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My darling Rose

I can’t take full credit for this book, or anything I do if we’re entirely honest. You have been standing by my side in everything I do and in the last five years your investment and talent have become invaluable. I joke that we’ve become like the Elton and Bernie of food, and I guess I want the rest of the world to know that behind all good cookery writers there’s often a team of writers and food assistants, but with you and me it’s just us, but our us’ is so synchronised, strong, and such a slick operation, that we’ve not needed anyone else. This book is called Restore, and I thank you for taking on a bigger role and doing more than anyone’s ever done for me and restoring me. I’m ever-concerned about sling-shotting you into all of the life-consuming projects we do, and I’m eternally grateful to you for taking each of them on as your own; working the same hours, with the same dedication, while I get all the glory! Everything is better in my life with you in it, and even in real life you are my best friend. I fear that I am Samson, and without you I would lose my powers. Fuck it! At this stage I’m kind of ready for our Grey Gardens premonition. Love you in a way that’s inexplicable.

Gizzi x

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Note to Readers

Introduction

Ferments and Pickles

Quick Ferments

Accelerated Gochujang

Cheats’ Activated Kimchi

Fauzu Kosho

Fermented Fruit Vinegar

Tepache

Sauerkraut

Slow Ferments

White Miso

Vegan XO Sauce

Fish Sauce

Brines and Pickles

Lemon and Lime Pickle

Wonderful watermelons

Mexican-spiced Pickled Watermelon Rind

Watermelon Juice Vinegar

Lacto-fermented Watermelon Rind

Fridge-raid ‘not quite Branston’s’ Pickle

Punchy Piccalilli

Chilli Sauces

West Indian Hot Sauce

Sriracha

Vegetables: Spring to Summer

English Garden Antipasto

Ratatouille

Green Tomato Salsa

Green Shakshuka

Pumpkin Seed and Cocoa Mole Sauce for pumpkins, poultry and beans

Globe Artichokes with Real Salad Cream

Summer Salad Soup

Greenhouse Romesco Sauce with Chargrilled Spring Onions

Peas, Broad Beans and Lettuce Gratin

Patlican Salata

Egg and Bacon Potato Salad

Braised Courgettes

Stuffed Marrows and Tomatoes with Mushrooms and Orzo

Braised Flat Beans in Slow Cooked Tomato Sauce

Linguine alla Courgette Aglio e Olio

Broad Bean, Mint and Feta Salad

Elote

Nam Prik Ong with Allotment Vegetables

Vegetables: Autumn to Winter

Szechuan Onion Flower

Roasted Cauliflower, Preserved Lemon and Chilli Pasta

Root Vegetable Bulgar Wheat, ‘Cous cous’ style, with Merguez Sausages

Roast Carrots with Queso Fresco, Coriander and Jalapeño Oil, and Pumpkin Seeds

Allotment ‘Ital-style’ Stew

Sri Lankan Beetroot and Coconut Curry

Salt-baked Celeriac

Celeriac Holstein

Celeriac Cordon Bleu

Celeriac Bread Sauce

Celeriac Remoulade

Rainbow Slaw

Chrain

Jerusalem Artichoke and Bacon Gratin

Parsnip, Miso, Oat and Shallot Boulangère

Fruit

A Pistachio Tart for Soft Fruit

Fruit Pie and Crumble – Fillings

Fruit Pie and Crumble – Toppings

Leftover Juicing Cake

A Glut of Jams

Summer Fruit Cordial

Pulses, Beans and Grains

Roasted Beetroot, Beluga Lentil and Watercress Salad with Goat’s Cheese Croute

Black Lentil and Beetroot Larb

Puy Lentils, a Big Red and Roasted Toulouse Sausage

Ethiopian Lentil Stew

Carlin Pea and Pumpkin Massaman

Tarka Dhal

Egyptian Fava Bean Falafels and Sauces

Cheese Semolina Grits

Three Ways with Mexican Braised Pinto Beans

Marmite, Onion and Roast Root Vegetable Stew with Cheesy Scones

Mushy Peas

Barley and Mushroom Risotto with Pan-roasted King Oyster

Bibimbap

Sugar, Flour, Fat, Eggs and Milk

Sourdough Doughnuts with White Chocolate Custard and Sour Cherry Jam

Garbage Pail Cookies – a homage to Momofuku Milk Bar

Burnt Basque Country Cheesecake with Gooseberries in Green Wine

Banana Cream Pie

Vanilla School Cake and Custard

Queso Fresco

Gözleme

Flatbreads

Sourdough Flatbreads

Rye Tortillas

Cheese Ends Soufflé Omelette

Poultry and Game

Chicken in Weeds 2020

Guinea Fowl alla ‘Diavolo’

Roast Pheasant

A Delicious Port and Blackberry Sauce for Game

Sage and Onion Stuffing

Korma Wings

Rabbit à la Moutarde

Meat and Offal

Braised Beef Shin with Barbecue Sauce

Wild Garlic Stuffed Mutton

A Really Great Lamb Neck Stew with lots of flavour but no identity

Goat Herder’s Pie

Jamaican Goat Curry Patties

Miso and Apple Pork Rib-eye Steaks

Chashu Pork Belly

Tonkotsu Ramen

24-hour Beef Tail and Rib Pho

Mutton Nihari

Pork and Sage Cannelloni

Roasted Lamb Belly and Ribs for a multitude of things like Asian-style crispy lamb, tacos and kebabs

Devilled Kidneys

Faggots

Goat Ragu, with its Offal

Fish

Vongole

Sumiso Cod Collar

Cuttlefish and Courgette Frito

Chilli con Pesce

Wet & Wild Monkfish Kievs

Moules à la Crème

Sour Orange Fish Curry

Black Pepper Crab

Essentials

Fresh Hand-rolled Pasta

Elevated Hollandaise Sauce, for asparagus, artichokes, fish and eggs

Stocks

Gizzi’s Slow Cooked Tomato Sauce

Mayonnaise

Red Wine and Beef Sauce

Rice and Peas

Vinaigrette

Confit Garlic

Sourdough Starter

Cook’s Notes

List of searchable terms

Acknowledgements

Copyright

About the Publisher

INTRODUCTION
A MODERN GUIDE TO SUSTAINABLE EATING

As I’m writing this, the COVID-19 pandemic is in full swing. The world has ground to a halt, we have lost loved ones and businesses, and the global economy is experiencing its biggest crash in history. It’s a catastrophic moment.

When I started writing this book, over a year ago, the world felt like a very different place. Brexit was an undone deal. Boris Johnson was not our Prime Minister (who could have predicted that?), and the potential of leaving Europe only to trade more heavily with America seemed much more distant than it does today. I was already in something of a tizz about the state of the world, both agriculturally and environmentally, and was finding the mixed messaging – and the fact that no one was taking responsibility for the real cause of all this damage done to the planet – maddening. I was horrified at the implications of Brexit in terms of trade deals and the future of farming in the UK. The possibility of closed borders and a distancing in our relationship with the EU, hand in hand with the climate crisis, were bringing us ever closer to the kind of dystopian future so far brought to life only on screen and in books. And this made me realise I had to re-evaluate how I approach my use of imported ingredients – ingredients I truly cannot live without. I needed to teach myself how to adapt. And now I want to share everything I’ve learnt.

Our food story starts at home but it feeds into a bigger narrative – one of consumption and destruction on a massive scale.

We are in a global crisis. Scientists and environmentalists are suggesting that we are at the early stages of the sixth mass extinction event. So what exactly does this mean? And how can changing the way we eat alter this trajectory? I’m first going to give you the briefest, but most shocking of breakdowns.

Since the first industrial revolution, we have been taking fossil fuels from the Earth. Through every modern human activity that requires energy (which, let’s face it, is most things these days, as fossil fuels are not just used for energy, but also in our building materials, foods, packaging, pharmaceuticals, clothes and beauty products… essentially the entire infrastructure that we’ve created on this planet) these fossil fuels then convert this energy into CO₂, methane and nitrous oxide. These gases have slowly created a barrier in the atmosphere which means the Earth is heating up at an exponential rate. Every 1°C rise in temperature equates to 7 per cent more precipitation, which is leading to the continually increasing violent weather events we’re witnessing.

Most alarming are the fresh water melts in the Arctic and Antarctic, which are happening at a far more rapid rate than scientists previously predicted, leading to extreme changes in the global currents, which in turn affects the global weather systems even further. It is predicted that within the next seven decades we will see an extinction of over half of the species of life on Earth.

The reason we’re experiencing a pandemic is a direct result of the extensive deforestation of the world’s rainforests in order to create more land for agriculture, which is putting people and livestock in closer and closer contact with wildlife and their otherwise harmless and dormant viruses: consumption of bush meat such as pangolins and bats has been confirmed as the likely source of human transmission. Some people, when they engage with the reality of our planet’s condition, decide to stop eating meat and dairy products. I fully accept that the meat and dairy industry is problematic, but I don’t accept that this black and white approach is necessarily the right way forward. It’s more complex than we think, and prominent films such as What The Health and Gamechangers, which suggest that veganism is the only answer to saving the planet, are extremely misleading and one-sided.

The whole thing is terrifying and when you start to read more into it, it only gets more overwhelming, as it only opens up an even bigger and more complex can of worms. While we are slowly catching on, we are still very much living the capitalist dream of consume, consume, consume. I have a lot of opinions about this, many of them social and economic, and with this book I’m attempting to debunk some of these highly complex issues to help provide a down-to-earth guide to shopping, eating and cooking for now.

Corporations are slowly accepting the terrifying realisation that we are at a critical juncture in history where drastic changes need to be made to preserve our planet and made quickly; it seems that real change has to come from the individual at home, as it’s us who drive the market and have the potential to start this revolution with our own actions.

To me, the word ‘restore’ has several meanings. First of all, I want to help you understand what it takes in modern farming practices to restore the pH balance and equilibrium of the soil, how we can restore the balance of human impact on the world, and how we can restore our own bodies with the food we consume in the process. To ‘restore’ ourselves is not how we live any more. Imbalance is rife. Most people’s modern mode of living involves excessive calorie consumption, wildly beyond what’s essential for our survival. Accepting that change starts at home can be overwhelming, devastating and depressing for anyone with any joie de vivre, but it doesn’t mean that we have to live this incredibly staunch, colourless or bland life. If anything, it’s the opposite: when we look into food production and the reality of what it means to eat sustainably we are in fact offered a pretty bountiful plate. There are some incredible food producers in this country, and our seasons deliver an abundance of wonderful ingredients. Yes, eating in a ‘restorative’ way takes consideration, forming new habits, and stepping away from conveniences, but it can also be creative, fun and delicious.

I want this to be a cook’s companion full of practical steps and advice that can help push you towards living and eating more sustainably. I’ve investigated the real carbon footprint of food and looked at the reality of what we need to do to support our environment, our agricultural industry and the health of our bodies and I want to use this information to inform accessible and attainable recipes – a handbook on how to shop, eat and cook, full of recipes that are a celebration of life.

FERMENTING AND PRESERVING

Assuming that you’ve read my introduction, you will know that the motivation for me writing this book was the enormous impact food production, and how we trade and transport produce, has on the health of our planet. It made me ask myself, what would I do if I couldn’t get my hands on some of the most critical international ingredients I use for cooking every day? Asian food is one of my favourites, but many of the ingredients I use in these dishes – particularly the fermented condiments – are imported. For me, life without soy sauce, fish sauce, miso and gochujang isn’t a life I want to be a part of. So what can we do?

If you’re into cooking, there is nothing more satisfying than the process of creating a meal, from buying your ingredients, to preparing them, then the metamorphosis of the cookery process and finally placing the dish in front of someone you love and watching it be devoured. You know the amount of love you’ve put into it. Realising there are people out there who specialise in making some of the ingredients you’ve used, who have the same passion and consideration as you’ve put into making that meal, makes me want to scoop up all the good producers in the world and hold them to my breast in gratitude! I wanted to learn how to make some of these products.

How fermenting works

The Asian condiments I love all look and taste different, but they share the same foundation – one of the most uncontrollable ingredients in cookery: bacterial cultures. These cultures require regulated temperature (as opposed to heat) and time. Fermenting is about enabling these bacteria to impart life into food. Bacteria are what change milk into yoghurt and cheese, turn pieces of meat into charcuterie, a cabbage into kraut or kimchi, and a bean into miso or soy sauce.

Fermenting is a complex process and fermented foods vary widely based on the key ingredients, how much salt is added, what temperature the ferment is left at and for how long. Flavour notes can range from tangy to savoury umami and salty, a spectrum of taste that brings a depth and roundness that is almost impossible to define but is addictively satisfying. Soy and fish sauces require years of fermenting to turn into the rich, salty full-bodied sauces that are packed full of umami. To get that flavour requires understanding, time, energy and real commitment. Then there’s fizzy, light and tangy kimchi, vinegar or yoghurt, quicker ferments that are ready within a week or two but that – even though they are speedier to make – still contain the umami backbone.

The most magical thing for me is that fermentation stems from the basic need, before the world of refrigeration, to preserve food and make it safe to eat. The fact that fermented foods were stored in the ground near biodiverse soil and that the initial process of fermenting owed itself to this very same biodiversity is one of the most beautiful examples of how nature interacts with humanity.

With age, bacterial cultures become more powerful and can change the structure of a food, transforming it into something new. You need to create a selective environment for the fermentation process. Take kimchi, for example. Kimchi is cabbage that has been wedged into a jar with salt and aromatics and essentially left to rot, but managing the good bacteria and keeping the bad bacteria at bay results in something delicious. When the right environment has been created to harvest and promote the growth of good bacteria, they grow to be so potent that they become hugely beneficial to the human body, but in order to get there and fully understand this, you have to approach fermentation less like cookery and more like a science lesson.

The most important ingredient in fermentation is salt. Salt draws out liquids by osmosis. A vegetable ferment with a small amount of salt retains the structure of the vegetables by reinforcing the pectin in the vegetable’s cell walls, whereas higher salt levels will slow down the fermentation process, break down the structure of the food and allow it to age for flavour, letting the sugars develop and helping the food keep for longer.

The other key factor is temperature. Heat above 70°C kills bacteria and yeasts. Anything between room temperature (about 20°C) and 50°C is a really fertile space for bacteria. At cooler temperatures, right down to fridge temperature (about 4°C), bacterial growth is slower, and fridge temperature inhibits bacteria growth and helps keep it stable. Freezing fully inhibits the growth of bacteria, keeping it dormant until it warms up again and comes back to life. This is a good way to understand how quickly things ferment. Products like fish sauce are fermented at about 40°C, whereas kimchis can be slow-fermented in fridges. For home cooking, I simplify the temperature factor by fermenting foods at room temperature until required fermentation is desired, then transferring them to the fridge.

Why fermented foods are good for your health

The modern western diet, typically high in fat and sugar, attacks the delicate balance of essential microbiota in our digestive system, which affects everything, particularly obesity levels and mental health. This, combined with depleted nutrients in the soils our food is growing in (and therefore less-nutritious food), means that our guts are seriously deficient in bacterial diversity. Fermented foods restore this diversity.

If you get bitten by the bio-culture bug, there are great books out there such as The Noma Guide to Fermentation by René Redzepi and David Zilber, and The Art of Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz, which delve far deeper, but I want to show you that it is possible to get into the world of fermenting and preserving in a practical and realistic way, with delicious results.

Quick Ferments
Accelerated Gochujang

Gochujang, a Korean red hot pepper paste, is at the foundation of so many Korean dishes. It’s an effort to make (trust me, I’ve been to South Korea’s Sunchang region and made it properly), but I really wanted to include it in the book. It’s usually activated with a special soy bean, however to speed things up here I’ve used miso in its place, which is already fermented; I’m not normally one to cut corners but this recipe is genuinely surprising. The Korean pepper is what makes this special. It’s roughly ground (even the ‘fine’ stuff), it’s very hot and is naturally sweet (having originated from the Spanish peppers) and bright, bright red! You can buy it on the internet or in Asian supermarkets.

MAKES 1.1 litres

Preparation time 5 minutes

Fermenting time 5 weeks

120g rice flour

120g fine sea salt

800ml water

250g fine Korean red pepper flakes

70g sweet white miso

AFTER 2 WEEKS

8 tbsp rice or barley malt syrup

2 tbsp salt

You will need a sterilised 1.5-litre preserving jar.

Mix the rice flour, sea salt and water together well in a bowl, then stir through the Korean red pepper flakes and miso until evenly distributed into a thickish paste. Transfer to a sterilised 1.5-litre preserving jar and seal tightly. (You need the jar to be a bit bigger than the volume of the gochujang as the paste will need room to expand as it ferments.)

Set aside in a cool, dry place (out of direct sunlight) and leave to ferment for 1 week. Once this time has passed, you will start to see some little bubbles forming on the surface. Now it’s time to add a final hit of flavour and balance out the spice of the gochujang, so a hit of sugar from the rice or barley malt syrup and some more salt is just the ticket. The salt will also inhibit the gochujang from fermenting too much, too fast. Mix both thoroughly into the paste, then clean the inner walls of the jar with a cloth dipped in vodka to keep the inside of the jar sterile. Place a cellophane jam seal on the gochujang, seal tightly and put it in the fridge to continue slow fermenting for another month. As ever, it will only deepen in flavour the longer it ferments.

Cheats’ Activated Kimchi

I’ve been making kimchi for years, the recipe for which I’ve already posted online, but when I made the gochujang I was playing around with things to do with it. The fact that the gochujang is full of live bacteria means that it starts the process of fermentation really quickly and you will have decent kimchi within a day or two rather than a few weeks. This kimchi is also vegan.

MAKES enough to fill a 3-litre preserving jar

Preparation time 30 minutes, plus 1 hour minimum brining time

Fermenting time 2 days

50g salt

300ml water

2 heads of Chinese napa cabbage, outer leaves removed, cabbages quartered lengthways

300g Accelerated Gochujang

80g fresh ginger, peeled and cut into thin matchsticks

6 spring onions, julienned into 4mm-thick strips

2 apples, cut into thin matchsticks (with skin intact)

You will need some kitchen gloves and a sterilised 3-litre preserving jar.

Begin by giving the cabbage a quick brine. To make the brine simply dissolve the salt in the 300ml of water in a saucepan over a medium heat. Pour it into a non-reactive container which the cabbage will fit into. Once the water has completely cooled, add the cabbage, pour over enough cold water on top to ensure the cabbage is submerged, and allow to brine for a minimum of 1 hour.

Once the time has passed, remove the cabbage from the brine and dry it thoroughly. You’ll need to get in between every leaf to make sure it’s as dry as possible. (Over the course of fermentation the cabbage will release lots of liquid and you don’t want the flavour to become too diluted, so it’s good to eradicate as much water at the start as you can.)

Wash the non-reactive container you brined the cabbage in and dry it very thoroughly. Add the gochujang, followed by the ginger, spring onions and apples. You’ll want to wear gloves for this next part of the process: once you’ve donned your gloves, use your hands to mix the ginger, spring onion and apples thoroughly with the gochujang until combined. Take your dried cabbage quarters and spread a little of the gochujang marinade between each cabbage leaf so that it is really well rubbed into the cabbage.

Wrap each cabbage quarter around itself to create a tight parcel and wedge into a sterilised 3-litre preserving jar. It will start fermenting pretty much immediately, and you’ll be able to tell by the level of liquid that leaches out of the cabbage that it’s starting to ferment.

Within two days, it’s good to go, or you can store it in the fridge. It will deepen in flavour the longer it ferments.

Fauzu Kosho

My favourite ingredient in the world is yuzukoshö. Yuzu, a Japanese citrus fruit, has a flavour that sits somewhere between a lime, mandarin and grapefruit; ‘kosho’ describes the part where the rind and juice of the fruit are fermented with very spicy green chillies and salt. NamaYasai, a brilliant farm in Lewes, in the south of England, grows yuzu, but whether you buy UK-grown or imported fruit, they are still quite expensive, and here you need quite a lot of fruit, so I go for a combination of limes and other citrus fruits. This recipe’s great because it’s a really quick ferment, and you can use up all the limes in my Lemon and Lime Pickle. It’s fantastic in everything from mayonnaise with fried chicken or tofu, to a margherita (though use it sparingly). Use unwaxed fruit and wash them thoroughly before grating the zest.

MAKES 350g

Preparation time 15 minutes

Fermenting time 2–3 weeks

finely grated zest of 16 limes

2 tbsp finely grated lemon zest

2 tbsp finely grated pink grapefruit zest

1 tbsp finely grated clementine zest

1 tbsp salt

juice of 2 fresh limes

2 tbsp grapefruit juice

2 tbsp fresh clementine juice

3 green finger chillies, very finely chopped

pinch of sugar

You will need a sterilised 500g preserving jar.

Mix all of the citrus zests in a small bowl with the salt using the back of a spoon until you have a coarse paste. Mix in the lime juice, grapefruit juice, clementine juice and green chillies until well combined. Transfer to a sterilised 500g preserving jar and seal tightly.

Leave to ferment at room temperature (out of direct sunlight) for 1–2 weeks. Once it starts to look fizzy you will know it has begun fermenting. At this stage transfer it to a food processor and blitz until smooth. Return to the jar and leave to ferment at room temperature for 1 more week.

Once this time has passed it’s ready to eat, and should be kept in the fridge.

Fermented Fruit Vinegar

I’ve used apple scraps in this recipe, but the method can be easily adapted to use up other fruit you have such as pears, overripe plums, peaches or grapes.

MAKES 1 litre

Preparation time 10 minutes

Fermenting time 3–4 weeks

scraps of 10 apples (or whichever fruit you decide to use), including cores, stalks and peel (about 450g)

50g granulated sugar

850ml lukewarm water

splash of cider vinegar

You will need a sterilised 3-litre wide-neck preserving jar or glass bowl.

Measure out the fruit scraps in a measuring jug. This method works on the principle of 1 part fruit to 2 parts sugar-and-water solution, so adjust the measurements according to how much fruit you have (e.g. for 500g of fruit you will need 1 litre of sugar-water solution). Put the fruit scraps in a large, clean glass bowl or 3-litre wide-neck preserving jar (glass is the best material to make it in as it is not reactive to high acidity levels, whereas some metals and plastics are). Stir the sugar into the lukewarm water until dissolved. Pour the solution over the fruit, making sure it is well submerged. Cover the bowl or jar with a sheet of muslin and secure with an elastic band or string. Leave the mixture to ferment in a dark cupboard for a week or so, swirling it every day to keep it well mixed and aid fermentation. Room temperature of 26–28°C is ideal – if it’s colder, it will just take longer to ferment.

After about a week, you should see the mixture start to bubble, which means fermentation has begun. The bacteria and natural wild yeasts in the atmosphere will be eating the sugars, which produces carbon dioxide, and hey presto – you are fermenting! Strain the liquid through a muslin-lined sieve into a large jug or container. Clean the original bowl or jar and return the liquid to it, adding the cider vinegar to speed up the fermentation. Re-cover with the muslin and secure with the string or elastic band. Return it to the dark cupboard and leave for a further 2–3 weeks, giving it just the occasional gentle swirl so as not to disturb the growth too much. This bacterial growth is what is known as the ‘mother’, a thick film that’s almost cotton-woolly. It is full of good bacteria so don’t be put off! You can remove this easily, and if you rinse it gently under warm water and store it with a splash of your nice new vinegar, it will be a brilliant kick-starter for any vinegars you make in the future, and replace the need for cider vinegar. Store it covered with muslin.

Once you have removed the ‘mother’, strain the vinegar again, this time through a fine sieve lined with a double layer of muslin, to remove any sediment. Transfer to freshly sterilised, dry glass jars or bottles (the warmth will help promote further maturing). The vinegar will keep indefinitely in a cupboard, and only deepens in flavour as it matures.

Tepache

My mum has been making this Mexican fermented pineapple skin ‘beer’ (or cooler) for years – that makes her cooler than anyone, in my opinion. It is the best summer drink ever! It’s made from fermenting overripe pineapple skins and cores that would normally get thrown out. My mum’s version is inspired by a Delia Smith recipe that has been bastardised throughout the years. It gets fizzy in about three days thus making it beer-like, and – served over ice, with mint or pineapple leaves – it’s just magic. Add some dark rum to the equation for some real fun!

MAKES 2 litres

Preparation time 5 minutes

Fermenting time 3–4 days

2 ripe to overripe medium pineapples, skin washed and scrubbed

2 lemons, washed and thinly sliced

60g golden caster sugar

2 litres cold water

TO SERVE

ice

pineapple leaves or sprigs of mint

extra sugar (if liked)

Cut the top off the pineapples with a sharp knife and discard for compost. Carefully cut away the skin in long strips, working your way around the whole fruit, then cut the fruit away from the core in quarters. Keep the pineapple flesh for eating.

Chop the skin and core into small pieces (about 2cm). Place in a bowl and add the sliced lemons and sugar. Mix everything with clean hands until well dispersed. Pour over the cold water, cover the bowl with a cloth, and leave at room temperature to ferment for 3–4 days, until the surface of the liquid is starting to bubble.

Strain the liquid into a clean jug, chill and serve within 2 days.

Serve poured over lots of ice and with pineapple leaves or sprigs of mint. You can add a bit more sugar if you prefer a sweeter drink.

Sauerkraut

For the uninitiated, this is perhaps the easiest entry point into lacto-fermentation. You don’t need any special equipment, just a container to put it in. The lactobacillus bacteria that live on the surface of the cabbage convert the sugars within the cabbage into lactic acid when the cabbage is submerged in brine, and this acid acts as a natural preservative, prohibiting growth of any nasty harmful bacteria. This preserves the cabbage for months in a cool dark cupboard, and in the fridge for up to a year (if you don’t devour it quicker). Sauerkraut is great cold from the jar with cured meats, but I also love it fried in butter, with German sausages and mustard.

Making sauerkraut couldn’t be simpler. It works on the principle of salting the cabbage at a ratio of 2 per cent salt to the weight of the cabbage, so here the cabbage weighs 1.4kg, therefore you need 28g salt (1 per cent would be 14g).

MAKES about 1kg (enough to fill a 1-litre jar)

Preparation time 20 minutes

Fermenting time 1–3 weeks

1 head of red or white cabbage (about 1.4kg), washed and finely shredded (use a mandoline if you have one)

28g sea salt flakes

You will need a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar.

Put the shredded cabbage in a large bowl and sprinkle over the salt. Massage it with your hands, kneading and squeezing the salt thoroughly into the cabbage for a good 10–20 minutes. You’ll notice its liquid start to leach out, which is what you want to happen, as this is the first sign of the cabbage starting to break down. Keep massaging it until enough liquid has developed to cover the cabbage once it’s compressed into the jar, as it’s this liquid that will form the brining solution.

Transfer the cabbage and liquid to a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar and press the cabbage down so that the liquid rises to the surface. Seal tightly and leave to ferment at room temperature (out of direct sunlight) for at least a week. It’s safe to eat at any stage of the process, and it will develop in sourness and flavour the longer it is left to ferment. Transfer to the fridge once it’s fermented to your liking, to slow down the fermentation process.

Slow Ferments
White Miso

This is the grittiest of all of the recipes in this book, but every step is necessary. I suggest making it by hand to get a traditional chunky miso. If you prefer it smooth, just blend it once fermented before popping it in the fridge. I like sweet white miso for its taste and speed of fermenting, but this recipe provides ingredients and methods for both sweet or salty, so you can choose which one you want to make. The kombu (seaweed) adds an extra element of umami. Both types of miso take at least 6 months to ferment. White rice koji is available on the internet.

MAKES about 1.45kg salty miso, and 1.65kg sweet miso

Preparation time 5 minutes, plus overnight soaking

Cooking time 4 hours

Fermenting time 6 months minimum

SWEET MISO

500g dried soybeans

10–20cm-long piece of kombu

500g white rice koji

60g fine sea salt

SALTY MISO

500g dried soybeans

10–20cm-long piece of kombu

250g white rice koji

100g fine sea salt

You will need 2 × 2-litre sterilised preserving jars.

Rinse the soybeans under cold running water at least three times until the water runs clear, to remove any impurities. Transfer the beans to a large clean bowl and cover with fresh cold water so that the water sits 2cm above the beans. Leave to soak overnight in a cool place. Using filtered water at every stage here helps to maintain the purity of the miso.

The next day, drain the beans. They should have expanded and almost doubled in size and weight. Put the beans in a large saucepan and cover with more cold filtered water, so the water sits at least 3cm above the beans. Add the kombu and bring to the boil, skimming off any scum. Reduce the heat and simmer, uncovered, for 4 hours, skimming occasionally if any more scum appears on the surface and adding more water if necessary to keep the beans submerged. You know the beans are cooked when they are completely soft when squeezed between your finger and thumb. At this point, drain the beans, retaining the cooking liquid. Set aside to cool. You want the beans to be warm when you add the koji to activate it, but be aware that the enzymes in the koji will be inhibited at any heat over 60°C, so allow them to cool for at least 20 minutes, stirring occasionally so that any beans in the centre cool down too.

Once the beans have cooled, start mashing! I considered using my food processor for this, but it would probably have become like cement and jammed the machine. I also favour a slightly more textured miso, which is traditional, so that means mashing by hand, a task I find satisfyingly therapeutic. Pound them with the end of a rolling pin or a potato masher until they form a pale mush (the odd bit of bean is nothing to worry about). Split the mashed beans into equal halves and put them in separate bowls – the cooked weight of our soybeans when we tested this recipe totalled 2.2kg, so we split them into 1.1kg portions.

In The Art of Fermentation – my bible for understanding the process of miso making author Sandor Ellix Katz suggests dissolving the salt in a couple of ladles of warm cooking water from the soybeans. I don’t know if this is totally necessary, as the salt becomes well mixed when you combine it with the koji and soybeans, but perhaps it is reassuring to dissolve the salt first to ensure it is evenly distributed. Either way, you want a thick paste that is spreadable but not too liquid. Add 4 or 5 small ladles of cooking liquid to each miso mix to achieve the right consistency and, depending on your preference and whether you are making the salty or sweet miso, add the appropriate amount of salt and white rice koji. Knead the mixture thoroughly: you want the rice and salt to be well combined and the whole mixture to be amalgamated.

Ensure your jars are completely sterile: this is an essential first step in waging war against mould potentially forming while the miso ferments. Now start filling the jars with your miso: add small balls of miso to the jars gradually, packing them down tightly at each stage to eradicate any chance of air pockets. Allow for a 5cm gap at the top of each jar. Clean the inner walls of the jar with a cloth dipped in vodka to keep the inside of the jar sterile. Katz mentions that he likes to ‘sprinkle salt on the moist internal surfaces of the crock before filling it with miso… to increase salt concentration at the edges’, however he also happily says, ‘I do it unless I forget: and when I have forgotten, I have never had a problem with contamination.’

Sprinkle salt on the flat, packed-down surface of the miso before weighing it down, to help inhibit mould bacteria, then place a layer of cling film or jam film on the surface of the miso to create an airtight seal. Push a sandwich bag or something similar into the remaining cavity of the jar and pour as much salt as you can fit into the bags to act as a weight. Seal tightly, label and put it in a dry place out of direct sunlight, preferably not too cool (an airing cupboard would be ideal).

The miso takes at least 6 months to ferment. Resist the temptation to open the jars and stir it, as once you expose it to air you invite trouble and the potential for mould. If you do detect any mould, don’t panic, just carefully scrape it off with a knife and re-sterilise any exposed surfaces on the jar. You’ll be able to taste when it’s reached its prime: it will have that delicious well-rounded depth of flavour. Once opened, it will keep very happily in the fridge for weeks.

Vegan XO Sauce

XO sauce is a slow-fermented chilli, seafood and pork sauce from Hong Kong that is served all over China and Southeast Asia in seafood restaurants. London has been flooded with love for the sauce, almost to the point of annoyance, but I feel like the rest of the country hasn’t quite got to grips with it. It has the deepest flavour and is fantastic over everything from veggies to fish. This vegan version uses umami-rich ingredients like seaweed and shiitake mushrooms: it makes a great base for vegan curries, as there’s no need for fish sauce.

MAKES 300g

Preparation time 20 minutes

Cooking time 1 hour

Fermenting time 2 weeks to 2 months

40g dried shiitake mushrooms

400ml warm water

2 banana shallots or 5 round ones, peeled

100g fresh ginger, cut into chunks

3 red bird’s-eye chillies, stalks removed

1 head of garlic, cloves peeled

2 large sheets of dried nori seaweed

150ml oil

200ml Shaoxing wine

2 rounded tbsp miso paste

3 tbsp sugar

You will need a sterilised 300g preserving jar.

Put the shiitake mushrooms in a bowl with the warm water and set aside for about 10 minutes to rehydrate, then strain, retaining the soaking liquor.

Put the shallots, ginger, chillies, strained mushrooms, garlic and nori in a food processor and pulse so that everything is blitzed but still maintains some texture – you want a coarse paste.

Heat the oil in a medium saucepan over a medium-low heat and scrape the spicy paste into the pan. Pour the water you rehydrated the mushrooms with into the pan, being careful to leave the last little bit in the bowl as there will be some residual grit that has sunk to the bottom. Add the Shaoxing wine and mix in the miso and sugar. I go for a white miso, as I like its hint of sweetness, but any miso would work well.

Fry very gently for about 30 minutes, until everything has thoroughly sweated down, moving it around the pan occasionally to prevent it catching. Once the liquid has completely evaporated you will notice the paste will begin to brown and caramelise more rapidly, so for the next 30 minutes you will need to keep a more watchful eye on it, stirring it regularly to avoid it burning. Once you have a thick, fibrous, deeply caramelised tapenade-like paste, which is separating itself from its oil, the XO is done. Turn off the heat, transfer to a sterilised 300g preserving jar and seal. Leave it to ferment for anything from 2 weeks to 2 months. Once opened, it will keep in the fridge for months.

Fish Sauce

An absolute staple in my house, fish sauce is imperative to so much Asian cookery. It’s sometimes called ‘garam’, depending on how it’s made. I’ve discussed this recipe about a million times with chef and fermenting friends (I must give a shout-out to Andrew Clarke of chif’s mental health charity Pilot Light, whose recipe this actually is, but also Andy Oliver of Som Saa, John Chantarasak of Anglo Thai and Glyn Gordon of Eaten Alive, who all helped). Andrew Clarke’s recipe is the easiest I’ve found, and it makes incredible fish sauce, but I warn you, for two days you will wonder why on earth you bothered, because it reeks. Oh. My. God. It reeks.

For the best results, use a 15–20 per cent ratio of salt to fish (I’ve used 18 per cent below). I use a combination of fish guts I had left over from a previous dish and an extra couple of mackerel that I simply chopped into pieces.

MAKES 1.5 litres

Preparation time 5 minutes

Cooking time 2 hours

Fermenting time 6 months

1kg mackerel and fish guts, roughly chopped

180g salt

You will need a sterilised 2-litre preserving jar.

Put the fish and salt in a blender or food processor, add enough water to cover, and blitz until smooth. Transfer the mixture to a saucepan and cover with cold water to a level 10cm higher than the fish. Bring to the boil, skimming off any scum on the surface as this will contain all the impurities, then reduce the heat and cook at a strong simmer (not quite boiling) for 2 hours, skimming again if necessary. The idea is for the fish and bones to break down into a slurry so you can just leave it bubbling away, as long as you keep the water level up. Your house will stink, but no pain no gain!

Remove from the heat and allow to cool, then pour into a sterilised 2-litre preserving jar and seal tightly. The optimum temperature for the sauce to ferment at is 40–60°C. Andrew Clarke recommends using a reptile heat pad (you can find these online; they’re used to keep cold-blooded creatures like snakes and lizards warm), which you can place the jar on top of to keep it warm and help the process along (I keep mine next to my coffee machine). Alternatively, a warm airing cupboard would work.

It will need about 6 months fermenting until it’s ready to use, there’s no getting around this. After it has fermented for 6 months, strain it through a fine muslin cloth-lined sieve to remove any sediment or slurry, then either keep it in the jar or transfer it through a funnel (lined with more muslin) into a sterilised bottle. It will keep at room temperature, but I advise keeping home ferments in the fridge as they will then keep forever.

Brines and Pickles
Lemon and Lime Pickle

What makes this a good saviour of the fruit basket is that so often with baking you need more citrus zest than juice. I often end up with some sorry-looking limes and lemons in my basket. Zested lime and unwaxed thin-skinned lemons make brilliant Indian pickle, as the zest of the types of limes and lemons available in this country can be a bit too intense and make a bitter pickle. I like using Kashmiri chilli powder to get that deep red colour and a more rounded and sweet flavour, but you can use a bog standard one too. This is an excellent condiment with any curry, such as my Sri Lankan Beetroot and Coconut Curry or Tarka Dhal.

MAKES 1kg

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 15 minutes

Fermenting time 2–3 weeks

1kg zested limes and/or thin-skinned lemons, cut into eighths, pith removed

120ml sunflower or organic rapeseed oil

30 fresh curry leaves

2 tsp mustard seeds

½ tsp fenugreek seeds

2cm piece of fresh ginger, peeled and grated

5 garlic cloves, thinly sliced

4 green finger chillies, sliced into thirds at an angle

1cm piece of fresh turmeric, peeled and grated

1½ tsp ground turmeric

35g sea salt

1 tbsp golden caster sugar

3 tsp Kashmiri chilli powder

You will need a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar.

First, steam the limes. If you don’t have a steamer, you can make one by simply bringing a saucepan of water to a rolling simmer over a medium heat, putting a colander or sieve on top, then covering the colander or sieve with a saucepan lid to keep the steam in. Sit a batch of lime and/or lemon pieces in one layer in the steamer and steam for 8–10 minutes, until tender. Remove and set aside and steam the remaining lime/lemon pieces.

Heat the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat. When hot, add the curry leaves, mustard seeds and fenugreek seeds. As soon as they start to crackle, add the ginger, garlic, green chillies, fresh and ground turmeric, salt, sugar and chilli powder and stir-fry for a couple of minutes to cook the spices, being careful they don’t burn as this will make them acrid. Add the steamed limes and/or lemons and stir-fry for another couple of minutes, making sure they are well coated in the spicy oil, then take off the heat. Leave to cool, transfer to a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar and seal tightly.

Allow to ferment at room temperature (out of direct sunlight) for 2–3 weeks before eating. As with all fermenting, the speed at which it happens is temperature dependent (the warmer the environment, the faster it happens), so check that the limes/lemons have softened enough before you eat them. If they are still a bit hard you may want to leave it to ferment for another few days. Once opened, it will keep in the fridge for ages, as long as all the citrus is covered in oil (top up with more oil if necessary).

Wonderful watermelons

Looking around the world I see how valuable the watermelon is. It’s not just about the fruit – there are loads of different methods for curing the skins for eating, too. Watermelon is in the same family as a cucumber, and the skin is there to keep the moisture in as it’s one of the most hydrated of all fruits (hence ‘water’ in its name). We all know the fragrance and flavour of the flesh, but the best way to describe how the rind tastes is somewhere between the flavour of watermelon and cucumber. I’ve included two of my favourite recipes here: a pickle and a lacto-ferment. When pickling it with sugar it takes on the sweet edge of the fruit, and when lacto-fermented it becomes very cucumbery. I’ve also thrown in a little watermelon vinegar recipe for any leftover watermelon, as some of them are so monstrously big!

Mexican-spiced Pickled Watermelon Rind

This is absolutely delicious with pork carnitas, hard cheese or fish tacos.

MAKES enough to fill a 3-litre preserving jar

Preparation time 20 minutes

Pickling time 2 weeks minimum

850ml water

300ml apple cider vinegar

a combination of dried (preferably Mexican) chillies (I use 3 sweet ñora peppers and 2 hot guindilla chilli peppers)

75g sea salt

150g golden caster sugar

1.3–5kg watermelon rind, cut into shard-like strips

You will need a sterilised 3-litre preserving jar.

Put the water, vinegar, dried chillies, salt and sugar in a saucepan. Bring to the boil and give it a few stirs to make sure all the sugar and salt has dissolved, then add the watermelon rind, bring to the boil once more and take off the heat, to allow the flavours to infuse. Once it has cooled a little, transfer the whole lot to a sterilised 3-litre preserving jar and seal tightly.

You can eat these pretty much straight away once cooled, if you want, but they will improve with age and can be kept in the fridge for a long time.

Watermelon Juice Vinegar

Using this in a ceviche is really exceptional, especially with some finely chopped watermelon pickle.

MAKES 1 litre

Preparation time 10 minutes

Fermenting time 3–4 weeks

1.3kg watermelon flesh, juiced and sieved to remove pips

2 tbsp apple cider vinegar (with the ‘mother’)

You will need a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar.

Once you have juiced the watermelon flesh, put it in a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar with the vinegar. Cover the top of the jar with muslin and secure the muslin in place with string or an elastic band – the vinegar needs to be able to ‘breathe’. Leave to ferment at room temperature (out of direct sunlight) for 3–4 weeks. Once it has reached the desired level of ‘vinegary-ness’ (keep tasting it), store it in the jar it was fermented in. It will stay ‘shelf stable’ in the cupboard indefinitely.

Lacto-fermented Watermelon Rind

Use this fermented rind in the same way you would cucumber pickles, in salads and alongside smoked fish. You want to use a 2 per cent ratio of salt to water.

MAKES enough to fill a 3-litre preserving jar

Preparation time 10 minutes

Fermenting time 2 weeks

28g sea salt

1.4 litres filtered water

1kg watermelon rind, green outer skin peeled off and cut into 15cm-long shards

handful of fresh dill

2 tbsp mustard seeds

5 bay leaves

1 tbsp black peppercorns

5 garlic cloves, peeled

You will need a sterilised 3-litre preserving jar.

Stir the salt into the water in a bowl or saucepan, until it has completely dissolved.

Put the watermelon rind, dill, mustard seeds, bay leaves, peppercorns and garlic in a sterilised 3-litre preserving jar. Fill the jar with the salt solution until it is full and the watermelon is submerged. Seal tightly and allow to ferment at room temperature (out of direct sunlight) for about 2 weeks. You can leave these in a cool place or in the fridge for months.

Fridge-raid ‘not quite Branston’s’ Pickle

I consider myself quite the aficionado at recreating famous recipes, but there are some that are so hard to compete with that it’s just not worth it. I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve tried to recreate Branston pickle but not quite made it. Half of me is not sure why I bother: it’s so accessible and, let’s be honest here, it’s more marmite than Marmite – you either love it or hate it! So many people have really un-fun memories of it. My friend at school used to have thickly-buttered chewy bread rolls filled with Marmite, a thick slice of Cheddar and Branston pickle that she’d never eat, so would give to me, and a love affair was born.

The reason I decided to bother this time is because I wrote this mid lockdown, and I had promised myself to not throw out a single thing during the COVID-19 pandemic. I was rummaging around my fridge and there were some vegetables and apples looking very sorry for themselves – I was pretty certain all these things are what go into Branston pickle, so I went to my last recipe (one that hadn’t quite worked). It was looking good: technically, Branston pickle has swede in it and I only had butternut squash, but I searched the storecupboard and I had everything else. My notes from the last time I’d tried to make it were, ‘stick to the dark brown sugar and malt vinegar – less cornflour’, so I retested it and it’s the closest to Branston’s that I’ve got so far. I wanted to include it in this book as it’s a really good way to use up things that are on their last legs, and refreshing everything in ice-cold water makes it spring back to freshness. Remember that dehydrated veg is just that – it’s simply lost its water. More often than not, it has retained its nutrients (look at the nutritional content of a fresh grape compared to a raisin, for example). When you cook or salt something, generally this is to remove the water from it, so making chutneys is great for veg and fruit past their best that have already begun this process of dehydration.

So here’s my most up-to-date ‘Branston-style’ pickle recipe. It’s not quite Branston’s, but it’s bloody delicious and works marvellously in that very same buttered, Marmite, cheese and pickle sandwich!

Bear in mind it needs at least 3 months’ maturing time before it’s ready to eat, and that you need to sterilise your jars (enough jars for 3kg of pickle).

MAKES 3kg

Preparation time 20 minutes

Cooking time 50 minutes

Maturing time 3 months minimum

FOR THE VEG AND FRUIT

juice of 1 lemon (for acidulating the water)

1 carrot, cut into 1cm dice

1 large courgette, cut into 1cm dice

200g cauliflower (about ½ cauliflower), cut into 1cm dice (you can use leaves and stalk)

200g peeled and deseeded butternut squash (about ½ medium squash), cut into 1cm dice

½ cucumber, deseeded and cut into 1cm dice

2 apples, peeled, cored and cut into small chunks

150g prunes, cut into small dice

200g dates, cut into small dice

5 large pickled gherkins, cut into 1cm dice

FOR THE PICKLE

3 tbsp oil

3 onions, roughly chopped

1 head of garlic, cloves peeled and finely chopped

2 tsp black mustard seeds

1 tbsp chilli powder

1 tbsp freshly ground black pepper

1 tbsp ground coriander

1 tbsp ground cumin

1 heaped tsp ground allspice

1 tsp ground ginger

pinch of ground cloves

200ml water

400g soft dark brown sugar

30g sea salt

700ml malt vinegar

1 tsp cornflour

50ml Worcestershire sauce

50ml lemon juice

You will need a sterilised 3-litre jar or bottle, or several smaller jars.

First, take the biggest bowl or pan you can get your hands on. Fill it with cold water and a load of ice cubes, then add the lemon juice (this stops everything from browning). As you prep your vegetables, throw them into the ice-cold water and lay the fruits and diced gherkin on a plate next to it.

To make the pickling mixture, heat the oil in a large saucepan over a low-ish heat, add the onions and fry for 20 minutes, or until softened. Add the garlic and cook for another 5 minutes or until the garlic is soft and the onions start to tinge golden. Next, add the spices and cook for 30 seconds. Add the apples, half the prunes and dates and the water. Coat the fruits in the spicy onions then add the sugar, salt and vinegar and stir really well to incorporate. Cook for 15 minutes, stirring continuously, until the apples are cooked to a chunky puree and the prunes and dates are soft. Add the cornflour, transfer to a food processor and blitz until the mixture is very, very smooth (I blitz it for about 2 minutes). Return the mixture to the pan then add all the veg (drained of the ice-cold water), gherkins and the rest of the prunes and dates. Coat in the brown pickle puree and cook very gently for 10 minutes, or until the veggies start to soften. They will continue to soften while they mature in the pickle.

Transfer to sterilised jars while hot. I eat A LOT of pickle so I always put it into a sterilised 3-litre jar (I am a Kilner-jar person, as they never let me down), but you can split the 3kg between any amount of jars. Seal and leave to mature in a cool, dark place for at least 3 months. Once open, you can keep it in the fridge for ages. I have Piccalilli (overleaf) that’s still going strong from last year!

Punchy Piccalilli

With this piccalilli, the flavour has been lifted with the addition of curry powder and more spice than is typically used. I love my piccalilli really pickly and although I don’t usually cheat much when it comes to cooking, the addition of pre-peeled pickling onions saves on time and gives the piccalilli some extra va-va-voom! Piccalilli is the perfect partner for cheese, cold ham or pork pies, or whatever you fancy.

MAKES 3kg

Preparation time 15 minutes, plus 2 hours salting time

Cooking time 10 minutes

Pickling time about 1 month

1 cauliflower, florets trimmed and stalk cut into bite-sized chunks

1 yellow and 1 green courgette, cut into bite-sized chunks

1 green pepper, deseeded and cut into bite-sized chunks

1 red pepper, deseeded and cut into bite-sized chunks

3 small Lebanese cucumbers, cored and cut into bite-sized chunks

300g green beans, cut into bite-sized chunks

150g carrots, cut into bite-sized chunks

300g silverskin or tiny pickling onions (I use frozen)

35g fine sea salt

FOR FRYING

80ml sunflower oil

1 tbsp mustard seeds

2 tbsp English mustard powder

1 tsp ground turmeric

1 tsp curry powder

¼ tsp ground cloves

2 garlic cloves, crushed

4cm piece of fresh ginger, peeled and grated

50g sugar

100ml water

750ml cider vinegar

1 tbsp plain flour

2 tbsp cornflour

You will need enough sterilised preserving jars for 3kg piccalilli.

Mix the vegetables with the pickling onions in a large bowl. Sprinkle over the salt and mix thoroughly with your hands so the salt is evenly dispersed. Set aside at room temperature for 2 hours – this begins to break down the vegetables, ready for pickling.

After the 2 hours, rinse the vegetables under cold running water, drain and set aside.

Heat the sunflower oil in a large saucepan over a high heat. Once it’s hot, add the mustard seeds and fry until they start popping, then add the rest of the dry spices and the garlic and ginger, and fry for another 30 seconds, stirring as you go. Add the drained vegetables and fry for 2 minutes, then add the sugar, water and cider vinegar and bring to the boil.

For a good piccalilli you need the spicy sauce to cling to the vegetables, so the next step is to thicken it. In a small bowl, mix together the plain flour and cornflour with a little water to make a paste. Spoon one ladles’ worth of cooking liquor into the bowl and whisk until smooth. Pour this back into the pan of vegetables and cook for 2–3 minutes until it thickens and the vegetables are cooked through but still firm.

Remove from the heat and allow the mixture to cool slightly before carefully pouring into sterilised jars. Seal tightly and leave at room temperature to pickle for about a month. Once opened, it will keep in the fridge for at least a year.

Chilli Sauces
West Indian Hot Sauce

This is a quick chilli sauce that can be used fresh or left to ferment. It’s completely essential with the Rice and Peas and Allotment ‘Ital-style’ Stew.

MAKES 500ml

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 10 minutes

Fermenting time 3–7 days

3–4 Scotch bonnet chillies

20g fresh turmeric

4 garlic cloves, peeled

350g pineapple, peeled, cored and chopped

2 tbsp English or American yellow mustard

250ml white wine or cider vinegar

40g caster sugar

2 tsp salt

You will need a sterilised 500g preserving jar or bottle.

Throw all of the ingredients into a food processor and blitz until smooth. Transfer the puree to a saucepan and cook over a medium heat for 8–10 minutes until it has begun to thicken and bubble. Take off the heat and immediately transfer to a sterilised 500g preserving jar or bottle and seal tightly. Leave at room temperature (out of direct sunlight) for a few days, until it has started to ferment, then pop it in the fridge to continue to age slowly. It will keep in the fridge for weeks and deepen in flavour as it ages.

Sriracha

This may be the number one thing I can’t live without. When I started experimenting with making my own, none of them had the right viscosity, until I did things a little differently. Normally, people ferment the chillies and then make the sauce, but I swapped the steps, cooking it, thickening it and then letting it ferment, which keeps the viscosity you would expect from a squeezy bottle of sriracha.

MAKES 750g

Preparation time 10 minutes

Fermenting time 2 weeks

800g red chillies, stalks removed and chillies roughly chopped

50g bird’s-eye chillies, deseeded and stalks removed

2 heads of garlic, cloves peeled

100g caster sugar

2½ tbsp tapioca or cornflour

250ml rice wine vinegar

3 tbsp table salt

You will need a sterilised 1-litre preserving jar or bottle.

Put the chillies in a food processor with the garlic, sugar, tapioca or cornflour, vinegar and salt. Blitz on high speed for 3 minutes, or until it is as smooth as possible (I am lucky I have a really powerful Thermomix and Vitamix which processes in double time; the main thing is that you need to let it blitz for as long as it takes to get a smooth paste), then transfer the paste to a saucepan. Bring to the boil then reduce the heat and simmer for 5 minutes, until the sauce has reduced by about an eighth and the flour’s thickening powers have engaged! Transfer to a hot, sterilised 1-litre preserving jar or bottle and seal tightly with a lid.

Allow the paste to sit at room temperature for 2–3 days, stirring it once a day.

After about 3 days you should see bubbles forming on the surface. This means fermentation has begun. Within 2 weeks it will have fully fermented. It will keep in the fridge for ages, and will continue to ferment slowly even when chilled. As is often the case with ferments, the flavour only gets better with age!

FRUIT AND VEGETABLE AGRICULTURE

Since writing my last book, Slow, my perceptions and values regarding the way we eat have changed a little. Slow was written with idealist, virtuous intentions and I’d not taken into account the practical side of things, the social economics and the way most people shop and eat. My life is a privileged one: I am able to sample and afford some of the best produce in the world. I care not only about the ingredients, but also the producers who farm them and the soil in which they are farmed – I’ve become a soil geek. But I’ve had to confront my idealistic ambitions for agriculture: at the time of writing we’re in the middle of a pandemic, poverty levels are reaching an all-time high and food banks and charities like The Trussell Trust are needed and used more than ever. I wince at conversations I’ve had at parties about my views and principles, because on face value, they may not seem so important right now. With this book, I want to approach these issues in a more nuanced way, giving you the science and facts so you can make your own informed choices.

As I write this in July 2020, The Vegan Society has announced that there has been a 20 per cent increase in people lowering their meat consumption and a 15 per cent increase in people lowering their dairy and egg consumption since COVID hit, while sales data from retail analyst Kantar suggests beef sales in the UK have increased by 26 per cent (minced beef by 34.5 per cent, and steaks by 43.9 per cent). These ‘statistics’ illustrate that the way the public are reacting to environmental and sustainability issues, and the way figures are being reported, is anything but clear cut. The ethics of being a responsible modern consumer who is eating more fruit and vegetables, and from sustainable sources is complex: what is the expenditure of resources and water required to grow these crops out of their natural environments? Are the rights of the growers, pickers and labourers fairly respected? How much plastic packaging is involved?

Waste

The Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) estimates that one third of all food produced, amounting to a staggering 1.3 billion tons, is wasted every year globally. A large part of that can be attributed to fruit and vegetable production, with up to 40 per cent of vegetable crops being rejected simply because they do not meet the arbitrary but extremely stringent aesthetic requirements laid out by supermarkets. In this country, farmers are forced to throw away tons of perfectly good produce which the supermarkets deem to be unsellable, so constantly have to over-produce in order to meet targets. Not only is this a criminal waste of food, it’s a catastrophic waste of the resources that go into growing them! However, there are some brilliant companies who are utilising waste produce: Oddbox delivers affordable wonky veg to your door; FeedBack’s gleaning network rescues surplus produce from farms and distributes it to those in need; Rubies in the Rubble use wonky tomatoes to make the only ketchup that I’ve ever tried that rivals Heinz in taste (they make other sauces too); and Snact makes a chewy fruit ‘jerky’ from surplus fruit (think strawberry laces), Rejuce and Waste Not Juice make juices; and ChicP makes dips. This indicates that people are thinking about reducing food waste, but oddly, the level of waste is still on the rise.

When it comes to household waste, most councils provide food waste bins, and it’s really important that we use them. It’s an easy way to re-purpose what would otherwise go to landfill into something that can feed our soils.

Monoculture agriculture

The biggest problem we have right now in vegetable crop growing is single crop rotation. Particularly prevalent in industrialised regions, monoculture agriculture is useful for farmers because specialising in one crop helps cut down costs and increase yields in the short term. However, it can cause irreversible damage to the ecological system. The eradication of biodiversity and the stripping of soil’s nutrients (which leads to an increased need for synthetic fertilisers and insecticides) only increases exponentially when land is farmed in this way. In contrast, permaculture (a system of crop rotation that utilises the patterns and resilient features of natural ecosystems, which some smaller-scale farmers are putting into practice) ensures the planting of a wide range of crops which work together to increase biodiversity and then by proxy increase the volume of different nutrients in the soils as they rotate around the land, maintaining and improving soil health (which impacts positively onto our foods and our gut and nutritional health). This is why it’s hard for me to fully get behind a vegan diet, because animals are necessary in this cycle and it’s erroneous to believe that eradicating animals from land management is the answer to our problems. See here on Ethical Meat Eating to read more.

Veganism and the soy industry

Many people are choosing a plant-based diet in response to the damning environmental science surrounding the global beef and dairy industry, and much of the new plant-based produce being sold to ‘save the world’ is made using the following crops: soy, corn and pea protein. Soy’s reputation as a vegan and eco-friendly protein alternative has come under serious scrutiny recently. Soy and corn are not just farmed for human consumption: they are also grown for use as animal and fish feed and increasingly for use as a cooking oil and biodiesel/fuel, and pea proteins are quickly catching up. These crops are most responsible for single-crop monocultures, depleting the land of water and nutrients, and most have been genetically modified to such an extent (prior to GM foods being banned in this country) that they are genetically almost unrecognisable when compared to their heritage species. Soy production does require less water than cattle farming in the areas it’s grown, but this is not the full story: soy is the second largest agricultural driver of deforestation. Eighty per cent of the world’s soy is grown in Brazil, Argentina and North America. Over the past 20 years, over 300 million hectares of tropical forest have been felled to feed the voracious appetite for land to support vast soya plantations. The transformation of some of the most biodiverse habitats on the planet into bleak pesticide-fuelled monocultures is as depressing as it gets.

Huge global corporations such as Monsanto, Unilever and Carrefour have become equivalent to oil barons when it comes to their domination of soy agribusiness. The displacement of small farmers and indigenous peoples is just part of the human impact this monster of an industry is having. Soy production is only expected to increase, as the demand for meat and plant-based protein alternatives increases, especially in developing countries.

Be wary of the word ‘natural’ on soy product packaging. Often packaging neglects to mention that products were made using hexane, a neurotoxin petrochemical solvent. Nasty. Opting for organic soy helps avoid this. There are organic soy, pea and corn producers who are rebuilding their produce to be truer to its original genetic form. I use British and French organic soybeans at Filth Foods, the sustainable nutritional burger company I founded with my good friend, nutritionist Rosemary Ferguson. Soybeans produced on a large scale, with fertilisers, normally hold little nutritional value, but organic beans are full of fibre, protein, iron and calcium.

Is organic best?

I support the ethos of organic farming, and biodynamic farming for that matter (my restaurant, The Nitery, was built on this ethos), but there is a lot of misleading information, and organic doesn’t always guarantee the best produce. A lot of land certified as organic soil can retain synthetic chemicals that were applied for decades previously, meaning produce grown on that land will contain them too, but often regulations still allow the produce to be sold under the ‘organic’ banner. I look for producers who have slow-grown their foods.

Buy local

Importing and food miles is a huge issue. Having access to exotic fruits and vegetables is part of the joy of the modern world, but we should all aim to buy seasonal, locally sourced produce wherever possible. Buying our food this way should be cheaper, given the lower food miles and reduced storage times, and the abundance of a seasonal crop, but sadly, smaller-scale farmers have a hard deal competing with supermarkets that have an 85 per cent share of the grocery market and are constantly driving down prices. Supermarkets’ commercial structure often means an abhorrent version of economic colonialism, that dominates other less affluent countries’ agricultural industries, too. Looking beyond the supermarket is a great way to discover different varieties of fruit and vegetables: e.g. there are over 2,200 varieties of apples, and supermarkets usually only sell about five, with just one in three coming from the UK. That is crazy, especially considering that the UK has one of the oldest relationships with apple farming – we as consumers are missing out.

Shopping at local greengrocers and farmers’ markets, growing your own or signing up for vegetable box schemes can help stem the supermarkets’ tyrannical rule (and tends to involve less plastic packaging too), but for most of us, supermarkets are the most convenient and practical option for food shopping. I just can’t, and won’t, buy meat from a supermarket, especially as we’re all cutting back now (*I’m eyeballing you all, because this is what has to happen*), but I do buy organic fruit and vegetables there, particularly from the frozen, dried and canned sections where it’s cheaper than buying fresh.

Here is a guide to what’s in season when:

January: apples, beetroot, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, celeriac, chicory, Jerusalem artichokes, kale, leeks, mushrooms, parsnips, pears, pomegranate, potatoes, rhubarb, spring onions, squash, swedes, turnips

February: Brussels sprouts, cauliflower, celeriac, chicory, Jerusalem artichokes, kale, kohlrabi, leeks, parsnips, potatoes, purple sprouting broccoli, rhubarb, salsify, shallots, swede, truffles (black), turnips

March: artichokes, beetroot, cabbage, cauliflower, chicory, cucumber, kale, leeks, oranges, parsnips, purple sprouting broccoli, radishes, rhubarb, sorrel, spinach, spring greens, spring onions, watercress, wild nettles

April: artichokes, beetroot, cabbage, chicory, kale, morel mushrooms, new potatoes, parsnips, rhubarb, rocket, sorrel, spinach, spring greens, spring onions, watercress

May: apricots, artichokes, asparagus, aubergine, beetroot, chicory, elderflowers, lettuce, marrow, new potatoes, nectarines, peas, peppers, radishes, rhubarb, rocket, samphire, spinach, spring greens, spring onions, watercress

June: apricots, asparagus, aubergine, beetroot, blackcurrants, broad beans, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, cherries, chicory, courgettes, cucumber, elderflowers, fennel, globe artichoke, gooseberries, lettuce, marrow, new potatoes, nectarines, peas, peppers, radishes, raspberries, redcurrants, rhubarb, rocket, runner beans, spring greens, spring onions, summer squash, Swiss chard, turnips, watercress

July: apricots, aubergine, beetroot, blackberries, blackcurrants, blueberries, broad beans, broccoli, cauliflower, cavolo nero, cherries, chicory, chillies, courgettes, cucumber, fennel, French beans, garlic, globe artichoke, gooseberries, greengages, loganberries, new potatoes, onions, peas, potatoes, radishes, raspberries, redcurrants, rhubarb, rocket, runner beans, samphire, spring onions, strawberries, summer squash, Swiss chard, tomatoes, turnips, watercress

August: apricots, aubergine, beetroot, blackberries, blackcurrants, broad beans, broccoli, carrots, cauliflower, cavolo nero, celery, cherries, chicory, courgettes, cucumber, damsons, fennel, fig, French beans, globe artichoke, greengages, leeks, lettuce, mangetout, marrow, mushrooms, parsnips, peas, peppers, potatoes, plums, pumpkin, radishes, raspberries, redcurrants, rhubarb, rocket, runner beans, samphire, spring greens, spring onions, strawberries, squash, sweetcorn, Swiss chard, tomatoes, watercress

September: apples, apricots, aubergine, beetroot, blackberries, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, butternut squash, carrots, cauliflower, cavolo nero, celery, chicory, courgettes, cucumber, damsons, fennel, fig, globe artichoke, leeks, lettuce, mangetout, marrow, onions, parsnips, pears, peas, peppers, plums, potatoes, pumpkin, radishes, raspberries, rhubarb, rocket, runner beans, samphire, spinach, spring greens, spring onions, strawberries, squash, sweetcorn, Swiss chard, tomatoes, turnips, watercress, wild mushrooms

October: apples, aubergine, beetroot, blackberries, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, carrots, cauliflower, cavolo nero, celeriac, celery, chestnuts, chicory, courgettes, cranberries, cucumber, elderberries, fig, kale, leeks, lettuce, marrow, onions, parsnips, pears, peas, potatoes, pumpkin, radishes, rocket, runner beans, spinach, spring greens, spring onions, squash, summer squash, swede, Swiss chard, tomatoes, turnips, watercress, wild mushrooms

November: apples, beetroot, Brussels sprouts, butternut squash, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, celeriac, celery, chestnuts, chicory, cranberries, Jerusalem artichokes, kale, leeks, onions, parsnips, pears, potatoes, pumpkin, squash, swede, Swiss chard, turnips, watercress, wild mushrooms

December: apples, beetroot, Brussels sprouts, cabbage, cauliflower, celeriac, celery, chestnuts, cranberries, Jerusalem artichokes, kale, onions, parsnips, pears, pumpkins, quince, radicchio, salsify, swede, sweet potato

English Garden Antipasto

I have vivid early memories of being eye-height to a glorious plethora of antipasti on display at Justin de Blank Provisions Ltd on Elizabeth Street, Belgravia, the delicatessen owned by the father of my future best friend, Martha Sitwell. He was a true pioneer both as a restaurateur and a food importer, bringing Italian, French and world foods to the streets of London back in the 1970s. I must have been two or three, and the myriad colourful produce glistening in oil made a big impression on me.

Traditionally served in Italy as the first course of a meal, antipasti can include anything from cured meats to olives or marinated anchovies, but here I want to focus on the vegetables. While the dish is associated with the south Mediterranean, we can grow the vegetables I’ve featured here in the UK and this is a great way of making the most of seasonal vegetables. Antipasto can be eaten in all kinds of ways, as a side to grilled meats or fish, or incorporated into other recipes, but this is such an impressive thing to bring to the table when you use a wide array of vegetables that it warrants being the main feature, perhaps with a simple green salad and crusty bread. Peppers, artichokes, aubergines and courgettes are classic summery choices, but this can work just as well in autumn and winter with young kale, mushrooms, leeks or squash. Roasting or grilling the vegetables intensifies their flavour, and the chilli and parsley in the dressing bring the whole thing together with an extra little kick. Use this as a guide to working with whatever’s available and in season, picking and choosing from the ingredients here and on the following pages. Apart from the artichokes, which are slightly more complicated to cook, I’ve not provided quantities – just work with what you have available. The dressing recipe makes enough for a large, mixed platter of vegetables to serve 4–6 people.

All the vegetables keep well if submerged in oil and kept in a clean, airtight jar.

Roasted Violet Artichokes

1 tbsp sea salt, plus extra for sprinkling

2 lemons, halved, plus a little extra juice for the acidulating water

4 violet artichokes, trimmed

olive oil, for drizzling

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10).

Bring a large pan of water to the boil. Add the salt and squeeze in the juice from both the lemons. Add the artichokes and par-boil for 6–7 minutes. Remove and place top down on a tray to drain. Once cool enough to handle, quarter lengthways and use an ice cream scoop, knife or metal spoon to remove the fibrous part of the heart. Set aside in a bowl of cold water with more lemon juice.

Peel off and discard the tougher outer leaves, then place the artichokes on a baking tray. Drizzle generously with olive oil and sprinkle with salt. Roast in the oven for 10 minutes, then turn over and roast for a further 10 minutes until the outer edges of the leaves are crisp.

Butternut Squash and Pumpkin

Peel the squash or pumpkin, remove the seeds and fibres and cut the flesh lengthways into roughly 6mm-thick slices. Heat a griddle pan over a high heat. Drizzle the squash or pumpkin slices with oil, season with salt, place on the griddle pan and grill until softened and charred, turning them to give them a criss-cross pattern if you wish – it may help to put some weight on the slices with another pan or baking tray.

Aubergines

Cut the aubergines lengthways into 8mm-thick slices. Heat a griddle pan over a medium-high heat. Drizzle the aubergine slices with olive oil and season with plenty of salt. Grill for a few minutes on each side until the flesh is charred and is becoming translucent – it may help to weight the aubergine slices down with another pan or baking tray. I lie the aubergine horizontally in the pan and then vertically on both sides to create a criss-cross pattern.

Courgettes

Cut the courgettes lengthways into 5mm-thick slices. Heat a griddle pan over a medium-high heat. Drizzle the courgette slices with olive oil and season generously. Grill for a few minutes on each side until charred and becoming translucent. I lie the courgettes horizontally in the pan and then vertically on both sides to create a criss-cross pattern.

Peppers

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10). Put the whole peppers in the oven on a baking tray and roast for 20 minutes, shaking to turn the peppers a couple more times during cooking. (The same method applies to chillies, only roast them for half the time.) Once the skins are charred and the flesh is soft, remove the peppers from the oven and set aside to cool, covered with a clean tea towel (this helps to steam them, which makes removing the skins easier). When cooled enough to handle, pull out the stalks and the seeds, and gently peel off the skins revealing the soft flesh within.

Portobello Mushrooms

Preheat the oven to 240°C/220°C fan/gas mark 9. Put the mushrooms on a baking tray, drizzle with olive oil, season with salt and put in the hot oven for 10 minutes. Turn down to 200°C/180°C fan/gas mark 6 and cook for a further 10 minutes until the mushrooms are soft and starting to crisp at the edges.

Leeks

Preheat the oven to 240°C/220°C fan/gas mark 9. Prepare the leeks by cutting them in half lengthways and giving them a good wash under cold running water to ensure you’ve removed any grit from between the leaves. Place the whole leeks on a baking tray, drizzle with oil and season with salt. Roast for 20 minutes until charred.

Kalettes

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10). Blanch the kalettes in a pan of salted boiling water for 30 seconds, then refresh in ice-cold water to maintain the vibrancy of the green leaves. Place the kalettes on a baking tray, drizzle with olive oil, season and roast for 5–7 minutes, until the edges of the leaves begin to become crisp.

Tomatoes

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10). Place the tomatoes on a baking tray, drizzle with olive oil and add a good sprinkling of salt. Roast for up to 30 minutes, depending on their size (larger tomatoes will need longer). Remove from the oven when soft, yielding and the skins are beginning to split and char.

FOR THE DRESSING

700ml olive oil

2 heads of garlic, cloves peeled and thinly sliced

2–3 dried chillies, broken up

5 sprigs of rosemary

1 tsp salt

a decent grinding of black pepper

100ml red wine or sherry vinegar

large bunch of flat-leaf parsley, finely chopped

Put 200ml of the oil in a saucepan with the garlic, chillies, rosemary, salt and pepper, and cook slowly over a medium-low heat for 5–10 minutes, letting the garlic soften, become translucent and begin to colour, but not letting it get brown and crisp – be sure to keep an eye on it. Pour in the vinegar, increase the heat and allow to reduce until nearly all the vinegar has evaporated. Remove from the heat, pour in the remaining 500ml of oil, add the parsley, and stir to combine.

Ratatouille

Ever since seeing the film Ratatouille, I haven’t been able to get the image of the actual ratatouille out of my head, because of how neatly the character Remy presents his version of the dish in the film (I have the same thing when I think of oysters because of Disney’s Alice in Wonderland). The flavours of ratatouille are quite simple, but what was it about the ratatouille in that film that made it scream out to me to be made? Well, firstly, it was based on a beautiful version of ratatouille made by the guy who held the title of best chef in the world for many years, Thomas Keller, and if this peasant dish screams out of the telly at me, even in a cartoon version, I know it’s going to be good. What separates Keller’s version from a classic ratatouille is that all the vegetables are very thinly sliced and are all pretty much the same size. If you can’t find vegetables that are roughly the same diameter and there’s a bit of haphazard variation in their size, it doesn’t really matter: the main thing is that they are sliced to the same thickness. The best way to ensure uniformity is to slice everything on a mandoline. My French pastry chef says this dish is actually called a ‘tian’ of Provençal vegetables, but I argue that in this version the vegetables sit in a piquant tomato sauce (my Slow Cooked Tomato Sauce) and that makes it a ratatouille. Either way, the dish has been hijacked by a cartoon and I love this version of it. Serve it as it is, with a rice pilaf, or alongside simple grilled white fish.

SERVES 2 as a main course or 4 as a side dish

Preparation time 15 minutes, plus 1 hour 45 minutes for the tomato sauce

Cooking time 20 minutes

300g Slow Cooked Tomato Sauce

1 large green courgette, thinly sliced widthways on a mandoline

1 yellow courgette, thinly sliced widthways on a mandoline

2 large tomatoes, thinly sliced on a mandoline

1 aubergine, thinly sliced widthways on a mandoline

2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling

sea salt flakes

basil leaves (micro basil if you can find it), to serve

You will need a 2-litre gratin dish or 4 small 500ml gratin dishes, and a mandoline.

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10).

Pour the tomato sauce into a 2-litre gratin dish (or divide it among 4 small 500ml gratin dishes) in an even layer. Make two stacks of vegetables, alternating the slices in a pattern (or one stack if you are using smaller gratin dishes) – one slice of aubergine, then green courgette, then yellow courgette, then tomato – and repeat until you have used everything up. Carefully transfer the stacks of vegetables to the gratin dish (or dishes), lying them down so they are in two rows (or one), with each vegetable slice overlapping. Generously drizzle olive oil over the top and add a good sprinkling of salt.

Bake in the oven for 20 minutes until the veg have softened and are beginning to caramelise. Remove from the oven and serve straightaway, garnished with basil leaves.

AVOCADOS

Hailed as a superfood, avocados have become ubiquitous. You can’t read a brunch menu anywhere without seeing them in some form, whether smashed, smoothied or sliced. As an excellent source of much sought-after, heart-healthy monosaturated fats (including oleic and linoleic acid, which are linked to preventing high cholesterol), not to mention vitamin E, soluble fibre, potassium, iron and the B vitamin folate, it certainly deserves its superfood status and it’s no wonder that they have become so popular, especially among the more health-conscious younger generations. But the western world’s insatiable appetite for this fruit comes at a heavy price.

Demand for the crop is off the charts, and it is putting unprecedented pressure on the avocado farmers. Avocados grow in tropical climates, with Mexico being the world’s largest exporter, and the current booming market has seen avocados becoming more profitable to grow than most other crops in the region. This is leading to some farmers unlawfully felling mature, established pine forest in order to plant avocado trees, which require cyclical input of fertilisers and pesticides to deliver the highest yields. As with any monoculture, a lack of diversity strips the soil of fertility over time and devastates local wildlife and ecosystems. Much like almonds, avocados have a large water footprint, which puts huge pressure on water reserves in an increasingly hot and dry climate. Produce imported from far flung climes such as Central and South America is inevitably going to have a major carbon footprint due to the airfreighting, which is hard to justify when we are facing such an enormous climate crisis.

As with any farming, it’s also important to consider the impact on the workers involved. Soaring prices of avocados in Mexico has led to drug cartels monopolising production, which means that any revenue may well be going to fund criminals who wreak fear and suffering among the communities they dominate (refusing to capitulate to these gangs will most likely have terrifying consequences). A crop once known by locals as ‘green gold’ is now referred to as ‘blood guacamole’. The pesticides and chemicals used to grow avocados on such a large scale pollute water systems, which in turn impacts the health of the workers, who are often paid next to nothing.

Like with other tropical fruit, opting to buy certified Fairtrade avocados can mitigate against the negative environmental and ethical impact to some extent. If you really must eat them, buying Spanish-grown avocados means less air mileage, and more stringent EU regulations with regards to their production.

I truly believe that we need to seriously consider our level of avocado consumption. I don’t see how, taking into account all the negative factors, we can include it as a staple food in our diets. I think we should only consume them as the occasional treat – it just simply isn’t sustainable the way things stand.

Green Tomato Salsa

This might resemble the simple green salsa you get in burrito restaurants, but its heritage in Mexico is rich and varied. You can dress your tacos and dishes with a variety of salsas in Mexico and this one is prized for its clean green acidity. Green salsas are usually made with tomatillos, which are a variety of the deadly nightshade plant family (as aubergines, peppers and tomatoes also are) and they are prevalent in Mexico. They are green and unripe in flavour, and the green tomatoes that grow on our fair shores will do the job brilliantly. This recipe is smashing on so many things such as tacos with the Pumpkin Seed and Cocoa Mole Sauce and Queso Fresco, or with fried battered fish in tacos, and it also makes a terrific base for my Green Shakshuka.

MAKES 600g

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 20 minutes

600g green tomatoes

1 large onion, peeled and quartered

2–3 fresh green jalapeños, stalks removed and cut in half (seeds or no seeds, depending on your preference)

1 head of garlic, cloves peeled

3 tbsp oil

juice of 3 big juicy limes

1 tsp salt

very large bunch of coriander, leaves picked

Put the green tomatoes, onion, jalapeños and garlic in a food processor and blitz until smooth.

Heat the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat, pour in the tomato mixture and cook for 10 minutes, allowing it to reduce, then squeeze in the lime juice. Add the salt, then the coriander. Allow to cook for a further minute, return to the food processor and blitz again to achieve a really smooth sauce. Serve at room temperature.

The salsa will keep for up to 2–3 days in the fridge.

Green Shakshuka

I developed this recipe in the early days of Filth, with Rosemary Ferguson. Our mission was to get extra nutrition into everyday dishes. We wanted to make a healthy breakfast, both loved shakshuka and huevos rancheros, and thought we could somehow merge them. That week, I’d made a huge vat of Green Tomato Salsa that ended up being the base of this dish. We fried some cumin seeds in oil then added the salsa, before blending it with fresh spinach to an even more nutritious, virtually Hulk-green sauce, got some roasted green peppers into the dish and baked the eggs in this sauce instead of the usual red one. We finished it with a combo of Middle Eastern and Mexican toppings and served it with flatbreads or grilled Turkish breads with some good extra-virgin olive oil. It’s a superb healthy weekend brunch dish and pretty fancy-pants in the impressiveness stakes, too.

SERVES 2

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 10 minutes

3 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp cumin seeds

400g Green Tomato Salsa

1 tsp ground coriander

85g fresh spinach, washed, wilted in a pan for a minute and drained

80g green peppers, roasted (see here) and sliced

4 free-range eggs

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

TO SERVE

good handful of coriander leaves, chopped

a few dill fronds

a few mint leaves, shredded

2 tbsp sour cream

300g Queso Fresco, made to a firm and crumbly texture

3 tbsp toasted mixed seeds mixed with ½ tsp za’atar

freshly made Flatbreads or grilled Turkish bread

extra-virgin olive oil, for drizzling

You will need 2 individual 22–25cm baking or gratin dishes.

Preheat the oven to 240°C/220°C fan/gas mark 9.

Heat the oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat, add the cumin seeds and fry for a minute or two until toasted. Add the green tomato salsa, coriander and spinach and cook for a minute. Season with salt and pepper if necessary, then remove from the heat and blitz until smooth.

Divide the blitzed sauce between two individual (22–25cm) ovenproof baking or gratin dishes. Split the green peppers between the two dishes, then simply make two little holes in the top of the sauce in each dish and break an egg into each hole. Season each egg with salt and pepper and bake in the oven for about 8 minutes or until the egg whites are cooked through, but the eggs still have runny yolks.

Remove from the oven and top the two shakshukas with the chopped coriander, dill, mint, sour cream, queso fresco and seeds, and serve with toasted or warmed bread, drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil.

Pumpkin Seed and Cocoa Mole Sauce for pumpkins, poultry and beans

Mole is a traditional Mexican sauce that generally contains a fruit, a chilli pepper, a nut, a seed, and spices like cinnamon, black pepper and cumin. The word ‘mole’ is an archaic word for ‘mix’, and some of the very traditional ones, like mole poblano, contain about 24 different ingredients. This recipe is a little simpler than that, but it’s still deep and richly flavoured.

You can cook poultry pieces in the mole, but I prefer poaching a whole bird in a spiced broth made with onions, bay leaves, thyme, cinnamon, star anise and peppercorns, leaving the bird to cool, and using the poaching liquor in the mole sauce, in place of the chicken stock, then lacquering the cooked chicken meat with it. Another classic way to use mole is to roast large chunks of deseeded pumpkin or squash (see cooking method here) and serve them with the sauce.

To make a really phenomenal plant-based meal, serve this mole with Rye Tortillas, Queso Fresco and Green Tomato Salsa, swapping the chicken stock in the mole for vegetable stock.

MAKES 500g (200g is enough for tacos for 4–6 people and it freezes really well)

Preparation time 20 minutes

Cooking time 1 hour

3–4 tbsp oil

3 largish onions, thinly sliced

1 head of garlic, cloves peeled

600g tomatoes

2 dried Mexican chillies, such as ancho, mulato, ñora, guindilla, pasilla, chipotle, etc.

2 tbsp ground cumin

½ tsp ground cinnamon

¼ tsp ground cloves

generous grating of nutmeg

50g unsalted cashews

25g pumpkin seeds

6 prunes

500ml fresh chicken stock or poaching liquor

2 tsp cocoa powder

juice of 1 orange

juice of 1 lime

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat about 2 tablespoons of the oil in a heavy-based casserole dish over a medium-low heat, add the onions and garlic and cook for a good 20 minutes until really soft and sweet, golden and just beginning to caramelise. Turn off the heat while you prepare the rest of the ingredients.

Next, you need to char the tomatoes. Traditionally, this is done over a naked flame, but if you whack your oven up as hot as it can go (to about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10) and roast them in a roasting tray for 10–12 minutes, you can achieve a really good char and the tomatoes intensify in flavour. It’s up to you, but ultimately you need to achieve burnt skins. Once you have done this, put them in a food processor (with their skins) and blitz until smooth.

Heat the remaining oil in a deep frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add the dried Mexican chillies, all of the spices, cashews and pumpkin seeds and fry for a few minutes until everything is toasty and brown, being careful not to scorch the chillies. Transfer the nuts, seeds, spices and dried chillies to the casserole dish with the onions and garlic, then pour in the blitzed tomatoes, add the prunes and chicken stock or poaching liquor and allow to reduce for 10 minutes.

Carefully transfer everything to a food processor and blitz for at least 2 minutes until you have a smooth sauce. Clean out the casserole dish and return the smooth mole to it. Now let it reduce over a medium heat for about 20 minutes, until it has the consistency of double cream. Finally, stir in the cocoa powder, check for seasoning and add the lime juice and orange juice.

Globe Artichokes with Real Salad Cream

The moment that sticks in my memory where I really understood the beauty of this French classic was a few years ago in LA, at The Ivy. I was so impressed by the confidence of celebrating the simplicity of these beautiful big globe artichokes – they were brought to the table with just a bowl of vinaigrette and nothing more, for the diners to pull apart with their hands at the table. It just seemed so fresh and modern, even though it’s an age-old dish. Peeling off the petals and scraping off the mellow flesh with your teeth is one of life’s pleasures. Now, let’s come to the ‘salad cream’. I will eat anything, but commercial salad cream is one thing I cannot stand. This is world’s apart, like a really well-rounded, creamy vinaigrette. As with everything, it’s about the quality of the ingredients you put in and I am a believer that in this case, it’s 100 per cent necessary to use Dijon mustard and sherry vinegar. Because the dressing has cream in it, it won’t last long in the fridge (I wouldn’t be surprised if you polished the lot off in one go anyway).

SERVES 4

Preparation time 15 minutes

Cooking time 15 minutes

2 globe artichokes, washed and trimmed (outer woody leaves removed, stalks scraped clean)

FOR THE COURT BOUILLON

10 litres water

400ml white wine

200ml olive oil

150ml white wine vinegar

juice and pared rind of 4 lemons

½ bunch of thyme

5 bay leaves

2 tbsp white peppercorns

6 tbsp sea salt

FOR THE REAL SALAD CREAM

1 tbsp Dijon mustard

pinch of sugar

2 tbsp sherry vinegar

juice of ½ lemon

generous pinch of sea salt

good grinding of freshly ground black pepper

2 tbsp single cream

5 tbsp sunflower oil

1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

To make the court bouillon, bring all of the ingredients to the boil in the largest pan you’ve got and simmer for 10 minutes.

Cook the globe artichokes stem end down in the bouillon for 15 minutes. Once the time is up, carefully remove them from the bouillon and set aside to cool briefly while you whip up the salad cream.

Whisk together the mustard, sugar, vinegar, lemon juice, salt and pepper in a small bowl, then whisk in the cream until well combined. Combine the oils in a small jug, then, in a fine stream (much like when you make mayonnaise), slowly pour in the oil, whisking continuously until all the oil is combined and you have a thick, pale dressing. Check the seasoning.

Trim the artichoke stalks.

Serve the salad cream alongside the artichokes, pulling off the leaves and dunking them into the cream. When you get to the artichoke heart it will be covered in the fibrous ‘choke’. Fear not – you can scrape it away really easily to reveal the best bit, the heart. Cut the heart through the stalk lengthways and dunk it into the salad cream.

Summer Salad Soup

I know cold soups can be divisive, but I am a real backer of the chilled soup. I’m sitting editing this right now in the middle of a baking-hot heatwave and, honestly, there is nothing I would like more for lunch. We’re really lucky in the UK that our seasons are so pronounced and that summer brings us classic British cold soups such as iced cucumber or chilled pea soup – here, I have hauled together all of our great summer salad vegetables to wave the flag for refreshing cold summer soups. And this one, unlike most gazpachos, it is equally delicious hot.

Ideally, make this soup the day before you’re going to serve it, so it has time to get properly cold.

SERVES 6

Preparation time 5 minutes, plus optional overnight chilling

Cooking time 10 minutes

2 tbsp oil

bunch of spring onions (about 125g), roughly chopped

350g Lebanese cucumber, roughly chopped

500g fresh or frozen peas

750ml fresh chicken or vegetable stock

2 little gem lettuces, roughly chopped

10 mint sprigs, leaves picked and chopped

a decent pinch of white pepper

a decent pinch of celery salt

½ nutmeg

200g crème fraîche

juice of ½ lemon

sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper

TO SERVE (OPTIONAL)

deseeded and finely chopped cucumber, radishes, mint leaves, dill fronds, a lick of your favourite dressing oil, and crème fraîche

Heat the oil in a saucepan over a medium-high heat, add the spring onions and fry for 2–3 minutes, then add the cucumber and fry for a further 2 minutes, before adding the peas. Pour over the stock, bring to the boil and cook for 2 minutes. Add the lettuce and mint and cook for a further 2 minutes. Remove from the heat and carefully pour the mixture into a blender or food processor. Season with the white pepper and some black pepper, the celery salt, and a pinch of sea salt, grate in the nutmeg, add the crème fraîche and lemon juice, and blitz until smooth.

If you’re planning on serving it cold, transfer to a container and allow to cool to room temperature before chilling it in the fridge, preferably overnight. I like to serve it with crème fraîche and some deseeded, finely chopped cucumber and radishes scattered on top.

Alternatively, serve the soup straight away, hot, with some crème fraîche swirled in and a few chopped mint leaves and dill fronds.

Greenhouse Romesco Sauce with Chargrilled Spring Onions

There is a common misconception that we can’t grow tomatoes, peppers and aubergines here in the UK like they do in the Mediterranean. Naturally, the history of us growing these ingredients differs from our European neighbours, due to the lack of hot weather, however a new breed of tomato growers on the Isle of Wight are growing superb tomatoes with a really strong end of season glut, and long and slow growth over our slightly colder summers makes world-class tomatoes. The horrifyingly hot summers of recent years have meant even better gluts. The same goes for peppers and chillies, and – flavourwise – some of the sweetest and most round-bodied chillies I’ve ever tasted have been grown here in Hackney, in local allotment greenhouses. If you’re into growing your own veg, this vegetable is easy to grow and provides good yields. Classically, romesco sauce is made from red peppers, but I make it with whatever I can get my mitts on and, while paler, this sauce is punchier. I’m a vinegar fiend and this sauce is pokey, but that’s how I love it! If you’re a little less into acidic food, hold back a teaspoon or two of the vinegar. I serve this with large spring onions as I’m not able to find British-grown calçots that easily.

SERVES 4

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 25 minutes

2 red, orange or yellow peppers

75g tomatoes (whatever type you like)

30g blanched almonds

4 large overgrown spring onions

1 garlic clove, finely grated

3 tbsp sherry vinegar

1 tsp sea salt, plus extra to serve

generous ½ tsp smoked paprika

good pinch of cayenne

1 tbsp tomato puree

3 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for drizzling

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10).

Put the peppers and tomatoes on a baking tray and roast in the oven for about 15 minutes until they are soft and the skins are peeling away easily. Remove and leave until cool enough to handle so you can pull away the skins from both the tomatoes and the peppers (and the seeds from the peppers).

Put the almonds on a baking tray and toast in the oven for a few minutes until nice and brown, but be careful not to let them burn.

Classically, the onions would be barbecued, but you can get a good result by roasting them on a baking tray in the hot oven for 10 minutes until they start to char. Remove from the oven and once cool enough to handle, cut them in half lengthways.

Put the peppers, tomatoes, almonds, garlic, sherry vinegar, salt, paprika, cayenne, tomato puree and olive oil in a food processor and pulse until the mixture is well blended but still has texture from the almonds – you don’t want this super smooth.

To serve, spread the sauce on a plate and lay the roasted onions on top, with an extra drizzle of olive oil and a little sprinkle of sea salt.

Peas, Broad Beans and Lettuce Gratin

Gratins tend to be carby and rich, but on seeing chef Anthony Demetre’s fricasée of English peas and broad beans, I was totally inspired to put my own spin on it. I started off by making a winey sauce, with a reduced chicken stock and lots of cream, and the flavours of tarragon and nutmeg running through it, before pouring it over peas and broad beans and baking. The result is an unusually fresh and light gratin that still has the richness of the cream, and works perfectly alongside roast chicken, or some sturdy collagen-rich fish such as hake or turbot.

I think freshly podded broad beans are the best, so do seek them out, especially when they are in season during summer. However, with peas, I have to admit to preferring frozen petits pois on the whole rather than fresh, as they are sweeter and less likely to be dry.

SERVES 4 as a side dish

Preparation time 15 minutes

Cooking time 15 minutes

200ml white wine

300g shelled fresh or frozen peas

300g podded broad beans

500ml fresh chicken stock

300ml double cream

juice of ½ lemon

1 little gem lettuce, roughly chopped

10 sprigs of tarragon, leaves removed and roughly chopped

¼ nutmeg, grated

20g Parmesan, grated

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10).

Pour the wine into a saucepan, place it over a high heat and reduce the volume by two thirds. While this is on the go, blanch the peas and broad beans in a pan of salted boiling water for about 2 minutes, then drain and refresh in ice-cold water to halt the cooking process.

Once the wine has reduced, add the stock and the cream and reduce again over a medium-high heat until the sauce has emulsified and thickened. Squeeze in the lemon juice, add the chopped lettuce to wilt it slightly, then add the tarragon leaves and season with the nutmeg and a healthy pinch of salt and pepper.

Drain the peas and beans and transfer them to an ovenproof gratin dish. Pour over the cream and lettuce sauce and top with the grated Parmesan. Place in the scorching-hot oven for 15 minutes, until the cheese is gratinated and golden. Remove from the oven and serve.

Patlican Salata

A number of the recipes in this book have come about as a direct result of living in Hackney and absorbing the influence of the large local Turkish communities. This was not my intention, but more of a subconscious osmosis. There are so many ocakbasi restaurants in my area (‘ocakbasi’ means ‘fireside’ or ‘stand by the grill’) with huge charcoal barbecue grills on which all kinds of meat and vegetables are cooked, and the side dishes and meze are just as big a part of their offering as the grilled meat. My assistant, Rose, alerted me to patlican salata, a buttery smoked aubergine, red pepper, garlic and yoghurt salad and perhaps one of the lesser known gems, and I can’t believe I’ve missed out on it all this time. Grill-roasted aubergines and peppers take on a delicious smokiness, and are then covered in a butter and yoghurt – it’s damn delicious in its simplicity. None of us have enormous grills but you can still achieve that smoky charred flavour through aggressive cooking on the hob. This is ideal served as part of a meze, alongside my Broad Bean, Mint and Feta Salad.

SERVES 4 as part of a meze

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 30 minutes

2 red peppers

6 tbsp oil

2 aubergines, cut into 2cm-thick rounds

1 head of Confit Garlic, cloves finely chopped, plus 2 tbsp of the oil

½ garlic clove, grated

large handful of flat-leaf parsley, leaves finely chopped

40g ghee

150g Greek yoghurt

sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper

pinch of pul biber, to serve

Preheat the oven as hot as it can go (about 260°C/240°C fan/gas mark 10).

Place the peppers on a baking tray and roast for 20 minutes until the skins are nice and charred. Remove from the oven, set aside and leave until cool enough to handle, then pull away the skins (they should come off pretty easily) and pull out the seeds.

Heat 2 tablespoons of the oil in a frying pan over a high heat, add a third of the aubergine rounds and cook for a few minutes on each side until well blackened. Don’t be scared: you need the aubergine to be a bit burnt to achieve a charred, smoky flavour. Lower the heat and fry for a further few minutes on each side until the aubergine is nice and soft. Do this in three batches, adding more oil to the pan as you go (the aubergines will soak it up like a sponge). Once all the aubergine is ready, chop it roughly as you want it to have a bit of texture. Do the same with the roasted red pepper and combine with the aubergine in a bowl. Mix in the confit garlic, fresh garlic and garlic oil, followed by the chopped parsley. Season generously.

If you work at the right pace this should all come together at the right time. Melt the ghee in a small saucepan over a low heat, being careful not to burn it. Spread the aubergine mixture on a plate, dollop the yoghurt in the centre and pour the ghee over the top. Finish with the pul biber. The salad doesn’t have to be hot, but it’s at its best when warm, so once the ghee hits the plate get it to the table pretty sharpish.

Egg and Bacon Potato Salad

Purple potatoes are a heritage potato variety from Peru, and Peruvians know how to cook them. Causa, their traditional cold potato salad, is made with lime juice and sour cream, and when I learnt about it I realised what a great addition the acidity of sour cream would be in a salad dressing. I created this potato salad recipe using classic American ingredients like bacon and jalapeños, but with causa in the back of my mind.

SERVES 4

Preparation time 10 minutes

Cooking time 20 minutes

1kg purple potatoes, scrubbed clean

2 litres cold water

2–3 tbsp salt

3 free-range eggs

110g smoked streaky bacon, cut into thin lardons

2 spring onions, thinly sliced

3 tbsp pickled jalapeño slices, finely chopped

smoked salt or celery salt, to serve (optional)

FOR THE DRESSING

150g sour cream

150g mayonnaise

2 tbsp lemon juice

good pinch of salt

good grind of black pepper

Put the potatoes in a large saucepan with the cold water and 2–3 tablespoons of salt. That might sound like lots of salt, but when cooking any potatoes it helps bring out their flavour. Bring to the boil and cook for 20 minutes, then drain and allow to steam dry.

Meanwhile, cook the eggs in a saucepan of boiling water for 8 minutes exactly, then place in a bowl of cold water to halt the cooking process. While the potatoes and eggs are cooking, fry the bacon in a frying pan until nice and crispy.

To make the dressing, simply mix the sour cream and mayonnaise together in a bowl with the lemon juice, salt and pepper.

When everything is ready, it’s time to assemble the salad, beginning with the potatoes. Pull them apart into bite-sized pieces (I think it looks nicer than cutting them with a knife, and the rough edges hold the dressing better) and lay them out on a large plate or platter. Spoon the dressing over the potatoes and sprinkle half of the spring onions on top. Peel and roughly chop the eggs and sprinkle them in an even layer over the potatoes, followed by the bacon, the jalapeños and the rest of the spring onions. I like to sprinkle over a little smoked salt or celery salt if I have some to hand.

Braised Courgettes

Who has braised a courgette or marrow before? Unlikely these days, as I figure most people assume this method of cooking will make them mushy and tasteless, but actually the opposite is true. I first came across courgettes cooked this way in an ‘ingredients-led’ Italian restaurant, served with nothing more than really good olive oil and salt. It was a revelation. Here, the courgettes hold their weight and stay firm, while retaining the added flavours of chilli, lemon juice and mint. I like to serve this with grilled fish or roast lamb as a side dish, or as a central salad in a multitude of ways, such as with crumbled feta and mint, ricotta and oregano, or burrata and basil.

SERVES 4 as a side dish or large salad

Preparation time 5 minutes

Cooking time 15 minutes

3 tbsp olive oil

1 dried chilli

4 courgettes (ideally a mixture of green, yellow and white)

½ tsp sea salt, plus extra to serve

100ml water

grated zest and juice of 1 lemon

handful of mint leaves, chopped

Heat the olive oil in a wide lidded saucepan over a high heat. Crumble the chilli (you can leave out some of the seeds, depending on how hot you like it) and add it to the pan, allowing it to infuse in the oil for a minute or two. Now put the largest courgettes into the pan and cook for 2 minutes, followed by the smaller ones. Add the salt and water to the pan, cover with a lid and cook for a further 2 minutes. Turn the courgettes over with a pair of tongs, re-cover and braise for a further 2 minutes. Repeat this a few times, replacing the lid after each turn, until they are cooked but still firm – this will take about 15 minutes in total. You definitely don’t want them to be mushy!

Remove from the heat and allow to cool a little so you can handle them. Cut them into 2–3cm-thick slices and place in a serving dish, squeeze over the lemon juice and sprinkle the lemon zest and mint leaves across the top. Season with a little more salt. These are equally delicious served hot or cold.

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