Hidden gems

The half term holidays are over and Noah and Maya have been pressed, polished and painted and sent back to school looking less like stig-of-the-dump and more like human children. Quite an achievement, I think.We spent the week in less of a rush than usual, a nice change to the routine and lovely to have the little blighters around more. Tuesday found us bowling. I'm sure it wasn't as obscenely expensive when I was a teenager, trying to look cool in my huge '80s clothes. Maybe it's me, or maybe every activity these days is genuinely out to fleece you for as much as possible. A child in the queue ahead of us had just vomited on the floor by the ticket desk. Whether or not that was excitement, overindulgence, or shock at the cost I'm not sure. The noise, wild-eyed children and flashing lights made me feel like doing the same.And then, 'Kidzania' at Westfield. A theme park where the children can pretend to do adult stuff and come to terms with the pointlessness of life. I think they enjoyed being window cleaners, surgeons, pilots, chocolatiers and chamber maids (Note to self: the last two sounds like a Mills and Boon novel. Possible book pitch?) They are now well prepared for working hard for almost no reward and then being ripped-off in the shops afterwards.The nicest things we did were the most wholesome (and free...). Pumpkin carving in a garden in Dalston, pumpkin carving at home, staying up late to watch Strictly with a big pile of homemade tacos to assemble yourself (spicy chicken, 'rockamoley' as Maya calls it, cajun spiced yoghurt, tomatoes, coriander and grated cheese) and eat on a rug on the floor.We've eaten quite a lot this week, having them around every day. The children helped me make a kind of brioche, poking chocolate buttons into the middle of each dough ball before dusting the top with Danish sugar crystals and chocolate flakes. We made chocolate brownies together too, sticky, gooey, dark and rich – they disappeared in a flash.One evening for supper I unleashed the Monte cristo sandwich on them. Fresh, homemade sourdough slathered in  butter and filled with cheese and ham and then fried on the griddle pan. They went in a flash too, I served them with a pile of tarragon and garlic green beans on the side trying to be a little healthy. I had to bribe the children to eat those.Noah's little eyes lit up when I asked him if he'd like a roast chicken on Sunday. I covered it with Parma ham, stuffed it with lemon, garlic and rosemary and served it with red peppers and turmeric roasted potatoes that came out a deep gold, crisp all over, fluffy and light in the middle. We followed this with a rhubarb and apple crumble – the children even helped peel the apples, Bramleys bigger than their little hands could hold. I had to finish the job for them the slackers – it was a perfect Sunday lunch.Midweek, Bee and I ate more chicken, this time with asparagus grilled in Parma ham (I see a theme here) and cooked with mirepoix, haricots, pearl barley, thyme, stock and lemon zest and juice. It was hearty and slightly celebratory feeling for a Wednesday. And on Saturday lunch we had today's recipe: sausages, firm gem squash like hand grenades, cooked to melting softness, chorizo cubes and more haricots. A one pot meal perfect to help you against the cold crisp days now the clocks have gone back and it's dark just after breakfast. All Autumnal and very, very cosy.Ingredients6 nice sausages, a little herby perhaps, but not too muchA tin of haricot beans, drained and rinsedAbout 15cm chorizo, cubedA sprig of rosemary4 banana shallots, peeled and finely sliced4 garlic cloves2 gem squash, quartered300ml water or chicken stockA scattering of pumpkin seedsSalt and pepper to seasonOlive oilMethodHeat the oven to gas 8 or about 190c. Nice and hot, anyway.Brown the sausages in a frying pan with a little oil then add the shallots, garlic and rosemary.Transfer this to a roasting dish and add the remaining ingredients. Mix about a bit and drizzle with some olive oil then season well.Cook in the oven for about 45 minutes, until the squash is soft.Serve with the juices poured over.This week:Read: Still bloody reading Middlemarch. Looks like it will be the middle of March before I finish it.Ate: Fruit kebabs made by the children and each one had a marshmallow in the middle. Delicious. They hate marshmallows it turns out, so I got the lot.Watched: Crawling our way through Fargo series three and the recent Cold Feet. Both are a bit of a struggle to maintain enthusiasm with. Bee's given up on Fargo. It's been early night's and book reading a lot recently, that's how we roll these days.Listened: 'Here's the thing'. Alec Baldwin interviewing Michael Pollan for his podcast.

Figment of the imagination

The sky was yellow, a Saharan dust covering London. A strange light and a weak red sun poking through. Perhaps this was a new and rather full-on marketing push for the new Bladerunner film, or maybe we are hurtling toward apocalypse now. I met a friend for supper that evening and the gloom meant we all scuttled indoors a little quicker than usual. We eat steak tartare, prepared tableside by a crisp black and white linen-ed and desiccated waiter then hurried back to our homes.Summer is now well on it's way to the other side of the world and autumn has properly pulled the duvet over us. Soon, the woolly hats and gloves will be on and we can be justified in not leaving the house until March.It's a strange feeling, the desire to go to bed at six in the evening and the sure mistake of the alarm going off at what seems like the middle of the night. The clocks will soon change, giving us a little more light in the early morning for about a week before we sink ankle deep into winter. I hope the farmers are grateful as we all finish our afternoons with night vision goggles on, stepping over the bodies of run-over school children.There are still some green leaves clinging desperately onto the branches of the tree today as I look outside the sitting room window. Most of the other branches around are bare and I swear I just saw a pigeon with a scarf on. But as civilisation comes to an end around us and turnips are the only thing that will still grow, I still insist on serving a green salad at almost every meal. The children have a bowl of it tossed with mustardy vinaigrette to eat before I give them their supper. We don't live in an American restaurant, it just keeps them quiet for a bit and they wolf it down. I should stop wearing a frilly apron and serving them bottomless mugs of coffee though.This week saw me grate half a clove of garlic into my usual dressing. This is what is passing for excitement in our house at the moment. We are all pretty tired now, and half term hasn't come soon enough. The children need a rest and we are grateful for the change of pace it brings. Although we now find ourselves, with unbelievable inconvenience, having to feed them three meals a day plus occasional snacks and seek out entertainment.This Sunday morning though, the children let us sleep until quarter to nine before waking us up to complain of hunger. They then retired to their room to tidy their drawers for two hours, as if possessed by Mary Poppins. Ours was not to reason why, so I read the paper alone in peace while Bee read her book in bed drinking tea. Unsettling.But by the time evenings come around and the children are in bed, supper sometimes seems a huge effort. It's more often than not something I can throw into one pan and leave to do it's thing, such as the hearty haricot and chorizo stew we had early in the week. or a tray of chipped sweet potato, sprinkled liberally with garam masala and chilli flakes, roasted in the oven with a couple of bream, olive oil, fat garlic cloves and cherry tomatoes that had started to explode in the heat.One night, I found a bag of figs, now perfectly ripe (one overly so and destined for the bin), some very ripe Rocamadour goat's cheese that you could smell from France and some slices of a sourdough loaf. A little honey, olive oil, salt and pepper and a pinch of fresh parsley was enough to satisfy the evening hunger. Simple, good ingredients made something far more than the some of their parts and figs, well they are practically the flavour of Christmas aren't they?This week:Watched: Finally getting around to Fargo season three. Perfectly wintery, and the Minnesota accent is so great.Read: Still reading Middlemarch. And I fear I shall be for some time yet. Lincoln in the Bardo sits on my bedside table and the pile of books I want to read is growing longer than there are years left to read them.Listened to: The Omen on Radio 4 iPlayer. A perfect example of an epic child's tantrum.Eat: Steak Tartare in 1980s Toremolinos, or rather La Barca, Lower Marsh. Methi chicken at Lahore Karahi in Tooting. Pakistani canteen food better than most, quick, friendly and a great place to top up the spice levels. They promise a "genuine spicy taste", so you'd hope they deliver. And they do.

The Jam

There are some days when I am rather overambitious in bringing home more food than I really know what to do with. I've got better over the years, and now, if I am spending a day working on aubergine recipes, for example, I no longer end up with a grocer's shops-worth of them. I give them to my neighbours instead.And this was the case yesterday, as I returned from a shoot with rather more soft fruits than a person could need, even a person with a Maya in their family who probably would raze a raspberry field to the ground like a plague of sweet toothed locusts.Today, as the boxes of raspberries sat gently pooling into juice on the kitchen bench I decided to do as any 1950's housewife would and make jam. That way, I could keep the abundance of fruit in jars taking up exactly the same amount of space, but not rotting and then being thrown away. We really do need a bigger kitchen. Or a food storeroom.This is quick and easy - it took about ten minutes to make, then a good few hours cooling and setting - a great success for jam novices. Sterilise two jam jars just beforehand. It's best to put the hot jam into hot jars. That way you won't be smashing glass with thermal shock and putting the whole lot in the bin.Ingredients300g raspberries50g blueberries100g jam sugarMethodPut the fruit in a heavy-based pan with the sugar on top. Boil the fruit until soft then mash up a little, stirring in the sugar which will have warmed up quite a lot on top of the fruit.Bring back to the boil and using a pastry brush dipped in hot water brush around the inside of the pan where the sugar is sticking. This will stop the jam crystallising and being grainy.Boil gently for about ten minutes and try to resist stirring too much.If you have a sugar thermometer, it should reach about 104c. That's when it's ready. If not, put a plate in the fridge and after ten minutes, put a blob of jam on the plate and see if it sets. If it does, it's ready. If it doesn't, it's not.Pour into the jam jars and put the lids on. Leave to cool. They should keep for about a month.

Wings of desire

 "What's this terrible music you've got on?" asks Bee as she comes in the door."A seminal '90s album" I tell her, one eyebrow arched."Turn it off."It's about four in the afternoon, and I have returned from collecting the children from school. Noah has asked to put 'Ten' by Pearl Jam on the record player. I am more than happy to oblige, trying to ignore the probable reality that it is only because the vinyl is blue rather than my seven year old son has a keen love for one of Seattle's finest. You take what you can get with the children, I've discovered.We switch to The Beatles at a rather more sedate volume and concentrate ourselves on the task of making buttercream for an afternoon cake. My quest for the children's musical education continues a few days later as I have them folding the laundry while listening to Hendrix. Baby steps, and with hope, a little encouragement to subversiveness in life. As long as they've helped around the house a little...A few days later, on the way to school, I try to instill a little deviation from the routine by walking past the enormous slide in the park. With a little glint in my eye I ask if they want to have a quick go, running the ever so slight risk we may not arrive exactly on the dot of the bell ringing. Maya runs off like a hare out of the trap while Noah's eyes widen in fear. He stands rooted like one of the trees with it's reddening autumn leaves. A rabbit caught in the headlights.I drop them at their classrooms on time and return home with an enormous sense of wellbeing. And then I'm happy for the rest of the day.The chicken wings in this recipe are not the type that the parks and streets of London are paved with, but more of a spicy and exciting snack that sits well with family tacos or as an illicit supper when you're cooking for yourself and fancy some food that is, according to Bee "most definitely not a date night meal." They go really well in the evening with Pearl Jam. Quiet enough to not wake the children obviously. How very rock n' roll.Ingredients8 free-range chicken wingsFor the chicken marinade:A glug of sesame oil2 garlic cloves, grated2cm ginger, gratedA splash of rice vinegarA splash of fish sauce2tsp ground turmericA large pinch of Japanese pepper (or black pepper if you prefer)A splash of soy sauce1tbsp black and white sesame seedsFor the quick kimchi pickle:1 mini cucumberA few radishesA spring onion1 or 2 green chilliesA good splash of rice vinegar1tbsp Gochujang2tsp coconut sugar (or other sugar. It's all the same. I just had some to use up)A pinch of saltMethodMarinate the wings for up to 24 hours (or at least four hours)Grill until cooked through and starting to char, turning occasionally and spooning over the marinade every so often.Thinly slice the pickle vegetables and whisk together the vinegar, gochujang, sugar and salt. Mix the vegetables into this and leave to rest while the chicken cooks.Serve the wings with a sprinkle of sesame seeds, the kimchi pickle and a lot of napkins. This is a terrifically messy and delicious dish.This week:Watched: The final episode of Doctor Foster. Preposterous nonsense. I can't work out if I loved it or hated it. I'm leaning toward the latter. Started Fargo, series threeRead: Finished Christ stopped at Eboli by Carlo Levi; The New Yorker; A feature about Hassidic Jews moving to Canvey Island in the Observer; Started Middlemarch by George Eliot. We shall see how that goes...Listened to: Fleet Foxes latest album. Nice to have on in the background while writing, although I'm sure they would take offence to that... Neil Young, 'Hitchhiker', Soundtrack to '8 1/2'Eat: Pop Brixton, nice tacos, unfriendly bao. Devastated that Kricket has closed there. Lahore Karahi, Tooting. Excellent chicken methi, deep and flavourful dahl, tasty lamb chops and seekh kebabs. And only £25 for two...

Cod willing

Clearly there is absolutely no need to salt and preserve fish here in South East London in 2017. There is also no need in many of the Mediterranean restaurants you may find yourself in as none of us travel in galleons for months on end with only a goat and a cabin boy for company any more.However, it persists, as do many dishes that were born from necessity. Preserving and fermenting is and has been a way of life for thousands of years, so I'm not going to knock it. A life without pickled cucumbers would be a sad thing to live.I always salt salmon, cod and haddock fillets for at least 15 minutes before cooking to firm the flesh and draw out the proteins that coagulate when the fish is heated. But here, I salted the cod with herb salt and left it for an hour and a half to become as taut and firm as a mountain goat's buttock. It needed a good rinse before cooking, there is a fine balance between salty and inedible.Of course, you could just use fresh cod (or another firm and flaky white fish), but I think the texture contrast against the onion and potato is worth that little extra step. Capers would also make a sharp entrance to the dish if you prefer them to gherkins. Entirely up to you. Whatever you decide, this dish – once the fish is ready to cook – takes less than ten minutes to prepare. Perfect for a lunch on the stormy seas.Ingredients for two2 cod loin fillets, about 150g eachRather a lot of fine salt to cover the fish (you can use table salt or fine sea salt if you must, but the herb salt does add flavour)2 Anya potatoes, thinly sliced - about the thickness of a thick coin1/2 a red onion, peeled and sliced super thin2tsp yuzu juice (or lemon juice)2-3 tablespoons – I assume, having just poured some in – of tarragon vinegar4 or so tablespoons of olive oil (see above)A small handful of chopped parsley. I prefer curly for the textureA tablespoon of chopped chivesA little Maldon saltA good twist or two of pepper (I often use Japanese pepper with fish for its citrus flavour)A couple of sliced large gherkinsA pinch of ground turmeric and chilli powder to finishMethodSalt the fish all over in a wide bowl and cover with clingfilm. Leave for at least an hour, two if you want, but you really must rinse it well after. You could put it under gently running water for about ten minutes if you want to be sure.Pat dry and set aside.If you are organised, you will have done the next bit while the fish was soaking. If not, you can do it now.Cook the sliced potatoes, just covered, in salted, boiling water until soft but still with a little bite. Drain and set aside to cool and dry a little.Mix the onion, parsley, chives, vinegar, oil and yuzu and leave to gently rest a little so the onions become softer and loose a little of their rawness. Season carefully with a pinch of salt and the pepper.Heat the oven to high, I have a gas oven so most of the time I just turn it up to full and pay attention to the food. However, 8 minutes at 180c is about right. You can test the 'doneness' of fish by inserting a metal skewer into the middle then putting it against your wrist. Cold is under cooked, warm is cooked and hot is overcooked, by which point it's too late.Put each fillet on a plate and press it down to separate it into flakes. Mix the potatoes with the vinaigrette and pour over the fish. Top with a sliced gherkin and a sprinkle of the turmeric and chilli powder to serve.

The wiener takes it all

It's that time of year when the low-sun sky dazzles my eyes at every street corner and I have to walk with an arm half-raised in defence. Sadly the raised arm technique has not stopped the attack of the seasonal cold that this house is full of.It's at times like this that we need an old Italian nonna come round daily and look after us, feed us and let us revert to child-like states while she takes care of everything. Sadly, this is not going to happen. At least the children, thank God, are not too ill to go to school. Yet.Last week I eat more food cooked by others that by me. Not through choice, but through circumstance. Sautéed mushrooms tossed with Parmesan and served on a crisp disc of polenta; layers of aubergine with pecorino, honey and pinenuts; octopus with green lentils and romesco sauce; asparagus with crisp-coated egg and wild garlic (seasonal right?!) and a delicious Sunday lunch sat outside in the warmth of a sunny September afternoon with family and friends over (escaping?) from The U.S of A.Sue cooked us all tender and pink beef fillet, a Persian salad studded with pomegranate seeds, the dressing creamy and richly coating the cucumber. A huge bowl of kasha meant I could happily fill up, denying myself nothing as my September free of bread, rice, pasta and potatoes and sugar nears its climax. I averted my eyes as the ice cream, damson fool and homemade almond biscuits were passed around. I could eat ice cream until the cows came home and started churning their own milk, but for now, drastic measures are in place as I slowly come to the realisation that my metabolism is not that of an 18 year old. And as much as I admire Pavarotti, it's for his voice, not his girth.What I did cook was a simple tomato and egg curry, using the tomato 'sugo' leftover from the children's pasta a previous night, as a base. A pile of chickpea flatbreads mopped up the sauce and baby courgettes quickly sautéed in garlic gave some crunch.Another night saw me top some southern fried chicken fillets with a fried egg, some chopped cornichons and crisp chorizo cubes in a strangely tasty emergency supper. If you squint, you could pretend it was a schnitzel a la Holstein... It's been one of those weeks.So in tribute to the American visitors (some tribute, eh?), the fact I have a massive bag of cornmeal to get through and not much more reason than that I had a bag of hot dogs in the fridge which I thought the children may enjoy, here is a trashy-in-the-extreme recipe for corn dogs. I love them — mainly for the fact they make me feel I'm walking the streets of New York city or sitting in a car park at the ball game — but the children peeled the batter away and just eat the sausages. They may have thought I was turning into a the 'dangerous cook' that Bruce from America said of his mother. I closed my eyes and tried not to think of battered saveloys from the chippy.Ingredients8 hot dogs200 fine cornmeal150ml milk50ml buttermilk1 egg, beatenSalt and pepper, a large pinch and a twist1tsp ground turmeric gives it a healthy colour1/2tsp bicarbonate of sodaRapeseed or groundnut oil for fryingFor the chutney12 cherry tomatoes, halved and quartered randomly2tbsp chopped coriander1 clove of garlic1tbsp tarragon vinegar (or cider vinegar)2tbsp olive oilFor the avocado1 avocado, crushed with a fork to which added the juice and zest of half a lime and one chopped cherry tomato. Season well with salt and pepperMethodMix together the batter ingredients and leave to rest for about ten minutes.Lay the hotdogs on kitchen paper to dry well so the batter doesn't slide off.Make the chutney by cooking the ingredients in a small saucepan on quite a high heat until the tomatoes start to soften and collapse. Turn off the heat and leave to cool a little.Pour the batter into a tall glass, like a highball and cut the hot dogs in half.Stick each one on a skewer that is not too long to fit in a large sauté pan.Heat about two centimetres of oil in a large sauté pan to about 180c.Dip a hot dog in the batter, turning and twisting it until well covered. Let the drips fall off then gently lay it in the hot oil.Turn it over after about five seconds and cook on all sides for about five minutes. You should be able to do two or three in the pan at the same time. Be careful to cook them evenly on all sides so the batter is golden and crisp. Be gentle with them too, you don't want to knock the batter off.Drain on kitchen paper and serve with the chutney and avocado and a sprinkle of coriander.I would also highly recommend American mustard with these (Frank's is my favourite), and when I say highly recommend, I mean do it.Read: Christ Stopped at Eboli by Carlo Levi, the account of his banishment to a Southern Italian village by the fascists. Brilliantly and gently written, a portrait of poverty full of warmth.Saw: Mummies at the British Museum. Overwhelming place, mainly fascinating and occasionally a load of old jugs. Seen one dirty pot you've seen them all...Lawrence of Arabia at the British Film Institute. Brand new print of this enormously long film. So long there was an interval and as magnificent as it was, I think a part of me is still attached to the seat.Eat: Chinese hot pot skewers from Chinatown. I had beef tripe, fish cartwheel (?!), pig intestine (quite a little funky if I'm honest), fried beancurd and cuttlefish. A little broth and coriander coated them and the heat from the chilli was spot on, enough to be a little painful but not too much to overpower.Listened: Accidentally to Camille while trying to put The Archers on; Jorja Smith on Jules 'Boogie-woogie' Holland's programme. Mesemerising. Mac Demarco a Canadian chap. Rather good.

Corn and bread

30 days hath September, and each is a waste of time. What is its point? Nothing more than a doorway to pass from summer to autumn. It is a nothing month, back to school, no holidays, no season. A pause before Hallowe'en and bonfire night.September is not quite autumn, the dregs of summer. Not yet the crisp blue skies and golden-orange leaves. There is the promise of conkers to come, but mainly the ground is a sludgy brown.So really, the only thing for it is to hole up at home, light some candles and the fire and wait under the duvet until October. That's how it is in London anyway. I'm sure it's beautiful in Vermont.And with that to consider, here is some comforting cornbread to sustain you through the bleakness. I've added cherry tomatoes, olives and oregano to this one to give a little hint of Italy. The bread is quite dense and chewy, so is best served with something creamy or saucy. It would be an absolutely perfect match with meatballs in tomato sauce. I had it with slices of ham, soft cheese and some more roasted tomatoes. For the children, I trashily fried slices in butter until the edges were crisp and poured over baked beans and melting cheese. That was a win.Ingredients350g fine cornmeal4g Maldon salt315ml milk2 eggs70g cherry tomatoes, halved1tsp ground turmeric1tbsp dried oreganoA pinch of chilli flakes5 black kalamata olives, torn (you could easily double this if you like)30ml olive oil100ml buttermilk (or natural yoghurt)1tsp baking powderMethodHeat the oven to 180c.Whisk all the ingredients together in a large bowl until you have a smooth batter.Leave to rest for about five minutes then pour into a cast iron skillet or pan and bake in the oven for 45 minutes, or until set fairly firm.Leave to cool for a few minutes and serve.

Sea bass, celeriac rémoulade

Two weeks into September and I think we are just about surfacing from the shock of returning to real life after a leisurely August with the children attached to our legs 24 hours a day.While it's great they are back at school with their pals, the Stockholm syndrome we've developed for our captors has left the days quieter and although we are back full steam with work, I miss having them around all the time.Still, it will be half term before we know it, then Christmas, then the summer holidays again, then all of a sudden they will have graduated from University. (Assuming of course we somehow manage to find a million dollars in a jacket pocket to pay for it).But the end of summer brings my favourite season, and while I look happily toward autumn, it has this year somehow managed to bring a fruit fly colony into the house. I suppose this is what happens if you go away having forgot to empty the bin before going away for the week, but honestly, it's ridiculous. It may be necessary to knock the whole place down and rebuild. I honestly don't know where they keep on coming from. Roll on the cold, with hope that'll do for them.I'm also now two weeks into a no carb and no sugar month. And while dutifully making the family a weekly sourdough and other loaves, filling the Saturdays with the smell of freshly baking bread, I'm coping well. The sugar part seems remarkably easy for some reason, but I do really miss the bread. And I'm not counting the bowl of pasta I had at the River Cafe. I mean, you can't go there and not have a pasta dish, but it has to be worth it as an exception, and that was most definitely worth it.So by the end of September, hopefully feeling a little lighter around the middle I will be looking forward to tucking in to a fresh crusty loaf straight from the oven. In the meantime, pearl barley and chickpeas are filling in place of rice and pasta (gram flour flatbreads are excellent with dhal).Last night's supper was this incredibly quick and simple fish with celeriac rémoulade. A fresh and flavoursome dish that just feels summery enough to complement the fading evening light but with the earthy celeriac nodding a quick acknowledgement at the gold autumn knock tapping at the window. And the fish only takes four minutes to cook, which I'm pretty sure makes this even less work than a quick bowl of pasta on a frazzled Wednesday evening.Ingredients for two2 seabass fillets, scored lightly on the skin1tsp turmeric powder1tsp seaweed flakes (such as these)A pinch of herb salt (or Maldon salt if you haven't any)1/2 small celeriac, peeled and cut into matchsticks, preferably on a mandoline, but you could grate them or spend half an hour finely slicing it if you are a masochist.3tbsp mayonnaise, homemade the usual way preferable, but if not Delouis is a good one2tbsp Dijon mustard1 red chilli, slicedJapanese pepper to season (I like this for its slightly lemony flavour. You can buy it online here)Maldon salt (or similar) to seasonJuice of half a lemon1tbsp yuzu juice (optional)1tsp tarragon vinegar (Make your own by sticking sprigs in a bottle of cider vinegar)1tbsp chopped fresh tarragon1tbsp chopped young thyme leavesA handful of pancetta, cooked in a frying pan until crisp, keep the rendered fat in the pan for cooking the fishA little fresh parsley to finishMethodMix together the rémoulade ingredients and leave to sit for half an hour. Don't make it too far ahead or it will be soggy and claggy like a mouthful of wet paper.Heat the pan you cooked the bacon in until nice and hot but not smoking. Season the fish all over with the turmeric, seaweed and salt then gently lay them into the pan skin-side down so they crackle and spit. Leave for a couple of minutes until the skin is golden and crisp then gently flip them over and turn the heat off.Leave to cook in the pan for another minute or two while you put the remoulade onto plates.Top with the fish and serve straight away with a sprinkle of parsley and a sharply dressed butterhead salad.This week:Watched: Arena - 'Death on the Staircase' on BBC iPlayer. Amazing documentary about a man on trial for the murder of his wife. Gripping. Also started series two of 'Top of the Lake' which you have to say in an Irish accent.Saw: Giacometti at Tate Modern. Or "those thin spindly people?" as Bee asked. Great to see so much of it all in the same rooms. Even if they all do look the same and his paintings all look like he's in charge of passport photography. Also, the Rothko room. I remember, back in the mists of time when I was an Art student being able to sit in that room, then at the original Tate gallery, alone and in silence. This time it was packed; a disappointment. I think they are best seen on your own.Read: Finished 'Tale of Two cities. God that was boring. Started 'Death in the Olive Grove' an Italian crime novel set in the '60s, excellent, well written with full characters and a welcome relief from the sludge that was Dickens.Ate: River Café. Faultless, if eye-wateringly expensive. Chit Chaat Chai, fun and bustling Indian street food in a restaurant.  ('Railway' curry, pani puri, okra fries, daal, chilli wings)Drank: White Darjeeling snowbud from Vahdam company. Delicate and rather calming.Listened: The Allman Brothers, 'In Memory of Elizabeth Reed'. The War on Drugs 'Lost in the Dream', The Doors 'The Crystal Ship'.

Not the outdoor type

What if something's on t.v. and its never shown again?*

So that's it. Summer's almost gone. Any warm weather from now on is a bonus, not an Indian summer. As far as I'm concerned, it's autumn and time to light even more candles and draw the blinds and curtains shut, delighting at the dying of the light.We have just ended the summer holidays with a week in a field. And although we had a spacious yurt to stay in, it was still in a field. This meant a four hour walk with a wheelbarrow to do some bad washing up and a full blown existential crisis while even contemplating washing of bodies.Not keen on walking to the loo in the middle of the night, which to be honest was little more than a sawdust-filled hole surrounded by a fence, I may or may not have gone really back to nature. And it was a lovely way to check on the stars, which were out of this world, even if half naked and glasses-less may have made me rush my normally contemplative astronomical gazing.But there really is something wonderful about sausage, egg and bacon eaten with your bare feet in the mid-morning dew. The warmth of the gas barbecue ring for the kettle defrosting all of us like mammoths found beneath the ice. I honestly can't remember ever having been so cold, and I've been to Newcastle.A fire each night kept us warm for a while, we toasted marshmallows. No-one but me liked them, which I don't understand. They are like really trashy creme brulées on a stick. Sort of. And obviously the heat is enough to remove fingerprints. Still, you need your kicks when sleeping in a field.When the rest of the family left me to go inside, complaining, I stared at the sky for some time, thinking big thoughts, watching the moon slowly move through the night and the three constellations I can recognise slowly appear. Then, when I could no longer feel my limbs and face, I went inside and we listened to the episodes of The Archers we managed to download in the nearby town.Food had to be simple. One night we had steaks, cooked directly on the flames (which, in a huge chest beating moment of manliness I had managed to get going by using dried corn husks as kindling thanks very much). An onion tossed fully skinned into the embers came out soft, sweet and smoky and the mushrooms, cooked quickly with sage went down very well with Noah. Maya had chopped them all for us, but refused to eat them.We stewed some rhubarb too, for pudding. Noah chopped it and loaded it into one of the big cast-iron pans. How I love them. (The pans. Quite fond of the children too I suppose). Apart from the stringy fibres, which I forgot to remove, it was delicious. I used an indecent amount of sugar, but you have to really.We made mint and sage tea while the children learned to build shelters and light fires. Noah didn't think much of it, but at least he tried it. Maya looked at me from under suspicious eyebrows and backed silently away. And I kept thinking "these are the good old days."But, there is a certain relief of a whole night spent in your own bed, once back home. Even if there are no hooting owls. And to be honest, I can do without the moos in the middle of the night too. Perhaps it was the cows getting their own backs for the steaks we had eaten.*Evan DandoThis week:Watched: Despicable Me 3. I liked it. It was ok. I didn't like it. The children did though, and to be honest, a rainy day in Norfolk needs some diversions.Read: Halfway through A Tale of Two Cities. Each page is an exercise in perseverance, but on I go...Eaten: Steaks on a fire, marshmallows, lots of crisps and shortbread, a screaming drive down to our favourite Indian restaurant the moment we arrived home...Listened to: The Beatles 1967-70 that Noah found in a record shop and Miles Davis while I drank coffee and read the New Yorker on our sofa marvelling at electricity and having a sink inside.

Spinach and ricotta ravioli

Please send food. Dear God, get me away from this buffet.As the Jadrilinija ferry passes by us from the small port on the mainland to the island of Korcula yet again, it relentlessly marks the passing of another hour and washes us with an existential crisis in its wake. We grimly load up our plates from the groundhog day buffet, repeating an endless doom laden meal as if condemned to eat fatty garlic sausage and rubbery scrambled eggs for breakfast every day for eternity.Still, the children liked it. But what do they know? They eat frozen pizza with relish, or perhaps that should be gusto. And I don't wish to sound spoilt, a two week holiday in the sun, the chance to read a lot of books and occasionally dip into the water was welcome, but food plays such an important part of a holiday. When there is nothing much else to do, meals become almost as exciting to look forward to as Christmas. And then when you get another woolen jumper from your gran that she knitted herself while drunk and asleep, the disappointment is crushing.Yet there were a couple of high points food-wise. Some of the fish was excellent. Smoky, thick amberjack steaks cooked on the fire and a slow cooked lamb and veal stew. There was also a pretty good octopus salad and the bag of pretzels from the shop was tasty. These meals were courtesy of the restaurants up the road, and although few and far between, they at least meant I wouldn't forever condemn Croatian cooking as nothing but spinach and potatoes mixed together and served with a bit of dry meat or pallid fish.The real winner was a dish I will remember for a long time. Up in the hills, looking over the channel, I had a huge plate of devil fish carpaccio, served with lemon oil and a fine dusting of grated black truffle. The setting and the flavours were perfect.Now we are back, I am so grateful to be back in my kitchen again. Good food isn't difficult to make so I'm always amazed when so little care and attention goes into food you get served by so-called chefs.This recipe is one of my favourites and goes a little way toward reminding me what good simple food can be. Don't be scared of making your own pasta, it's really easy. Just make sure you let it rest after making it to let it become silky and elastic and that you roll it thinly enough so it isn't like chewing through a tennis ball. A pasta roller is, therefore, a good investment. If you don't have one, a rolling pin and good arm muscles is all you need. Just think of all those nonnas in Italy. World champion arm wrestlers, they are... And perhaps next year, that's where we'll go.Ingredients1 small tub of ricotta2 small bags baby spinachZest of a lemonA handful of cashews, choppedSaltFor the pasta:500g strong flour4 eggs2 egg yolksSaltServe with excellent olive oil, basil leaves and lots of grated Parmesan.MethodMake the pasta by blitzing the eggs, yolks, flour and salt together into a sandy breadcrumb texture in a food processor then knead gently into a dough. Or, if you prefer, make a flour volcano, crack the eggs and yolks into the middle with the salt and bring it together very quickly into a dough. Wrap in clingfilm then chill in the fridge for at least half an hour.Make the filling by quickly cooking the spinach and squeezing out as much water as you can.Chop the spinach and mix well with the lemon zest, nuts and ricotta then season well. Add a little squeeze of lemon juice if you like.Roll the pasta out as thinly as possible and use a pastry cutting circle to cut into raviolo. Cover them with a damp cloth to stop them drying out.Put a tablespoon full on half the circles leaving a gap around the edge.Brush around with some beaten egg or milk and top with the remaining discs.Squeeze together the edges and try to not trap any air inside the parcels.Bring a large pan of heavily salted water to the boil and cook the pasta for three or four minutes until done.Drain and serve immediately.

Scallop risotto with seaweed stock and pickled fennel

It's hard to go wrong with food if you add an indecent amount of cheese and butter to it. Even cheese and butter are improved by the addition of cheese and butter. Notable exceptions to this theory may be ice cream, breakfast cereal, avocados and possibly bananas.And I don't care if people say cheese and seafood are not acceptable plate-fellows. I can name fish pie, lobster thermidor, butter and cheese on bread with a whole crab stuck on top as a few examples. The last one may be made up.This risotto is for summer, when the pangs for comfort food overpower the desire for light meals in the languorous warm evenings. Usually, rich and creamy dishes are reserved for the darkness of winter when all you want is to hole up with a book and candlelight. This version though, with it's sharp fennel, refreshing cucumber and peppery pinches of radish is surprisingly light.The seaweed in the stock and the scallops, caramelised and firm are more like a hot crab-shack summer lunch than a meal eaten wearing bearskins trousers and stoking the wood on the fire. The pickling isn't really pickling as such, more a quick souse in vinegar and a dash of honey and herbs, but it gives this dish the sharpness and crunch it needs against the comforting softness of the rice.I used vialone nano rice here, I prefer its bite, but feel free to use whatever risotto you have on hand. And if you don't like scallops, well, you could use prawns too. Seaweed is easy to get hold of online and in health food shops these days and is well worth keeping in stock. I often use it when cooking fish to give sauces or poaching liquid a little more of the hint of the ocean. It may seem like there are a few bonkers ingredients here, and quite a lot of other ones, but if you get it all prepped, it's a really easy dish that is pretty impressive and tastes delicious.Ingredients200g risotto rice such as vialone nano or carnaroli1 onion, finely sliced1 large clove of garlic, finely chopped850ml water, brought to the boil1tbsp dried seaweed flakes (optional)1 piece dried kombu2tbsp dried wakameA good dash of olive oil1tbsp yuzu dressing (or lemon juice)5-6 scallops per person and butter to cook them inA large pinch of Japanese pepperSalt to seasonA handful of chopped parsleyA bit more butter than you think is necessaryA handful of grated ParmesanFor the fennel salad topping1 bulb of fennel, thinly sliced (keep the fronds for garnish)A few radishes, finely slicedA couple of baby cucumbers, thinly sliced1/2 grapefruit, flesh only, cubedSome more yuzuA few sprigs of dill4tbsp tarragon infused cider vinegar (you really should have some of this in your cupboard. It's the only vinegar to use for vinaigrette)A dash of olive oil1tbsp honeySalt and more Japanese pepperMethodMake the fennel salad first by combining the fennel, radish, cucumber and grapefruit in a large bowl and pour over the vinegar, honey, oil, yuzu, salt and pepper and mix well. Set aside.Put the seaweed in a large jug and fill with the 800ml of boiling water. Leave to steep for ten minutes.Season and sauté the onions in olive oil until translucent then add the garlic and cook for another minute. Add the rice and stir well until coated with oil and starting to ever so slightly toast.Add a ladleful of your hot, homemade sea water and stir until absorbed. Keep doing this until all the stock has been absorbed and the rice is tender and creamy. Taste and season. Add the butter and cheese and stir in while vigorously shaking the pan. Throw in the parsley, pepper and yuzu, stir, add a little more stock to loosen if necessary (it should be fluid, not stiff and claggy). Put a lid on and set aside while you cook the scallops.Heat some butter (yes, more) in a sauté pan and cook the scallops, seasoned with salt and pepper, on high heat on each side for about a minute.Divide the risotto between four bowls, top with the scallops and some of the fennel salad and fronds, pour over some of the pickling dressing and serve immediately with the remaining salad on the side. 

Strawberry, white chocolate and basil summer sponge

With only a minute to spare, we burst through the doors of the seventeenth century formal rooms into the wedding of an old friend. Maya, freshly pressed in her brand new dress still smelled faintly of sick. She had parted company with her breakfast just as we entered Richmond park (its roads lined with wooden spikes –possibly for the heads of drivers who tried to stop ANYWHERE– and no laybys) in a queue of cars and what appeared to be a lost peloton from the Tour de France. Finding a children's clothes shop with ten minutes to go before the ceremony was like Challenge Anneka. (An eighties tv show, for those of you who didn't have my childhood).I was returning to an almost normal heart rate. The petrol situation in the car would have to be dealt with later. The light had come on just as we left the house. Every mile to the venue was like driving with the sword of Damocles swinging above us; but we were there at least.The last wedding we went to, two or three years ago involved me screeching up to the steps of Brighton town hall kicking Bee and Maya out of the car, wheel-spinning off to find somewhere to park with Noah having a meltdown in the back because he didn't get to go with mummy and was stuck with purple-faced daddy. I hope no-one else I know gets married again. It's too stressful.And this leads me to another marriage which is far easier to prepare, less stressful to get to and, with hope, doesn't involve being sick. Strawberries, white chocolate and basil go so well together, and this flan is so simple to make. It looks far more impressive than the amount of work it takes to make so is perfect for a summer weekend tea-time treat and the children loved it.Ingredients2 eggs55g golden caster sugar55g strong flourSeeds from a vanilla podStrawberries, as many as fit on the base, about a punnet's worth, depending on their sizeA fig or two, quartered1 plum, quarteredWhite chocolate shavings2tbsp pistachios, choppedSome basil leaves to finish1tbsp atomised strawberries (freeze-dried and optional)For the glaze2tbsp raspberry jam1tbsp honey2tsp waterMethodHeat the oven to 190c and butter a 18cm flan tinWhisk the eggs, vanilla and sugar in a bowl over a pan of simmering water until light and airy then remove from the heat and gently fold in the flour.Bake in the oven for about 20 minutes, until golden and springy.Leave to cool on a wire rack.Top with the fruit and nuts, cover with the glaze then add the basil, dried strawberries and chocolate leaves and serve.

Chilli and lime corn on the cob

I've been working much more than usual this week which has turned the children into faint outlines in my memory for whom I have to make packed lunches for early in the morning and clean out the ravaged lunchboxes in the evening when they get back from summer club.

Bee is taking over the lunch duties this week as she has now given up on work for August and I'm thrilled. As if getting up in the morning isn't traumatic enough, trying to cram some limp ham into a few slices of bread to an orchestra of dissatisfaction at the lack of lunch imagination is not my idea of a gentle start to the day. I'm always dissapointed my morning doesn't begin to the gentle wafting of a string quartet's notes to rouse me, followed by coffee, perhaps a rose-scented madeleine or two and a freshly ironed newspaper. Every bedtime I'm full of childish and futile hope that the morning will one day surprise me. Perhaps when we go on holiday.

Saturday saw me though, in the spirit of being pampered, undergoing a little shiatsu to unlock the 'qi' that I thought had been thrown away a long time ago, or at least lost somewhere behind the sofa. Her verdict was my hands were very tense. Although mostly I was tense at how close she was to the fruit and veg department, and how she seemed to enjoy kneading my bottom rather enthusiastically, leading to worries of the wind section stating to play at any time without warning. But, eventually I relaxed. And after a long, lazy afternoon like that, you don't want to sully yourself with long and complicated meals. Sometimes, a quick ham and egg on toast makes a great supper, sometimes a quick bowl of pasta with butter and cheese.

This recipe fits those moments perfectly if you're not after a huge feast but fancy something interesting. It also makes a perfect side dish for a barbecue too, so suit yourself. Bee introduced this to me a few years ago and it's as delicious and trashy as ever. No-one really needs mayonnaise and cheese together on a corn on the cob, but once you've tried it, it's hard to go back. And if you've recently had to be peeled off the ceiling after a small Polish woman has prodded you in spots that felt like she was using an electric cow poker you may need a little treat like this.

Ingredients
1 corn on the cob per person
A good handful of grated cheddar, or Mexican cheese I suppose would be quite apt Zest and juice of half a lime per person
About half a teaspoon of chilli powder per person plus chilli flakes to serve
Enough mayonnaise to spread over each cob
Black pepper to season
A little coriander leaf to finish

Method
Boil the corn in salted water until cooked then drain.
Try and find the corn forks, find one complete and one broken then give up.
Spread each cob with mayonnaise, roll in the grated cheddar, season with pepper and squeeze over the lime juice.
Add the chilli powder and flakes if you like it hotter and serve immediately with coriander. It really couldn't be much simpler.

On the isle of Capri

Ahh, the isle of Capri. It's rugged landscape, the Blue Grotto, the dramatic cove-studded coastline, it's handmade leather sandals...That's what captivates everyone I imagine, the sandals. I've never been, of course. I've always thought of it as a car until I heard Sinatra singing about it. But what I do know it has given the world is its salad. And while it's another version of tomatoes and cheese, which seems to often be a favourite combination in salads that are named after their provenance, the basil and creamy mozzarella make this one really shine.The only thing to mention with this is that there is absolutely no point in making this unless you use really good tomatoes, really good, creamy mozzarella and excellent olive oil. And don't serve cold.MethodAbout ten to fifteen minutes before serving, season the sliced tomatoes with salt and olive oil. They will release some of their flavourful juices  making a tastier dish. I like to use a mix of beef tomatoes and cherry ones for a little sweet sharpness against the cheese.Rip the mozzarella, one small ball per person, scatter over with fresh, torn basil leaves and give a good twist of pepper and perhaps a dash of good balsamic if you like. Serve straight away with crusty bread. 

Fritter the days away

Now I'm an adult (at least physically and legally) I can choose to eat cold, soggy cheeseburgers and limp fries for breakfast in a bowling alley on a Saturday morning if I like. I didn't really like, but seeing as the 12 children we were taking out for Noah and Maya's birthday party were demolishing an early lunch, I thought it only polite to go down with the ship and tuck in myself.And the other night, exhausted from a full day of more birthday activities and lunch with grandparents, as the mature grown-ups we are, we decided to eat crisps for supper. I'm still thirsty now. Although in my defence, I did make houmous and gucamole from scratch to dip them into (ooh, get me). So the level of gastronomy around these parts hasn't been outstanding recently.I made a frankly quite strange Thai green curry the other night; I put too many bananas in the banana bread I made, turning it into hot banana purée cake which was a mistake I won't be repeating, even though it repeated on us for a while; the chicken, mushroom and natural yoghurt rice dish I made on Saturday was as if a 1980s robot was in charge of the cooking. Everything has been done in a hurry or in desperation. Apart from the kebabs we had, but then it isn't that tricky to cover cubes of chicken in spices and oil, stick them on a skewer with red onion and courgette cubes and char them on the grill, even if you can barely see straight.The stand out dish for me this week was these hot and quick sweetcorn fritters. I used some of the green curry paste I had left over in the mix and we dipped them in Sriracha rather than the more traditional sweet chilli sauce, which I would have preferred. But having run out of it a while ago, and developing a hate-up against it, haven't replaced. It has been over-used. Rather like tinned sweetcorn, which to me is over-used if you open it.The two  legitimate uses I can think of for it are as a pencil pot and for making these fritters. I really am struggling to think of another that isn't disgusting. I suppose sweetcorn relish is fairly acceptable in a burger occasionally if you have a gun pointed at your head and have no choice. Even then I'd possibly rather watch mixed doubles tennis, that's how much I dislike it.We keep a couple of tins in the cupboard for emergency use with the children (to throw at them when they won't get into bed). But even they find it a little sweet and sickly. Not even the addition of butter, which normally makes everything better, really improves it. So that leaves the big guns: deep-frying. The answer to all our problems.This makes a good plateful, and as PT Barnum once said (or perhaps it was Walt Disney) "Wenn's am schönsten ist, soll man gehen."Ingredients1 tin of sweetcorn1 egg2tbsp plain flour1tbsp cornflour1/2tsp baking powder1 spring onion1tbsp Thai green curry paste (if you have any)1 chopped red birdseye chilliA splash of water to make a thick batterA handful of fresh curly parsley leaves, shreddedRapeseed oil or groundnut oil to deep frySalt, limes, red onion, cucumber, parsley or coriander and Sriracha or sweet chilli sauce to serveMethodBlitz together all the ingredients (apart from the oil and the serving extras) until you have a fairly thick and creamy batter. Try not to blitz the corn too much, half puréed and half whole is ideal.Heat the oil in a deep-fat fryer or heavy saucepan (about half way up if you're doing it in a pan) to 180c and drop a tablespoon full of the batter at a time into the hot oil. Cook in batches, don't overcrowd the pan. It won't be pleasant, more like a sloppy mess.Cook until golden, flipping in the oil once.Drain on kitchen paper and continue until you've used all the mixture.Serve sprinkled with the extras, a good squeeze of lime juice is essential. I like mine with a lot of chilli heat too, but that's up to you of course.

Things I like in the kitchen (part one)

Just as we've recovered from our trip to Legoland, it's time for the school summer fair. I found myself flipping burgers and sausages for four hours with Mike on a hot Saturday after volunteering to help. I'm sure there must have been some form of mind control involved, or perhaps he asked me when Maya was pulling my nose and Noah was falling off his scooter at speed. However it happened, he must have caught me at a weak moment.But now the meat sweats have calmed down, and I no longer smell like a forest fire and can face eating again it's been little but salads this week, or ham and egg on toast. Simple and quick things that don't require much thought or time.So in light of not a great deal going on in the kitchen for the past few days, here is a selection of things I find essential and interestingly useful from my bulging shelves.La isla bonito:dried and fermented smoked tuna is a surprisingly delicious addition to many seafood dishes and stocks. I particularly like to add it to the pasta when I'm making spaghetti alle vongole. And I occasionally just like smelling the jar for that strange almost fish food smell.We bought a yuzu:I'll often use this in dressings instead of lemon juice to give a slightly different citrus tang or in sorbets and lemon tarts.Yeast today, once more:Usually I make the weekly bread using my sourdough starter, but when I want a quicker loaf, pitta breads, ciabbattas or the like, I'll use this fresh yeast from Sweden (via Ocado or the internet). It's tangy, I much prefer fresh than the dried powdery stuff and I like the packaging.Tarragon with the wind:Not many days pass in this house without a salad and our house vinaigrette. Cider vinegar that has had a small bunch of tarragon steeping in it is key to this. Aniseed and apple flavours make this vinaigrette stand out.Fungi to be around:Dried porcini mushrooms, ground to a powder (or for that matter, dried mushrooms of most kinds) make an excellent seasoning for steak, or beef. I also add it to my mushroom pasta and many other dishes where I want that deep umami hit.Oil be seeing you, in all the old familiar places:I have a standard olive oil to cook with and I have a few special ones to dress with. Food that is, I don't need oil on hand when putting clothes on. Just spending a little more on a really good quality olive oil makes such a difference to finishing dishes or for making dressings or just to dip good bread in.Sitting on the dock of the Old Bay:First of all, I love the packaging. Second, no fish taco in this house is complete without Old Bay seasoning. Easy.Pepper the conversation:Japanese pepper is slightly fruity and lemony, so is great on seafood or with meringues and strawberries. I use it a lot when I want an extra kick without too much pepper flavourAil be seeing you, in all those old familiar faces:A house without garlic is a sad house.Cutting the mustard:Maille is my preferred brand of Dijon mustard. I use it in vinagrettes and it's a must(ard) with roast chicken.Chilli in here:I like chilli heat, we have a variety of hot chilli sauces on the shelves too. And one of my favourite uses for them is hot green chilli sliced onto scrambled eggs. Hot green chillies probably would improve most dishes in my opinion.Herb Salt:A mix of rosemary, thyme, sage and parsley, this salt will turn your morning fried eggs into delicious morning fried eggs. And there are plenty more uses for it than that too. Seasoning chicken skin before the bird goes in the oven, sprinkling over flaky white fish or seasoning, even curing salmon, this salt is just a little bit more than the usual. All you need is a spice grinder and it keeps for a long, long while.

Gnocchi on Heaven's door

I may be the only person in our house that likes gnocchi. I'll find out for sure on the weekend when I feed the ones left over from today's lunch to the children on the weekend. Perhaps I'll sneak them into a tomato sauce with sausage chunks and see what happens.I'm a fan of the soft squidginess of them, the slight bite and the comforting blandness. I'm not a fan of the shop bought ones that more often that not are like trying to chew through a squash ball. But these ones, soft and light but with a little resistance are actually squash balls. Butternut squash.It's been hanging around long enough. And to avoid peeling it, I unsheathed my longest and heaviest knife, and smote it, cleaving it clean in two. That is how it happened in my mind. The reality may have been a little different, but what I ended up with was two long halves ready for a roast in the oven while I used the saved time to stare out the window and drink coffee.Well, it makes a change from potatoes in the gnocchi. Potatoes and flour does seem a little bit of overkill, and these are bright orange, slightly sweet and the perfect comfort food when the weather outside has turned from sunny skies into having to use the shipping forecast as a guide to leaving the house.The recipe makes enough for four people. If the other three aren't interested you can blanch the gnocchi quickly in boiling water, then plunge them into cold water, drain and toss through with a little olive oil. Then you can freeze them and use for lonely suppers when your other half has gone out for a fun-filled evening leaving you alone with your worthy subtitled black and white films they never want to watch.Ingredients1 butternut squash, medium size220g strong flour, plus extra for shaping.1 egg, beatenA handful of fresh sage leaves40g hazelnuts, toasted in a frying pan then choppedChilli oil to serve, or olive oil and chilli flakesZest of an orangeSalt and pepper to seasonMethodHeat the oven to 200c/gas 8.Cut the butternut in half lengthways, being careful to not sever your hand.Scoop out the seeds and throw them away. You can spend the next hour trying to separate them from the fibrous strands they are attached to for roasting or toasting, but surely life is too short. They can go in the compost.Drizzle the squash with olive oil, season well and roast for about an hour.Leave to cool, scoop the flesh out into a bowl and blitz to a pulp. Season and taste then beat in the egg and incorporate the flour until you have a sticky dough.Pour a pile of flour onto the kitchen bench and take a tablespoon of the dough. Drop it into the flour roll it into a little cylinder. Squish a dent in it with your thumb and set aside while you repeat with the rest of the dough until finished.Cook the gnocchi in boiling, well salted water for about three to four minutes then drain, drizzle with olive oil and keep warm.Heat a small pan with about a centimetre of olive oil then fry the sage leaves in batches for about five seconds until crisp. Drain on kitchen paper.Serve the hot gnocchi with a scattering of sage leaves, the orange zest, a sprinkle of hazelnuts and a good hand with the seasoning. Finish with the chilli oil.By all means add Parmesan; and if you really fancied it, you could melt some butter, add some chopped sage to it, cook gently for a few minutes before pouring it over with a squeeze of the orange juice.

Go man, go.

I've been using a butternut squash as a doorstop for the past month now. The thought of peeling it is filling me with such a sense of ennui that I just stare at it existentially as it allows the breeze to pass through the kitchen, wafting a sense of unfulfilled potential with it.The temperatures the past week have been hotter than Lahore; possibly. And when the summer sun gets that hot in London, when we actually have to stop moaning that we never get decent summers anymore and the entire city is caught by surprise, as if we have never seen such weather, everything slows down to a glacier's progress. But for the icy chill that would bring.Still, never fear, Wimbledon is here and that means two weeks of solid rain. We can return to grumbling and complaining about the wet. It somehow seems more English. We just can't cope with anything outside the medium can we?But on those brief weeks when the sun shines, when people decide it's ok to walk half naked down the high street or blind innocent children with their pasty white legs and we need to spend most of our days in the supermarket because it's air conditioned, here is a cooling and indecently tasty snack that should cheer you up no end.My friend Anne tipped me off that Hassan in the shop round the corner was keeping boxes of Pakistani mangoes out the back for his 'special' customers. I made it that day's work to become one of them."They're expensive." he half whispered at me."How much?""four... pounds..." pause "a... box."After I had convinced him that I was prepared to stretch to meet his extortionate demands he quietly slipped out of sight. I stood on the pavement, like I was up to no good. He returned, box in hand and the deal was done. He slipped back into the shadows and I returned to my kitchen.If you can get hold of them, Pakistani and alphonse mangoes are the best. Once you've tasted them there really is no alternative. They are juicy and sweet beyond belief. Almost dirty in how good they taste. They may look a little wrinkly and past their best, but that is when they are at their best. Try them this way and I hope you'll be hooked enough to stand on street corners trying to score your hit.Ingredients1 mango per person.Zest and juice of half a lime per person.A pinch of chilli powder or sliced chillies, depending on how you like your spice. A pinch of chilli flakes is also good.MethodSlice the mango or squeeze it into a pulp in a glass. This is probably easier when they're as ripe as the ones I had, and it also makes it look fairly elegant, like a little dessert.Dress it with a good squeeze of lime juice, a pinch of zest and as much chilli as you like and find a quiet place to eat it.

Meringue, M'Lord?

Although I firmly believe sugar to be the devil, I will occasionally find myself face down in a cake or suchlike. And when I say occasionally, I probably mean more like once a week. Or twice if you count the new 'tradition' I've invented of sharing an entire tub of Magnum almond ice cream with Bee while watching Antiques Roadshow on Sunday evening. That is how we roll round these parts.And yesterday, all I had to eat was two slices of homemade sourdough with a couple of eggs and sliced ham topped with herb salt and pickled sliced cucumber, so today, a little sugar is hardly the end of the world. And really, meringues are mainly air, so I count this as breathing.I first made came up with this recipe on a recent shoot and we eat them with strawberries, a little lemon thyme and a lot of gentle noises, which to the outsider could have sounded pretty rude. Hazelnuts, toasted and sprinkled through and on top of the crisp meringues gently giving way in the mouth to a soft, chewy interior with the sweet and sharp fruitiness of proper balsamic is pretty much the actual best. And it's so easy to make; as long as your equipment is clean, you can almost let the machines do all the work. And sometimes, there's nothing wrong with making life a little easier, especially when the result is quicker and better.Ingredients3 egg whites120g icing sugar60g golden caster sugarGood quality balsamic vinegarA handful of chopped hazelnutsA handful of chopped pistachiosMethodClean your mixers bowl and whisk thoroughly before you start and just give the inside of the bowl a rub with half a lemon before drying it with kitchen paper. This will ensure there is no grease inside which will make your meringues mewrongs.Whisk the eggs until they start to form peaks, somewhere between soft and stiff. With the whisk running, add the sugar a tablespoon at a time until, incorporating well before adding the next one. You can make more mixture if you like, just remember the simple 60g of sugar per egg white and use a mix of icing and caster as I've done, or all caster or all icing. Up to you. Golden caster will give you a more caramel colour and flavour though, so choose wisely.Whisk until all the sugar is in and the meringue mixture is shiny, smooth and stiff. Heat the oven to 100c/gas 1.Using a spatula, gently fold in some balsamic vinegar until you have nice ripples through it then shape four beautiful dollops onto a lined baking sheet.Sprinkle with nuts and bake for about two hours, leaving to cool in the oven.Serve with coffee, or as I did, because there wasn't enough sugar going on some melted hazelnut and chocolate sauce. You can make this easily by melting together 2 large teaspoons of gianduja paste (you could use Nutella if you prefer), 1 tsp of honey and 2tsp of butter until smooth. This, however, is entirely optional and may lead to needing a little lie down.

Rice to the occasion

 "I quite like them" said Noah after he'd eaten half an arancini and left the rest on the kitchen bench, wandering off to then hole up in a corner with a book. Bee says she still thinks they're a strange idea (I mean, who wouldn't love a deep-fried rice ball? And Maya, whom I think perhaps ate too many strawberries before supper gingerly nibbled the corner off and then stared into space for a while, dreaming up her next, no doubt cheeky move.The past week has been bonkers, we are longing for some calm evenings in our life, that don't involve falling asleep face down in the soup.After sitting on a chair made of the hardest substance known to man in a howling ice gale at Crystal Palace's outdoor cinema, part of the annual Crystal Palace Festival, my bum is only just getting some feeling back into it. The film, Sideways, will now forever be associated with numbness in the bottom. And lack of any feeling in my fingers and toes. These are some of the problems I have to deal with in my life. It's difficult.Another part of the festival, and in a performance of true Englishness, the spoken word evening we went to was as if Totnes were on LSD. Accordions and typewriters accompanied whispered poetry in a baking hot room again on rocks for seats. The heat had made the room smell very human, like a poetry school changing-room.And in a modern tableau, at the festival itself, while the sun baked down on us, a nun, staring into her phone while walking along bumped into me. Perhaps she thought God would guide her. Perhaps he was on another call.Among all this, there has been good food, especially at one of my favourite restaurants, Alle Testiere from Venice doing a guest night at Polpetto in Soho. That was a real treat. Delicious seafood, spider crab, Venetian snacks and more all came to me in London. Sadly, we couldn't get a  babysitter, so Bee stayed at home. Although she's not that keen on seafood, so it could have appeared to be a little convenient.And that reminded me that I've been meaning to make arancini for ages. Nothing to do with Venice, but I did eat little deep-fried breadcrumbed balls filled with stuff to start. So on Thursday, I busted the children out of after school club and brought them home to ignore me and my cooking. Although, I did catch Maya drinking the vinaigrette straight from the mixing jar. She loved that, at least.Ingredients300g risotto, approx550ml chicken or vegetable stock1 small onion, diced finely1 garlic clove, crushedOlive oilA large knob of butter, be generousParmesan to grate, salt to seasonPanko breadcrumbs for coating1 egg, beaten with a splash of water1 ball of mozarellaA tablespoon of beef ragu per ball (optional, you can just make cheese ones, but I like to make a batch and save it for tagliatelle during the week)Rapeseed oil for fryingMethodMake the risotto in the usual way, until it's creamy and unctuous but with a hint of bite.Shake the pan violently as you stir in a load of butter and cheese at the end then cover and leave for five minutes. Check and adjust the seasoning, risotto needs to be well seasoned.Spread the cooked rice out on a tray and leave it to cool quickly. Stir it around every now and then to help.When cool, take a small handful and put a nugget of cheese in the middle. Add a spoonful of the meat sauce if using and form a ball around the filling. Add a little more rice if you need to. I made the cheese ones into cone shapes after to differentiate them, but that's your choice.Dip each ball in beaten egg then roll in the breadcrumbs until really well covered. Dip and roll again, giving it a second coat if you feel it needs it.Heat a pan half full of the rapeseed oil or use a deep-fat fryer. Fry each ball until golden all over and drain on kitchen paper. Serve with a salad and whatever vinaigrette remains if Maya's been anywhere near it.