Bombay paneer with garlic chilli sauce

I'm writing this lying on the floor in the middle of a cheese coma. The sudden trauma of morning, getting the children ready for school and repeating 'brush your teeth' over and again until you become insensible is not a good way to start the day, even though one of them somehow and somewhy got dressed by itself this morning. I'm still suspicious of her motives, but she got telly with breakfast as a reward, and it hurried her brother along to join in, so I didn't question her.I've been meaning to make this dish for a couple of months, ever since we went to Chai Naasto in Beckenham where I had a tin pot full of it. Today seemed like the perfect time and just reward to compensate for the reality of the morning which was not, as I hoped, to have been gently woken from a peaceful and deep sleep by a string quartet and to have my valet bring me bed tea.This is fairly quick and very simple to make, but the noises that came from me as I took the first bite are best kept private. It's an indecent snack, and certainly an indecent breakfast. A good extra drizzle of chilli sauce over the cheese is welcome, and use the remaining half an onion, finely sliced with some chillies and coriander to serve as a little salad on the side to cut through the richness.Ingredients for four to six people as a snack500g cubed paneer. You can easily make your own, but buying it is even easier than that.For the sauce:3 cloves garlic, chopped1tbsp ginger purée1/2 a medium red onion, choppedA few green chillies, sliced2tbsp chilli sauce (I used Linghams)1tsp tomato purée1tbsp water1tsp ground Szechaun pepperFor the batter:2tbsp flour1tbsp cornflour1tbsp chilli powder1/2tsp cumin powder1/2tsp turmeric powder1tsp Garlic puréeWaterSalt and pepperRapeseed or peanut oil to frySliced spring onions, green chillies, a sprinkle of chaat masala and Coriander leaves to serve.Make the sauce by gently sautéing the garlic in a little oil then adding the onions, ginger, pepper and chillies. Cook for about three minutes then stir in the chilli sauce, tomato purée and water. Cook for another minute or two,  and keep warm in the pan.Make the batter by mixing together the flours, spices, seasoning, garlic and enough water to a cream-like thickness. Leave it to rest for about 20 minutes while you wonder off and try to work out why the children have left mud all up the hallway wall.Toss the paneer cubes through the batter and deep-fry them in hot oil until crisp. Remove and drain on kitchen paper.Toss through the chilli sauce and serve with a sprinkle of chillies, spring onions and coriander.   

On the lamb

There is a Roald Dahl short story whereby a wronged wife clonks her husband on the head with a frozen lamb leg and renders him dead.While I am no way advocating such action (there are many ways one can use a lamb leg), there is something about this particular joint of meat that lends itself to physical action. This recipe allows you to release all that anger, passion and pent up desire to be a mustachioed Turkish masseur that you didn't know you had.A slow-roast leg of lamb is a real pleasure, whether it be studded with rosemary, garlic and anchovy or covered in harissa. I love lamb curry in all it's guises, so here I've turned it into a Sunday roast which really should get the tastebuds going. If you're going to serve it for lunch, you'd better get up early though, but at least with the prep done the day before, you can go straight back to bed with the papers and let it do its thing.Ingredients1 lamb leg. Ask the lamb first1 large bunch of coriander1 clove of garlic1 small onion1 thumb of ginger3 hot green chillies, fewer if you can't stand the heat1tbsp ground cumin (as opposed to tree cumin)1tbsp ground corianderSalt and pepper to seasonMethodChop the ingredients a little first so you don't break your food processor when you blitz them all to a paste. Sometimes I find the coriander roots wrap themselves around the blade like a particularly nasty episode from the Boston strangler.Take your lamb leg and a sharp pointy knife then stab it all over with a questionable enthusiasm.Rub the coriander paste all over the leg, again with an enthusiasm that is perhaps best kept secret and let it marinade for a couple of hours, preferably overnight in the fridge.Heat the oven to 220c and put the lamb, on a roasting tray, inside.Cook for half an hour then turn the heat down to 120c and cook for about five hours. By this time, the lamb should be meltingly soft, falling from the bone and filling the kitchen with indecent aromas.If you don't polish the whole thing off there and then, it makes the best sandwiches the next day, warmed through with the juices oozing into the bread.

The Absolute 'Pie-agne'

We got back from Paris on the weekend. Now there's a city that knows what to do with pastry. Crumbling and flaky lemon tarts, strawberries glazed and nestling in creme patissiere held in a rich, sweet shell, buttery croissants that melt in your mouth...Each afternoon we would return to the apartment via our local patisserie, loading up on cakes for the afternoon slump. The children loved choosing from the jewel-case like counter. The owner, however, had no truck with our indecision. As I added another item to the list she threw her arms in the air and almost spat the words "Oh, it's all change now isn't it?" with a huge Gallic shrug, as if the the very act of me wanting to buy more than one pastry was testament to my complete imbecility.So I wonder what she would make of today's recipe. This is what we do with pastry in England, madame... It's a little different. Well, it's a lot different actually. It's National pie week and I find myself creating a hybrid, what could possibly be my 'cronut' moment. Yes, it's a lasagne pie. Thanks to the invitation from Christian O'Connell, and Richie Firth's culinary vision on the Absolute Radio breakfast show, I present you with the 'pie-agne'. In my humble opinion, it's genius. And while there is no photo to accompany this post of the actual pie, here is the footage of the tasting. Make of the reaction what you will. If that doesn't encourage you to make it, I don't know what will.This isn't really a quick midweek meal, but if you also make the individual ones (which I highly recommend), you will have in your hand a portable lasagne to take with you for that snack on the tube, a sneaky elevenses at work or just something to flaunt at strangers.Serves: 6 plus 3 individual onesPrep time: 45 minutesCooking time: 3 hours (most of this is the sauce slowly simmering in the background)IngredientsFor the ragù900g beef mince, 15% fat60g diced pancetta3 small chicken livers, finely sliced1 onion, finely diced1 carrot, finely diced1 stick of celery, finely sliced1 glass of white wineA few sage leaves1 rosemary sprig1 thyme sprigA splash of milk700ml Tomato passata2tbsp tomato puréeOlive oilSalt and pepper to seasonFor the béchamel75g butter75g flour750ml milk1 fresh bay leaf2tsp grated nutmegSalt and pepperFor the pastry case3 packs of ready-rolled all butter puff pastryGrated ParmesanMethodGently heat a large saucepan with some olive oil and add the chopped onion, carrot and celery, season a little then cook gently until soft. Add the herbs and cook for a further minute before adding the pancetta.Turn the heat up a little and cook the pancetta for five minutes before adding the minced beef. Season again, stir well and cook until browned and there is almost no liquid remaining in the pan.Add the chicken livers, stir well then pour in the wine and reduce until there’s almost no liquid.Add a splash of milk and a grating of nutmeg, stir well then pour in the passata.Bring to the boil, reduce to a very gentle simmer and cook with a lid on for at least an hour, two is better.Make the béchamel by melting the butter then stirring in the flour, nutmeg, salt and pepper.Add a large splash of milk and whisk well. Keep gently adding milk and whisking all the time until it becomes smooth and glossy. Add the bay leaf and simmer for ten minutes until thick.heat the oven to 180c/gas 6.Line a lasagne dish with sheets of dried lasagne then a spread a layer of béchamel sauce over and a sprinkle of Parmesan. Add a layer of the ragù then another layer of pasta. Repeat until the dish is full, finishing with a layer of béchamel and Parmesan.Bake in the oven for about 35-40 minutes until golden on top. Remove and leave to cool a little.Line a greased loose bottomed cake tin with the pastry, making sure there are no gaps and the sides are well joined to the bottom. Fill with the lasagne, top with a circle of pastry, sprinkle over some more Parmesan and a few teaspoons of butter then a twist of pepper. Bake again in the oven for forty minutes until the pastry is golden and puffed up evenly.Leave to cool a little before carefully removing from the tin.To make the mini ones, line some pie ramekins with pastry and fill with the lasagne. You may find it easier to cut sheets of cooked pasta to fit before layering. Build in the same way as the large pie, finishing with a pastry crust. Cook these for about 25-30 minutes, being careful they don’t burn on top.Leave to cool before removing and serve warm.

Scotch egg? You're in luck, now.

The petrol station. Where food goes to die. This is why people think badly of Scotch eggs, although, thankfully there has been a little positive renaissance recently of these picnic staples, and done well, they are delicious. There was even a recent trend for 'artisan scotch eggs' in the edgier areas of London. Although why you'd want an artisan to make your lunch rather than a cook is beyond me. It would probably be full of wood shavings and metal filings. And no doubt beard hair.There is much debate about the origin of this dish. I wonder if 'scotching' an egg means keeping it alive but rendering it harmless inside a case. Shakespeare says in Macbeth 'We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it’ (see, Mrs. Hutchings, I was paying attention at the back). But whatever the origin of the term, it  doesn't seem to be used for any other dishes. And whatever the method or serving, egg wrapped in meat cannot fail to be a good thing. Unless you're vegan. Or vegetarian.Allegedly invented in the 18th century at Fortnum and Masons, the dish pops up all over the place if you look carefully behind the cushions. The one that excited me most of all was from Lucknow, in India. Their version is served in a rich, spicy gravy but here I've taken those flavours and added them to the meat itself then serve it with a yoghurt dipping sauce. A kind of Scotch egg curry. Bloody hell. And as with many British meals, our Empire travels, subjugation and plundering has given us a wide variety of dishes full of spice and exotic backgrounds. Every cloud and all that...Ingredients500g lamb minceA few tablespoons of paste made from onion, green chilli, garlic and ginger2tsp ground turmeric1tbsp ground cumin1tbsp chilli powder1tbsp ground cumin2tsp dried mint2tsp ground fenugreekSalt and pepper4 eggs, boiled for five and a half minutes then quickly cooled (I boiled mine for four minutes for a runny and explosive yolk filling, but you may want it firmer)Breadcrumbs (I used panko and crushed them a little) mixed with 1tbsp garam masala.For the dip:Natural yoghurtCoriander leaves, choppedMint leaves, choppedToasted flaked almonds1/2tsp grated garlic1/2tsp grated gingerPinch of ground cinnamon, ground cardamom and caraway seedsMethodMix the meat and spices together and wrap each egg in a layer of the mixture, making sure the whole egg is sealed. Do this gently, it's easy to squash them.Put in the fridge for an hour to chill and firm then roll each one in the breadcrumbs, pressing them into the meat.If you have a deep-fryer, this is what it was born for. If not, carefully cook them in oil in a deep and heavy pan, only half-filling it to avoid accidents and over spill.Heat the oil to 180c and cook the eggs, a couple at a time until golden brown all over. This will take about four to five minutes.Drain on kitchen paper and leave to cool a little before serving with the dip, extra green chillies and coriander leaves.

Go man, go

This recipe is inspired by the kulfi sticks the children (and I) love on our occasional trips to Tayaabs, but I'm certainly not going to make it at home the proper and lengthy way. While I love being in the kitchen, the thought of cooking milk down for a whole morning is not high on my list of things to do. So, like any sensible person, I've bought a tin of dulce de leche to use instead which is also great for banoffee pies, if you need to whip one up in a hurry. It gives it the same caramelly milky thickness in a high-speed fashion.When we were in Argentina 12 years ago on honeymoon, dulce de leche appeared everywhere you looked, closely followed by an assado every thirty paces. We were constantly being offered both, even when just using the bathroom. I've not had much use or taste for it since, but unlike blancmange at school, it's not something I've felt sick at the thought of and gladly embrace it here. This ice cream takes about ten minutes to put together and then the freezer does the rest. And tinned mangoes in syrup are a quick short-cut too.  There's no need to churn it (although if you want it quicker and have an ice cream machine, go ahead) yet the result is incredibly smooth and you can also fill ice lolly moulds with it to perhaps dip in chilli chocolate sauce if you fancy.Ingredients1 tin of mangoes in syrup1 tin of dulce de leche (if you think I'm stirring at the hob for four hours, think again)300ml double creamA pinch of saltA dash of lime juice (optional)MethodBlend the mangoes and syrup together until smooth.Whip the cream until it forms soft peaks then gently stir in the mangoes and dulce de leche.Add a pinch of salt and the lime juice if using and taste. A pinch of chilli powder is a good addition too, if you fancy. Adjust if necessary.Whisk again to mix everything properly then pour into a freezer-proof container.Freeze for about six hours, until set then serve.

Scone with the wind

Maya's off school ill today. And somehow, come 9.30 this morning, she has made what medical science would term a miraculous recovery. I've never seen someone less ill.So there was nothing for it but to make a batch of scones using the buttermilk I had leftover from  some homemade butter as a way to entertain and feed both of us.Looking after Maya is enough to build up an appetite that Babette would struggle to cater for, so after breakfast we started these to be sure they were ready for that terrible mid-morning point where the feebly underfed among us could be catered for.We made enough to feed the entire East Grinstead Women's Institute (had they been passing) and put the homemade butter to good use. The remainder of my mother in law's delicious jam was soon demolished and having left some scones on the plate for when Noah gets back from school this afternoon, still suspicious of his little sister's day off, we both needed a little lie down. Sadly, due to the sugar rush, this didn't happen and I found myself knee-deep in Play-Doh.This recipe makes a lot, but they freeze well once cooked. Halve it if you fancy just making a few. The buttermilk makes them so light and fluffy (use normal milk if you don't have any ) and they are so easy to make, even a sick child can do it.Ingredients400g self-raising flour (although I use plain flour and add 2tsp baking powder per 150g)2tsp baking powder (yes, a little extra)100g chilled butter, cubed100g golden caster sugar2 eggs, beaten280ml buttermilkA pinch of saltMethodHeat the oven to 180c/gas 7 and line a baking sheet with parchmentMix the flour (sifted into the mixing bowl), baking sugar and butter until it becomes breadcrumb-like. I use a pastry blender which is most excellent, but you can use your fingertips.Stir in the sugar and salt until well mixed.Mix together the buttermilk and beaten egg and pour most of in with the flour, keeping some back to glaze the tops.Knead quickly together to form a soft and fairly moist dough, roll out to 3cm thick and using a mini round pastry cutter (fluted or not, up to you) cut the scones.Glaze the top of each and bake in the oven for about 15 minutes, or until they are turning golden on top. Remove, leave to cool, split and serve with butter and jam. Not clotted cream, not whipped cream, butter.

Hand-raised lamb, potato and spinach pie.

Since my father's inexplicable and treacherous switching of allegiance from Newcastle Untied to Reading FC, he now has a cup of tea and a Waitrose balti pie every half time at the game. Although if my mum is reading this it's a kale, quinoa and beetroot salad with a superfood turmeric smoothie he enjoys.Now while I will never condone such turncoat behaviour, I have to say that the pie served there is a triumph on a cold Tuesday evening while you're sat watching a nil-nil draw among the opposition supporters trying not to shout encouragement to the Toon.This recipe is inspired by the football pie and uses leftover slow-roast lamb and spinach and potato curry encased in a hand-raised hot crust pastry. It's delicious hot or cold and will feed you and your neighbours well. I served mine with a jar of Encona sauce adulterated piccalilli (bought, I don't have the enthusiasm to make my own, which to be honest would sit at the back of the fridge -getting me into trouble with Bee- untouched for about a year).IngredientsBecause this uses leftovers for the filling (see recipe links), I'm just going give you the pastry and jelly ingredients and instructions. It was if memory serves, about 800g of the lamb and a good few ladlefuls of the potato curry. Just stuff it full of meat and potato and pour in the jelly as directed. If you're making this from scratch, you could substitute the lamb leftovers for cubed lamb, spiced similarly but cooked gently with some liquid in a casserole dish for only an hour or two.To make the crust you will need:600g flour225g lard175ml  waterA large pinch of salt1 egg, beatenFor the jelly you will need:5 gelatine leaves250ml lamb or vegetable stock1tbsp garam masalaMethodHeat the oven to 190c/Gas 7.Make the jelly by soaking the gelatine in cold water then draining and pouring in the hot stock and whisking until they dissolve. Set aside.Melt the lard in a saucepan with the water and quickly pour it into a bowl with the salt and flour, mixing well until combined.Oil a 20cm removable bottom pie tin or cake tin and press the filling in until the bottom and edges are well lined. Fill with the filling, gently roll out the pastry top and crimp on to the pie.Make a hole in the centre and pour in the jelly then brush the top with beaten egg.Bake in the oven for one hour or until the pastry is golden brown and crisp.Leave to cool a bit before removing and serving.

Aaloo sailor

 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.

Salmon to watch over me

 A small package, wrapped in a brown paper mushroom bag arrived for me from Eugene, Oregon the other week. Inside, thanks to my friend Linda Schindler, was vanilla salt. She said the people that make it promise it will change your life. Unsure whether I wanted my life to be changed, it's been on the shelf in the kitchen, winking at me since like a gateway salt. But I knew what I wanted to use it for, and just needed a little time to unleash the magic. It was either going to be cod or salmon with vanilla beurre blanc, and I chose the salmon so I could crisp and char the skin for crunch.Vanilla and fish is nothing new, The French Laundry is known for it's vanilla poached lobster. And on the island of Comoro near Madagascar, it has been a combination since the 1890s. Still, it's not that often seen on menus here in London, at least not in the kind of places I eat, which admittedly are these days more likely to be a cold shipping container in a car park on a rare date night, or our local Indian 'street food' canteen with the children. Although, how something can be called street food when you eat it inside at a table under a roof and in a room is beyond me.When summer wheezes it's way over the horizon for ten minutes this July and the barbecue is dusted off, hosed down, thrown away and a new one bought, a pan of this vanilla infused butter sauce will be on standby to pour over the grilled lobsters or langoustines. For now, I'll content myself with burning charring the salmon skin and the onions on the cast iron griddle for that smoky flavour.The first time I had fish with beurre blanc I thought I'd never eat again. And to an extent, I don't think I've had a more memorable dish since. It was like a scene in a '6os parody after smoking a jazz cigarette. Angels started gently singing and the world melted into the swirling background. How could food taste this good?We were at Brasserie des Cappucines in Paris, a large family lunch for my Great Aunt's 85th birthday. It was one of those historic meals where you even remember how amazing the loos were. And in three weeks time, we will be off again to celebrate her 100th, although God only knows where we'll be going this time, I imagine we'll be eating at the Elysée Palace or on top of the Arc de Triomphe. One is not often 100 years old.The rich sharpness of this most simple sauces suits the sweet, flaky and creamy texture of fish; it's the most elevated comfort food, so simple to make yet so luxurious seeming. In essence, it's just hot vinegar and cold butter.I used tarragon vinegar and the finely chopped stems of the onion flowers as the base for the beurre blanc, finishing it with a pinch of the vanilla to give it the extra luxury. A little cream would turn it into beurre Nantaise if you fancy a little more richness. And cooking the salmon seasoned with the most gentle of vanilla twists, the heady aromatic comes through without being overpowering. It's a little like a cuddle from Yvette Carte-Blanche in the cellar of Café Artois. But listen very carefully, I shall say this only once: salmon must be cooked medium rare.You can make your own vanilla salt by scraping the seeds into the salt and mixing it well. Chop up the pod a little and throw it in then leave, sealed for a few days to infuse. It goes equally well into caramel as it does onto salmon.Ingredients for two2 salmon fillets, about 200g eachA bunch of onion flowers (if you can't get these, use spring onion)75ml tarragon vinegar150g salted butter, cold and cubedA few good twists of vanilla saltMethodHeat a griddle pan to foundry level furnace hot and season the salmon all over with the vanilla salt and let it sit for a few minutes before cooking. This will help firm it and stop the proteins leaking out and forming unsightly white bits.Reduce the vinegar by three quarters in a saucepan with a handful of finely sliced onion stems.Slowly whisk in the butter, a little at a time until it's emulsified and smooth. Taste and season. Keep gently warm until the fish is cooked.Cook the salmon skin-side first until its crisp, then flip it over and cook for a minute or so more until slightly translucent in the middle. Leave to rest while you char the onions on the griddle.Serve the fish with the onions and beurre blanc, a final little twist of the vanilla salt accompanied with a Jerusalem artichoke gratin or purée.   

Punjab dhal dumpling curry

 I always get excited when I stumble across new ingredients. I'll try anything as long as it's not a joke or a dare. Or fugu. Or a still beating snake heart. Or a Ginster's pasty.The food that really captures my imagination and makes my appetite dance around with anticipation is Indian. The spices, the variety, the flavours, the smells, the occasional cartoon version of me with steam coming out of my ears all get me going.If I go too long without some form of Indian food, my curry levels drop and I need treatment. That just doesn't happen with any other cuisine for me. As much as I love rich, subtle and elegantly robust French food and the beautiful simplicity of Italian food, it's just not the same level of wonder.I made one of my regular, but too infrequent trips to Tooting last week to seek inspiration and hopefully a green chilli pakora or two from Ambala if I timed it right. (They're at their best straight from the fryer, before they've had time to sit around and lose their enthusiasm). I didn't time it right, they didn't open for another hour. Instead, I managed a spicy container of chickpea chaat failing dismally at pretending I was walking through the street-food markets of Mumbai on a cold January London morning.My favourite shop since the much missed Dadu's mysteriously closed down is now V&B, not too far down the traffic-filled road. As I was loading the trolley with things I had no idea about, and vegetables I photographed the names of to Google when I got home, I found a packet of 'Punjabi wadi'. The word wadi looked similar to 'vadi' to me -you'll be impressed at my deduction there- which are one of my favourite snacks, so in they went. (There is a recipe here). These dried lentil dumplings turned out to be a popular Punjabi ingredient, which should come as no surprise to the sharper among you.The packet instructions suggested cooking them in a tomato based sauce and that's exactly what I did. I followed the instructions and even looked up on the internet what they are supposed to look and taste like and what texture they are supposed to be. I got everything right. I'll not be making them again.These are from an extensively vegetarian cuisine, but I'd rather have ande ki sabji, the tomato and egg dish, or chana masala. They are equally quick to make, and you're quite likely to already have the ingredients in the cupboard. If you're vegan though, these may be a winner. The sauce was delicious, the accompaniments and flavours all tasty. I just couldn't get along with the texture. Almost meaty, quite substantial, but a little reminiscent of compacted damp cardboard. Perhaps my mind can be changed if ever I'm in Amristar, but it won't be my life's mission.You can buy these online if you want to try them, but if I've not filled you with excitement and ambition, use the sauce base for an aaloo egg curry. I'd recommend trying the radish pods (mogri) if you can get hold of them, they were simple, tasty and fun. And I bought the sarson ka saag ready-made. It's a dish I love, but can be tricky to get the right leaves.Ingredients for two100g Punjabi wadi1tsp cumin seeds1tsp black mustard seeds1/2 thumb of grated ginger1/2tsp ground turmeric1tsp chilli powder250g chopped tomatoes1tbsp palm sugar/jaggery250ml waterRapeseed oilA few green chilliesSaltFor the mogri masalaA couple of handfuls of mogri1/2tsp mustard seedsSmall pinch asafoetida1 green chilli1tsp ground corianderRapeseed oilSaltFor the sarson ka sagBuy a tinMethodMake the tomato sauce by heating the oil in a heavy saucepan then adding the mustard seeds. When they start to pop, add the remaining spices, cook for thirty seconds on a low heat then add the ginger and wadi then cook for a further minute.Add the tomatoes and water and simmer away for ten minutes. Slice the green chillies and throw in the pan toward the end of cooking.Meanwhile, heat a sauté pan for the mogri and add the oil and mustard seeds. When they start to pop, add the remaining ingredients and toss around the pan for a couple of minutes until they've cooked a little but are still crunchy.Warm the sarson ka saag and serve everything together. 

Having a ball

Recently, before Christmas and in the throes of trying to establish a new world record for sugar consumption, I bought a box of gulab jamun from the local supermarket. I've eaten a few Indian sweets before on the mean streets of Tooting: kulfi on a stick, jalebis and so on,  each time suffering an immediate and swift ecstatic rush followed by an instant diabetic death., but these were in a league of their own. They came in a palatial bath of syrup, enough to upset even the most sweet toothed cake lover. Of course, I ate the whole box.So now, as life is slowly groaning back into gear and constantly attempting to violate our cosy January, I am as much as possible off the sugar. This, in part is an attempt to try and regain my Adonis-like figure*, which I seem to have misplaced somewhere in 1994, and also, because sugar is, really, the devil's work. However, we all need a little devil from time to time, so a little treat here and there is necessary to keep up morale.These are my version of the sugar soaked sponge, baked rather than fried and not as soaked in syrup as the original (they also don't have milk powder in them). You'll need a round mini cake sphere mould or a cake pop maker, both of which are pretty cheap and easy to find. If not, you could spoon the mix into mini fairy cake moulds. The children loved making and eating these, and it makes a nice change to the icing clad, mouth clagging fairy cakes they usually want and then give up on halfway through.I used a bought caramel sauce that I had leftover from a job, but feel free to make your own, it's not hard.*not even remotely Adonis-like, more just a lot slimmer than I am now.Ingredients100g butter100g golden caster sugar100g plain flour1tsp baking powder1 egg1tsp cinnamon powder1/2tsp ground cloves1/2tsp ground cardammonA small handful of chopped pistachio nutsSome dried rose petalsA little gold leaf and edible glitter if you fancyFor the syrup50g golden caster sugar1tbsp waterA few saffron strands2tsp ground cinnamonMethodHeat the oven to 180c or turn on the machine and preheat it.Cream together the butter and sugar until pale and fluffy, then beat in the egg until smooth.Mix together the flour, spices and baking powder and add a little at a time to the butter mix, beating until smooth.Fill the moulds and bake for about seven minutes, until golden. Leave to cool a little.Make the syrup by bringing the sugar, cinnamon powder and water gently to the boil and then reducing it until syrupy, about five minutes.Pile the cake balls onto a plate, pour over the syrup and caramel sauce then sprinkle over the nuts, petals and gold. Serve slightly warm with coffee, or Thums Up! coke if you want a real rush, uncontrollable children and no teeth left. 

Polenta, lobster and squid ink tomatoes

Tinned fish is one of life's simple pleasures, and for me tinned sardines have become a gateway drug to other, more eye-watering products. As well as coming in all kinds of lovely design, they make a healthy and immediate snack or light meal served with some good, dense toast.A tin of scallops in 'Viera sauce' was the inspiration for this dish. That may not sound appetising or even real (no one I know has ever heard of Viera sauce), but not being one to shy away from trying things, I plunged in. It was inky and rich, like a loaded Mills and Boon hero and every mouthful was a delight. As long as you don't imagine for a second it's going to taste anything like a beautiful plump Scottish scallop and possibly don't question too deeply the provenance, this is a tin worth investigating.I wanted to make this at home and turn it into something more substantial and I happened, as you do, to have a couple of frozen, cooked lobster to hand. (If you're not going to eat it fresh, then you can treat it a little more like frozen prawns, and not with the reverence that most people seem to attach to this grumpy bastard of the ocean.)This, with the rich, silky polenta -which I see as a vehicle for holding together melted butter- and the deep iron sweetness of the sauce is an amazingly tasty dish and the liquid smoke adds a great hint of winter cosiness. Just make sure that for the sauce you use good sweet tomatoes like these. It takes little time to make (if you use instant polenta) and is very impressive when you've got people round for dinner. Or for when you eat it standing up at the kitchen bench wondering if it's going to snow. Not bad for a miserable January lunchtime.Ingredients1 small lobster per person300g Datterino tomatoes100g polenta (I used instant polenta with a 5:1 ratio to water)50g butterA large pinch of saffron strands1tbsp liquid smoke500ml water2tbsp squid inkOlive oil2 banana shallots, sliced thinly1 clove of garlic, roughly choppedSalt and pepper1tsp grated nutmegSome lemon thyme leavesMethodCook your lobster if fresh (this should take around 12-15 minutes in boiling water), plunge into cold water then gently take out the meat from the body and claws. Save the shell and innards to freeze for making bisque at a later date. For this I get into trouble. Part of our freezer is like Quincy's lab, except with animal parts.Cook the polenta with some saffron and five parts water. Soak it first for about fifteen minutes then season and bring to the boil. Reduce to a simmer and stir often. When it's cooked (and you may need to add a little more water if it's getting too dry) whisk in the butter and taste to check the seasoning. The whole thing should be smooth, rich and not grainy.Meanwhile, make the sauce by gently sautéing the shallots and garlic in olive oil, then add the tomatoes, nutmeg and balsamic. Simmer gently until the tomatoes break down and lose their rawness, about fifteen minutes. Taste and season.Serve by smoothly dolloping the polenta on a plate, topping with the sauce and lobster and some of the thyme leaves. Finish with good olive oil.

Quiche me quick

We got back from a long New Year's weekend on a farm clutching fresh eggs from the cuckoo marans that pecked around the muddy yard. I may have clutched them a little hard as one or two were broken by the time I unpacked them along with the freshly liberated holiday cottage book I was halfway through. Karmic, perhaps.The beginning of the year is a great time for excitement and cosiness. The gloriousness of Christmas may be over with skeletons of trees littering the streets and limp unilluminations dripping from town centre lampposts, but that is no reason to not carry the spirit a little further. Joyful January is a perfect time to keep those candles burning, read more books and generally treat yourself kindly. And that goes for food too. This is not the time for kale and hemp smoothies and press-ups at dawn. By all means do that if you want, but it wont last.Now is the winter of our content, made glorious by this quiche of Lorraine. It's a pleasure to make, comforting in its method and taste. Rich, bacony and filling, this kind of dish on a grey and raining January day should surely lift the spirits a little and make the kitchen a brighter place with its matronly wobble as it comes out of the oven. And I find making your own pastry to be a calm and thoughtful exercise, and that can only be a good thing, any time of year.IngredientsFor the pastry:60g self-raising flour140g strong plain flour95g cold butter, cut into large flakesSaltA few tablespoons of very cold waterFor the filling:160g lardons (mine were apparently "outdoor bred". I have no idea how you breed lardons)4 eggs4-5tbsp creme fraicheA knob of melted butter and a splash of milk75g grated Emmental or Gruyere, plus extra to sprinkleA good grating of nutmegSalt and pepperMake the pastry by putting the flour, salt and butter in a large bowl. Mix well and quickly with your fingertips until it becomes as soft and powdery as sawdust. It's a good idea when making pastry to keep a bowl of iced water nearby to keep your hands cool, this helps stop the pastry becoming greasy with melted butter and gives a crisp finish.Mix in the water with a rounded knife until you start to get a soft dough. Don't add to much so it becomes sticky.Wrap it in clingfilm and chill it in the fridge for about half an hour. You can make the pastry in the food processor if you lack the time or enthusiasm, but you'll then have to wash that up, so why bother?Make the filling by sautéeing the lardons until crisp, then deglaze the pan with a splash of water and transfer to a bowl.Heat the oven to 190c/gas 7, and line a greased 18cm quiche tin. (I think 'Pam' is a wonderful invention for this job).Roll out the pastry and line the tin with it. Chill for a further 10-15 minutes then line with paper and baking beans and bake for 15 minutes. Remove the beans and paper, prick the pastry base all over with a fork and return to the oven for five to ten minutes, until it looks drier and has an even colour.Meanwhile, beat the eggs with the milk and butter then add them to the lardons with the cheese. Sir well and gently fold in the creme fraiche until well mixed. Season a little with nutmeg, salt and pepper and then pour into the pastry, sprinkle with a little more cheese, turn the oven down a little and cook for 30-35 minutes, until golden and set with a little wobble.Leave to cool for a bit, this is far better eaten warm than hot, and serve with a zingy green salad. And smile, for God's sake, it'll soon be Spring.

A right pear

The pears arrived, hard as meteorites, risking dental appointments for the children. A few days later, after sitting in a bowl, one had turned to a mould-spotted mush and the others were looking suspicious.Never mind. A little scraping and carving here and there rendered them perfect for a tart, and a few eggs, some flour and sugar mixed with almond syrup and butter later, I was pouring the mixture into a prepared puff pastry case.The classic pear tart, or even the frangipane version will keep and make me very happy. This combined the two, more really down to me wanting to use up ingredients that needed using than by design. And the result was simple, fairly quick, and definitely very tasty.  Finish off with toasted and flaked almonds if you like. I didn't because I forgot.Ingredients300g puff pastry (I had the half of a homemade block in the freezer, well worthwhile)2 pears, cored100g sugar100g butter100g flour2 eggs6 cardamom pods, seeds removed and ground1tbsp orgeat syrup1tbsp almond butterIcing sugar to dustMethodHeat the oven to 180c, gas mark 5.Heat a pan and add the pears. Throw in a good amount of butter and about a handful of sugar getting the pears well covered and add in the cardamom . Cook on a fairly high heat for about five minutes, until they're nicely caramelised.Grease and flour a 20cm tin then line it with the pastry.Line that with baking parchment and fill with baking beans and blind bake for 15 minutes.Remove from the oven, take out the beans and paper and trim the pastry edge. Poke the base all over with a fork and put back in the oven for ten minutes, turning once to keep the cooking even.Remove from the oven while you make the filling.In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar then mix in the eggs. Beat until combined then slowly add the flour, mixing well until fully combined. Add in the syrup and butter and mix well.Fill the tart case and place the pears on top.Bake in the oven for twenty minutes, then turn once and bake for a further fifteen minutes until the cake is set but still moist.Leave to cool a little and dust with icing sugar. This is best eaten slightly warm.

Sardines on pumpernickel

 A quick lunch of tinned sardines,Mustard, butterOn pumpernickel bread withPickled mooli, dyed yellow and a sprig ofThyme.

This pheasant land

I stumbled across a pheasant the other day. I say stumbled, more bought one. Sadly I wasn't a gun with my wellies and cap out on the moors looking wistfully and enigmatically at the mist shrouded land but rather more prosaically in the supermarket.Not one for the traditionally served bread sauce and game chips I decided to marinate it overnight in a gentle spiced yoghurt and serve it with a rich beluga lentil dhal, based rather loosely on black dhal (makhani) which traditionally uses urad lentils. If you're not a fan of pheasant, or can't get one or two, this recipe works rather well with poussin or chicken. The key to this is getting the grill as hot as you can and charring the bird to within an inch of its life (death?) Start by removing the backbone, flattening the bird and stabbing it all over to allow the marinade to soak in. I used a bay leaf, 200ml natural yoghurt, dried mangosteen, three green chillies, some garlic, a thumb of ginger, turmeric, ground cumin and ground coriander as well as a stick of cassia bark. Remove from the marinade the next day and spoon the liquid all over the bird before grilling it on both sides for about twenty minutes. For the dhal1 very large onion1 thumb of ginger1 clove of garlic3 green finger chilliesA mugful of beluga lentils, soaked and cooked until soft (about an hour)2tsp ground cumin2tsp ground coriander1tsp ground turmeric1tsp chilli powderA large handful of spinach2tbsp ghee2tbsp rapeseed oil300ml double creamBlack salt powder (or sea salt if not)Black pepperGaram masala and coriander to serveMethodBlend the onion, ginger, garlic and green chillies then gently cook them for about ten minutes in the ghee and oil.Add the spices and season well. Cook for a minute or two more. Add the drained and cooked lentils and stir well. Stir in the cream and bring to the boil. Turn off the heat and stir in the spinach, Garam masala and coriander. Serve with the grilled pheasant.

Garam Masala

This spice mix, key to much Indian cooking, is so easy to make.You can tailor it to have more cinnamon, fewer cloves, a pinch of chilli heat and so on, as you wish. It goes in at the beginning of cooking and at the end to finish a dish. It peps up scrambled or baked eggs and can go in a flatbread dough. It's a real store cupboard essential here.There must be as many recipes for garam masala as there are spices and combinations. Here's mine.Ingredients1tbsp dill seeds2tbsp coriander seeds1tbsp green cardamom seeds1 black cardamom1 dried red chilli1 cassia bark stick (about six cm)1tbsp ajwain seeds1tbsp black peppercorns1tsp ground nutmeg1tsp ground mace1tbsp cumin seeds1tsp black salt powder (or Maldon salt)MethodPut all the spices in a heavy-based pan and heat for a few minutes until fragrant. Leave to cool and grind in a pestle and mortar or spice grinder until it becomes a fine powder. Store in an airtight jar and use as needed.

In the name of the garlic, the chilli and the holy olive oil

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.

Korea choices

I don't drift gently into the morning when it comes to breakfast. I can't bear sonnets and clouds on the plate, their rose petals gently easing me into the day. I want to be punched in the face and charged headlong by a rhinoceros of flavour.Of course, if a gentle tinkling of the bell brings the opening of the curtains and a cup of spiced masala tea to my bedside by my valet I'm not against that, but I will soon be found powering up the creaking espresso machine and rootling around in the cupboard to select various spices to put on my eggs or easing open the weighty fridge drawer to dig out a red chilli that has possibly seen better days to slice and have with fresh mango and an uncoordinated squeeze of lime juice.Not for me Roald Dahl's breakfast cereal "made of all those little curly wooden shavings you find in pencil sharpeners". It's the time for food to excite you, wake you up, get you going. Not bore you back to sleep until lunchtime.But perhaps I've developed a stronger stomach, working with and around food every day. If you are cooking a recipe at nine in the morning, you need to be able to taste it, even if it is liver paté. Ok. That does sound pretty gross first thing.This has been an interesting week for food finds. I have been working with recipes from Korea, Japan and China and had to visit my now new favourite shop. A Korean one called H Mart. I now want to live there. There is something utterly fascinating about food shops from other countries. Tooting High Street or Southall's is Aladin's cave to me. I love Wing Yip in Croydon, but I fear now my loyalties have changed. Perhaps you could call it a Korea choice. On holiday, a trip to the local supermarket is a highlight. (Unless we're on holiday in Devon near the Exmouth Tesco, in which case shoot me).I feel a frisson of excitement when I see the strange looking Germanic produce in places like Lidl, or the Turkish neon sausages and vats of impenetrably labelled yoghurt (at least that's what I assume it is) next to the goats' hearts in the fridges of the Penge Food Centre. If there's something with a funny name or a colourful paper package, it's going in my basket. Small wonder one of the cupboards fell off the kitchen wall a few years ago.For the first time, this week I ate okonomiyaki; delicious Japanese cabbage pancakes, a sort of battered cabbage rosti. They were slathered in three sauces, one spicy, one sweet and one rich. And that was not the first food of the day. I'd already had a small glass of black garlic juice and a plastic container full of garlic scapes in chilli sauce (one based around gochujang) so by this point I was ready for whatever you could throw at me.The next morning I managed half a tub of dried deep fried crisp anchovies with peanuts and deep fried cauliflower in spicy batter with barbecue sauce before most people had tucked into their tea and toast. It has been a good week for food and one that makes me realise just how much there is to explore, taste and discover, even before Jeeves has ironed the Times for me.

A potted fish story

Kevin, our plumber, has buggered off to France on the proceeds of our unfinished boiler. This has, however, led to the discovery of an unopened tin of ghee beneath the fuse box in the cupboard. It may not be quite the same as finding a Rembrant in the attic but still, it's a nice surprise.For many years I've been bored senseless by potted shrimp. And recently in Devon I swore that if I were to ever have another crab sandwich it would be under circumstances of extreme duress. And as for fish and chips, there is only one acceptable situation to eat them, and that is in winter on a cold and blowy beach. There, and only there, can you eat hot, salty, vinegar laced chips and pearly, soft white flaking fish. Even then it's still rubbish.However, I believe most things can be improved by the judicious application of spice. I'd add spices to anything, possibly even my toothpaste to pep it up and excite me. Wars and empires have been fought and forged over them, so the least I feel I can do is use them. And this recipe is proof why. I've swapped prawns for crayfish, clarified butter for curry leaf infused ghee and replaced nutmeg, Cayenne pepper and mace with garam masala. (The nutmeg, Cayenne and mace have, in a nod to the original, gone into the bread).It's a pretty quick dish and a real flavour hit. Serve with the butter still slightly soft but deep yellow and translucent.Ingredients160g crayfish tailsA small handful of curry leaves, ideally fresh, the dried ones are a load of rubbish1tbsp garam masalaA pinch of salt and pepper2 spring onions2 green finger chillies, slicedA load of ghee (about 250g)2tbsp coconut oilA few coriander leavesFor the bread2tbsp chickpea (gram) flour2tbsp wholemeal flour150ml waterA good grating of nutmeg1tsp Cayenne pepper1tsp powdered maceA pinch of saltA few twists of pepperMethodMelt the ghee and coconut oil and add the curry leaves, garam masala and season well with salt and pepper. Leave to cool a little and skim the surface of any impurities.Divide the crayfish between two pots and add the spring onions and chilli.Pour the butter over the crayfish and leave to chill in the fridge until fairly set, but still spoonable, a bit like a melting mango sorbet. If serving later, you'll need to remove them about half an hour in advance to soften unless you want to practice your spoon bending.Make the bread (although it's more like a sort of pancake-type affair) by mixing the ingredients together to form a fairly thick, spreadable batter.Heat a cast iron pan until very hot then spoon on half the mixture and start to spread it around the pan, almost as if you were painting it on. As it cooks, this will become easier and you should be able to form a circle, but don't worry, make it whatever shape you like, as long as it is an even thickness.Leave it to cook until golden on one side, then flip over and finish it off. Repeat with the remaining mix.Serve the bread with the pots of crayfish, a sprinkle of coriander leaves and some Bombay mix, which I suggest you buy. If you think I'm making my own, you can think again.