lunch with some flatbreads and salad. And pudding was a few caramelised bananas shoved under some ready-made puff pastry. A banana tatin with minimum effort. That was served with some cheap vanillia ice cream, which sometimes, is just the thing.So there is no need to miss out on meals when the the grass is scorched brown and the riverbeds are cracked drier than a Ryvita with no butter. Light and simple is the way to go and these blueberries are excellent on a plate with some anchovies or a little albacore tuna, gently cooked and preserved in olive oil the Italian way. Don't use cheap rubbish or it will taste like it. Throw a couple of rocket leaves or lamb's lettuce over the top and that should do it.Why you may ask, am I pickling soft fruit at the height of its season when everything should be simple and easy? Well, this is simple and easy, and a little jar of this in the fridge goes a long way. The effort is minimal, and besides which, have you seen what happens to soft fruit in this weather? It lasts about ten seconds. And besides, a little sharpness can be just the tonic in this heat.Ingredients400g blueberries120ml cider vinegar200g golden caster sugar1 long cinnamon stick1tsp cardamon seedsA pinch of chilli flakesA pinch of saffronMethodSlowly heat the vinegar, sugar, cinnamon, cardamon, chilli and saffron in a saucepan until the sugar is dissolved, stirring occasionally. Bring to the boil and add the blueberries.Wait for a bit to let the heat come back and cook for 30 seconds. Remove to a plate or tray with a slotted spoon and let the pickling liquid cool and thicken.Put the cooled blueberries and liquid into a clean jar, seal and leave in the fridge for at least a day.This weekReadDipping in and out of Vasari's '
With this incessant sunshine the pace of life changes. I feel all we are good for is to flop down somewhere warm, the only occasional movement being the lifting of a cold glass of lime, mint and ginger soda to our lips, and the only words spoken are the ones to our punkah wallah to increase the fanning speed.And with that in mind, our meals have been made with the minimum of time and effort this week. But they have by no means suffered in flavour. We've had chicken thighs, poached and shredded and tossed in a peanut butter, sesame oil and soy sauce along the lines of bang bang chicken. The cucumber and spring onion a refreshing breeze through the richness as we suffered the tension of a penalty shootout.One evening I slowly roasted tomatoes with garlic and harissa in the cocotte in plenty of olive oil then stirred in cooked chickpeas and spinach and served that with some five minute lamb kebabs laced with cardamom and cumin. This cocotte method is fantastic, something you can do in the background and once cooled you stuff the tomatoes and their juices into kilner jars and keep them in the fridge to use during the week. There is no need to buy tinned tomatoes if you do this and the flavour and intensity is out of this world.And last night we had kasha, (toasted buckwheat) simmered in double the amount of water and mixed through with sautéed onions, chestnut mushrooms a good lump of butter and a healthy squeeze of lemon juice. On top of this I added salmon fillets I'd seasoned and then rolled around in za'tar. A quick flash in the frying pan and supper was ready.So today's recipe is for this versatile spice mix. You can, of course, buy it ready made, but if this way, being homemade, it's in your hands how it tastes. You can take charge of your own flavours as you see fit.Trying to give a definitive ingredient list for a spice blend is the culinary equivalent of describing music. Just as there is not one dahl recipe, when you are mixing, blending and tweaking spices around a theme -- in this case a Middle Eastern sesame seeds one -- the variations are infinite and based on personal preference. Just bear in mind that the sesame seeds should take up roughly half of the total mixture. Whether or not you toast them is up to you. I don't because I find the flavour becomes too strongly nutty, and there is enough going on already. You can replace the marjoram with dried winter savoury if you like and add a pinch of black sesame seeds as I do.Give it a little bash in the pestle and mortar to release some of the cumin oil and store in a jar to use on grilled lemon chicken breasts or to add to lamb cutlets before chargrilling and serving with aubergine and chick peas. You could also sprinkle it over grilled courgettes or roast strips of red pepper too. It can go on flatbreads before grilled or be mixed with olive oil and used as a dip for after.IngredientsSesame seedsGround sumacDried oreganoDried marjoramCumin seedsSaltMethodHalf fill a bowl with sesame seeds then divide the remaining space with a pinch of black sesame seeds if you have any, sumac, dried oregano, dried marjoram, cumin seeds (you can toast these first if you like, try it and see which you prefer) and a pinch of salt.Bash it about a little with a pestle and it's ready.
Bread. So comforting. All types from the soft and pillowy to the crusty, worthy and hard work. The trashy white slice filled with butter and grated cheese, the ciabatta rubbed with garlic, drenched in olive oil and toasted. The baguette, the base of a pizza, the pitta bread to hot to hold plunged into the houmous.It fills every need and no meal is worse for it being involved somewhere. Sandwiches would be very poor without it.I can't imagine a dahl without naan to dip in it and I love to dredge some focaccia through the rich juices left behind from some tomatoes slowly roasted in olive oil. The restaurants of my childhood memories are full of bread rolls and butter too hard to spread. Even rye bread, denser than the 'contestants' on 'Love Island', has its place, supporting prawns, dill mayonnaise and boiled egg.I'm always keen to try out new variations on what is always based on the simple premise of flour, yeast, water, salt and time and these 'sheermal' are a slightly sweet and soft milk bread. A new addition to the recipe collection. They are great straight from the pan and work well as a breakfast bread with some strong spiced tea but go equally well with a yoghurt dip.There is saffron in them, even though time and time again I ask myself why? It may be a pretty colour, but is it not, ultimately tasteless and a big waste of everybody's time?Ingredients125ml milk250g bread flour1tsp dried yeast1tsp cardamon seeds1tbsp sugarA pinch of salt185g melted butterPinch of saffron1tbsp orange blossom water1tsp vanilla pasteMethodPour the milk into a large bowl and add the yeast, spices and sugar.Mix in the butter and flour then mix in the milk and salt to make a soft dough.Rest for two hours. The bread that is, although feel free to lie down too.Divide the dough into eight balls then roll out into flat circles.Heat a cast iron pan until really hot then cook each bread for ten seconds on each side until colouring. Pile up and serve warm or leave to cool and serve with cucumber yoghurt dip.This weekWatched:Joan of Arc 
I had just locked the garage door when I noticed the coriander had bolted. And what with the rather sad looking fennel in the fridge I realised I needed to turn my neglect into something positive. The crisp crunch of anything deep-fried is a textural pleasure and as naughty as it feels, it doesn't necessarily mean it's unhealthy. Unless of course we are talking Mars Bars or perhaps a saveloy, made from who knows what. Vegetable tempura, crisp on the outside and delicate within, salt and pepper prawns, elderflowers, even. If you keep it hot and quick and don't do it every day, things will be ok.So to rescue the fennel I used it in place of onions in a bhaji. And I plucked what coriander leaves and stems I could save and blitzed them with green chillies and garlic to make a fiery green chutney to dip the zesty, spiced fennel into.These are also good with a herby yoghurt dip if there are children or chilli scaredy-cats lurking around the place. If you don't have some of the spices, which I admit can be a little tricky to get hold of (unless you live near Tooting) feel free to leave them out. For an even speedier version, just make a batter with garam masala or curry powder, it will still be delicious.IngredientsFor the batter:5 cloves1tsp fennel seeds1tsp coriander seeds1tsp black mustard seeds1tsp amchoor (mango) powder1/2tsp nigella seeds1/2tsp tukmuria (basil) seeds1tsp cumin seeds1/2tsp cardamon seeds1tsp turmeric powderSalt and pepper to season100g Chickpea flour (gram flour)Enough water to make a batter as thick as double cream.1 fennel bulb, slicedFor the chutney:A large handful of coriander leaves and stemsA few green chilliesA clove of garlicA splash of cider vinegarA pinch of saltMethodGrind the spices to a powder and mix with the chickpea flour. Stir in the water to make a batter.Meanwhile, blitz the chutney ingredients together in a blender and set aside.Heat two litres of rapeseed oil in a deep-fat fryer to 180c or half fill a heavy-based saucepan with the oil and heat. It's ready when you drop a little batter in it and it immediately sizzles and starts to colour.Dip the fennel in the batter and fry in small batches. Drain on kitchen paper and serve hot with the chutney.This weekWatchedBirdman with Michael Keaton. Excellently acted and directed, I really felt we were part of the theatre. A few bits of it left me a little cold and annoyed, although perhaps that's because we were watching it outside as part of the 
The wateriness of courgettes puts many people off. But that's only if you cook them like a 1950s battle-axe of a boarding-house landlady. The key is to give them no more than a flash in the pan. A mere glimpse of searing heat, just enough to turn the slivers of garlic golden and crisp, and the courgettes, be they cubes or baby ones, will have bite and a juicy crunch to them.For years we have usually done these with grated garlic, melted gently into the hot oil, almost like a confit, but the other day I left the heat on a little too high and saved the slivers just in time. Now, we do both, having in modern parlance 'garlic two ways' and it has lifted this from delicious to sublime. A few chilli flakes and some lemon zest lift this a little higher still, and looks as if you've made a little bit of an effort. Even though, as is often the case, simple, fresh ingredients treated well are all you need.Be generous with the garlic, olive oil and seasoning here, courgettes do need a little help.IngredientsBaby courgettes, sliced lenegthwise. About 12-14 is enough for two peopleA good helping of good quality extra virgin olive oil2 fat cloves of garlic, one sliced very finely and one grated on a microplaneA generous pinch of Maldon saltSome chilli flakesZest of half a lemonMethodHeat a sauté pan with the olive oil and add the slivers of garlic, cook on medium until turning golden then add the courgettes and the rest of the garlic. Season well and toss them around a bit on high heat until the green of the skin sets its colour vividly. Dress with the zest and chilli flakes to taste and check and adjust the seasoning. Serve straight away as an excellent side dish.
I had started with the intention of making a dip. It turned into a pasta sauce. And that is not a bad thing when that pasta sauce becomes an instant favourite; we've had it three times in the last two weeks, not least because a jar of it from the fridge made an excellent emergency supper when an underfloor gas leak one evening this week has led to the hob being disconnected.We are left, temporarily with a two ring burner for our cooking. So it's basic meals for the next week, I don't think a barbecue every night is an option, we're not Australian for God's sake.This does also make an excellent dip, served slightly warm with fresh flatbreads, so make enough, store in sterilised jars for up to five days and you'll have a few options. You can omit the chilli if you want to feed it to the children, but the kick you get really lifts the sauce. I'd suggest training them to love chilli instead...Ingredients2 large aubergines2 Romano peppers (just increase the bell peppers if you can't get these)1 red bell pepper1tbsp ground cumin1tbsp ground corianderA lot of olive oil, this dish really needs it for richness and depth1 dried red Scotch bonnet chilli or habanero1 good quality tin of plum tomatoes10 or so cherry tomatoes2 large cloves of garlicSalt and pepper to seasonMethodHeat the oven to 180cSlice the aubergines and peppers put them in a roasting ray with the cherry tomatoes.Blitz the remaining ingredients in a blender and pour over the peppers and aubergine. Season well and add a little more olive oil for fun. It really should have an indecent amount.Cook for 45 minutes until soft and 'done' then leave to cool.Blend roughly and serve hot with fusili. Or Malluredos, but that is next to difficult to find.This weekRead:The Sea, The Sea, by Iris Mudoch. Very funny, sublime and evocative. The main character is a self-obsessed pomposity of a man and a joy to read.Watched:The final series of Episodes. I'm glad it's over, but I'll miss it. I loved the ending, never saw it coming, but it was blindingly obvious when it did.Listened:Suanne Sundfor's new album, Norwegian interestingnessEat:Awful and boring the worst of England bland and mediocre, loveless pub food in our favourite East Sussex village. And it cost an arm and a leg each night of our stay too. The worst of this country's attitude to food. 
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.)
Gunpowder tea's in the pot.
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 
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, '
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.