I had my first mince pie(s) of the year yesterday. Hallowe'en and bonfire night have gone and now it's open season on the festive fun. So many films to watch, so little time.
We are most definitely into the cosier meals. The slow roasting and the richer sauces, the gradual disappearance of lettuce and delicately vibrant greens. We had a chilli last weekend, simmering slowly, full of spices and a hint of chocolate. Sunday afternoons are less guiltily filled with chocolate cake or toasted crumpets, the fire crackling and a general air of sloth.
I've been roasting things a lot, too. Red peppers with shallots and garlic, sweetening and softly caramelising in the dish. These beetroot, wrapped in foil, laying on a bunch of slightly past its best coriander stems and remaining leaves were sloshed with olive oil and salt and left for about and hour and a half in a medium-hot oven until tender. The oven trays have their chance to shine with 'sheet-pan' dinners a regular thing.
Perhaps the beetroot will be served warm in wedges with gunpowder spices or a generous dusting of ground cumin and mixed through with the remaining peppers. I may cube them and serve warm with coriander creme fraiche and lemon oil, or maybe cut into large chunks and used in a Sri Lankan beetroot curry while we watch the cricket in Galle on the telly.
It's these things, usually seen as a sideshow which really bring dishes alive so make sure to treat them with care and you'll always have good food. Most of the work is just done by time and heat leaving you free with the Griswolds or Fozziewig's Christmas party.
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 
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.
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.)
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, '
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 
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.
The sky was yellow, a Saharan dust covering London. A strange light and a weak red sun poking through. Perhaps this was a new and rather full-on marketing push for the new Bladerunner film, or maybe we are hurtling toward apocalypse now. I met a friend for supper that evening and the gloom meant we all scuttled indoors a little quicker than usual. We eat steak tartare, prepared tableside by a crisp black and white linen-ed and desiccated waiter then hurried back to our homes.Summer is now well on it's way to the other side of the world and autumn has properly pulled the duvet over us. Soon, the woolly hats and gloves will be on and we can be justified in not leaving the house until March.It's a strange feeling, the desire to go to bed at six in the evening and the sure mistake of the alarm going off at what seems like the middle of the night. The clocks will soon change, giving us a little more light in the early morning for about a week before we sink ankle deep into winter. I hope the farmers are grateful as we all finish our afternoons with night vision goggles on, stepping over the bodies of run-over school children.There are still some green leaves clinging desperately onto the branches of the tree today as I look outside the sitting room window. Most of the other branches around are bare and I swear I just saw a pigeon with a scarf on. But as civilisation comes to an end around us and turnips are the only thing that will still grow, I still insist on serving a green salad at almost every meal. The children have a bowl of it tossed with 
Please send food. Dear God, get me away from this buffet.As the Jadrilinija ferry passes by us from the small port on the mainland to the island of Korcula yet again, it relentlessly marks the passing of another hour and washes us with an existential crisis in its wake. We grimly load up our plates from the groundhog day buffet, repeating an endless doom laden meal as if condemned to eat fatty garlic sausage and rubbery scrambled eggs for breakfast every day for eternity.Still, the children liked it. But what do they know? They eat frozen pizza with relish, or perhaps that should be gusto. And I don't wish to sound spoilt, a two week holiday in the sun, the chance to read a lot of books and occasionally dip into the water was welcome, but food plays such an important part of a holiday. When there is nothing much else to do, meals become almost as exciting to look forward to as Christmas. And then when you get another woolen jumper from your gran that she knitted herself while drunk and asleep, the disappointment is crushing.Yet there were a couple of high points food-wise. Some of the fish was excellent. Smoky, thick amberjack steaks cooked on the fire and a slow cooked lamb and veal stew. There was also a pretty good octopus salad and the bag of pretzels from the shop was tasty. These meals were courtesy of the restaurants up the road, and although few and far between, they at least meant I wouldn't forever condemn Croatian cooking as nothing but spinach and potatoes mixed together and served with a bit of dry meat or pallid fish.The real winner was a dish I will remember for a long time. Up in the hills, looking over the channel, I had a huge plate of devil fish carpaccio, served with lemon oil and a fine dusting of grated black truffle. The setting and the flavours were perfect.Now we are back, I am so grateful to be back in my kitchen again. Good food isn't difficult to make so I'm always amazed when so little care and attention goes into food you get served by so-called chefs.This recipe is one of my favourites and goes a little way toward reminding me what good simple food can be. Don't be scared of making your own pasta, it's really easy. Just make sure you let it rest after making it to let it become silky and elastic and that you roll it thinly enough so it isn't like chewing through a tennis ball. A pasta roller is, therefore, a good investment. If you don't have one, a rolling pin and good arm muscles is all you need. Just think of all those nonnas in Italy. World champion arm wrestlers, they are... And perhaps next year, that's where we'll go.Ingredients1 small tub of ricotta2 small bags baby spinachZest of a lemonA handful of cashews, choppedSaltFor the pasta:500g strong flour4 eggs2 egg yolksSaltServe with excellent olive oil, basil leaves and lots of grated Parmesan.MethodMake the pasta by blitzing the eggs, yolks, flour and salt together into a sandy breadcrumb texture in a food processor then knead gently into a dough. Or, if you prefer, make a flour volcano, crack the eggs and yolks into the middle with the salt and bring it together very quickly into a dough. Wrap in clingfilm then chill in the fridge for at least half an hour.Make the filling by quickly cooking the spinach and squeezing out as much water as you can.Chop the spinach and mix well with the lemon zest, nuts and ricotta then season well. Add a little squeeze of lemon juice if you like.Roll the pasta out as thinly as possible and use a pastry cutting circle to cut into raviolo. Cover them with a damp cloth to stop them drying out.Put a tablespoon full on half the circles leaving a gap around the edge.Brush around with some beaten egg or milk and top with the remaining discs.Squeeze together the edges and try to not trap any air inside the parcels.Bring a large pan of heavily salted water to the boil and cook the pasta for three or four minutes until done.Drain and serve immediately.
It's not alchemy, but trying to turn base ingredients into the elusive gold perfection of a taste memory with nothing to work on but hearsay and supposition and only a dishes' name sees me often in the kitchen pacing about, reading, thinking, scribbling, chopping, emptying out spice drawers then walking away to do something on the new to do list that I've been given by Bee and returning later, like a cat pacing suspiciously around it's prey.My fascination with the aubergine has taken a new turn this week. And with it, comes something I'm now going to have to add to the ongoing experiment book. It's called kashke bimjebob, josh and kajagoogo, koj and betjeman, jok and bitumen or, I don't really know, and my friend Sam Stowell who introduced me to this dish said he gets laughed at every time he orders it in the restaurant because he can't pronounce it either.The version here, my first attempt is delicious. But I think the chefs in the restaurant must have added some kind of special voodoo to theirs that they're not going to tell me in a hurry. This is close, but not quite. The next attempt may involve burning the aubergine skin on a flame to make it smokier, toasting the walnuts and perhaps almost doubling the garlic. And, and, and.Traditionally this is made using whey. While this is pretty hard to buy, you can easily make it yourself by filling a small muslin with natural yoghurt and draining it overnight into a bowl in the fridge. This will also give you some cream cheese as a by product. Failing that, you can use natural yoghurt as is. I added a splash of keffir to mine as well.But don't let that stop you making this version and carrying on with your adjustments. A good aubergine dip is a winner anyway. The bread is easy to make, and the dip, served alongside some halved cherry plum tomatoes dressed with a little oil, salt and vinegar made a fresh and wholesome lunch on what was a rather hot day.Ingredients2 auberginesRather more olive oil than you think you needA pinch or two of salt5 cloves of garlic2tbsp natural yoghurt100ml keffir or whey2 brown onions, sliced and dicedA handful or two of walnuts, plus a few extra to dress2-3tbsp dried mintA couple of spring onionsFor the bread:500g plain flour350ml water14g fresh yeast (or 7g dried)A large pinch of salt1tsp sugarSesame seeds to dressMethodMake the bread by mixing together the yeast, sugar and water until it's fully dissolved. Add the flour and salt and knead for ten minutes, or do it in a stand mixer for five.Shape in to a ball and put in an oiled bowl with a tea-towel over it for about an hour, or until it's doubled in size. This depends on how hot it is in your kitchen...Meanwhile, heat the oven to high, about 200c or gas 8. Pierce the aubergines with a knife so they don't pop in the oven, put them on an oven tray, drizzle with oil and a sprinkle of salt and cook for about 30 minutes.Divide the dough into eight balls, cover and leave for another half an hour before rolling out into flatbreads. Poke all over with your fingers to make dimples, brush with water and sprinkle over the sesame seeds.Cook for around 25 minutes until starting to turn golden then keep warm in tea-towels while you get everything else together.Sauté the onions in some olive oil until turning golden then add the garlic and mint and cook for a minute or two longer. Season well.Blitz the walnuts to a crumb in a food processor or blender then add the onion mix and aubergine, having chopped off its stem.Add the yoghurt, or whey or whatever you're using and blend well. Taste and adjust the seasoning, adding more of whatever you feel it needs.Serve the dip with more olive oil, a scattering of walnuts and a sprinkle of dried mint and chopped spring onion if you fancy.
The drive south took four hours. We didn't say a word during the journey. Mile after mile of flat, treeless landscape passed by the windows of the van as the cold evening light turned to black.Bridgette and I practically grew up together, which is why, all those years later, it made it hard to have to kill her.I've finally finished reading two very long books (I highly recommend A Little Life if you fancy 800 pages of amazingly written bleak misery) so have returned to the world of trashy thrillers for a while to have a breather. It's a rather like the home kitchen, sometimes I can be found cooking long and involved dished that take time and concentration, and sometimes a dish as simple as this does for a quick meal. They are just as satisfying in different ways and now the weather, warming and sunnier, makes a light meal seem less of a diet and more a choice.That's not to say something rich and deep is banished until autumn, last night we eat a hearty venison carbonade, cooked long and slow and full of flavour. But soon, these will be put aside until the days shorten again.This isn't even really a recipe, more a combination of things. I've used gorgonzola as I find Roquefort, even though a favourite of mine, to be a little, well, slimy, for this. There's no reason you couldn't use a blue stilton or similar, but it should be a little more on the crumbly side than the wet.Tossed through with some ripe pears, peppery roquette, some crumbled walnuts and dressed with a little excellent olive oil, thick balsamic and a pinch of salt and pepper, this really is five minutes work between you and deliciousness. Thrilling.IngredientsOne pear per person, ripe but not falling apart cored and cut into chunksGorgonzola, a few lumps here and there, crumbled and tossed throughA handful of walnuts, lightly choppedA handful of roquette eachGood olive oil and balsamicSalt and pepper to seasonMix it all together and serve. It's nice with some crusty, toasted sourdough too.
Potato has to be one of life's great comfort foods. And while I rail about the result versus the time and planning taken to bake a jacket potato to golden crunchy skin and a fluffy inside, there's no denying that slathered in butter, salt, pepper and melting Cheddar cheese, there's not much to rival it in the crawling under the duvet of food stakes.There are so many things you can do with the potato as we know, but here, because it's such a great absorber of flavour -think of the roast potatoes sucking up the juices from the meat at the end of Sunday lunch- I've used it in a curry. This goes a little beyond the quick spinach and potato saag aloo in that the spice mix is a lot more involved, it's a little saucier and the addition of tomatoes gives it a tangy and sweet richness.It's a dish I happily have on its own, but equally will go fantastically well as a side dish for a slow-roast spicy marinated lamb dish if you want a more exciting Sunday. It also makes a great dosa filling, and the chilli in this will certainly make for a more exciting breakfast. Perhaps a little too exciting, but it will certainly wake you up. And possibly ruin the day if you feed it to the children instead of egg on toast or porridge.Make the spice mix in advance and keep it in an airtight jar, then it's a matter of moments to put the dish together and leave it to simmer away for about 25 minutes to cook and thicken.IngredientsFor the spice mix:I used a combination of the following in fairly equal quantities, but you can adjust if you prefer it to have more or less heat, more aniseedy flavour and so on.SaltChilli powderGround turmericBlack mustard seedMango powderCardamonClovesFenugreek seedCuminCoriander seedFennel seedNigella seedCitric acidGarlic powderBlack pepperFor the curry:1kg Maris Piper potatoes, cut into smallish chunks150g cherry tomatoes4tbsp spice mixA few handfuls of spinachFresh coriander and sliced green chilli to serveMethodBlitz the ingredients for the spice mix into a powder. After you've blitzed it all, add some whole coriander, cumin, fennel and nigella seeds which give the finished dish an extra element of flavour.Put the potatoes, four tablespoons of spice mix and tomatoes in a large saucepan and just cover with water. Bring to the boil and cook until the potatoes are soft and the water has reduced by about half.Mash some of the potato into the liquid to thicken it and add the spinach.Stir well until the spinach has wilted, check the seasoning, add some coriander leaves and green chilli and serve. Easy.
The grey and dreary London streets are now exploding with wispy and bedraggled underfunded Christmas lights wrapped around flickering streetlamps. Apart from the showpiece Regent Street lights, most of the decorations elsewhere seem to have been found at the back of a cupboard from the '70s. Still, not one to complain about Christmas cheer, it is now permissible to talk about celebrating it and to start making plans.Two days ago I had my first mince pie of the year. And I had it for breakfast. That's how rock and roll I am. I also managed to burn it slightly, so really it turned into dark pastry holding mincemeat at a temperature approaching that of Krakatoa in full flow. But all this aside, I have also been cooking plenty of festive food for the various shoots I've been involved in over the past fortnight. And to be honest, I need a break from ham, turkey, filo parcels, prawn canapés and the like. And with all this extra cooking, sometimes the only energy I can summon at mealtimes will last the length of time it takes to make an omelette, bake a potato or cook a quick pasta dish.That doesn't mean it should be bleak though. Simplicity is beautiful and the best ingredients don't need a lot doing to them to make something delicious. So this classic pasta dish (usually made with spaghetti, but I prefer linguine) is spot on. And this is where it's worth having great quality pasta and special olive oil. Not the stuff you'd cook with, but the secret, small 250ml bottle you keep on the shelf hidden behind the unappealing tin of mixed beans you kid yourself you'll use one day. Be generous, this is its moment.Ingredients for two200g linguine (use spaghetti if you must)2 cloves of garlicHalf a mild red chilliExcellent quality olive oilSalt and pepperGrated fresh Parmesan to serveMethodBring a huge pan of water to the boil and throw in more salt than the doctor would be happy with.Add the pasta, return to the boil and stir occasionally until cooked al dente. Drain, but not quite fully - it's better if you keep back a tablespoon or two of the starchy cooking water - and return to the pan.While the pasta is boiling grate or mince the garlic, finely slice the chilli and add the olive oil to a saucepan. Heat until the garlic starts to fizz and bubble a little then season and remove from the heat.Add the pasta to the oil, or the other way round if you haven't enough space and mix so all the linguine is coated and silky with oil.Serve immediately with a blizzard of cheese, black pepper and some more of that excellent oil.