Fancy a dip?

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.

Don't throw those bloody spears at me.

I'm not sure how at the end of every day the house looks as if we've been running an army field kitchen, the laundry basket has repopulated itself as if the clothes love each other very much. And dust tumbleweeds seem to have blown in from the American Midwest.The children only get home from after school club after five in the evening so that gives them two hours to wreak Armageddon. And that's not even mentioning their ability to remove every single toy, book, pen and loom band from their room in the search for a single piece of Lego or suchlike.And among all this we need to eat. I've been getting back after long days shooting this week, so meals have been as simple as possible. Tuesday was baked potato with cheese and a salad. One evening we had grilled peach, mozzarella and mixed leaves. Another, rare for us, was a horrible Thai takeaway, which was a mistake and reinforced our belief that takeaways are generally disappointing, best avoided and it's much quicker to even just have some spaghetti with butter and cheese. Never again. I'd rather just have ham and egg on toast.The best meal this week was asparagus pasta. Maya and I made fresh tagliatelle on the weekend and there was plenty left over. Obviously, for this to be a quick meal, you need to have the pasta made or bought. Up to you.The asparagus, first blanched then grilled on a skillet, dressed with lemon juice, parsley, good olive oil and toasted almond flakes was tossed through the pasta with shards of Parma ham, cooked until crisp and then shattered. A handful of Parmesan cheese grated over, a twist of pepper, a pinch more of Maldon salt and another drizzle of oil and we eat. As shattered as the ham.Ingredients for twoA bunch of asparagus tipsZest and juice of a lemonAbout 4-6 slices of Parma hamA handful of parsley (flat leaf or curly, up to you)Excellent olive oil (it really does make a difference)A handful of flaked almonds200g fresh tagliatelle (or dry, or other long pasta)MethodBlanch the asparagus for a minute in boiling water then drain and season.Heat the skillet until very hot, dress the asparagus in a little olive oil and char until stripy. Keep warm somewhere.Cook the pasta in boiling, heavily salted water until al dente then drain and dress with more olive oil (It's good for you) in a large bowl. Meanwhile, crisp the ham on the skillet and toast the almonds, perhaps in a dry frying pan if there's no space.Chop the parsley, mix everything together in the bowl, season again to taste and serve.

Preservation order

I only preserve cucumbers so I can eat them immediately. Or pickle them, at least. After all, it's not as if cucumbers are hard to come by these days. I pickle because it's delicious.I use Swedish pickling vinegar for this, and a good large bunch of dill. The vinegar is incredible stuff. It would strip the paint from twenty years of redecorated school lunch halls from 30 metres. So it needs to be diluted.There's a recipe on the website somewhere for mizeria, which is a delicious Polish version with sour cream added, so that's something you can also do if the fancy takes you.There's something about the sharpness and crunch of a good pickle, the acid tang that brings dishes into sharp focus. It's like a punch of flavour that keeps you interested. I'll often eat them straight from the jar just for that little tingle you get.Fermenting and preserving is one of our oldest food preparation methods. It's good for you too. So try this, it's obviously great in burgers, although I know some people think it's the devils food, but it's also great with fish, meatballs, in cheese and ham sandwiches and DON'T FORGET TO VOTE LABOUR TODAY.Ingredients600ml water200ml Swedish spirit vinegar (if you're using cider vinegar or such, use it neat in a 1:1 ratio)30g sugar20g saltA large bunch of dill1tbsp yellow mustard seeds10 juniper berriesA few black peppercorns1 cucumber, sliced long and thin. Use a mandoline, preferably. Get one if you don't have on. They're fun, in a kind of lethal way.MethodHeat the water, salt and sugar in a pan until the salt and sugar dissolve then add the vinegar.Leave to cool while you slice the cucumber, carefully.Add the dill, mustard seeds and peppercorns to a suitable sized sterilised Kilner jar or suchlike, top with the cucumber and pour over the pickling liquid.Leave for at least half an hour before eating. This will keep in the fridge for about a week and you can then top up with new cucumber twice more before you need fresh pickling liquid.

Fika time

The children are never far from an excuse to eat sweet things. So it seemed that a few days in a country where a national pastime is to share coffee and cinnamon buns would be perfect. And while Noah and I have now developed an unhealthy addiction to kanelbullar (it's possible we had more than one each per day, and I made a huge batch when we got home) it seems that Maya and Bee have left Sweden with successful aversion therapy. Their loss and our gain.Extended city breaks, and that's what last week was, are great but pretty exhausting for little legs. I'm not sure they were to thrilled traipsing round the photography museum, although they loved the view from the cafe as we had a classic lunch of prawns, rye bread, pickles and the like.There were days where the temperature reached 38c, where the light seemed clearer, sharper with a freshness born in the northern skies. Then there were days when it seemed like the four Norsemen of the apocalypse were in charge of the weather. And on one of those days, after we had soddenly trudged through the grey streets to the temporary food market the rain became too much and we needed a quick fika fix. Blood sugar levels were low, the grumpiness scale was high and the warm and inviting café had one spare table in the corner. And this is where Maya found her new love for raspberry shortbread.Demand has been high since then, and to be honest, I'm more than happy to make them. They take about twenty minutes and are so much nicer than jam tarts and if I dare say it, an improvement on shortbread itself. Even Noah, who's in love with his best friend Ruby's Scottish Grandmother's neighbours shortbread agrees.I'm not sure if they do things differently with Swedish shortbread, I didn't ask. But this recipe is standard shortbread and is delicious. (Although I use unsalted butter and season it with vanilla salt) I'd be tempted to make double next time. And as for the cinnamon buns I made, they freeze really well, so come Saturday morning, they'll be on the table for breakfast.Ingredients60g unsalted butter, soft100g golden caster sugar200g plain flour (I used strong white in this case, but you can use either)A pinch of vanilla salt (I use Singing Dog)Raspberry jam to fillMethodGet a small child to mix together the ingredients (apart from the jam) until they are crumbly and soft and come together in a dough when you press it.Half fill fairy cake moulds with the mixture, make a little indentation with your thumb in each and spoon in some jam.Bake in a medium to hot oven for 12 or so minutes, until they are starting to colour a little, but not much.Leave to cool until you can leave it no longer and dust with icing sugar.

Lime and mint pressé

 I've baked a lot of bread this week. Enough for a small stall at some rah-rah market selling posh chorizo sandwiches and unicorn sweat fairy-cakes. The rather brilliant Tartine Bread book by Chad Robertson has given me that step up from slight bemusement at the mysteries and inconsistency of my sourdough to proper understanding and a reignited passion for making the stuff. I still will never fail to be amazed at who discovered the whole process and the respect for the traditions and practice over the centuries.It's almost on a par with the miracle of  how the children can turn their bedroom from a cultured and organised tidiness into a foaming, bubbling cauldron of mess and strange smells with seemingly no help from outside sources. I sought refuge this weekend at the oven and eventually when we needed to get out the house before everyone went stir crazy the beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon in the park restored our sanity and we came back to hot crusty toast with melting salty butter.As the afternoon lazily slid into a gently warm evening and thirsts needed quenching I made my new favourite drink. For those of you, like me, who do not drink alcohol, there is a lack of grown up options when it comes to interesting and fun things to drink that aren't sugary sweet overloads.This is great though. A lime and ginger pressé, rather like the classic citron pressé I can only drink in France at cafés while being existential, it's refreshing and zingy, easy to make and has a really good sharp and sour tang, rather like the sourdough. I had it at the exciting Kricket in Pop Brixton about a month ago and have been making it regularly ever since. And although the food there was excellent (if a little pricey) this drink is what I've taken back from the evening. I make it with a splash of Tessiere sirop de menthe, the kind you make a diabolo menthe with, it's easier than making your own sugar syrup, but if you want to do that, you can make a bottle up and keep it in the fridge to use as and when.Just make sure you never, ever use that horrible lime juice stuff in a squeezy bottle.Ingredients and methodThe juice and zest of one lime per person is mixed with a small handful of muddled mint leaves, a small shot of mint syrup and topped up with ice and sparkling water. You could add some grated ginger in there for and extra kick as I sometimes do. It makes for mouth puckering excitement.

Dangerous liaison

I did hot yoga this week. The only space remaining in the room was right under one of the heaters. After losing two stone in one hour and having to rearrange my body parts back to normal, I was starving.If I could summon the strength, I knew at home I had frozen puff pastry and a bowl full of beautiful, ripe tomatoes that were thinking about going on the turn if I left them lingering on the windowsill any longer.Like the banana bread I made for the children during the week, sometimes things that are just past their best are perfect to use in another way. And these tomatoes are a perfect example. They were lovely to start with, but slightly overripe, they were even lovelier, bursting and juicy, a deep, rich red inside.As always, if you have great ingredients, you have great food with hardly any effort.This works equally well with thyme, but I think tarragon is a much underused herb and in my opinion turns this dish from delicious to outstanding. Even if Bee didn't quite think it was as amazing as I did.Ingredients1 sheet of ready-rolled puff pastryLoads of ripe tomatoes such as cuore di bue, oxheart, beef, a few cherry, and so onFor the glaze and liaison:3 eggs, beaten1tbsp thick double cream300ml milk (or a mix of milk and cream)1tbsp chopped fresh tarragon, although dried works well tooA pinch of herb salt to season (or Maldon)Black pepperMethodGrease a 19cm tart tin and line it with the pastry.Line and fill the case with baking beans or rice and bake blind at 200c for 15 minutes.Remove the beans and lining and prick the pastry all over with a fork.Brush the pastry with some of the egg all over the inside to seal it and and reduce the heat to 180c.Bake for another 10 minutes or so until golden.Slice the tomatoes and fill the case with them.Mix the eggs, cream and milk together until you have a thin batter, stir in the tarragon and season well.Pour into the tart case, give another twist of pepper and bake for about 40 minutes until set, but with a little wobble. You may need to turn the tart halfway through to bake the pastry evenly if you have a gas oven like I do. In any case, keep an eye on it.And make sure it's level, otherwise it'll set lopsidedly.Remove from the oven when cooked and leave to cool a little. It's far superior when served warm, so is best made just before lunch.

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.

Nice buns

 I was five or six, and for some reason, every so often in assembly, we would sing 'Yellow Submarine' — I had no idea who the Beatles were, let John Lennon who had just been shot, although not in my assembly — and less frequently, but with no less gusto, 'Sinnerman' by Nina Simone.If you look at me closely, you can tell I didn't grow up as an African American, and yet, the reasons lost to me (and probably the whole of my 1970s hugely white suburban, middle class, Catholic primary school outside Reading), our perm-laden television-sized glasses wearing music teacher used to get us all tunelessly belting these out like some disfunctional gospel choir.To a child just grasping the concept of a cat sitting on a mat, Yellow Submarine is a suitable song. But why anyone would sing a song questioning where some cinnamon was going, where it was running to, where it was going to hide was beyond me.To this day, the two are superglued firmly together; Simone's song and some aromatic tree bark. When I cook with it I sing the song and when I hear the song I think of the spice. It's a strange place, sometimes, the mind.To that end, today's recipe is cinnamon buns. Soft, sweet, pillowy spirals of spiced dough wrapped around melting, sugary cinnamon butter. I quickly made these while waiting for a beetroot chutney to finish cooking. A nice treat, I thought, for the children to come home from school to. They don't go to after school club on Mondays, so they need something to keep them quiet for a little while.Noah loved them. Silence for a calm ten minutes. Maya took one bite and threw the rest in the bin.In the town, where I was born, that would have got me a clip round the ear.Ingredients1/3 small block of fresh yeast or a 7g sachet140ml water300g plain flour1tsp salt1tbsp brown sugar1tbsp ground cinnamon130g butter2tbsp ground cinnamon75g coconut or brown sugar4tbsp icing sugar (sieved otherwise it's lumpier than school porridge)2tbsp waterMethodMix the yeast with a tablespoon of the water and leave somewhere warm for about five minutes.Pour the flour, salt, brown sugar, 1tbsp of cinnamon and the water into a bowl and mix well until you have a soft dough. Almost sticky, but not quite. Knead for ten minutes (stand mixers and processors are handy here) and leave somewhere warm until it has doubled in size. This could take between 30-60 minutes. Longer, probably, if you live in Alaska.Dust the worktop with some flour and roll the dough out into a 25cmx45cm rectangle. Melt the butter, 75g sugar and 2tbsp ground cinnamon together and pour evenly and carefully over the dough.Sprinkle the sugar all over the top and give it a little light roll with the rolling pin.Roll up along the longest edge until you have a long cylinder and then cut evenly into 15.Put face up in an oven tray and leave to rise again for 45 minutes to an hour. Cover the tray with some film so they don't dry out.Heat the oven to 180c and bake for about 25 minutes until golden and springy. I think it was about this long, I'd forgotten to set the timer. Just cook them until they're done.Remove from the oven and leave to cool in the tray for five minutes then transfer them to a wire rack.Mix together the icing sugar and water until you have a smooth glaze then drizzle over the buns. Serve slightly warm if you like. 

Nice pear

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.

Gingerbread panna cotta

 A clear blue Saturday morning of the May bank holiday weekend. We are finally teaching Noah to cycle and in the park among Victorian trees on flat ground,  I walked and he wobbled past the tennis courts, scattering people and their dogs into the undergrowth as they dived for cover and I pretended he wasn't my son.A tennis ball, served viciously by a chap who clearly  didn't like his girlfriend shot past her and wedged itself in the chain-link fence. Half in and out, squeezed in the middle like a belt was trying to give it a waist. It reminded me of many panna cottas I've eaten in the past. Rubbery, chewy and solid lumps of sugary milk sickly with lavender or raspberry coulis as if it were still 1987.And like Noah on his bicycle, a good panna cotta is very wobbly. It needs to be soft and silky and have a milky creaminess to it. So you have to be careful with the gelatine. 3 leaves is more than enough for this recipe if you're using them. I used powdered, that's all I had in the cupboard, and you need about 3/4 of one of the small individual packets. A whole packet is enough to set 600ml of liquid as firmly as a Beverly Hills backside, and that's as unappealing there as this would be on your plate, so act carefully.This has sharp and sweet grapefruit, caramelised orange and a little fennel to go with the gingery spicing of the panna cotta. A few thyme leaves and pistachio give a little tickle and crunch here and there. It's perfect for when you have friends for supper as you make it well in advance and leave it to set in the fridge. Pudding is taken care of and you won't need to disappear for half an hour during the meal. Unless you hate your guests and want a break.Ingredients for four260ml milk260ml double cream8g powdered gelatine or 3 sheets2tbsp gingerbread spice mix (I used The Uncharted Spice Company's which is perfect)1tbsp golden caster sugar4 slices of orange (I use blood oranges when in season)1/2 ruby grapefruit1tbsp golden caster sugar2tbsp pistachio nuts, chopped1tsp fennel seedsA blowtorch and a sprinkle of sugar for each orange sliceMethodDissolve the gelatine in a little hot water until well mixed and there are no lumps. If you're using the sheets, follow the packet instructions.Bring the milk, cream and sugar to the boil and stir in the spices then mix well.Add the gelatine and stir until completely incorporated and smooth.Remove from the heat and pour into four dariole or panna cotta moulds and leave to set in the fridge for an hour and a half minimum.Make the sauce by putting the grapefruit in a pan with a tablespoon of sugar and a few tablespoons of water then bring to the boil and reduce to a simmer until soft and syrupy.Leave to cool.Release each panna cotta carefully from their moulds onto plates (you may need to warm the outside of the mould with your hands a little to help). Sprinkle the orange slices with sugar and some fennel seeds and caramelise the top of them with a blowtorch. Put one on top of each panna cotta, gently warm through the syrup to loosen it a little and pour over with a sprinkle of pistachio, a few more fennel seeds and a little thyme. Serve immediately. 

Take the bisque, cuit

They say it's what's on the inside that counts. I'm not so sure with lobster, although that is usually the kind of thing you say to an ugly child. A good, spicy, deep and rich bisque made with the ground shell and claws gets me more excited than the sweet flesh inside. And it's quite often the best thing to do with the cheaper and less wonderful ones that you may get from your backstreet fishmonger or supermarket freezer. The kind where the meat tastes and feels like it's just been ten rounds with Frank Bruno.I used one lobster to make this, but I often will have a bag of prawn carcasses in the freezer for such an occasion. Not this time though, as I've recently cleaned out the drawers, unearthing such things as a permafrozen woolly mammoth, a small choc-ice from 1984 and many, many loose peas.It's a good was to use up some of those sad looking celery stalks and the joke shop bendy carrots in the fridge drawer that have seen better days only to be left deflating behind the half lemons and sad lettuce. What nutrients they have left in them can be wrung out, along with the flavour in the lobster carcass and inner bits that remain.It's a really wonderful, powerful soup, absolutely full of flavour. I like mine with a little more of a Cayenne pepper kick than is strictly necessary. It's great with a little tarragon creme fraiche stirred through at the end and even nicer with a fat tortellini stuffed with crab meat and spring onion in the middle.One thing to be careful of when making this, is the claws are really hard work to blitz and you can easily break your blender blade, especially if you're using a stick blender, so after cooking it, try and smash them up a bit with the back of a knife into easier chunks and take your time. It's worth it.Ingredients 1 lobster shell, claws and inside bits after you've used the claw and tail meat1/2 fennel bulb, choppedA knob of ginger, chopped1 shallot, chopped1 carrot, chopped1 celery stick, chopped2tsp smoked paprikaA handful of uncooked basmati rice1tbsp ground cumin1tbsp ground coriander1 bay leaf1/2tsp ground cloves2tsp Cayenne pepper1tsp ground turmeric2tsp Swiss bouillon powderTarragon vinegar or white wine to deglaze the panA few tablespoons of double creamOlive oilSalt to seasonMethodHeat some olive oil in a deep, heavy-based pan and add the shell and vegetables. Stir well, roasting for a few minutes until things start to colour and stick a little.Deglaze the pan with the vinegar.Add the remaining ingredients, season and stir well. Cook for one minute.Cover all the ingredients with water and bring to the boil for ten minutes.Put the lid on, turn down the heat and simmer for 45 minutes-1 hourCarefully blitz until as smooth as possible, although I like mine with a little grittiness to it. I use a stick blender for this, but it's a pretty heavy duty one. The standard kitchen ones may not be able to cope. Use a food processor if necessary, and be careful.Strain the mix through a fine sieve and squeeze out as much liquid as possible.Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary. Stir in the cream, garnish with a few strips of fennel and thyme and serve.

Don't be so shellfish

 I found a lobster in the freezer yesterday. Cooked and frozen solid. I'd forgotten about it, languishing there like an extra in Quincy. I gave it a hot bath, and a little shine up before taking it apart, post-mortem.Not having been able to establish a cause of death, and I know it was dead when it went in under some Vienetta, I'll have to leave an open verdict. Frozen lobster is obviously not a patch on fresh. And I'd far rather some plump tiger prawns anyway, unless I'm sitting on the shore watching the fishermen haul them up from their lobster pots and bring them clattering to the shore while singing sea shanties and talking of the sea as a 'capricious mistress'. Seeing as we live in London, this is not a fantasy I can often indulge in and I'm certainly not going to turn down this treasure from the deep-freeze.One of my favourite things to do with shellfish is keep their shells and bits for bisque. You can freeze them after cooking to do this at a later date, although in this case, I just used the one shell and made the soup straight away. I love the grittiness, the deep spiciness of the soup and it also makes a great sauce for pasta. The recipe is here.I would recommend using fresh lobster where possible, this simple dish really sings and zings so the better quality you can get, the better the end result. To state the obvious.The sweet lobster tail, the delicate claws. The quick pickled apple salad, sharp and crunchy with the aniseed hit of fennel. The warmth and freshness of ginger and the cooling cucumber, mixing among the crisp potato (let's call them chips, for that's what they are) and the punchy garlic aioli dressing that will breathe fear into your neighbours. This is a lunch worthy of any table from the city to the huts in Cadgwith or white sandy beaches in Sri Lanka. And all from the freezer and the fruit bowl.Ingredients for two1 medium lobster per person1 Maris piper potato, finely sliced into matchsticks1 apple, cubed1 small fennel bulb, sliced1/2 a cucumber, deseeded and cubed1 thumb of ginger, peeled and finely chopped50ml cider vinegar1tbsp caster sugar1 large garlic clove, crushed2 egg yolks150ml olive oil1tbsp Dijon mustardA little squeeze of lemon juice or sherry vinegar1tbsp chopped chives2tsp fresh thyme leavesSaltRapeseed oil for fryingMethodMake the aioli by whisking the ingredients (apart from the oil) together and slowly drizzling in the oil as you whisk, until it makes an emulsion. Taste and adjust the seasoning. Cover and set aside.Do what you need to do to the lobster. Cook it and cool it in iced water (probably about 12 minutes cooking depending on size) or defrost it. Carefully remove the tail and claw meat and keep the shell if you're making bisque.Mix the apple, fennel, cucumber and ginger with the vinegar and sugar and let sit for 15 minutes.Meanwhile, heat about four centimetres of oil in a heavy-based saucepan andfry the potato until crisp and golden. Drain on kitchen paper and season well.Serve the salad topped with the lobster and chips, a good dollop of the aioli and a sprinkle of cress and fennel fronds.

Garlic, chive and thyme aioli

If you fancy something to dip your chips in, an alternative to mayo in your chicken sandwich or something to fire up your fish, this is a perfect quick sauce to scare the people near your face. Unless they're eating it too.Obviously the amount of garlic you put in is up to you, I like mine to be fiery and to give you the feeling your blood is thinning as you go near it. This keeps in the fridge for two to three days if well covered. I've been known to have a surreptitious spoonful when no-one's looking. You'll get found out though.Ingredients2 egg yolks1 large clove of garlic, finely minced.1tbsp Dijon mustard1tbsp chopped chives1tsp chopped fresh thyme150ml olive oilLemon juice or sherry vinegar to tasteA pinch of saltMethodWhisk together the egg yolks, mustard and a pinch of salt. Slowly whisk in the oil, at first drop by drop (you can speed up when it starts to emulsify) until you have a thick emulsion. Add the garlic and herbs, stir in the lemon juice or vinegar to taste and adjust the seasoning. Use straight away or cover well and keep in the fridge for up to three days.

Spring a leek

  I've been meaning to make leeks with vinaigrette since we got back from Paris at the beginning of March. We were primed for a fancy lunch for my great Aunty Suzy's 100th birthday, but selfishly, she got ill and was in hospital on the day. So instead, we all ended up going to a brasserie next to the hospital in the south west of the city. 30 of us. Just outside of the périphérique. Can you imagine sinking so low? We visited her after.We piled straight in at the height of lunchtime, all seated without so much as a Gallic shrug. And while we were split into two tables, we still managed to eat at the same time. The very nice man looking after our table only forgot to bring my citron pressé. Three times. And then he told me they didn't have any more lemons and "how about orange?" I still haven't let go of my disappointment. I can't. I was really looking forward to it.I haven't got a clue what anyone else ate. I dimly remember my main course as something to do with cod. It was a busy place, lively, fun and full of Parisians being Parisian. Doing French stuff like reading poetry and having affairs, all in their lunch break. But it was my starter which I loved and which reminded me of how simple food is often the best. And you can't get much simpler than some leek, cooked until soft and dressed in vinaigrette. Theirs had a touch of cream in it, softening it gently and making it silky smooth. Mine has some finely minced shallot in and I've sprinkled some croutons on top to give a little crunch.Make sure you use fresh and tender leek. Steam them if possible, this dish can end up a little 'leathery' and chewy if you're not careful. Served gently warm or slightly cold, this is an elegant starter with friends for supper or even a light lunch. You can prepare it ahead of time too, one job fewer if you're entertaining.Ingredients for four people1 leek, tough green part removed then sliced lengthwiseA couple of slices of bread. I used some slightly stale pitta I had in the bread bin. Yum1tsp garam masala1tsp fennel seeds1/2 banana shallot, minced2tsp Dijon mustard2tsp tarragon vinegar (or cider vinegar)4tbsp olive oil4tbsp rapeseed oilSalt to seasonMethodSteam the sliced leek for about four minutes then drain and run under cold water to stop the cooking.While the leek is cooking, heat a sauté pan with some olive oil and cut the bread into small cubes.Toast them in the oil until nice and crisp then drain on kitchen paper and toss through with the garam masala and fennel seeds.Make the vinaigrette by mixing the vinegar with the mustard and a pinch of salt, then slowly whisk in the oils to make an emulsion. Loosen it a little with a splash or two of water and mix in the shallot.Toss the leek through with the vinaigrette and divide between four plates, scattering over the croutons and a few more fennel seeds if you like. Finish with another pinch of salt on the leeks.  

Nuts in April

 The Easter weekend is coming up, and this year my birthday is sandwiched between death and resurrection on the Saturday. I shall not be doing any cooking for the whole weekend, which will be novel. While the children run around the garden looking for eggs on Sunday, weather permitting, I shall be opening my parent's fridge and raiding their cupboards like a student back from Uni.(I would usually post a bread recipe at this time of year so I can make jokes about knocking the dough back and watching it rise again. I still find it this joke funny after countless repetitions, even if no one else does.)This recipe has nothing to do with dough, but more to do with sugar, chocolate and nuts. While I've bought various eggs for various offspring, I also decided to make a little side treat of chocolate brittle for the adults. For some reason, we had a mountain of nuts and chocolate in the cupboard and using it for this weekend seemed apposite. If you can avoid burning the first lot of caramel so much the better. I'd recommend not leaving its side until it's ready. For example to wander off and read the sleeve notes on 'Sing it Again Rod'.You'll have to work quickly when the caramel is ready and be careful to not burn yourself. Hot caramel is a new kind of pain. You can use peanuts, almonds, pine nuts, pistachios and add salt, chilli, vanilla essence and all kind of things to add variety. This one is a simple salted caramel version. You can also use less dark chocolate and replace it with milk chocolate if you prefer. The children are keen to each have one of these smashed over their Viennetta for pudding this evening, I think that is a cracking idea.Ingredients220g dark chocolate (I used 70% cocoa)30g dark chocolate buttons200g sugar150g hazelnuts, roughly chopped, some left largeA pinch of saltMethodPrepare a large sheet of baking paper on the kitchen worktop and give it a quick spray of cooking oil to help stop the caramel nuts from sticking.Slowly melt the sugar with a pinch of salt in a heavy-based pan, one large enough to fit the chopped nuts in when the sugar has melted. Copper pans are the best for this if you have one.Shake the pan every now and then as the sugar melts, be careful to not let it get too dark and burn. This is horrible and bitter, like Ukip crossed with Heather Mills.When it's melted and a lovely dark caramel colour, quickly pour in the nuts and stir well on the heat until they're all coated. Pour the mix out onto the prepared paper, shape into a rectangle with a metal palette knife and leave to cool.Melt the chocolate for one minute and 20 seconds in the microwave (you could do it the traditional way in a bowl over simmering water if you prefer, but really?).The chocolate should still look as though it's mostly kept its shape. Beat it with a small whisk and throw in the chocolate drops. Keep stirring until they melt and the chocolate is smooth and shiny.Cut the nut brittle into small rectangles or squares and dip each one in the melted chocolate. Sprinkle with some of the fallen off nuts and caramel if you like and leave to set. You can wrap these individually in paper or store in an airtight container until ready to eat/dish out.Happy Easter. 

A spring in our step

 There is a strange kind of calm in the house. Just the gentle hum of the washing machine in the background. I hear a car pass by and the clock ticking on the wall. It's a special kind of silence now the children are back in school. I've even turned off the radio that I normally keep on for a kind of company so I can hear the quiet clearly.The early morning sun on the walk to school this morning shone on one half of the road. Maya asked to not walk in the shade so she could feel it on her face. Our hands were a little chilly, the day still warming up. It is after all, only April.All the trees round here are now full of leaves. Most of the blossom has fallen and some still carpets the pavements like the confetti in the aftermath of a wedding, fluttering around every so often in the light wind.Last night we sat down as a family and ate a cottage pie with garlic green beans. A hearty meal eaten in the early evening still-light as the days lengthen toward summer. We can move on from these winter dishes now, so yesterday was a kind of farewell.And as the wild garlic appears everywhere, like a surreptitious Frenchman in the hedges, other greens and shoots and tender vegetables fill the stalls at the market, colours taking over from the drab dullness that paint companies may call 'dried turnip'. I bought a large bag of sorrel there this weekend. Usually I raid my mother-in-law's plentiful supply from her garden, along with the garlic leaves and flowers, but as I was there, I though a few pounds for a plentiful bag was worth it.This recipe comes, originally from my mother-in-law Sue. She is to take all credit for it and it is so delicious, zest, clean and fresh tasting that I'm sharing it here. It's almost effortless to make and is everything good cooking should be. Simple, good ingredients, full of flavour all coming together to give you something more than the sum of its parts. No doubt, you could try it too with a bit of wild garlic added, or if you're unable to get sorrel, spinach, a splash of lemon and some nutmeg would be equally tasty, but I urge you to try as hard as you can to find this lemony, fresh leaf.Ingredients for twoA handful or two of sorrel leaves, any tough stems removed250ml double cream2 eggs. Duck eggs would be great as wellSalt and pepper to seasonThat really is all you need.MethodI have a steamer pan which is perfect for this, mine fits two steel ramekins on the steamer basket, but a tray on the hob filled with water and the eggs in ramekins on a trivet bain marie style works well too over a gentle heat. You could even poach them and transfer them to a ramekin if you fancy.However you choose to cook the eggs, they should be just past the point of runny-yolked, and not quite at the set point, so keep an eye on them.While they are gently cooking, Heat the cream to just below boiling in a saucepan and season it well. Put the sorrel in a blender and pour in the hot cream before blitzing to a vivid green sauce. Doing it this way keeps the colour bright. Taste and adjust the seasoning then pour over the eggs and just cook for a minute further to take away the rawness of the sorrel.Serve immediately with some sourdough toast and salad. I drizzled a little green chilli sauce on mine with a dash of rapeseed oil. Not enough to change the flavour, but just enough to tickle the tongue.

Sea aster time

    It's STILL the Easter holidays.The children have not stopped talking to me for two solid days. I think they must breathe through their ears. It's been a stream of consciousness/relentlessness that James Joyce would have struggled with.And from Joyce to Danté. We've just taken Charon's ferry to the new and as yet undiscovered circle of Hell called Gambado, a soft-play torture centre.While the sadistic and at the same time surely masochistic staff feed the crazed children sugary snacks, doubtless aware of the aftermath, all I can do is try and find a quiet corner (unlikely) and hide from their incredible energy levels like out of control hybrid chihuahua-mosquitoes.The children are having a complete riot. I still smell of prawns underlayed with a kind of lingering seaweed scent. No amount of aftershave can mask the possibility that Poseidon is decomposing under my chair.The reason for this is my need for an early lunch to fortify myself. I'd been to the Crystal Palace market on Saturday to visit my favourite fishmongers and support my friend Roberto of trufflestories.co.uk.The prawns wouldn't keep until today, so I'd frozen them when I got back. They were magnificent, and at £7 for two, while not cheap (and why should they be?) they are so much nicer, in my opinion, than lobster. I'd rather four of these, cooked in garlic butter than one small lobster any day.I'd also picked up a large handful of sea aster, reminiscent of samphire crossed with spinach. I bought a bag of truffle taglierini to go with them and that was all I needed. Cooking amazing food really can be this simple. Great ingredients and this dish was ready in about ten minutes, not taking into account the boiling of the pasta water. Make sure you wash your hands well after peeling the prawns and rootling about in the sea aster. Unless you like being chased by cats.Ingredients for two4 huge prawns, shell on50-60g truffle taglierini. If not, normal taglierini or angel hair spaghetti will do the job. God forbid, but you could possibly add a dash of white truffle oil if you were desparate for the funkiness of truffleA handful of sea aster1 large clove of garlic, crushedA pinch of chilli flakesA grating of nutmegExcellent quality olive oil. It really does make a difference hereMaldon salt to seasonMethodBring a large pan of salted water to the boil and cook the pasta until al dente. Drain and toss through with some olive oil.Meanwhile, cook the prawns in some olive oil with a little salt in a very hot sauté pan, then when done, add the garlic and cook for about a minute more on a slightly lower heat so you don't burn it.Throw in the sea aster and wilt it for a minute, give a good twist of nutmed and a pinch of salt to taste then mix through with the pasta. Serve immediately with another little drizzle of oil. 

Mind your onions.

They're home for the next few weeks because of the school Easter holidays. I have a glut of onions from a job the other day, so to annoy them, I've decided to peel them all as an excuse to make an onion tart. This should give me a little peace as they barricade themselves in their bedroom to stem the tears like two little sans-culottes against a tide of sulphurous soldiers.So far this week, I've managed to turn a trip to the DIY shop and the fitting of a new loo seat into a family activity and am already exhausted of ideas to entertain them. And while they watch Trolls for the billionth time, I wonder whether they would be willing to help me at least make the puff pastry before demanding I put on Moana, participate in another tea party,  take them on scooters to the park, go to the toy shop, go all over the world, fix things, stop one from looking at the other the wrong way, play Frozen Top Trumps or feed them MORE FOOD.You'd think they hadn't eaten for weeks the way they keep telling me every day how hungry they are from the moment I open my eyes after Maya's cries of "Dadddyy...? ... can you come and wipe my bum" to just before they clean their teeth for bed. And this is with me even feeding them their three meals a day...I do misrepresent them, they are, ninety-five percent of the time completely delicious, so instead of enlisting them as galley slaves, they went off to the cinema, I bought puff pastry from the shop and let the oven do the work while the house was calm for a while.You can cook the onions with the sunday roast if you like, they will keep for a day,  or you can slowly cook them in butter in a large sauté pan. I layed mine in a roasting dish, drizzled them with oil and butter a dash of balsamic and a few sprigs of thyme and rosemary, poured in a little veal stock and roasted them for about an hour and a half in the oven until soft, melting, rich and golden. Then all that remained was to put them in a pie dish, lay the pastry over the top, tucking them in tightly and putting them back in for half an hour or so, until the pastry was crisp and flaky. Cooled and turned out it sits on the side waiting to be served with a green salad and sharp dressing.IngredientsA bag of onions, peeled and halved equatorially1 sheet of ready rolled puff pastry (or homemade which is far superior, just depends on your mood or willingness)A few thyme and rosemary sprigsSome olive oil and butter100ml veal stock or beef or vegetable if you preferSalt and pepper to seasonMethodHeat the oven to gas 8, whatever that is in C. I generally just turn the oven on or off and turn it down a little if things are cooking to quickly and up a bit if too slowly.Put the onions, flat face up in a baking dish and add all the ingredients except the pastry.Cook in the oven for about an hour and a half, remove and leave to cool slightly. They should be soft, caramelising and golden.Place them in a large enough but snug sauté pan so they sit tightly then tuck over and in the pastry. Poke a little hole in the middle.Cook in the oven for 25-30 minutes, until the pastry is golden, puffed and crisp.Leave to cool a little then turn out onto a large plate. Serve warm.

Happy yeaster

 The dough has risen again after the first thirty minutes. I knocked it back with a gentle flick or two of the wrist and folded it in on itself a few times before shaping into a smooth ball.The soft, smooth, elastic dough felt good and I just knew it would be delicious when cooked on a firey hot griddle pan. The olive oil and yoghurt and the spoonful of sourdough starter added to the mixture has given it a silken tang and it gently springs back on itself when prodded.I leave it for another hour in the bowl by the warm oven, covered with clingfilm and check on it every now and then, watching it double and transform slowly before me.This is the joy of bread making. I get the most from it when I do it by touch and feel, judging the amount of flour or water needed by sight and how the wet  dough clings to my fingers or crumbles in my hand, needing more liquid. In my mind, it's a living thing that needs looking after and caring for until it's ready for the oven or pan. And when, miraculously, you've managed to keep a starter going for nearly two years, each loaf or dough feels that much more special.I have written a pitta bread recipe here before, and while that was more than good enough, this one has a few tweaks that I feel improve it. But I can guarantee that the next time it will again be different. Once you get the hang of feeling how the dough works, you can do what you want with it. You'll know when it's going to work or not.I cooked these on the griddle pan then finished them on the open gas flame, the bread bubbling and inflating here and there, smoking slightly, occasionally catching fire. Charred and hot, I covered one flatbread with a base made from crushed butter beans mixed with a tablespoon of harissa, some natural yoghurt, salt and pepper and some chopped parsley. On the still hot griddle pan. I charred some courgette slices with a little olive oil and ground cumin, well seasoned. A few chilli flakes wouldn't have gone amiss here, but I was too hungry by this point. Sliced there and then on the worktop, I ate it plateless and very inelegantly, in such a way that I would have told the children off for. However, they were still at school and they can eat theirs later, at the table.MethodIn a large bowl, mix together a good few handfuls of strong flour. If you want measurements, I'd say probably around 400g. To this, add a handful of semolina flour, about a tablespoon of fresh yeast, which you can get from most supermarkets. I just broke a cube of it in half and sprinkled that in. On the other side of the bowl, throw in a large pinch of salt. A chef's pinch, as it were, which is more like a small fistful...Add some olive oil, probably about 75ml, enough water to make a soft dough (this will be around 350ml), a tablespoon or two of natural yoghurt, and if you have it, some sourdough starter.Mix well until it comes together nicely and fold it in on itself a few times until you have a nice, pliable and soft dough that doesn't stick to your hands too much but also isn't flaky. A little like a soft pillow...Shape into a ball and leave covered in the bowl for half an hour. Punch it gently to deflate it and fold it around itself again a few times before reshaping into a ball, covering again and leaving for about an hour.Throw some semolina on the worktop, break off small balls of dough and roll them into thin circles about the size of a single. That's 7".Heat a griddle pan, cook the bread each side until starting to char and finish off on the gas flame if you have one. If not, never mind...Keep warm in a towel and finish the rest of the dough. Serve immediately with the butter bean mixture or some houmous or suchlike.