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4th Estate
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.4thEstate.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by 4th Estate in 2019
Text copyright © Nigel Slater 2019
All recipe photographs © Jonathan Lovekin 2019
Except p. 295 © Nigel Slater 2019
Brushstrokes copyright © Tom Kemp 2019
Nigel Slater asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Design by David Pearson
Author photograph by Jenny Zarins
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008333355
Ebook Edition © March 2019 ISBN: 9780008336622
Version: 2019-03-21
For James
Tom Kemp
Tom Kemp trained as a calligrapher, absorbing the large number of Western scripts written with a quill pen. It was an introduction to the square-edged brush, however, which led to his current work. He studied the heavily-doubted theory that the best classical Roman inscriptions were first written with the brush directly and swiftly on marble; the subsequent carving was just a way of fixing this handwriting in place. Tom rediscovered many of the techniques needed to prove the theory, summarising his findings in a book, Formal Brush Writing, published in 1999. Since then he has taught this Roman calligraphic technique in classes around the world. At the same time, he started to explore the idea of writing itself and began to abstract away from letters and words, resulting in what he calls ‘writing without language’. Seven years ago, he began to learn the craft of pottery which he now uses to make complex, curved porcelain surfaces on which he writes.
tomkemp.com
Instagram @tom_kemp_
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Tom Kemp
Introduction
In a Bowl
CHICKPEA, PEA, SPROUTED SEEDS
FREEKEH, PEACHES, FETA
GREENS, COCONUT CURRY
MELON, PEPPERS, CUCUMBER
MISO, CAULIFLOWER, GINGER
MISO, MUSHROOMS, PAK CHOI
BULGUR, NECTARINES, PARSLEY
PANEER, AUBERGINE, CASHEWS
PAPAYA, CARROT, RADISH
PEAS, PARSLEY, VEGETABLE STOCK
PEPPERS, CHICKPEAS, GARLIC
POMEGRANATE, CUCUMBER, PUFFED RICE
QUINOA, PEAS, SPROUTED SEEDS
RICE, BROAD BEANS, ASPARAGUS
RUNNER BEANS, CASHEWS, TOMATOES
SHIITAKE, COCONUT, SOBA NOODLES
RICE, COURGETTES, PICKLED VEGETABLES
RICE, PICKLES, NORI
In a Pan
ASPARAGUS, BROAD BEANS, EGGS
AUBERGINE, HONEY, SHEEP’S CHEESE
COURGETTE (OR MARROW), ZA’ATAR, HERB YOGHURT
COURGETTES, DILL, CHICKPEAS
COURGETTES, MUSHROOMS
AUBERGINE, CHILLI, SOY
FENNEL, ONIONS, EGGS
PASTA, TOMATOES
GNOCCHI, TOMATO, RADISHES
HALLOUMI, MINT, AUBERGINE
MARROW, TOMATO, COUSCOUS
PEAS, BREADCRUMBS
SPRING CABBAGE, SPRING ONIONS, POTATOES
SWEET POTATOES, TOMATOES
In the Hand
CARROTS, TOMATOES, BUNS
FETA, BEETROOT, BUNS
MUSTARD GUACAMOLE, MOZZARELLA, BAGEL
In the Morning
STRAWBERRIES, OATS, YOGHURT
In the Oven
ASPARAGUS, PUFF PASTRY
AUBERGINE, HAZELNUTS, ONIONS
AUBERGINE, PUFF PASTRY
HALLOUMI, TOMATOES
BAKED PEPPERS, BEANS, HERB SAUCE
BAKED RICOTTA, ASPARAGUS
BEETROOT, CARROTS, SUGAR SNAPS
GREEN FALAFEL, WATERMELON, YOGHURT
KALE, BLUE CHEESE, ORECCHIETTE
LENTILS, PEPPERS, GORGONZOLA
ORZO, PEPPERS
PEPPERS, PESTO, FETA
ROAST NEW POTATOES, SPINACH SAUCE
ROASTED PEPPER, TOMATO, FOCACCIA
ROAST SPRING VEGETABLES, PEANUT SAUCE
BROAD BEANS, SPRING GREENS, LASAGNE
TOMATOES, BASIL, BREADCRUMBS
TOMATOES, COUSCOUS, HARISSA
On a Plate
BEETROOT, CURRY LEAVES, CRISP ONIONS
BROAD BEANS, PEA SHOOTS, SALTED RICOTTA
BURRATA, BROCCOLI, LENTILS
FENNEL, RADISH, YOGHURT
MUSHROOMS, PEAS, TOAST
NOODLES, SPROUTED BEANS, PEANUTS
POTATOES, SPINACH, POMEGRANATE
TOMATO, PEAS, FETA
TOMATO, BEANS, BREAD
On the Grill
AUBERGINE, FETA, YOGHURT
GRILLED LETTUCE, CARROT SOUP
COURGETTES, RICOTTA, PINE KERNELS
HALLOUMI, MELON, CHILLI
POLENTA, SPINACH, PARMESAN
On the Hob
ARTICHOKE, TAGLIATELLE
ASPARAGUS, MISO, MUSTARD
EGGS, Potatoes
BROAD BEANS, FLAGEOLETS, COURGETTES
BROAD BEANS, COUSCOUS, PINE KERNELS
BROAD BEANS, NEW POTATOES, TOMATOES
BUCATINI, COURGETTES, SPINACH
CAULIFLOWER, PUMPKIN SEEDS, BREADCRUMBS
CAULIFLOWER, GARLIC, SPICES
FETTUCINE, SAMPHIRE, LEMON
FREEKEH, AVOCADO, CHIVES
POTATOES, WILD GARLIC
PEAS, PAPPARDELLE, PARMESAN
NEW POTATOES, GARLIC, PEPPERS
SUMMER SQUASH, TOMATOES, SPINACH
TOMATOES, CHICKPEAS, CASHEWS
TOMATOES, COURGETTES, PEAS
TROFIE, PARSLEY, PECORINO
Pudding
PLUMS, CROISSANTS
BLACKBERRY, APPLE, MARZIPAN
BLACKCURRANT, YOGHURT
CHERRY, SWEET PASTRY
LEMON RICE, MANGO, ICE CREAM
CUCUMBER, BASIL, CREAM CHEESE
FIG, GOAT’S CHEESE, HONEY
CURRANTS, GIN, BREAD
MERINGUE, APRICOTS, BLACKCURRANTS
PEACH, BLACKBERRIES, ICE CREAM
PLUMS, BROWN SUGAR, HAZELNUTS
SPONGE FINGERS, CHERRY, CUSTARD
PLUMS, CLOVES, BAY
RICOTTA, ORANGE BLOSSOM, CHERRIES
STRAWBERRIES, PASSION FRUIT, BALSAMIC
PEACHES, BISCUITS, MASCARPONE
WATERMELON, PROSECCO
Index
Acknowledgements
A note on the brushstrokes
A note on the type
About the Author
Also by Nigel Slater
About the Publisher
INTRODUCTION
There is a little black book on the kitchen table. Neatly annotated in places, virtually illegible in others, it is the latest in a long line of tissue-thin pages containing the hand-written details of everything I eat. This is not one of the kitchen chronicles where I write down recipe workings and shopping lists, ideas and wish lists, but a daily diary of everything that ends up on my plate. If I have yoghurt, blackcurrant compote and pumpkin seeds at breakfast it will be in that little book. Likewise, a lunch of green lentils and grilled red peppers or a dinner of roast cauliflower and a bowl of miso soup. Each bowl of soup, plate of pasta and every mushroom on toast is faithfully logged. I don’t know exactly why or when I started noting down my dinner, but these little books are now filled in out of habit as much as anything else. The notes are often made at night, just before I lock up and go to bed. I suspect my little black books will be buried with me.
I occasionally look back at what I have written, often as I change one journal for the next. One of the points that interests me, and perhaps this is the main reason I have kept the daily ritual going for so long, is that I can follow how my eating has changed, albeit gradually, over the years. There are of course unshakable edibles, (I seem to have started and ended each day’s eating with a bowl of yoghurt for as long as I can remember), but I also find marked changes in what I cook and eat. The most notable is the quantity, I definitely eat less than I used to, and there is a conspicuous move towards lighter dishes, particularly in spring and summer.
But here’s another thing. Despite being resolutely omnivorous, it is clear how much of my everyday eating has become plant-based. Although not strictly vegetarian (the bottom line for me will always be that my dinner is delicious, not something that must adhere to a set of strict dietary rules), much of my weekday eating contains neither meat nor fish. I am not sure this was a particularly considered choice. It is simply the way my eating has grown to be over the last few years. I do know, however, that I am not alone in this.
Greenfeast, like Eat before it, is a collection of what I eat when I finish work every day: the casual yet spirited meals with which I sustain myself and whoever else is around. The recipes are, like those in previous collections, more for inspiration than rules to be adhered to, slavishly, word for word. But unlike Eat, this collection offers no meat or fish. The idea of collecting these recipes together is for those like-minded eaters who find themselves wanting inspiration for a supper that owes more to plants than animals.
HOW I EAT
I rarely hand someone a plate full of food. More hospitable and more fun, I think, is a table that has a selection of bowls and dishes of food to which people can help themselves. And by that, I mean dinner for two or three as much as those for a group of family or friends. That way, the table comes to life, food is offered or passed round, a dish is shared, the meal is instantly more joyful.
In summer there will be a couple of light, easily-prepared principal dishes. Alongside those will be some sort of accompaniment. There may be wedges of toasted sourdough, glossy with olive oil and flakes of sea salt. Noodles that I have cooked, often by simply pouring boiling water over them, then tossed in a little toasted sesame oil and coriander leaves, or an all-singing and -dancing Korean chilli paste.
A dish of red pepper soup might sit alongside a plate of fried aubergines and feta. Crisp pea croquettes may well be placed on the table with tomato and French bean salad. Southeast-Asian noodles might be eaten with roast spring vegetables and peanut sauce and a mild dish of creamed and grilled cauliflower could turn up with a spiced tomato couscous. Two dishes, often three, are very much the usual at home. I find the thought of being able to dip into several dishes uplifting in comparison to a single plate piled high.
Much of what I cook in the spring and summer is exceptionally light, by which I mean it is unlikely to be carb-heavy or based on dairy produce. There are a few things that come out on a regular basis. Bowls of yoghurt that have been folded through with chopped mint and coriander, a splash of rice vinegar and chives. There are often some lightly pickled vegetables: usually carrots, beetroot or red onions. A tangle of sauerkraut turned with an equal volume of chopped herbs, or a tomato and basil salad. Like migratory birds, these are regular visitors to my summer table. There will be others too. Perhaps some rice with crisped onions and coriander or noodles tossed with crushed tomatoes, sea salt and red wine vinegar. There may be a dish of couscous with mint, golden sultanas and green peas, or new potatoes with olive oil, tarragon and lemon zest.
It is no secret that I have a deep affection for the cold months, but my love of summer cooking, its ease and laidback feeling is not far behind. There are highlights that turn up on the table from May to September and often beyond. A few pieces of melon rolled in the juice of a passion fruit for breakfast. A deep cup of miso soup with shreds of spring greens and lemon for lunch. The uppermost points of early summer asparagus tossed with ground sesame seeds and a trickle of toasted oil to accompany a salad of sprouted seeds and green peas. A single misshapen ball of burrata with an emerald ribbon of basil oil, or a cucumber, crushed and scattered with cool ricotta and mint leaves aside a bowl of avocado and green wheat. The list is almost endless.
The recipes throughout the book are light. They are meant to be mixed and matched as you wish. A table with several little bowls of light, unfussy food to please and delight and, ultimately, gently sustain.
A NOTE ON THE RECIPES
Though all are plant-based, the recipes within these pages are not strictly vegetarian. They can, however, be rendered suitable for vegetarian or vegan diets with a bit of informed tweaking.
I am a collector of bowls. Bowls for soup and porridge, bowls for rice and pasta, bowls for pudding. I enjoy choosing which will be most appropriate for my dinner, deep or shallow, with a rim or without, earthenware, lacquer or wood. There is nothing precious about this, I simply feel that food tastes better when you eat it from something that flatters the contents.
When I moved to London, forty years ago, I bought a couple of thick, heavy, white Pillivuyt soup bowls. I have them to this day. They were my only tableware for many years, long before I bought plates or shallow dishes. They are used daily, no longer to eat from, but for beating eggs or blending a dressing. There is always at least one sitting in the fridge, a saucer for a hat, keeping a little treasure safe for another day.
I have two wooden bowls for porridge, made from ash. They form a gentle start to the day. The quiet, beatific pleasure of the movement of wooden spoon across wooden bowl. I feel like Goldilocks, even when they are used for a strawberry Bircher muesli. Occasionally they are commandeered for a soup or rice, but they are without doubt meant for the early hours.
Miso broth is my panacea. It solves every question, soothes every ill, warms, satiates and cossets. Initially a morning ritual, the bowl of miso soup can be enhanced with sliced vegetables, shreds of seaweed, sliced mushrooms and skeins of noodles. If ever I am unsure of what I want to eat, five minutes with a cup of miso broth and I have decided. The darker the miso the more it sharpens the appetite and spurs you to cook.
Serving risotto from a bowl instead of a plate is enough to get you lynched in some circles. I care not a jot. I like my risotto in a bowl, where the last spoonful (and yes, a spoon!) remains as hot as the first rather than chilling on a plate. Or perhaps it is the joy that springs from winding up those whose eating is atrophied by tradition. That said, I am not a prolific eater of rice. There is much to be said though for a bowl of pure white basmati or sticky Japanese rice, seasoned with jewel-coloured tsukemono, the emerald, saffron and magenta pickles of Kyoto. Sometimes, I crumble a sheet of nori over the top, or sprinkle the tiny tea-green flakes over the grains, or add a dusting of chilli and sesame-toasted togarishi.
The holding of a bowl – more like cradling really – comforts us. But it is important how the bowl feels in the hand. Too rough and it can grate on the nerves, like nails down a blackboard or teeth on a pear drop. Too smooth and your soup feels refined and cold-hearted. What I appreciate most is the humble quality of a bowl and the food you put in it. Even the most exquisitely-formed recipe is brought down a peg or two when served in an earthenware dish. The food jumbles unaffectedly in the hollow, the deep sides capture the scent of the food, increasing the enjoyment of every mouthful.
I eat more food from a bowl than I do from a plate. Partly because I can pick it up and get closer to my food, the act of eating becomes more intimate, but also because of my adoration of potters and the work that goes into their art and craft. The idea that something has been on a clay-dusted wheel, moulded and shaped by their own hands and signed with a potter’s mark, only adds to the experience. The only ones that don’t work for me are the square ones, angular, awkward and uncomfortable and no less unattractive than square plates. A bright pattern can cheer or jar as your spirit takes you.
This being a spring and summer book, there are probably fewer bowl-based recipes than in the second autumn and winter volume, but we still have a crisp Vietnamese-inspired salad, a cooling melon gazpacho, a paneer korma and a bowl of green peas and sprouted seeds. There are rice bowls and soup bowls, freekeh salad, a verdant curry and a deep dish of creamy noodles. There are others of course, recipes in the On the Hob chapter in particular. There is not much that isn’t more appealing to me when eaten from the depths of a beautiful bowl.
I don’t think we should spend too much time agonising over the right receptacle for the right food any more than we should play too seriously the wine-matching game. That said, I get pleasure from rummaging through my collection of everyday, utilitarian pieces simply to make my food look comfortable. (Anyone who has ever put tomato soup into a bright blue dish will know what uncomfortable food looks like.) In general, salads need a bit more space so I tend to favour a wide dish. Big soups like a generous home in which to sit – it will keep the contents hotter for longer and shallow ones are good for beautiful ingredients you want to admire. A deep one will also give you the joy of finding a hidden dumpling lurking deliciously at the bottom.
I have a certain reverence for food served in a bowl that I don’t when it is served on a plate. I am not sure why this should be, I only know that it is. I love the way the dressing, sauce or juices sit in the base, to be spooned up as a final treat, which is why so many of the dishes throughout these books are presented the way they are. It is my preferred way to eat.
CHICKPEA, PEA, SPROUTED SEEDS
A can of chickpeas from the shelf. Green peas from the freezer. A store- cupboard supper for a spring evening.
Serves 4
chickpeas 2 × 400g cans
frozen or fresh peas 400g (podded weight)
sprouted mung beans 100g
sprouted seeds such as radish 80g
olive oil 4 tablespoons
ground cumin 2 teaspoons
ground coriander 2 teaspoons
For the dressing:
tahini 1 tablespoon
juice of a lemon
olive oil 4 tablespoons
Bring a pan of water to the boil. Drain and rinse the chickpeas. Cook the peas in boiling water till tender. Drain and refresh in a bowl of iced water. Rinse the mung beans and sprouted seeds in cold water and shake them dry.
Make the dressing: beat together the tahini, lemon juice and olive oil.
Warm the olive oil in a frying pan over a moderate heat, add the chickpeas and ground spices and let them sizzle for a couple of minutes till hot and fragrant. Move the chickpeas around the pan as they brown.
Drain the peas again and put them in a serving bowl with the mung beans and radish sprouts. Fold in the dressing and lastly the chickpeas.
• One of those everlastingly useful ‘suppers in minutes’. Use frozen peas or a packet of fresh, podded peas from the supermarket. If you are podding fresh peas for this you will need a generous kilo.
• Use whichever sprouted peas you have around, including the mixtures of lentils and mung beans from health food shops. The point is to introduce as many differing textures as you can.
FREEKEH, PEACHES, FETA
Sweet-salty cheese and fruit. The comfort of warm grain.
Serves 2–3
freekeh 125g
thyme a few sprigs
bay leaves 2
feta 250g
za’atar 1 teaspoon
a large peach
olive oil 3 tablespoons
a medium onion
mint 10g
parsley 20g
a lemon
Set the oven at 200°C/Gas 6. Put the freekeh, thyme and bay on to boil with enough water to cover by a good third. Salt it lightly and simmer for fifteen minutes.
Place a large piece of kitchen foil on a baking sheet, lay the piece of feta in the middle and sprinkle with the za’atar. Halve the peach, discard the stone, then cut each half into four. Tuck the peach around the feta, then pour over two tablespoons of the olive oil. Pull the sides of the foil up around its cargo and scrunch loosely to seal. Bake for twenty minutes.
Peel and finely slice the onion, then fry till crisp in the reserved oil. Set aside on kitchen paper.
Chop the mint and parsley together. Remove the feta from the oven and open the parcel. Pour the baking juices out into a bowl and mix with the juice of the lemon. Drain the freekeh, discarding the herbs, then dress with the lemon and baking juices. Fold in the mint and parsley, then break up the feta into large pieces and add. Lay the peaches amongst the freekeh, top with the crisp onions and serve.
• A substantial salad of warm, chewy grain, salty cheese and sweet, juicy peaches. The parsley and mint are important, but you could use basil too, or even coriander if you prefer.
GREENS, COCONUT CURRY
Vibrant, verdant.
Serves 2–4
For the curry paste:
white peppercorns 1 teaspoon
coriander seeds 1 teaspoon
ground turmeric 1 teaspoon
lemon grass 2 stalks
garlic 2 cloves