The past is a strange mirror to look into. And sitting here, in the attic surrounded by boxes and old sketchbooks from art college I feel my breath catching a little with memories.And all that work I did in college? Well, looking at it now, it wasn't very good. Does everything we do pale and fade into the average when we look back, only the occasional thing really standing out as any good? Or is everything preparation for what is to come, footnotes and experiences on our journey?But life isn't about everything being incredible, the highlights wouldn't be highlights if there was nothing to compare them to. Mostly we go along, quite happily, occasional highs, occasional lows, but mainly somewhere in the middle.Most of the food I cook is nice enough, nothing spectacular, but then there is the occasional thing that goes into the canon of special food that's a real treat. Simple things generally, like a roast chicken, drowning in tarragon butter and encased in crisp Parma ham; softly scrambled eggs infused with curry leaves and spices and served with lots of green chillies; beans, chorizo and broth with pork; simple fish curry; tagliatelle with chestnut mushrooms, chilli, garlic and olive oil; salmon with curried spelt; a tomato salad at the height of summer, dressed with shallot vinaigrette and chopped parsley.*All these things are in contrast to an average midweek meal of a risotto for example, or even a jacket potato with butter and cheese. A meal made with not much more than an easy supper in mind. Perhaps some cubes of garlic courgette liven it up a little, or a salad on the side cuts through its comforting richness, but it's still the everyday. And that everyday should be celebrated as much as the extraordinary. A little touch of something extra here and there can make things livelier than you think. If things are done with care, no matter how simple, they mean something and are greater for that thoughtfulness.We last had pizzoccheri about seven years ago, cooked for us by Mary Ann in her apartment in the Alto Adige, northern Italy. Hearty and rustic it was served with the traditional chard which I've swapped for tender stem broccoli. For some reason, it's a dish that has stuck in my mind. I don't know why particularly, it's nothing special. It's comforting and homely, just the meal to get your strength up for a long day's Italian sheep herding, or whatever they do that close to Switzerland.The pasta is so easy to make, you roll it by hand so there's not even a need for a machine. I'm of the belief that drenching things in garlic butter will generally improve them -- unless its the jam knife for your morning toast, which has the opposite effect -- and that is the case here. You would think buttery garlic potatoes, comforting ribbons of pasta and healthy greens cooked together with melting cheese is heavenly. I thought so, but the rest of the family were less than impressed. There were upturned noses and downturned mouths.Maya liked the potatoes (who wouldn't?) but not the rest, Noah seemed like he'd spent the meal having to read a report on boredom and Bee said it "had potential, but even if it is a 'classic' recipe that doesn't mean we need to eat it."If you don't want to make the pasta yourself, use a wholemeal tagliatelle or something with a little weight to it. And you can use shredded savoy cabbage or chard as the original does. I used Tilly Whim cheese from Farmdrop instead of the traditional Fontina or Tomi. It needs a semi-soft cow's cheese that will melt deliciously over everything. You could use coarsely-grated Gruyere too if you like.IngredientsFor the pasta:50g plain flour150g buckwheat flourA pinch of saltEnough water to bring it together into a nice softish dough. About 150mlFor the rest:300g small potatoes, or Maris Pipers, cut up200g tendereste broccoli, sliced in half, lengthwiseA good few handfuls of cheese such as Tilly Whim or FontinaA generous grating of Parmesan50g butter2-3 cloves of garlic, finely gratedA drizzle of olive oilSalt and pepper to seasonMethodMake the pasta by bringing together the flour, salt and water in a large bowl and mixing until it comes together in a flaky dough. Continue kneading, rolling and stretching it in the bowl until you have a smooth, silk and slightly elastic dough. Add more flour to it to help keep it from sticking to your hands as you go.Leave it to rest, covered for about half an hour.Heat the oven to 180c.Make the garlic butter by heating the butter until melted, seasoning well then add the garlic. Heat gently for a few minutes being careful to not let the garlic colour. Remove from the heat.Flour the worktop and roll out the pasta to about 1-2mm. Roll up and slice into ribbons then cut into pieces about 4-5cm long. Toss with a little flour to keep from sticking together.Bring the potatoes to the boil in salted water for about five minutes then add the pasta and cook for ten more minutes. Add the broccoli and cook for a couple of minutes then drain everything.Put a layer of the potato mix in a baking dish then sprinkle with half the cheese.Cover with the remaining potato, pasta and broccoli then add the remaining cheese.Season with a little salt and pepper, pour over the garlic butter and cook in the oven for about twenty minutes, until the cheese is melted and starting to brown.Drizzle with a touch of olive oil and serve hot.*There are of course, plenty of disasters and things that were best glossed over, never to be repeated, but certainly to be learned from.
Pizzoccheri, broccoli, garlicky, buttery
in Recipes
How are bricks made? How do they make glass? How do they build a roof? Frieda Kahlo was a famous painter. Is turmeric food colouring? Have we ever seen a caterpillar? Daddy, Noah's looking at me. I don't like it.These are the pressing issues of the day. And apparently must be addressed before I've had a cup of coffee. And although I woke up 20 minutes before everyone and had blissful calm before I had to turn into a human Wikipedia, it was still an assault on my delicate surfacing senses.And so to this week's food. I have such little space in my brain at the moment for anything other than the impending house move that the meals this week have needed to be simple and quick. We've had spaghetti and meatballs in tomato sauce; the meatballs browned from frozen and then cooked through in tinned tomatoes blitzed with chilli flakes, a spring onion, two cloves of garlic, olive oil and a large, large pinch of dried oregano.As is often the way, just adding a little dash of something can elevate a dish from the everyday. In this case, a large handful of chopped parsley, a good sprinkle of breadcrumbs, lemon zest and probably half the Parmesan and pepper grinder just gave it the edge on what is already delicious comfort food.The other night, we had some broccoli florets, blanched and quickly fried with garlic, ginger, spring onion and kohlrabi. I tossed that with sesame oil and seeds, soy sauce and some rice noodles and supper was on our laps in front of the telly in fifteen minutes.And as for the children, they've had Greek bean soup, corn on the cob with lime and butter, stewed rhubarb and chicken and mushroom in a creme fraiche and tomato sauce with rice and broccoli. Which was pronounced acceptable. But I do think they are starting to raise an eyebrow here and there at the sudden and often appearance of soups at the dinner table. Noah seems to think he can only eat it if the bread to soup ratio is one to one. And still complains it's not the same as the pumpkin soup they have at school. Ingrate.The best thing by far we eat this week though, was the carrot salad I made on Saturday night after we'd had dhal and naan and were still peckish. I had to use a packet of the children's Peppa Pig raisins, and perhaps that's where the secret to the success of the dish came. Or perhaps it was the amazing olive oil from I got from 
It's very hilly where we live in Crystal Palace. And the park has wonderful sweeping tree-lined slopes, some Aspen pines among them. If you close your eyes there in winter you could imagine you're in Colorado. Except by the time we eventually got round to buying plastic sledges for the children (at an ambitious 20 quid each I hasten to add -- I'm sure the shop owner rubbed his hands together as Bee bought them) the snow was melting quicker than a 99 flake in Marbella. It was snølosing, as the Norwegians would have it among their many descriptions.So it was more like a muddy Colorado parking lot in late spring by the time we arrived. Sludging is more of an apt term. But seeing as the children didn't know any better -- we haven't had decent snow here in their young lives -- they had huge fun until Maya's lips started turning blue and she wanted her home comforts. Immediately.That morning had already seen me up at the crack of the ever earlier dawn having a text by text instruction from the chap who fitted our alarm ten years ago. For some reason, after all these years of perfect behaviour, it decides in the weeks leading up to our selling the house to start beeping loudly every 45 seconds.After disconnecting various panels he instructed me to disconnect one of the two wires. Sweat trickled down my brow in slow motion. With my breath held, I pulled out the red wire expecting alarmageddon. Nothing. Silence. Bliss. And seeing I was up, I went outside to get the paper that hadn't been delivered and grumbling like Muttley from Wacky Races came back in to make coffee. At least you can rely on coffee.So with all that excitment, after all that fresh air, some comfort food was just the thing. As a little treat for the crumble-loving fiends the children are, I secretly made these for them while they were glued to the telly. Individual crumble pots using up a couple of apples we had in the fruit bowl and some blackberries from the freezer. The braeburns are a great cooking apple for holding their shape and are a nice change from the cooking ones I normally use. It seems almost classier. Still, it takes a while for them to cook but you really don't have to do much. Perfect after an hour in the melting snow.It's such a quick to put together dish and much more delicious than the time and effort would suggest.Ingredients for two2 braeburn apples, cored and cut into segmentsa child's handful of frozen blackberries (or fresh if it's the season)1-2tbsp of golden caster sugar, dusted over the fruitA small shake of ground cinnamonA pinch of ground turmeric50g butter50g sugar100g plain flourMethodBriefly cook the fruit in a saucepan with some sugar, cinnamon and turmeric until starting to soften and the blackberries give up their juices.Make the crumble by mixing together the butter, sugar and flour until sandy and well combined.Divide the fruit between two tapas-style terracotta dishes top with the crumble (there will be some left over) and bake in the oven at 180c for about half an hour. Keep an eye on it and perhaps turn the tray around halfway through if it looks like it's catching. Serve warm.This weekRead:Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck. Funny in parts, bleak in others. And short. Which was a blessing.Watched:Derry Girls. Some great lines in there, and it's one hit after another on the soundtrack. I licky boom boom down.Listened:The Final Countdown, by Europe. Noah's eyes bulged with joy when it came on, as if he couldn't believe such amazing music could exist. He ran off to note down the songs in his notebook of music to listen to. He then informed me they sing 'The eye of the tiger' in assembly. What a school that must be.Eat:Roast chicken on a layer of thinly sliced potatoes with rosemary and garlic. It takes about five minutes to put together and then goes into the oven for a couple of hours to cook itself. The Parma ham on the top goes as crisp as frazzles and is delicious. The chicken came from 
I've been away. A week in Devon for half term, fires every night and a week in Mansfield for work and I can't remember a decent thing we've eaten the past fortnight.The fish and chips on the beach at Torcross bay was pretty good, as far as that kind of thing goes. The baguettes at the Pilchard inn for a fiver were awful, as you'd expect at that price in a touristy part of the country. Even the children turned their tiny button noses up at them. One night I seem to remember us having crisps for dinner.Oh hold on; we did have a nice afternoon tea at the Thurlestone Hotel. No cucumber sandwiches though, which is criminal. Nor egg mayonnaise, compounding the problem. And to be honest, the cakes weren't that great either. Still, we enjoyed it, mostly, until Maya started getting bored and arsey about where she was sitting.This Sunday afternoon after a walk round the lake and the park we eat chocolate buttons and watched Wacky Races under the throw on the sofa. That was good food. And it reminded me of the Sundays of my childhood where I used to watch Knightrider eating crumpets. Now the children have Netflix and the watch five series worth of the same bloody programme in a row. I miss normal telly.Good food can be the most simple of things. And sometimes the most simple of things can be done so badly. Still, we are home now, so we can eat food made with a little love and respect.To that end, I've roasted the extra garlic bulbs I had in the fridge, just to squeeze on fresh toasted bread. Peckish, but not lunch hungry, a good scoop of soft, sweet, golden garlic spread over lightly toasted sourdough and served with a little dressed greenery on the side is enough to take care of you when you need something light. And it's so tasty, you wonder why you need anything else. And how hard is it, actually, to just serve something decent in a pub?And after the hotel food, the bad pubs, the sameness of town centre restaurants on holiday with their trope burgers and trope croquettes it's a reminder of how much better real food is. And how well you can eat at home.This week, perhaps we will have butter chicken one night, with daal and the naans from the bakery in Tooting. Another night may be a quick pile of prawn and spring onion pancakes with chilli and basil dipping sauce. There could be room for some lamb chops one evening, marinaded in turmeric and dried mint and served with a roast tomato, red onion and prune salsa. And perhaps tortellini in brodo, except instead of arsing around stuffing tortellini, I may make gnudi out of the filling and serve cut up sheets of fresh pasta in the broth instead. It all ends up the same doesn't it?Ingredients6 -8 large garlic bulbsOlive oil (I used coriander infused oil for this)Salt and pepper to seasonMethodHeat the oven to 170c.Slice the tops off the garlic and lay the bulbs on a large sheet of foil.Drizzle with olive oil and season well.Wrap in the foil and roast in the oven for about an hour, or until soft and squeezable.Serve warm.They can, apart from being spread on bread be used in pasta sauces, salad dressings, anything where you want a soft and sweet garlic note. Just not as toothpaste.This weekBoughtNaan bread from Iraqi bakery in Tooting. More than 2,000 per day they make. Sometimes I feel I could happily just only eat great bread for the rest of my life. Sandwiches, Naan, even pizza counts at a push...DrankHot ginger, chilli, lime and mint. A real zingy cup of tea. Perfect for winter and approaching colds.Listened toThe Archers. Traumatic and devastating.WatchedShetland, gave up on The Bureau. Dougie Henshall and the dramatic Scottish emptiness is pure telly joy. Even if there are no trees on Shetland and it's obviously SO FAKE according to Sheena's dad, who's from there.ReadOrphan X sequel, 'The Nowhere Man'. Highly enjoyable and thrilling, but not a patch on the first book. Too much of a single set piece stretched over a novel. It reads rather like a terrible film starring Tom Cruise that didn't really work.MadeChicken with pistachio and yoghurt by Meera Sodha. Tasty stuff and plenty left over for a quick Monday night supper. I also resuscitated my starter after putting it into a coma for a couple of weeks. They're pretty hardy things.
Simplicity is beauty. I've had more pleasure from a ripe and juicy nectarine than I have from a complicated fondant.According to William Morris, things should either be useful or beautiful, and if you mix that with the idea that less is more and apply it to food, you should be OK. It's something the Italians know well with their cooking; start with good ingredients and you're pretty much all the way there. And, the Spanish as well, which is where the idea for this dish came from.Today's recipe is elegant and parsimonious in its ingredients, it uses clams which are at their best at this time of year from the cold waters around the UK. It's much more than the sum of its parts. I've used Cornish ones but this dish would be equally delicious with what the Scottish call 'spoots'. I'd call it Occam's razor clams.Ingredients12 baby potatoes, halved1 small white onionA bunch of parsley200ml garlic oil (made by grating four cloves of garlic into 500ml olive oil and heating until golden. Leave to cool then strain and keep in the fridge for up to a week)1tbsp flourA bag of clamsSherry vinegar to tasteWater for the sauceSalt and pepper to seasonMethodSoak the clams in cold water for about 20 minutes in a few changes of water then give them all a good slosh about until all the grit and sand has been cleaned away.Make the green sauce by blitzing together the parsley, a good load of garlic oil and a generous splash of sherry vinegar. Season well, taste and perhaps season a little more, not forgetting that vinegar is a seasoning and brings out flavours too, so adjust as you like. You may want it sharper, saltier or sweeter with more oil.Cook the potatoes in salted, boiling water until tender. About ten minutes. Drain them and run them under cold water to stop them cooking any more.Heat the garlic oil in a large, heavy saucepan, something like a le Creuset casserole.Finely chop the onion and gently sauté in the oil, well seasoned with salt, until soft and just starting to think about turning golden.Add the potatoes and cook them for a few minutes until they start to catch here and there and colour a little.Stir in the flour and add a splash of sherry vinegar then stir in a good splash of water until you have a thick sauce the consistency of double cream.Add the clams and cook with the lid on for about five minutes, until they've all opened. Or at least until all the ones that are going to open, open. Throw the others away.Add the green sauce to the pan, stir well, warm through and serve with some more chopped parsley and a little bread to mop up the incredible juices. 
Here's a quick way to liven up a simple supper of grilled chicken or perhaps some salmon, lightly poached in a stock with some white wine and parsley. It's a zingy and fresh tasting combination of flavours.I used it the other day on top of a Texan-style chilli I found in the bottom of the freezer that I'd made a batch of about a month ago and it just lifted it from the comforting to a notch above delicious.It takes about two minutes to chop together so make it fresh and spoon it on just before you serve.Ingredients2 spring onions2 green finger chillies1 small bunch of corianderZest and juice of a limeMethodSlice the spring onion and coriander, zest the lime and finely chop the coriander. Put everything in a bowl.Squeeze the juice all over, mix well and serve.
It's a constant, if not full-time job to keep enough food in the house for the seemingly hollow children. And while bergamot curd may not be up on the list of household necessities, as the saying goes, when life gives you lemons...I had a box of bergamots hanging around as one does, and after trying palm them off here and there on unsuspecting family and friends, the remainder were destined for a slow and sad decline. I'd used some in a pasta dish with broccoli, garlic and Parmesan in place of lemon and I'd squeezed the juice into sparkling water for a touch of the bath bomb in my evening drink. I was considering using the rest for a lemon-style tart, but seeing as the children seem to have developed a new and mysterious love for lemon curd on toast I had my solution.And it's very nice. Perfumed but not like walking past a soap shop, it's citrussy and delicate. I know bergamots are not really the kind of thing you come across that often --it's almost exclusively grown in Calabria -- but if you do, this is a good use for it. And, as a bonus you can spoon it into little sweet pastry cases for a speedy little tart.This recipe works just as well with blood oranges, which is my next stop if I'm lost for curds.Makes: 2 jarsPrep time: 5 minutesCooking time: 10-15 minutesIngredients4 bergamots, juice and zest (giving up about 160ml juice)4 eggs1 egg yolk200g golden caster sugar100g unsalted butterMethodZest the bergamots into a heatproof bowl big enough to sit on top of a small saucepan. Halve the fruits and put them in a bowl. Microwave them for one minute. This will give you all the juice from them. An astonishing amount comes out. If you don't a microwave, roll them really hard on the bench before slicing open. It will help, but isn't as good as the micro.Put some water in the bottom of the pan and bring to the boil. Add the butter, sugar and juice to the bowl and stir well. Put on top of the pan, making sure it's not touching the water and reduce the heat to a simmer.Stir, dissolving the butter and melting the sugar.Lightly whisk the eggs and yolks and tip into the bowl. Whisk in well until incorporated and cook for about 10-15 minutes, very gently. Stir occasionally with a spatula until the whole thing is beautifully and gently set.Remove from the heat and put into jars. Leave to cool and store in the fridge.This weekWatched:Jiro dreams of sushi. I now want to retrain as a 90 year old Japanese sushi master, but I feel some ambitions are impossible.'Somebody feed Phil' on Netflix; another travel-food-ologue, but as usual, interesting and hosted by someone who seems genuinely enthusiastic and nice.Coco, from Pixar with the children. I didn't know where to look there was so much going on.Listened:Blind Melon: not listened to them for a long time. Uplifting in a melancholy way.Kodaline: thought I'd try them out, see what the youth of today are listening to. Or something like that. They probably aren't, it's more likely to be hairdressers in Newbury or somewhere that listen to this boring snorefest of a band. Ate:Dull Indian takeaway. Dull Italian food at Ecco, Clapham and a dull lunch at Franco Manca after the cinema. Followed by heavenly gelato from Odono's on Lordship Lane. Homemade spinach and ricotta ravioli with sage butter. Children hated it. Savages. Philistines. It's one of the world's finest dishes.A steak sandwich with anchovy, melted cheddar, watercress, salsa verde, chillies, radish, cucumber and gherkins. That was a sandwich alright. Nico dreams of sandwiches.Read:Death in Sardinia, '60s set Italian detective novel, lots of good food descriptions as well as the usual detective formulas.
Every time someone suggests fish pie to me, or says that's what we're having to eat, I die a little inside. And it's not that there's anything wrong with it, as such. In fact, it's a rather lovely dish. Comforting and rich, and a good way to get lots of fish into people who don't particularly like it.And yet yesterday I woke up with a burning desire, a craving for it. Perhaps Bee, who seems to have a liking of it that doesn't seem normal, has been whispering in my ear repeatedly as I sleep.It is really a very simple dish, and in its favour, you can make it ahead and heat it through for supper, as I did for the children. And, predictably, Noah liked it but tried to pick out the spinach and Maya said she hates prawns (the lunatic). Bee thought it was a bit too saucy and had too much spinach, whereas I, the least enthusiastic fish pie eater thought it delicious. But then I made it.You may squeal with delight at the thought of a fish pie and having made this, I feel a little less antipathy toward it. It's something comforting, tasty and healthy. Do as you will with it. More cod, fewer prawns, not so much spinach, extra scallops, a thicker sauce with a touch more cheese and flour. It's up to you, and that is the joy of cooking, we all like things certain ways and you can't please everyone.This recipe is a good one so I offer it to you to run with. You can even add hard boiled eggs to the mix if you like. And as far as the bonito and kombu go, that's up to you too, as is the golden, warming turmeric and citrussy coriander. But it's little things like that that can make a dish just a little above the ordinary. And actually, looking at the photo reminds me, there's a portion left in the fridge...Serves: 6Prep time: 30-40 minsCooking time: 45 minsIngredientsFor the top:4 medium potatoes such as Maris Piper, skin on, quartered100ml double cream50ml milk70g butterA grating of Parmesan for the topFor the filling:175g Queen scallops250g smoked haddock or cod, cut into chunks250g prawns100g spinachA small bunch of chives, finely slicedA grating of nutmeg1tsp ground turmeric2tsp ground corianderFor the sauce:30g butter30g flour300ml milk25g grated mild cheddarA sheet of kombu (seaweed)A pinch of bonito flakesMethodThe bonito and kombu are optional in this, it's just to give it that extra kick of the sea. But if you're going to use it, heat a little of the milk to just below the boil and pour over them both in a small bowl and leave to infuse while you make the mash.Cook the potatoes in salty, boiling water until soft, but not falling apart. Drain and leave to steam dry in the colander, otherwise, your mash will be to wet.Put the spinach in a heat-proof bowl and pour over some boiling water from the kettle. Stir a little then drain and rinse in cold water. Squeeze dry and chop well.Make the white sauce by melting the butter in a saucepan and mixing in the flour. Season well and gradually whisk in the milk, a little at a time, until you have a smooth white sauce. Add the bonito flakes and milk, leaving out the kombu and then stir in the cheese until melted.Put the fish and seafood in a bowl, add the chopped spinach, turmeric, coriander and the chives (keep back a little for the mash), season well and stir thoroughly. Pour in the white sauce and mix.Heat the butter, cream and milk in a small pan until the butter has melted then rice the potatoes into a bowl and discard the skins. Add the butter mixture, season well and mix until smooth. Stir in the chives.Put the fish mix in an oven dish and top with the potato and any remaining chives. Give a twist of pepper and sprinkle over the parmesan and cook in a 180c oven for about 45 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling. Garlic green beans are delicious on the side.
The warm smell of cooking as you get in from school is like a blanket covering you on the sofa in winter or a hot chocolate by the fire. My favourite, the one that always said something good was on the way, was -- and still is -- garlic and onions softly sautéeing in olive oil. That, for me, was when I knew there is some proper food coming, something prepared and cooked with care and attention, something that says "you are being nurtured". You can't smell a salad, can you?I do quite often cook the children fish fingers and peas for supper; sometimes we're all on the edge of sanity and even slicing an onion may just break me. And sometimes, I'll work over a hot stove for hours, wiping my brow with the towel of martyrdom just for the children to decide on a whim they don't like something they've wolfed down countless times before. They'll never turn down a roast on Sunday though. Sometimes you can never win, and sometimes, they'll surprise you by loving sparrow soufflé with chillies. But knowing there's always a hot meal on its way, and the kitchen is a place of happiness is something we all need.This recipe is perfect to fill the house with the kinds of smells to make you feel happy. The aromatic vegetables softening, the slight spice from the garam masala, the fresh bay leaves. And the simmering broth. It's also quick, if you take into account that you can cheat by using tinned cooked green lentils. But even if you cook them from scratch, it still doesn't take forever. I've made a courgette purée to go with it -- lentils are quite filling -- but if you feel like mashed potato instead, go for it.Ingredients200g cooked ham chunks. I had some in the freezer left over from Christmas250g cooked green lentils1 carrot1 stick of celery, plus leaves1 small onionThe white of a leek you've had hanging around for a few days2 fresh bay leavesChicken stock to cover1tbsp garam masalaSalt and white pepper to seasonFor the courgette:1 largeish courgette2 shallots1 fat clove of garlicOlive oilA tablespoon or two of butterSalt to seasonMethodSlice the carrots, celery, onion and leek into dice as small as you can manage.Heat a saucepan with some olive oil and throw them in. Add the bay leaves, season and stir.Cook gently for ten minutes until softened then add the ham, lentils, garam masala, seasoning and stock.Bring to the boil for a few minutes then simmer for a further ten with a lid on.Make the courgettes by heating a sauté pan with some olive oil then adding the garlic and shallot. Season well and cook for a few minutes, until starting to colour.Turn the heat up and add the courgettes, toss around and cook until turning golden here and there.Transfer to a blender or food processor, add the butter and blend to a purée. Taste and adjust the seasoning. It probably needs more salt. And butter.Serve with the lentils and ham.
It's normally always there, lingering in the back of the cupboard, the lid slightly encrusted with a beige residue and the oil separated from the paste, sitting on top in a questionable pool. Then there is a fight to get the near solidified clay out of the bottom and not bend the spoon. And that's all before you discover you haven't got a tin of chickpeas anyway so have to go to the shop. Again.But fear not! This homemade tahini will save the day. And if there's ever a houmous crisis in the shops again, you can whip up your own in a jiffy. And then you can put it in a jar in the fridge and the whole family dip a carrot stick in it for lunch on Saturday then forget about it until you throw it away a week later as you wonder why you bother.Of course, this all depends on you having a bag of sesame seeds in the cupboard. I'd suggest that it is a staple worth having, and really, it's nicer making your own tahini anyway. It just (as with most things that are freshly made) tastes so much better. And you know it only has what you put in it in it.MethodTo make a jam jar sized amount of fresh tahini, sprinkle sesame seeds all over an oven tray, you can be very generous. Heat the oven to 180c and roast the seeds until they start to colour a little and toast. Stir them round occasionally so they don't burn.Leave to cool a little then put in the food processor and blitz until you have a crumbly mix. Slowly add in some neutral oil, such as groundnut or rapeseed and keep blending until you have a creamy paste. Transfer to a jar and keep in the fridge.Apart from houmous -- which I would recommend making using dried chickpeas for a better finished dish, but, if you only have tinned I'm not going to judge you -- tahini can be used in dressings, sauces with some yoghurt, drizzled over roast carrots or even put into ice cream. And what's more, there's a little more cupboard space and the satisfaction of the homemade.
Before Christmas I was invited to eat at 
Now the Christmas tree has been cut up and put in the bin by the dead of night and the year gently settles into itself, I find myself staring out timidly from the duvet, slightly scared of the outside world.The fondue set has also been put back into storage; it is a dish we only get round to on new year's eve. This time we had thin cubes of beef fillet tail and dipped them in hot melted butter, loaded with grated garlic or a punchy, herb-laced olive oil. A game of Jenga later and we were all tucked up in bed well before Big Ben bonged.It's now back to more normal meals, things we can leave to bubble in a pan for an hour or two, or cook gently in the oven on the weekends behind the scenes for use midweek while trying to find socks for school tomorrow.In that vein then, here is a comforting bean dish that is rich, easy and nourishing. There is no need to soak the beans overnight, cook them from dried for an hour and a half, they are more flavoursome and equally as tender. You could, if you prefer, use tinned, cooked haricots, making this even quicker and easier to bring together and perhaps something you would make on a cold January Wednesday.For this recipe, I used the stock I'd made from the chicken left over from Saturday's lunch of pot roast chicken which I'd cooked on leeks, garlic, lemon and onions. A good few handfuls of cubed leftover ham went in and then to serve it, I made a roux, loosened it with the juices from the chicken and blended in a little double cream. It was rather like a chicken, leek and ham pie without the pastry, and none the worse for that. In the past, with equal success, I've used on of those little gel stock pots. Whatever you've got.You can have this with a quickly seared and caramelised pork chop, on it's own pretending you're a cowboy, or like we did this week with some shredded savoy cabbage, buttery and sloshed with lemon juice and pepper. There was a howling wind that night, and this is real food for those dark winter evenings of which we still have quite a few ahead.Ingredients100g haricot beans500-600ml boiling water1 celery stick1 medium carrot1 small onion100g chorizo180ml chicken stock2 fresh bay leavesParsley to serveSalt and pepper to seasonMethodPut the beans straight into the saucepan of boiling water with a little salt and simmer gently for an hour and a half. Keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn't boil dry. Most of the liquid will be absorbed by the end. You can leave them to cool and use later, or keep refrigerated for the next day.Cube the chorizo, quite small, and fry in a sauté pan on a fairly gentle heat until the rust orange oil comes out. Add the bay leaves.Finely dice the celery, carrot and onion and add to the pan. You could blitz them in the food processor if you prefer, but I like to chop by hand, to be a little more connected to the food. There are enough machines in our lives, if you've got time to go on Facebook, you've got time to chop an onion. And to be honest, I'll let the machines do the rubbish bits like washing up.Stir well and cook gently until softened. Season a little and cook gently for about ten minutes.Add the beans and stock, bring to the boil and then simmer for about five minutes before serving with a good amount of black pepper and chopped parsley.If there is any left, you could serve it for lunch the next day with a crisp fried egg, the yolk mixing in to be scooped up with a good slice of toasted and buttered bread.This weekWatched: '
This week's recipe is a good one to make with and for the children now the Christmas holidays have started. A simple recipe for simple minds, if you will...You may not have children of your own, in which case, feel free to borrow some. They will devour these little sponge biscuit treats in a flash if they are anything like the gannets that mine turned into when a plateful of these alighted on the kitchen table. It was like the pigeons of old in Trafalgar Square.The shop bought version of these are crisper, so you could add more sugar to the mix if you like, but these ones are softer and lean a little more toward madeleines crossed with sponge fingers. I filled the first lot with some of mother in law Sue's chocolate sauce that she had mistakenly left lying about the place, the next batch used spoonfuls of Nutella. Both were delicious.If you want to make your own chocolate sauce, melt good, dark chocolate, a little milk chocolate, some honey, cocoa powder and butter together with a little splash of water until glossy, smooth and rich. This will keep in a jar, probably for eternity, highly unlikely that will happen though. Just reheat to pour over ice cream as and when.The week ahead should bring plenty of opportunity for fun meals, but with the big day approaching you may want a few simple meals such as the sausage, lentil and potato stew I made for Saturday lunch after the children's swimming lessons. Red and white onions, a tin of tomatoes, garlic, carrots and celery gently simmered in the oven while we decorated the tree. It was wholesome and tasty and practically cooked itself.Maybe you'd also like chicken thighs braised with a creamy mushroom and Dijon mustard sauce and some buttered, shredded savoy cabbage to keep out the cold. Or perhaps a big bowl of orzo with tomato and gently spiced meatballs. Whatever you eat in the run up, I wish you a happy Christmas.Ingredients4 eggs100g icing sugar100g plain flourChocolate sauce, Nutella or JamA madeleine tin, or similarMethodSeparate the eggs and whisk the whites to a light snow.Cream together the sugar and egg yolks then gently fold in the whites. Add the flour a little at a time and mix well.Spray the moulds with cooking oil or grease with a little butter then spoon the mix into each mould.Bake at 170c for 10-12 minutes until turning a delicate gold. Immediately make a large dent in the middle of each with the back of a spoon or your thumb. Fill with the chocolate and leave to cool.This weekSaw:
Clearing out the kitchen this week, before I put everything back in the new cupboards, I found some antique yeast, a vintage packet of baking powder and many other long expired historic foodstuffs.There were baking trays which had developed their own culture and civilisations and substances that NASA may well be interested in. I'm sure the black treacle stuck to the top of the shelf is really from a Tudor roof and certainly would have been something the children could have used in a science experiment.Now we are approaching the end of the year and December has its icy tentacles wrapped around my neck like a frozen octopus disguised as a scarf, we need to start getting into the spirit of things. The children are tired, as they always are by the end of term -- if their toast is a little too dark there are howling tears -- and I'm ready to wear a festive jumper and eat mince pies for supper.But before we go full steam(ed pudding) ahead into Christmas, and while a little of me is still mentally in Paris, I've made these Tartes Bordaloues. They are named after the bakery named after the Parisian street named after the Jesuit preacher where they were invented. It's a simple poached pear and frangipane in a short and sweet, buttery, crisp pastry. Easy to make and impressive looking, it's as if they've come straight from the patisserie. And with a strong, black coffee they make a perfect elevenses. Forget the partridge in the pear tree, just go for the tart rich in pear, see.IngredientsFor the pate sucrée200g plain flour130g butter40g icing sugar1 egg, beatenFor the frangipane115g ground almonds115g icing sugar115g melted butter1tsp vanilla pasteFor the pears4 small and firm rocha pears or similar. Soft ones will collapse to mush1 vanilla pod, split lengthwise800ml water (enough to cover the pears)300g sugarMethodPoach the pears in the vanilla, water and sugar until al dente then leave to cool.Make the pastry by mixing the flour and icing sugar together then stir in the ground almonds.Add the butter and mix well. Add the beaten egg and bring together to a dough. Lay in between two sheets of baking paper and roll flat. Put in the freezer for 15 minutes or in the fridge for half an hour.Make the frangipane by beating all the ingredients together until you have a paste, then put into a piping bag. Set aside.Heat the oven to 180c.Remove the pears from the syrup and slice.Line 4 small tart tins with the pastry. (With removable bases)Pipe in the frangipane then layer the pears into each.Bake for about 30 minutes, until golden.Leave to cool to room temperature and serve.This weekSaw:Glengarry Glen Ross. Christian Slater at the Playhouse Theatre. Excellent, and swearyBraquo on Netflix, gritty Parisian cops from about six years ago.Listened:Maya's Christmas carol concert at school. So, so sweet. She was very excited, saying it was "the BEST day ever."Johnny Hallyday. French radio playing nothing but his songs. Sounded the same as usual to be honest.Eat:Flatbreads with and Sicilian oregano and harissa slow-roast lamb leg . Piled with houmous, guacamole, olives and chilli oil. Sort of Moroccan tacos.Lahore Karahi fenugreek chicken as we sat surrounded by our house still in boxes.I made a sausage, pea and tomato risotto for the children which they hoovered up. As did I while I was dishing it up.Bratwurst hotter than the sun at Herman ze German on the way to the theatre. Thank God I made it through the whole play.Read:Fred Vargas' Quand Sort la recluse. Still enjoying this French thriller.Viz Christmas issue. Obviously a little levity is good for the soul. 
It's December and time to see how many of our Christmas decorations have survived being shoved at the bottom of the hall cupboard for a year.How many bulbs have broken, where the reindeer's antlers have gone, have you seen the other half of the It's a Wonderful Life DVD and why is The Night Before Christmas missing its cover? are games we love to play every December. Often there is a sock I've been missing for 12 months wrapped around something and the door wreath always needs parts re-glueing.It will be a monumental task this year getting the place ready. The decorator is still there like a paint splattered Yuletide elf, the kitchen is scattered through various rooms and I'm still using the dishwasher as storage against the dust,Being able to open a cupboard and make a snack, or put the kettle on is something we take for granted. Even going for a pee is a treacherous obstacle course in the middle of the night, made only slightly easier now as for some reason the bathroom light is permanently on as half the wires and fittings dangle like a broken and fizzing dystopian New York Jazz bar sign.Until it is finished, simple snacks like this Parmesan crisp bring a smile to our faces on the bleakest of evenings as we perch on our bed with no home to go to even though we're in it.Seven minutes in a dust-covered oven is all this takes, although it may be quicker without the debris. You can add all kinds of seasonings if you're able to find any of your spices under the broken jars and cracked picture frames. Fennel seeds, cumin, rosemary and so on would all be a good addition. And if you can find a box to store them in, they will keep for two or three days.You can also do what I did with them the other night. Boil some spaghetti in heavily salted water until al dente, drain it, keeping a little of the starchy cooking water and crush in a couple of anchovies* -- perhaps it was four -- a good tablespoon of butter and a heavy hand with some chilli olive oil. An extra sprinkle of grated Parmesan and a little salt and pepper made an excellent meal that took no longer to cook than the time it takes to order a new, working set of Christmas lights on the internet.
I was in a hotel in Paris for some of last week, eating unusually. The family had gathered in the 15ème from around Europe and America for Aunty Suzy's funeral, she was 100. An achievement, especially as she smoked comme une cheminée until she was at least 80.She was buried among illustrious company in the Montparnasse cemetery. Grumpy, ugly singers, Irish playwrights probably still waiting, existentialist philosophers, artists and grands fromages from history share the cold ground. I may not be able to see her anymore, but there is a place I can go to visit. Her apartment block will always be there, but new people will occupy it, more lives being lived. I'll not see those rooms again. God knows they're in for a surprise when they see the decoration that hasn't changed since she moved in.The local boulangerie furnished me with two ficelles a day, the tiny Carrefour express two minutes away kept me in supplied with ham, paté and cheese and I went to the Monoprix around the corner just to look at the food on display like a drooling window shopper. Being at the mercy of restaurants for each meal is not for me, merci. So a bag on the hotel balcony in the chilly November air served as an impromptu fridge to store my supplies.This kept me from being grumpy, like a local, and when you're dealing with 20 family members and trying to organise group meals, you need to fortify yourself. It's like herding cats, so pre-emptive snacks are a must.We went out for cous cous, it's a family tradition. Merguez and I have a long and happy history, but don't get to be together much anymore. It's a long-distance relationship, but we're always pleased to see each other. Much of my family grew up in Tripoli where the Ghirlando Brothers shipping company was based so this food is a reminder of their childhood and all of them together is like the good old days.I raided the patisserie on the Rue de Lourmel – canelé and pear tarts every day. The occasional palmier, petite beurre and chocolate barquette may have fallen into my bag. And creme brulée and tart tatin were shoveled down my trou gateau at the nearest opportunity. I clearly can't be trusted in Paris where even the smell of the Metro is like a meal to me. I also had steak tartare with salad and proper french frites. It's what she would have wanted.This clearly and sadly can't go on. But that doesn't mean I have to return to a life of pottage. How gruel that would be. So with the simplest of ingredients I made a feast to liven up a cold London lunchtime. Cherry tomatoes, slowly cooked in garlic, herbs and oil until bursting have at least doubled in flavour. And the aubergine, first charred and burnt on the gas flame was roasted until soft then blitzed with garlic, onion and thyme compote that I'd slowly and softly melted down under a paper cartouche, the flame beneath barely stronger than a match.I made some pitta breads, soft and a little blackened in parts from the griddle, to mop up all the juices and we sat, contently and quietly eating. To cut through the richness there was a salad of thinly sliced red onion, sliced baby cucumber, crumbled feta cheese from the new Turkish shop round the corner and a sprinkle of dried Sicilian oregano. It was finished off with a simple dressing of olive oil, cider vinegar (I had no red wine vinegar) and some black pepper.All of this can be made in advance, perhaps the night before while making supper. The tomatoes can stay out on the kitchen worktop, but take the aubergine purée out of the fridge an hour before eating. If it's too cold its flavour will be as non-existent as Jean-Paul Sartre's afterlife.Ingredients
There are weeks, like the one just gone where I can barely remember the slightest thing of interest happening in day to day life.Most noteworthy was hurriedly inflating an air bed on the pavement outside my in-laws' house fifteen minutes after the children were due to be asleep on it in our bedroom as there were guests needing theirs. I had to do it outside, in case you were wondering, because the air pump attaches to the car's cigarette lighter. It wasn't because I love the great outdoors.I immediately punctured it on the thorns leading up the path to the house. This is what comes of doing things last minute. We've had this mattress ten years without incident, using it perhaps three times over the decade. The one time we really need it a prick burst it.I've barely cooked this week at home –by home I mean the in-laws house as we continue our stay away from the dust sheets and collapsed lost tomb of the Incas our place resembles– which has made a welcome change. It is nice to have an occasional break from the kitchen, if a little odd. As much as I love feeding people, I like the control I have over something and the feeling I get when making other people happy. Filming every day this week I haven't been around much for my family; I've felt my absence keenly.Still, the food cooked for me by mother-in-law Sue has been delicious. Highlights were the mushroom risotto and an incredibly irresistible pineapple pudding from a Jane Grigson recipe that over the course of three helpings with ice cream overcame my avoidance of sugar during the week. I have a feeling that in a fortnight we will have extended waists as well as a redecorated home.But I have cooked a couple of things. A simple ten second pasta sauce for the children on Saturday (blitz together one tin of tomatoes, 1 clove of garlic, olive oil, a pinch of oregano, a dash of tomato purée and a pinch of salt then cook quickly) which everyone tucked into except me. I had bratwurst onto which I spooned the remains of the salsa verde from the other night. Its zing and freshness had faded like a green velvet curtain left in the sun, it's lost grandeur just a reminder of better times. And because everyone else seems to hate bratwurst in my family I got all the sausages.On Saturday night, as we all sat down to watch 'Strictly', the children's eyes kept open with matchsticks, zombified with tiredness yet unwilling to admit defeat to the enemy of sleep, we ate bowls of haricot beans slowly stewed with chorizo, sofrito, a dash of stock and chicken thighs first browned in the paprika infused oil then left to slowly simmer in the mix until tender. Comforting and very tasty.Here's a recipe the children helped me to make the weekend before we shipped out. The sourdough starter and longer ferment gives the brioche stronger structure and deeper flavour than the standard brioche so it stands up a little more to serious abuse from pouring over a load of hot chocolate sauce, if that's your kind of thing. It is mine. At least when I'm not avoiding sugar...Ingredients2tbsp starter200ml lukewarm water plus 50ml350g flour plus extra for kneading15g 
There is a shelf in our fridge that David Attenborough should investigate. Here, behind the inconspicuous looking cheese, the vivid bright colours of the chilli sauce bottle and the jar of ancient miso lie unexplained phenomena. Jars of things, experiments and whims.While we are currently living out of suitcases at the in-laws, I admit there is a possibility I don't need as much stuff as I have. It has been refreshing to live with a minimum of things, and while it will inevitably not last after the decorating has been finished at home, I see that life could do with streamlining. And that should extend to the kitchen. I have boxes full of things I use maybe once a year, and perhaps while we are trying to sell our place, I could do without festering packets of dried animal parts and the like that I insist impart a certain je ne sais quoi to dishes.It can't go on. And while I experiment with flavours, make pickles and chutneys or try and use up gluts of vegetables our fridge becomes fuller and smellier. So I will now stick to the fresh and keep a minimum of jars. Within reason.These shall be:Dijon mustard -- a must, without which vinaigrette is nothing to meMiso -- just for that little savouriness and occasional warming hot drinkChilli sauce -- well that goes without saying. A house without chilli sauce is not a home.Pickled jalapenos -- what are tacos and chilli without those? And let's not forget how brilliant the little pickled chillies are with spaghetti Bolognese, so those can stay tooGarlic and ginger purée -- well, it's just so useful isn't it?Cornichons -- what kind of a household doesn't have those in the fridge? Savages.The jar of 
My first mumbled thought on waking this morning was that it is now acceptable to have a mince pie. Bonfire night has passed and November is wrapping its chilly fingers around mine reminding me I need some new gloves. Here at the kitchen table I'm doing a passable impression of a snowman.We have moved out of ours temporarily so the decorators can paint over years of underinvestment and its accumulated grime, which includes the children's use of walls as Basquiat did. Bee's parents are kindly letting us stay with them, and unused as we are to big, old houses, (insert joke here about the owners being creaky and and falling apart? Pretty sure mother-in-law doesn't read this? Check first) I'm considering turning their thermostat right up and convincing them it must be their advanced years that is giving them hot flushes.The beginning of the week, although disorganised and busy packing boxes, didn't prevent us eating homemade food. We had the leftovers from the Sunday roast as an evening meal of chicken noodle soup. That also left, in turn, chicken noodle soup leftovers for Monday's supper, pepped up with a little ginger, garlic and chilli. For us, Monday's meal is usually light and often no more than scrambled eggs on toast. Albeit scrambled eggs cooked with fresh curry leaves, garlic, ginger, green chilli, onions, garam masala and coriander.We saved the eggs for Tuesday, where I cooked down some tinned tomatoes with garlic, onion, some sautéed chorizo and a dash of nutmeg and chilli flakes. The eggs went into this sauce and baked in the oven for ten minutes before we eat it spooned onto lightly toasted sourdough, plates balanced on our knees watching the penultimate episode of