Beetroot soup with licorice

There is a frost outside, covering everything in a faint white. The school run has to begin a little earlier on these mornings and the only way for that to happen is with threats. I should get up a little earlier, but no-one wants to get out of bed when it's this cold. Especially when it means having to go outside in a dressing gown to let the dog --who still smells like a tart's boudoir after his trip to the groomer-- out.

So on days like this after you've spent the morning trying to warm up through to bone level, soup is just the thing for lunch. For us, soup must have lots of things in it, more a meal in a bowl than a hot drink. And this beetroot, bacon and cabbage one has plenty going for it. A good homemade chicken stock, a pinch of licorice root powder giving a hint of spicy interest and bacon and buttery cabbage so it's not just an odd, hot smoothie.

Peel and cube two or three medium-large beetroot and sauté them in a little olive oil in a covered pan or roast it in foil until soft. Add a litre or so of stock, a pinch of licorice powder (some people don't like licorice or beetroot, in which case this whole thing may sound like a nightmare), salt and pepper, some dill seeds and bring to the boil. Simmer for about ten minutes then blitz in the blender. Don't forget to attach the lid properly. 

Meanwhile, sauté the bacon and shred half a Savoy cabbage. Add that to the bacon with a little butter and cook for a few minutes until it starts to soften. 

Serve the soup with the bacon and cabbage and a pinch of chilli flakes for added warmth. 

Cold confit charm

I was in a hotel in Paris for some of last week, eating unusually. The family had gathered in the 15ème from around Europe and America for Aunty Suzy's funeral, she was 100. An achievement, especially as she smoked comme une cheminée until she was at least 80.She was buried among illustrious company in the Montparnasse cemetery. Grumpy, ugly singers, Irish playwrights probably still waiting, existentialist philosophers, artists and grands fromages from history share the cold ground. I may not be able to see her anymore, but there is a place I can go to visit. Her apartment block will always be there, but new people will occupy it, more lives being lived. I'll not see those rooms again. God knows they're in for a surprise when they see the decoration that hasn't changed since she moved in.The local boulangerie furnished me with two ficelles a day, the tiny Carrefour express two minutes away kept me in supplied with ham, paté and cheese and I went to the Monoprix around the corner just to look at the food on display like a drooling window shopper. Being at the mercy of restaurants for each meal is not for me, merci. So a bag on the hotel balcony in the chilly November air served as an impromptu fridge to store my supplies.This kept me from being grumpy, like a local, and when you're dealing with 20 family members and trying to organise group meals, you need to fortify yourself. It's like herding cats, so pre-emptive snacks are a must.We went out for cous cous, it's a family tradition. Merguez and I have a long and happy history, but don't get to be together much anymore. It's a long-distance relationship, but we're always pleased to see each other. Much of my family grew up in Tripoli where the Ghirlando Brothers shipping company was based so this food is a reminder of their childhood and all of them together is like the good old days.I raided the patisserie on the Rue de Lourmel – canelé and pear tarts every day. The occasional palmier, petite beurre and chocolate barquette may have fallen into my bag. And creme brulée and tart tatin were shoveled down my trou gateau at the nearest opportunity. I clearly can't be trusted in Paris where even the smell of the Metro is like a meal to me. I also had steak tartare with salad and proper french frites. It's what she would have wanted.This clearly and sadly can't go on. But that doesn't mean I have to return to a life of pottage. How gruel that would be. So with the simplest of ingredients I made a feast to liven up a cold London lunchtime. Cherry tomatoes, slowly cooked in garlic, herbs and oil until bursting have at least doubled in flavour. And the aubergine, first charred and burnt on the gas flame was roasted until soft then blitzed with garlic, onion and thyme compote that I'd slowly and softly melted down under a paper cartouche, the flame beneath barely stronger than a match.I made some pitta breads, soft and a little blackened in parts from the griddle, to mop up all the juices and we sat, contently and quietly eating. To cut through the richness there was a salad of thinly sliced red onion, sliced baby cucumber, crumbled feta cheese from the new Turkish shop round the corner and a sprinkle of dried Sicilian oregano. It was finished off with a simple dressing of olive oil, cider vinegar (I had no red wine vinegar) and some black pepper.All of this can be made in advance, perhaps the night before while making supper. The tomatoes can stay out on the kitchen worktop, but take the aubergine purée out of the fridge an hour before eating. If it's too cold its flavour will be as non-existent as Jean-Paul Sartre's afterlife.IngredientsHere is the pitta bread recipeFor the confit tomatoA punnet of cherry tomatoesGood olive oil to cover1tbsp fennel seeds1tbsp coriander seeds1tsp peppercorns4-6 cloves of garlicA pinch of saltFor the aubergine dip1 very large aubergine2 cloves of garlicSome olive oilSalt and pepper to seasonFor the onion compote1 large white onion1 sprig of thyme1 clove of garlic, slicedSalt and pepperFor the salad1/2 Feta cheese, crumbled1 small red onion, thinly sliced2 baby cucumbers, thinly sliced1tbsp dried oreganoOlive oilCider vinegarSalt and pepper to seasonMethodBurn the aubergine all over on a gas flame or with a blowtorch. You can also do this under a grill if you have access to neither. Roast in a hot oven until soft then leave to cool a little.Blend the aubergine with its skin in a food processor, adding the garlic and enough olive oil to form a fairly loose purée. Add a few tablespoons of the onion compote if you are making that and blend well. Season to taste.Add all the confit tomato ingredients to a heavy-based saucepan, making sure the olive oil covers the tomatoes and bring to a gentle heat. Cook low and slowly until the tomatoes are soft but still hold their shape. Leave to cool in the oil. You can even put these in a sterilised jar to store for up to three days in the fridge if you like.The onion compote takes the longest so if you haven't made this yet, I'd start an hour ago.Finely slice the onion and add to a heavy sauté pan. Add a good glug of olive oil, a few thyme sprigs, the garlic and salt and pepper. Bring to a medium heat, stirring occasionally. Turn the heat down as low as you can and cover the onions with a circle of parchment paper. Put a lid on the top too if you have one. Cook slowly for about an hour until the onions are meltingly soft. Stir occasionally during cooking and don't let them brown.Toss the salad ingredients together about 20 minutes before you want to eat it to allow the flavours to mellow. All these dishes taste best if you leave them a little while to mature.Serve everything with fresh, warm pitta bread.This weekRead: Can you believe it? I finished Middlemarch. I'd like to thank Bee for the recommendation and can now put that book firmly back on the shelf. It feels like a blessed relief to be reading 'Quand sort la recluse' a 'Policier' by Fred Vargas. Trashy, murdery fun.Watched: Very little. Blue planet and Howard's End. And a little bit of a French shopping channel on Saturday Morning.Listened: I went deep into the Les Misérables soundtrack on youtube the other day. And The Stamboul Train by Graham Greene on the BBC iPlayerEat: Before I went away I cooked some red split lentils until very soft with turmeric and cumin. On top of that there were some quickly sautéed courgette cubes with garlic and seared lamb neck fillets, pink in the middle, a little dense and chewy for some, but I enjoyed them.

Prawn to be wild (garlic)

I'm a busy man, I don't have time to separate my free-range, organic araucana eggs for homemade mayonnaise. In the cut and thrust world I live in I barely have time to put clothes on before I leave the house and take the children to school.*Why not just buy a jar of mayonnaise I hear you ask? To be honest, it's been a quiet couple of weeks here, so I blatantly have more time usual, hence the fresh bread issuing forth from the oven and the children eating proper food on the weekends and after school.The reason I didn't separate the eggs was to see what whole egg mayonnaise was like. And it's pretty good, hardly different to the usual method. It's just a little more liquid to begin with so emulsifying the oil takes a little more time, but in a food processor it's easy. And it tastes so much better than a middle-class posh jar with French words and has the added benefit of having no stuff in it for a year on the shop shelf.I found the remains of some wild garlic, flowers and all, in a still fairly good state in a bag in the fridge. They were starting to become slightly frilly and not quite as fresh as when I picked them. They were certainly good enough, however, for a pesto, sauce or in this case accompaniment to plump and juicy prawns on hot toasted sourdough. If I'm lucky, there may still be some lurking in the garden for the risotto I'd originally planned, but for now, this is a delicious use for them.As far as the monk's beard goes, the season for that is even shorter. If you've missed it, although I suspect it's still available (Natoora and Ocado stock it), samphire works perfectly in it's place. And failing that, some tender British asparagus tips, halved lengthways and lightly steamed will also work.*I do get dressed. And it's mainly because the alarm is such shock to the system I snooze it until the last minute. I'm not a morning person. Getting up earlier is not an option with my lack of discipline.Ingredients, lunch for two8 large tiger prawns, shell and head on2 free-range organic eggs1tbsp Dijon mustardA pinch of saltRapeseed oilA tablespoon or two of olive oil to finishA splash of water to loosenA small bunch of wild garlic, flowers too if you have any (they're peppery)A small bunch of monk's beard or a couple of handfuls of samphireJuice and zest of half a lemonSourdough bread to toastMethodMake the mayonnaise. You can do this in the mini bowl of the food processor or by hand with a whisk.Stir the mustard and a pinch of salt into the eggs. With the motor or your whisk hand running, pour in the rapeseed oil at first slowly drop by drop until it starts to thicken and emulsify. You can then speed up the pour, spinning all the time until thick and 'mayonnaise-y'. Now continue with the olive oil. Add a splash of water to loosen a little. If you're doing this in the processor,  throw in the garlic now and blitz until completely shredded to pieces in the mayo. If doing it by hand, slice, slice and slice again then chop. Now stir it in well. This keeps in the fridge for a few days in a sealed jar so make it ahead if you fancy.Sauté the prawns with the shell on in some olive oil and chopped garlic until cooked, then remove from the pan and leave to cool a little.Remove the tough stalks from the monk's beard. These make good, if temporary weaponsQuickly sauté the leaves in the pan the prawns were cooked in and add the lemon juice and a pinch of salt at the end.Toast the bread, dollop a spoon of mayonnaise on top and spread it around.I shelled the prawns over the toast and mayo, squeezing the heads as I did so to get more of the juices out, giving it an even bigger punch of flavour.A sprinkle of salt and pepper, the still warm monk's beard leaves and perhaps a few chilli flakes and lunch is ready.

Beautiful bubble and squeak

In our house, it’s pretty rare for there to be any crackling left over from a roast pork – or, come to think of it, much pork. But when that does happen, I like making this version of bubble and squeak for brunch the next day. This deserves to be a dish in its own right, so it is even worth making it from scratch.Serves:                4Cooking time:   20 minsIngredientsUse whatever leftovers you have from the roast, or failing that:Shredded slow roast gammon and shattered crackling10 roast potatoes, lightly crushed with a fork½ a Savoy cabbage, finely sliced and blanched in salted water3 spring onions, shredded1 red onion, finely sliced1 tbsp Olive oil and tbsp butter to fry (or use the gammon dripping)3 dill cucumber picklesSalt and pepper to seasonMethod

1. Mix together all the ingredients in a bowl and season well.
2. Heat a frying pan and add the oil and butter until hot.
3. Throw in the cabbage and potatoes, cook well, adding the red and spring onion at the last minute.
4. Serve on warm plates with shredded cooked ham, crackling and sliced pickles, with a touch of wholegrain mustard.

How to food style it

1. With this one, the cabbage forms a great base to structure the flakes of meat, potatoes and onions on. Try to give it form and height.
2. Laying shards of crackling and slivers of spring onion on top helps give it elegance and leads your eye across the whole dish, bringing everything together.
3. A spoon of mustard and some sliced pickles finish it off, keeping it elegant while still remaining rustic. It is, after all, a dish of leftovers.