Copyright

HarperCollinsPublishers

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First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

FIRST EDITION

© Rosie Birkett 2019

Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Cover photograph © Helen Cathcart 2019

Food styling: Becks Wilkinson

Prop styling: Linda Berlin

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Rosie Birkett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008314279

Ebook Edition © May 2019 ISBN: 9780008314286

Version 2019-05-20

Dedication

For Chrissy – the original JHC

And for Otis: today’s treasure is creativity

Contents

COVER

TITLE PAGE

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

INTRODUCTION

1 Brunch, Lunch and Bites

2 Memorable Mains

3 Special Suppers

4 Sunshine Feasts

5 Fermented, Pickled and Preserved

6 Comfort Cooking

7 Sides

8 Sweet Things

9 Secret Ingredients

INDEX OF SEARCHABLE TERMS

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE PUBLISHER

Introduction

Knowing how to cook and eat well is not only one of life’s most essential and great pleasures, it is a tonic for daily life. Engaging your senses, working with your hands and letting your mind unwind as you gently caramelise onions in butter until they smell so good you’re compelled to eat them straight from the pan: this is the magic of home cooking. And it should be fun, too. Where there’s cooking there’s often – delete as appropriate – lovers/friends/family/kids/dogs/wine/music. There’s discussion and debate, sometimes drama. The kitchen fills with the scent of good food, the windows steam up, the glasses brim, and the warm, fuzzy mess of our lives unfolds over plates of food greedily scraped clean.

Cooking is one of the most enriching and creative things we can do for ourselves and for those we love, and as something that we have to do most days, it should be joyful. For me, that means food prepared with a little thought and care. It could be as simple as a thick slice of homemade toast, soaking with really good butter and topped with a couple of excellent preserved anchovies; or clouds of golden meringue deep with the molasses kick of muscovado sugar. First and foremost, it’s about flavour.

As a food and cookery writer, it’s my job to obsess over food, write about it, create recipes, and I care immensely about every morsel I pop into my greedy, not-so-little mouth and the mouths of those in my vicinity. This book celebrates the possibilities and pleasures that homemade food can bring us when we take the time to prepare and cook good things.

Whether you’re planning a weekend slow-cooking project or have hurriedly squirrelled a few ingredients into your post-work shopping basket, here are recipes to enliven your cooking. Across these pages you’ll find ideas, tips, stories, simple seasonal suggestions and – most importantly – inspiring but achievable recipes that will help you coax the most flavour you possibly can out of everyday ingredients. As well as showing you how to make simple, celebratory springtime lunches, lazy summer picnics, special suppers, comforting soul food and sumptuous seasonal desserts, I want to arm you with fun and satisfying skills that will ultimately help you become a more creative, intuitive and resourceful cook.

I’ve included some gratifying and straightforward DIY techniques that will allow you, should you wish, to be a bit more self-sufficient at home. I show how methods like smoking, curing and brining can bring the best out in meat and fish in recipes like the Cured Smoked Sea Trout (see here) and the Whole Brined, Spatchcocked Barbecue Chicken (see here). You’ll find recipes for flavourful pastries, fresh pasta and slow-fermentation doughs for breads and pizza, that can form the basis of so many fantastic meals, as well as homemade condiments, crispy breadcrumbs and flavoured butters and fresh cheeses that can be adapted throughout the year.

I’ve shared ideas for maximising seasonal produce, from making Wild Garlic Pesto (see here), to preparing quick jams and poached fruit to spruce up your desserts, and preserves like sweet Pickled Peaches (see here), My ‘Kind Of’ Kimchi (see here) and other tangy fermented vegetables and fruit-infused spirits (see here). These flavour-packed foods will help keep your kitchen well stocked throughout the year and add extra ‘wow’ to your dishes. They also make fantastic edible gifts for friends.

And so that these gifts keep on giving, I’ve included plenty of ideas for how to use everything up so nothing is wasted, as well nifty ways of utilising any by-products. Many of the recipes feed into one another, so when you’ve had a go at making the Labneh (see here), you’ll wind up with tangy whey, which you can use to brine the juicy lamb chops (see here). And once you’ve tasted how next-level the parsnips glazed in leftover rhubarb poaching liquor are (see here), you’ll never find yourself pouring it away again. Surplus sourdough starter goes into my squishy, sour crumpets and bright pink beetroot blinis (see here and here). And when you end up with a batch of sourdough crumpets sitting patiently in your freezer, waiting to be defrosted, toasted and slathered with butter, Future You will thank Present You for your efforts.

THE WAY I COOK

As you cook from the book, you will get used to my straightforward, ingredient-led approach; the way I combine, contrast and layer flavours and textures to get the most out of ingredients. You will find repeated flourishes and tricks that I hope will start to run through your cooking: a tang of sharp pickled onion or funk of homemade ferment here, the sweet, juiciness of a thinly sliced sugarsnap pea or crunch of Savoury Granola (see here) there.

I’ve always plumped for the underdog. There’s something for me in rooting for the unloved and underrepresented, which is why in the pages of this book you’re not going to find yet another recipe for roast forerib of beef or chocolate mousse. Instead, I want to introduce or reacquaint you with ingredients you might not have used before, or don’t use that often, but that are readily and easily available, and that can bring so much to your kitchen. Things like buttermilk – once a staple in English cookery – whey, pickled walnuts, fregola and buckwheat: all versatile ingredients worth getting in if you don’t have them already.

I grew up in rural Kent with parents who bordered on obsessive when it came to food and drink: my mother an astonishing home cook, my late father a passionate grower of veg, keen forager and even more voracious eater. My mum’s simple, delicious home-cooked meals were the heartbeat of family life. Eating vegetables that my dad grew himself, and gathering field mushrooms with him on autumn mornings, gave me a precious early insight into the connection between food and the land, and how much flavour is in an ingredient when it’s at its prime. My style of cooking reflects this, often putting seasonal veg at the centre of the plate.

Now I live in a big city, but I never cease to be excited by the arrival of the first green tips of asparagus (to be drenched in spiced butter and tiny brown shrimps as (see here)) in spring, or a late summer glut of ripe tomatoes (to be baked into the galette (see here)), and I’ve given ideas and recipes to encourage this appreciation of seasonality, wherever you live. Connecting to our landscape through our cooking and eating gives a sense of enormous wellbeing, and the food I make is always led by which ingredients are at their freshest and most flavourful, plentiful and affordable. You’ll notice that quite a few ingredients crop up more than once, and will find many ways with seasonal favourites like celeriac, runner and broad beans, beetroot and fennel.

I’m a total allotment novice, and have started growing my own vegetables and herbs with enthusiasm and varying degrees of success, often sharing most of it with the allotment’s rather persistent wildlife. I’m not anywhere near the point where I’m growing enough to live off, but having a go at growing and harvesting my own plants made me value ingredients in a new way. When you harvest even a half-nibbled leaf of vividly earthy chard straight from the ground and notice how much more flavourful it tastes, you realise what goes into producing food and feel more inclined to savour the ingredient. There are a couple of recipes where I’ve name-checked allotment produce (the pasties (see here) and Allotment Greens and Anchovy Orecchiette (see here)), because I thought it might be helpful for you to know what a newbie like me has found easiest to grow and cook with.

If you don’t already, have a go at growing some of your own food, even if you have no outdoor space. Herbs and salad leaves are so easy to grow in a window box or container outside the front or back door, and can bring so much vibrancy to your cooking. From seed, I‘ve successfully grown lovage (if you’re not familiar with it, it has a wonderful spicy, curry leaf-meets-celery flavour and comes back year after year), chervil, tarragon, borage (tastes like cucumber and has gorgeous blue and pink flowers), sage and thyme. Investing in a rosemary plant and bay tree is also helpful. Our bay tree is meagre and dog-eared, often battered by the bin men and attacked by slugs, but it’s still consistently provides enough fresh bay leaves for all my cooking.

Foraging isn’t just for men in waxed hats who can identify any mushroom at twenty paces. When I walk the dog down the canal, inhaling the heady scent of elderflower in May and June, it’s impossible to resist grabbing fragrant fistfuls for the strawberry tarts on the cover of this book, or to infuse vinegar. On the coast, I’ll look for flowering stems of wild fennel – their golden pollen is like an extra seasoning of intense anise for seafood or juicy, ripe stone fruit. There’s something incredibly exciting about picking wild ingredients, and they bring intense, hyper-local and unique flavours to your cooking. It goes without saying that you should never eat an ingredient if you’re not 100 per cent sure about it.

While fresh seasonal produce forms the backbone of my cooking style, as part of my job I’ve been lucky enough to travel and report on different cuisines, meeting many chefs and food producers around the world. So naturally, a number of enlivening international ingredients have found their way into my cooking and are now firm kitchen staples: things like harissa, tahini, tamarind sauce, pomegranate molasses, fish sauce and grains and pulses such as freekeh and lentils. If some of these ingredients are more unfamiliar or a little harder to source, I promise they will delight and inspire your cooking from here on in, and not just gather dust in the cupboard.

CHERISH THE CRAFT OF COOKING

There is an increasing appetite to understand the craft and processes behind much of the food we love, and I want to demystify techniques like simple sourdough bakery, fermenting, smoking, curing and brining, and making simple homemade fresh cheeses. They are all age-old techniques that have been recently re-embraced by restaurant chefs, but they mostly originated from domestic kitchens, and we are now reconnecting with them as home cooks.

In particular, I’m excited about the fermented recipes. What I love most about the process is that anyone can do it in any home kitchen: you don’t need any fancy kit. It’s as simple as salt, ingredients and patience. That naturally occurring wild yeasts and bacteria we can’t see work together to transform ingredients into something fizzing, tangy and delicious can feel miraculous, and sometimes a little nerve-wracking, but it’s the most natural of processes, and one which we can control. The resulting foods are packed full of good bacteria, making them great for our guts and digestion, and their flavours are quite literally alive and completely revelatory: just wait until you try Fermented Green Chillies (see here), and the tangy spiciness they will add to your pizzas, salads and the addictive cheesy cornbread (see here).

Mastering sourdough at home has been life-changing for me, so I was determined to include a really accessible, straightforward recipe (see here). It’s my failsafe method for a steadfast, tasty bread, and you only need flour, water, a bowl and a lidded, ovenproof pot or casserole dish: no special proving basket is required (though if you have one, of course put it to use). If you’ve never made it before, I can’t wait for you to experience the thrill of cutting the hefty crust of your first loaf of homemade sourdough, to spread with butter while it’s still warm because you’re so impatient.

Home cooking is, by its nature, not about perfection; things can be improved upon, tweaked to suit a person’s palate, or adapted to use up what’s in the fridge or storecupboard and I wholeheartedly encourage this. It’s about thought, care, resourcefulness and creativity, and making these recipes your own. But most of all it’s about slowing down and enjoying the process, learning and gaining confidence, experimenting and taking risks. Sure, sometimes things go a little wrong, but try and be kind to yourself. If homemade pastry rips, patch it up – it will still taste better than anything you could have bought. In my experience of cooking for friends and family at home, and paying guests at my pop-ups, most folk will be a little moved, grateful and happy when you put a plate of something tasty and thoughtfully prepared in front of them.

So often – particularly for women – the conversation around food and eating is an anxious, confusing, shame-filled one, with more of an emphasis on what to deny yourself than what to enjoy. Let’s shift the conversation back to what’s delicious, what’s worth cooking and eating, and how much happiness and satisfaction we can experience by getting to grips with the craft of cooking, spending a bit of time in the kitchen handling – and cooking with – beautiful ingredients. I’m a big believer that more wellbeing can be gained from spending time enjoying the creative process of making food for those you love, and connecting to nature and seasonality through your cooking, than stressing about how many calories are in things.

I hope these recipes will bring joy to your table, your favourite comfy chair, the garden, the beach, your bed – wherever it is you choose to eat them, and with whomever you choose to share them. Life can be tough, chaotic and often unfathomable. So many things are outside of our control, so let’s take the light where we can, and make something good for supper.

A NOTE ON SOURCING

To be able to write a book about the joys of good food, and talk to you from these pages in the intimacy of your home kitchen is a huge privilege, and not something I take lightly. It would feel disingenuous to not address the environmental and ethical implications of our consumer choices as home cooks, and while I don’t want to preach to you (because I am sure you already consider these things), I thought it might be helpful to share some thoughts. To borrow some wise words from the brilliant writer and activist Wendell Berry, ‘eating is an agricultural act’, and it’s important and empowering to understand how the way we shop, cook and eat affects the world around us, as well as our own health. Knowing where our ingredients come from and how they’re produced helps us to make better decisions with a more positive impact, and ultimately make more joyful food.

While I do still enjoy cooking and eating meat, we’re all becoming increasingly aware that the human appetite for meat and dairy is having a hugely destructive impact on our world. Like many people, I’ve massively reduced my meat consumption over the past few years. Both consciously and because my cooking style naturally gravitates towards making the most of seasonal vegetables, grains and pulses, along with sustainable fish and seafood.

I live by the idea that ‘meat is a treat’, so when I buy it I am happy to spend more on something that has been produced in as natural and sustainable a way as possible, and the same goes for dairy, poultry and eggs. The slow-grown, organic chicken you splurge on can be celebrated from its first glorious roasting to the last drop of its golden stock, which will elevate a dish of Wild Garlic Gnocchi (see here), or a warming chicken soup laced with ginger (see here).

Slow-grown animals have a better flavour because they’ve had time to lay down natural fat, and those reared with space to roam and graze, and slaughtered nearer to where they’ve lived are less stressed and therefore taste better, because stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline present at the time of slaughter have a negative impact on the flavour and nutritional value of the meat. It makes sense that what an animal eats will affect the way it tastes, and animals that graze and forage on grassy, diverse, wildflower-rich pastures have a superior flavour. A great example of this is salt marsh lamb, one of my all-time favourite meats, which has a unique herbaceous flavour and minerality, as it grazes on coastal pastures and estuary salt marshes. Look out for it in June and July. You can read more about pasture-fed farming at www.pastureforlife.org.

It’s worth tracking down a good local butcher or farm shop where you can find out about the provenance of their meat – if you don’t have the luxury of either of these, there are plenty of helpful online resources where you can read more about ethical meat (check out bicbim.co.uk), and some fantastic direct farm-to-table box schemes such as farmdrop.com and greenpasturefarms.co.uk. If the supermarket is your main port of call, look out for RSPCA assured and the organic label. While there are plenty of farmers doing things well without being officially certified as ‘organic’, I do believe in the organic certification as a guarantee that it has been farmed or raised in the most natural way possible – in healthy, fertile soils that promote biodiversity rather than chemical-led monocultures, without routine use of antibiotics or chemical pesticides. It’s a good barometer of quality, animal welfare and care and that means, particularly in the supermarket, that it’s an easy way for us as consumers to make better choices.

You’ll notice that there are plenty of fish and seafood recipes in the book: I wrote much of it on the Kent coast, where my mum lives, and couldn’t help but feel inspired by the incredible haul at the local fishmonger Jenkins & Son. I have tried to use species that are broadly more sustainable and in line with MSC (Marine Stewardship Council) recommendations, but because monitored fish stocks are constantly changing, and vary regionally, talk to your local fishmonger about what’s in season, sustainable and plentiful in your area. Look out for fish that is line-caught, squid caught by jig, and species that are certified with a blue label by the MSC, and try and avoid any fish or seafood that has been trawled – this method of fishing destroys the flora and fauna of the seabed.

I also hope that by including recipes for making your own fresh cheese and butters, I’ll show you that it’s worth investing in fewer, better quality dairy products. Although milk, cream and butter are things we have come to take for granted, they vary greatly in terms of flavour and quality according to how they’ve been produced. Again, plump for organic if you can, and keep an eye out for smaller-scale producers – these guys tend to pour their heart and soul into their animals and their products, and it all comes through in the flavour.

Cook’s Notes

 To sterilise your jars, wash them (and their lids) in hot, soapy water or in a dishwasher then rinse and completely dry in a low oven for 10–15 minutes (dry lids with a clean tea towel if they aren’t heatproof)

 All eggs are medium organic, unless otherwise stated

 All milk is whole, unless otherwise stated

 All butter is salted, unless otherwise stated

 All olive oil is extra-virgin, unless otherwise

 All salt is sea salt flakes (I like Maldon), unless otherwise stated

 All recipes have been tested in a fan oven

Brunch, Lunch and Bites

We begin this chapter in spring, and there couldn’t be a better way to welcome those first warmer, lighter days than with celebratory dishes of new season asparagus, Jersey Royal potatoes and wild garlic. These ingredients pop up throughout the book, and lend themselves well to the brunchy dishes, bright salads and smaller lunch plates here.

Food is what gets me out of bed, and I’m a toast girl most days, opting for a slice of homemade toasted sourdough, spread thickly with butter, sometimes topped with a fried egg and kimchi. This, then, is the place to introduce you to my simple sourdough (see here) – a rustic, naturally leavened loaf to base many happy meals around, and a starting off point, I hope, for many experiments. You can use it for the Wild Mushrooms on Toast (see here). You’ll also find snacks and dips in this chapter because – while I’m all for buying in crisps – it’s good to have a couple of homemade goodies up your hosting sleeve, too. Cue crispy spring croquettes, filled with a verdant béchamel that marries one of my favourite herbs – lovage – with peas (see here). These nuggets of spring, served with a garden salad, are a strong start to any meal.

New season asparagus

with spiced butter and brown shrimp

Serves 4 as a starter, or 2 as a lunch

Right at the start of asparagus season, at the end of April, there is very little that can improve on the flavour and tenderness of these perfect first spears, but asparagus and butter are always a good idea, so why not throw in some irresistible little brown shrimp too? This is a sort of potted shrimp situation with pools of mace-spiked butter, poured over freshly poached asparagus. The result is something so memorable and magnificent I didn’t feel sheepish serving it to a very brilliant chef for lunch. He loved it. It’s perfect as a celebratory spring lunch, but could work well as a show-stopping sharing starter, too. If you can, make this dish when the early asparagus comes through at the end of April (though later in the season it will still be ridiculously good).

60g unsalted butter

½ tsp sea salt

½ tsp cayenne pepper

½ tsp ground mace

¼ tsp pink peppercorns, lightly crushed in a pestle and mortar

500g asparagus spears, trimmed

200g peeled brown shrimp

2 leaves of wild garlic, or a handful finely shredded chervil or chives

juice of 1 lemon

a few wild garlic or chive flowers (optional)

chunks of crusty white bread, to serve

1 Warm a large platter or plate in the oven.

2 Gently melt the butter in a small saucepan over a low heat, then stir in the salt, spices and peppercorns. Stir to combine, then remove from the heat while you cook the asparagus.

3 Bring a few centimetres of salted water to the boil in a saucepan wide enough to hold the asparagus without crowding it. Add the asparagus and poach for 2–3 minutes, until a knife blade inserted into the thickest part of a spear can be pulled out with no resistance. While it’s poaching, return the spiced butter pan to the heat and add the shrimp, wild garlic or herbs and lemon juice, basting the shrimps in the butter. Taste for seasoning. Drain the asparagus and pile onto the warm platter, then pour over the shrimps and butter. Garnish with the flowers, if using, and serve with chunks of crusty bread to dip in the butter.

TIP: If you don’t eat shellfish, leave out the shrimp and top with crushed roasted hazelnuts or the Savoury Granola (see here).

Three-cornered leek and scrambled eggs on toast

Serves 2

Three-cornered leeks often get mistaken for wild garlic, thanks to their allium scent, green stems and pretty white flowers, but they are easy to tell apart. Where wild garlic has fat, flat green leaves and open, star-shaped flowers in clusters, these wild leeks have hollow, three-cornered stalks and droopy, edible bell-shaped flowers, similar to bluebells, except they are white with green stripes running down them. They are in season in the UK from spring until early summer, and have a gentle, mellow green onion-chive flavour which is lovely layered into green salads, added to wilted greens or stir fries. If you can’t find wild leeks use baby leeks, chives or spring onions instead.

4 eggs

25g salted butter, diced, plus extra for spreading

50g three-cornered leek, baby leek or spring onion, washed and roughly chopped

2 slices of sourdough (shop-bought or (see here))

pink peppercorns or dried chilli flakes, to taste

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

three-cornered leek or chive flowers, to serve (optional)

1 Crack the eggs into a bowl or jug. Whisk lightly with a fork, just to break up the yolks, then stir in three-quarters of the diced butter.

2 Heat a small non-stick frying pan over a medium heat. Add the remaining butter to the pan, followed by the three-cornered leek. Season with salt and cook for a minute or two, stirring, until it has wilted into the melted butter. Toast the bread and warm two plates.

3 Add the egg mixture to the pan with the leeks and cook, stirring, until all the butter has melted and the eggs are coagulated but still silky and creamy. Butter the toast and top with the scrambled eggs, season with salt and some freshly ground pink or black peppercorns or chilli flakes and garnish with some of the three-cornered leek flowers, if you can find some.

Kimchi and sweetcorn fritters

with chilli maple syrup

Serves 2 (makes 4–6 fritters)

Sweetcorn fritters have been a staple since childhood. My mum used to make them to go with her ‘chicken Maryland’ – basically spiced fried chicken. My sister and I used to fight over the fritters, so I’ve given them a recipe in their own right, which makes a great brunch dish and also happens to be gluten free. I’ve added the fire and spice in the form of kimchi, which gives them a lovely sour crunch and an addictive, chilli-spiked maple syrup. Add fried eggs, avocado and streaky bacon to this to make it a brunch for four, otherwise serve two fritters per person with some avocado on the side.

2 eggs

3 tbsp water

½ tbsp soy sauce

65g rice flour

¼ tsp baking powder

½ tsp smoked paprika

½ tsp ground turmeric

100g My ‘Kind Of’ Kimchi (see here), or shop-bought kimchi, drained and finely chopped

165g drained tinned or frozen sweetcorn (or fresh corn boiled and cut from the cob)

2 spring onions, thinly sliced

2 tbsp coconut, rapeseed or vegetable oil

1 avocado, halved and stoned

sea salt flakes

For the chilli maple syrup

80ml maple syrup

½ tsp dried chilli flakes (preferably Urfa chilli flakes), or 1 fresh bird’s-eye chilli, deseeded and finely chopped

10ml dark soy sauce

1 tsp black sesame seeds

spring onion greens

1 Crack the eggs into a bowl, add the water and soy sauce and whisk to combine. Sift in the flour, baking powder and spices and whisk to form a smooth batter. Leave the batter to sit for a few minutes while you make the syrup.

2 Put the maple syrup, chilli flakes, soy sauce and sesame seeds into a small saucepan and stir. Heat until really runny and warm but not reducing or bubbling. Remove from the heat.

3 Stir the kimchi, sweetcorn and spring onions into the batter and coat well to make sure everything is cloaked in the batter. Add a dash more water or soy sauce if you think it needs loosening – it should be loose enough to drop off a spoon.

4 Line a plate with kitchen paper and heat half the oil in a large non-stick frying pan over a medium-high heat. To make the fritters, spoon 2–3 dessertspoonfuls of the batter into the pan in little piles, leaving space between each pile. Use the back of the spoon to flatten them slightly and fry for 4–5 minutes, flipping them over to cook on the other side halfway through, until golden and crispy on the outside and cooked all the way through. Drain on kitchen paper and season with salt. Add the remaining oil to the pan and fry the rest of the batter, keeping the first lot warm in a low oven until you’re ready to serve. Serve the fritters with the syrup poured over, and slices of avocado alongside.

Wild mushrooms on toast

with lemon and thyme seeded crumb

Serves 4 as a starter, or 2 as a lunch

I made this dish for 120 people from the kitchen of a pub in Borough Market with a brigade of brilliant female food writers and chefs. We were cooking a dinner to raise money for the food poverty charity Action Against Hunger, and even though it’s just fancy mushrooms on toast, it went down a storm – though the logistical effort of cleaning wild mushrooms and making toast for that many people is not something I wish to repeat!

Try to sniff out wild mushrooms, which have more of an interesting woodland flavour than standard ‘shrooms, and come into season from early autumn onwards – girolles and porcini work well but if you can’t find them, try chestnut or oyster. The crumb provides extra texture and lovely nuttiness thanks to the toasty, malty quality of the buckwheat. The butter and crumb can both be made in advance.

4 thick slices of sourdough bread (shop-bought or (see here))

1 garlic clove, peeled and halved

½ tbsp rapeseed or neutral oil

500g wild mushrooms (see tip), cleaned (larger ones halved)

leaves from 2 sprigs of thyme

lemon juice, to taste

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the seeded crumb

2 thick slices of sourdough bread (shop-bought or (see here))

2 tbsp pumpkin seeds

2 tbsp buckwheat groats

2 tbsp olive oil

grated zest of 1 unwaxed lemon

leaves from 4 sprigs of thyme

½ tsp dried chilli flakes

sea salt

For the garlic and herb butter

1 shallot, peeled and quartered

1 tsp sea salt

2 garlic cloves

20g flat-leaf parsley, leaves picked

10g tarragon, leaves picked

1 tbsp lemon juice

70g unsalted butter, at room temperature, diced

1 First, make the crumb. Blitz the bread in a food processor until it forms breadcrumbs. Heat a heavy-based dry frying pan or skillet over a medium-high heat. Add the pumpkin seeds and buckwheat groats and toast for 2–3 minutes, until the buckwheat is golden and the pumpkin seeds are puffed, popped and crunchy. Transfer to a bowl and put the pan back on the hob over a medium heat. Add the olive oil along with the lemon zest, thyme and chilli flakes and stir to infuse for a minute, then add the breadcrumbs and toast them in the oil for 3–5 minutes, until golden and crunchy – it usually takes a bit longer than you’d expect. Scrape all the crumbs into the bowl with the pumpkin seeds and buckwheat. Season with sea salt. Pour into a jar or airtight container once cool, or use immediately.

2 Make the butter by blitzing the shallot, salt and garlic cloves in the small bowl of a food processor or mini chopper, followed by most of the herbs (saving a few for garnish) and the lemon juice. Season with salt and pepper, add the diced butter and blitz to make a green butter. Scrape out of the food processor and into a bowl by the hob.

3 Toast the sourdough and rub it with the garlic. Keep warm in a low oven with the plates while you cook the mushrooms.

4 Place the pan back over a medium-high heat and pour in the rapeseed or neutral oil. Add the mushrooms with the thyme and a pinch of salt and fry for a couple of minutes, until they are caramelised and losing their moisture – they will shrink a little and you want to see some nice dark colour on them. Turn the heat down slightly, add all the butter, stirring to melt, and baste the mushrooms with it. Taste, season to your liking and maybe add a little lemon juice to pique the flavours. Serve spooned over the warm toast with the crumb scattered over.

TIP: Look out for a mix of girolles, chestnut, oyster, blewit, black trompette and cep/porcini. If you love wild mushrooms as much as I do, it’s worth investing in a mushroom brush, but you can also use a damp kitchen towel to get rid of any dirt or grit.

Simple sourdough

Proper sourdough bread is a truly magnificent thing. It’s bread made the old-fashioned way, slowly and reverently, without the use of any industrially produced yeast, but rather leavened or raised with a starter culture made from naturally occurring yeasts and bacteria that awaken when flour and water are mixed together. The resulting fermentation yields something altogether more flavourful and satisfying than mass-produced bread, and in recent years we’ve seen a sourdough revolution, a movement of artisan bakers the world over who are re-embracing the craft of making slow-fermented doughs and beautiful, delicious and nutritious loaves. A really good loaf of sourdough takes time to make, but it becomes the basis for so many good, quick meals that it more than pays you back for the time you’ve invested.

Now, while I do think that squishy white bread still has a place – I can’t imagine a bacon sandwich made with sourdough or, worse still, a chip butty – after interviewing bakers and chefs and tasting this delicious style of bread at many restaurants over the years, I became fascinated by the process, and obsessed with mastering the art of making sourdough at home. The idea that it was possible to raise an army of hard-working yeast who would obligingly leaven loaves of bread, producing gut-friendly acids that make that bread easier on the digestion, more nutritious and tasty in the process, had me hooked.

There are books and courses dedicated to sourdough, and if you want to delve deeper I’d recommend these books for further reading – Do Sourdough by Andrew Whitley, The Handmade Loaf by Dan Lepard, and Flour, Water, Salt, Yeast by Ken Forkish – but please don’t be intimidated. For centuries people have been making bread this way, simply using flour and water, without technical equipment, and once you begin to wrap your head around the process, anyone can bake loaves at home, and really enjoy the journey of discovering what works for you.

The gist of it is that you create a leaven by mixing together good-quality flour and water. The yeasts and bacteria already present in the flour thrive and multiply in this wet environment, feasting on the sugars in the flour and creating carbon dioxide (the bubbles that will eventually raise your bread), and lactic acid, which give the bread its signature sour flavour. You have to feed the starter initially to help the network of yeasts and lactobacilli become strong, and once this starter is a happy and lively culture, you introduce it to more flour and water and allow it to continue its work, creating a fermented and flavourful dough that is then baked into delicious bread.

This is a simple, entry level recipe and it’s relatively hands off. The trick is to let the bread work around your schedule, rather than keeping you prisoner. This method consistently delivers loaves of good bread that I base many meals around, and I hope you will too. You will need a few things to get started, but none of them are outrageously expensive or unattainable: an ovenproof ceramic or cast-iron pot to bake your bread in, good-quality organic wholegrain rye flour, some digital scales and a sharp knife or razor blade for slashing the dough before baking. I use a casserole pot I found in a charity shop to bake mine, but you could use a small Le Creuset, a Pyrex dish with a lid or a stewing pot. Please use this as a jumping off point for your sourdough experiments. I’m convinced, when you see what a natural, simple and satisfying process it is, you too will be hooked.

My simple rye flour starter

The first step is to create a happy starter to levain your bread. All you need in order to make your own is some really good-quality wholegrain flour, some filtered water and a sterilised jar.

You need to make the starter about a week before you want to make your bread and you will have to tend to it– for literally a couple of minutes – every day to start with. You should only have to do this once, and then you can keep your starter dormant in the fridge, refreshing it a day before you want to make bread. A good-quality, organic wholegrain rye flour starter creates beautifully leavened and tasty, wholesome bread, but as you get more confident with sourdough you can start to play around with different starters such as wheat and spelt. Wholegrain flours are better for making starters as the bran of the wheat grain is rich in bacterias and yeasts and organic flour is always a better option as there are no yeast and bacteria-killing chemical pesticides and fungicides involved in its production.

1 In a jar, mix 2 heaped teaspoons (about 20g) of rye flour with 40ml lukewarm filtered or spring water to make a thin, pourable mixture. I use a butter knife to mix the flour and water together, incorporating as much air as possible. Scrape down the sides of the jar, rest the lid on top of the jar so that it’s sealed but not tightly closed, and leave in a warm place. In the summer you should be fine to leave your jar anywhere, but in colder months you’ll want to seek out a warm spot on a shelf above a radiator or in an airing cupboard as the starter needs a certain level of warmth to get going. Just don’t forget about it! I set a reminder on my phone to feed mine as I’m a bit forgetful.

2 The next day, add the same amount of water and flour again, mixing and repeating the cycle. Repeat again on the third and fourth day, but this time using 40g flour and 40ml water each day. By the fourth day, you should be seeing some promising signs of life in the form of small bubbles.

3 On the fifth day, tip off 100g of the starter (to use in the Sour Cream Sourdough Crumpets (see here)) and replace what you’ve lost with with 50g each of flour and water. Leave this to ferment for 12 hours, or until it’s looking really nice and bubbly and smelling good and yeasty. By the sixth day you should be good to get baking – see recipe overleaf. Once you’ve used your starter for the recipe overleaf, keep the rest (there should be about 150g) in the fridge, refreshing as per the recipe below each time you want to bake.

TIP: Always scrape down the sides of your jar before you put the starter back in the fridge to make it less likely to go mouldy.

REFRESHING YOUR STARTER FOR BAKING

Every time you want to bake a loaf of sourdough, you now have the wherewithal, but you will need to refresh and replenish your starter a couple of days ahead to do this as it will get sluggish in the fridge. Just tip your starter into a bowl, add 100g each of wholegrain rye flour and lukewarm filtered or spring water and allow it to ferment overnight at room temperature. Set aside about 100g of this mix in a jar to put back in the fridge for next time, and use the rest to bake your bread and make the crumpets (see here). If you have any spare, give it to a friend and spread the sourdough love.

Sourdough loaf

Makes one small loaf

If you want to make and bake your sourdough loaf on the same day, you need to start in the morning and bear in mind that the dough will need at least 6 hours to ferment before you bake. I prefer how the flavour develops with an overnight fermentation in the fridge, but sometimes we don’t think that far ahead. How long you’ll need for the fermentation will depend on how warm your kitchen is and the time of year etc., so you’ll have to play some of this by ear, but I’ve found the only way to crack it is to keep baking until you get a feel for it.

300ml lukewarm water

130g rye starter

390g flour (310g plain/20g rye/60g spelt)

10g sea salt

Optional additions

20g each of linseed, buckwheat, white sesame seeds, walnuts, flax or pumpkin seeds – or a mixture of all of the above. Basically, whatever you fancy or have in your cupboard that needs using

1 Measure your water into a bowl, spoon in the starter and whisk with a fork until dispersed and no lumps remain. Mix the flours, salt and any seeds or nuts in another bowl. Make a shallow well in the flour and pour in the starter mixture. Using a blunt knife, whisk the liquid into the dough, rotating the bowl and cutting through until you have a well combined, sticky ball. Add a little more water if the dough is not coming together. Leave to rest for 30–40 minutes. This process is known as autolyse – while the dough rests, the flour fully absorbs the water, hydrating and kick-starting enzymes that will stimulate gluten development. Don’t skip this step!

2 Still working in the bowl (the dough will be very sticky and wet) use wet fingers or a silicone spatula to dig under the edge of the dough and bring that edge up over the ball. Turn the bowl clockwise and repeat the lifting, stretching and pulling motion a good 10–15 times round the bowl. Cover and leave for 30 minutes, then repeat the lifting, stretching and pulling motion another 15–20 times. This is to develop the gluten structure of the bread. If you are baking the bread the same day, cover the bowl with a tea towel and leave it somewhere warm, like on a shelf above a radiator, for at least 5 hours. Otherwise (and preferably) leave it overnight in the fridge, covering the bowl with cling film – this will give the bread a fantastic depth of flavour.

3 If it’s been in the fridge, take it out and allow it to warm up for about 20 minutes. Use wet fingers or a clean spatula to repeat the lifting, stretching and pulling motion 12–14 times around the bowl, scraping any dough that sticks to the side of the bowl back into the dough – the aim here is to create air inside the bread so don’t push down too hard. If it’s too tense to stretch and pull this many times then don’t overwork it.

4 Leave the dough for 40 minutes somewhere warm, covered. Repeat the lift and pull motion 10 more times – you should feel now that the dough has some real tension in it.

5 Brush a large sheet of baking parchment with a little olive oil, followed by a little water, and dust with a thin layer of flour. Using a spatula or dough scraper, and without pushing too much air out, gently scrape the dough out of the bowl onto the parchment. Wet your hands slightly and tuck any stray bits under the bottom of the dough to form a neat ball. Dust it lightly with flour.

6 Grab hold of the parchment and lift it, along with the dough, back into a bowl. Dust lightly with a little flour and leave to prove for 45 minutes – 2 hours, until visibly puffed up and almost doubled in size.

7 Preheat the oven to 250°C/230°C fan/gas 9 (or its hottest setting) and put a round, lidded ovenproof pot or casserole dish in there to warm up.

8 Once the dough has proved, remove the pot or casserole dish from the oven (wearing oven gloves and being very careful as it will be stinking hot), place it on a heatproof surface and take the lid off. Now quickly lift the parchment and dough into the pot. Use the spatula to smooth the paper away from the dough and up the edge of the pot. Scatter the top of the dough with a little water and use a very sharp knife to make slashes in the top of the dough to help it rise. I do four in a square about 5cm in from the outer circumference. This gives the steam that builds up inside somewhere to go. If you forget, the bread will naturally break open, which is fine.

9 Cover and bake in the oven for 30 minutes, then lift the lid off. Your bread should be risen and smelling good. Depending on how golden the crust is looking, you might want to turn your oven down to nearer 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6, but if it’s still reasonably pale don’t do this. Bake the bread for another 5-10 minutes, or until golden and crisp.

10 Once you’re happy that your loaf is baked, remove it from the dish and quickly peel off the parchment. Transfer the bread to a wire rack and allow to cool before slicing and tasting. However tempting the smell of the freshly baked bread is, try not to slice it until it’s completely cool as this can squish the crumb.

Sour cream sourdough crumpets

Makes 6–8 crumpets

These guys are unlike any crumpet you can buy in the shops. They are made using the rye sourdough starter from the recipe here, along with a little buckwheat flour – a nod to crumpet heritage, as they were traditionally made with buckwheat – and fermented slowly to develop their characteristic bubbles and an incredible sour flavour. The batter is further enriched with sour cream and bicarbonate of soda to help things along just before cooking.

I make them every time I refresh my sourdough starter, and keep a stash in the freezer to bust out for breakfast and snacks. Make sure you are using lively refreshed sourdough starter or your crumpets won’t bubble (follow the starter refreshment steps here). They are incredibly satisfying to make, but there is a knack to it. The key is patience. And you’ll need crumpet rings. Eat them with homemade butter (see here) and jams and clotted cream or with wild medlar jelly (see here) and a slice of cheese. They are also brilliant for breakfast topped with smashed avocado, a poached egg and My ‘Kind Of’ Kimchi (see here) but really, the possibilities are endless.

50g Sourdough Starter (see here) or 1 sachet fast-action dried yeast

2 tsp caster sugar

200ml lukewarm water

175g plain flour (or 150g plain and 25g buckwheat flour)

1 tsp fine sea salt

½ tbsp sour cream

½ tsp bicarbonate of soda

splash of milk (optional)

a little neutral oil and butter, for greasing

1 In a jug, mix your starter and sugar with the water to dissolve it, whisking out any lumps.

2 Combine the flour(s) and salt in a bowl and make a well in the middle. Slowly pour the wet mix into the well in the flour and briefly mix with a whisk to combine to a smooth batter. Don’t overmix – you’re not trying to create gluten as this will make the crumpets more bread-like. Cover the bowl with cling film and leave to ferment in a warm place for at least 6 hours (or preferably overnight in the fridge). How long you can leave it will depend on your patience, but I sometimes leave the batter for 2 days in the fridge – the flavour develops and gets more sour the longer you leave it.

3 After the mix has fermented, mix the sour cream with the bicarbonate of soda then add to the batter, thoroughly whisking out any lumps until you have a batter the consistency of very thick double cream. If the batter isn’t pourable, loosen it with a little splash of milk. Leave for 30 more minutes.

4 Grease a flat, non-stick frying pan or hot plate with a little neutral oil or oil and butter and place over a high heat on a medium-sized gas hob burner. Grease two egg or crumpet rings and pour 2½ tablespoons of batter into each ring.

5 Cook over a medium-high heat for 1 minute (watch the clock – if you leave them any longer the bottom will burn), until bubbles have popped through on the surface and the mixture is starting to set. Turn the heat down to low and cook for a further 5–8 minutes (this will depend on how full the rings are), until set on top – there should be plenty of holes at this point and the batter should be pulling away from the crumpet ring. Using tongs, lift off the crumpet rings and flip the crumpets over, turn the heat up again and cook for a minute until golden on top, then transfer to a wire rack to cool. Grease the pan in between batter additions to keep it from sticking.

6 Once all the crumpets are made and cooled, grill or toast them to perfection, or, if you’re doing lots at once, you could roast them in a hot oven for 3 minutes. Slather with butter and jam, or Marmite and cheese, smashed avocado and kimchi, or tahini with really good honey, or peanut butter… you get the drift. These keep well wrapped in cling film in the fridge for a couple of days (not longer, as the sour cream will moulder). I also like to make them ahead and freeze them.

TIP: If you’re vegan, you can swap the sour cream for water and fry the crumpets in oil rather than butter.

WHAT TO DO IF…

There are no holes: this means the batter hasn’t fermented enough and needs longer (the time it takes to ferment depends on the weather and humidity); also, check that your starter is alive and well. Try incorporating a little extra sugar just before frying, too.

The bottom is burned: you filled the ring too full or cooked it at too high a heat at the start. Try using a little less batter and keep an eye on the time you cook it over the higher heat. There is an art to making crumpets so don’t be hard on yourself if it takes a few attempts to get it right. It’s a bit like making pancakes – you’ll get better as you go and while it can be a little tricky to get right, I promise you it is so worth it. Also, remember all the bottoms will be pretty dark as that’s just the nature of crumpets. As long as they’re not black you’re good to go.

The crumpets are wet in the middle: homemade crumpets should be squishy and moist in the middle but not too wet! Did you skip the cooling stage and dive straight in?

Beetroot and horseradish blinis

Makes 15–20 blinis

You can use the crumpet batter to make plain blinis, or this beetroot version. These are great topped with sour cream, the smoked trout (see here) and dill.

1 quantity Sour Cream Sourdough Crumpet mix

For the beetroot and horseradish purée

2 roasted beetroots (shop-bought or (see here)), roughly chopped

1 tbsp creamed horseradish (or ½ tbsp freshly grated)

1 tbsp rapeseed oil

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 Place the beetroot in a blender, food processor or Nutribullet with the horseradish and rapeseed oil and blitz to a smooth purée. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

2 Stir in 1 tablespoon of beetroot and horseradish purée when you add the bicarbonate of soda in the crumpet method (see here) – it will make the mix bright pink.

3 To cook the blinis, grease a flat, non-stick frying pan or hot plate (see here) with a little butter and oil and set over a medium heat. Add 1 teaspoon of the batter to the pan and cook for a couple of minutes (cook a few at once if your pan is big enough), until bubbles appear on the surface, then flip over and cook for a bit longer. Transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper and repeat with the rest of the batter. Keep warm and serve, or allow to cool, then put in the oven at 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6 for 5 minutes to heat up.

TIP: You don’t use all the beetroot and horseradish purée in step 2, so keep it in a jar for eating on toast with smoked fish, salt beef etc., or use in salads.

Broad bean and raw courgette salad

with ricotta

Serves 4 as a side

This salad screams early summer, with its nutty raw courgette ribbons, vivid green broad beans, lemon juice and sprightly fresh herbs. I use smaller, firmer courgettes for this as they are the stars of the show. If you grow your own and have any courgette flowers, tear them up and add them for extra colour. This makes a really special al fresco lunch, and is nice piled onto the warm yoghurt flatbreads (see here).

2 medium courgettes, peeled into long thin ribbons with a vegetable peeler

handful of mint leaves

handful of basil leaves

2 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

grated zest and juice of ½ unwaxed lemon

1 tsp runny honey

1 garlic clove, grated

pinch of dried chilli flakes or 1 fresh red chilli, desseded and finely chopped (optional)

100g podded fresh or frozen broad beans

100g ricotta, drained in a sieve, or Fresh Curd Cheese (see here)

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 Put the courgette ribbons in a bowl with half the herbs.

2 Whisk the olive oil, lemon zest and juice, honey, garlic and chilli flakes (if using) in a bowl. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

3 Dress the courgette ribbons with the dressing.

4 Prepare a bowl of iced water. Bring a large saucepan of salted water to the boil and blanch the broad beans for a couple of minutes, then drain and immediately plunge them into the iced water. Once cool, drain again and squeeze the broad beans from their skins, using your nail to pierce the skin. You can skip this step if you’re using super-young broad beans, as the skins are less bitter than the older ones.

5 Pile the dressed courgettes onto a platter, scatter the broad beans onto the salad and dot over the ricotta or fresh curd cheese. Garnish with the rest of the herbs and serve with any remaining dressing on the side.

TIP: Broad beans can be fiddly to peel so I usually blanch and peel them as soon as I get them, then keep them in a bowl in the fridge dressed with a teaspoon of olive oil ready to use whenever I fancy. They will keep for a few days like this.

Mackerel with buttered greens

and pickled radish

Serves 1

One of my favourite food festivals takes place in May each year on the beach in St Ives, Cornwall. The setting could not be more inspiring – you can smell the sea as you cook. This dish came together one year when I heard about a mackerel honesty box where you could buy the freshest local mackerel for pennies. A kindly local gent was known for having a mackerel ‘shed’ which was always stocked with ready filleted, sparklingly fresh catch just outside his house. I couldn’t resist walking the streets until I found the box. I paired the mackerel fillets with freshly foraged three-cornered leek, which grows like a weed in Cornwall, and is beautiful wilted in butter and served with pan-fried mackerel. If you can’t find wild leeks, use the greens of spring onions or baby leeks, thinly sliced lengthways, with a handful of spinach.

handful of samphire

1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

sprig of thyme

1 × medium fillet of mackerel, pin-boned

10g unsalted butter

handful of baby spinach

60g three-cornered leek (or spring onions)

½ lemon, for squeezing

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the pickled radish

1 tbsp cider vinegar

2 tsp caster sugar

pinch of salt

2 radishes, thinly sliced, preferably with a mandoline

1 First, quick-pickle your radishes. Whisk the vinegar, sugar and salt in a bowl until the sugar has dissolved. Toss the radish slices through the vinegar and leave them to pickle while you cook the fish.

2 Blanch the samphire in a saucepan of boiling water for 30 seconds, then drain.

3 Heat the olive oil in a heavy-based, non-stick frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add the thyme and allow it to infuse in the oil for a few seconds, then add the mackerel fillet, skin side down. Season the flesh with salt and pepper and cook, without moving the fillet, for 3–4 minutes, until the skin is crispy and the flesh is starting to cook through and become opaque. Carefully flip the fillet over and continue cooking on the flesh side for a matter of seconds, then transfer to a plate to rest.

4 Add the butter to the pan, followed by the samphire, spinach and three-cornered leek. Season with salt and pepper and wilt the greens in the butter for 2–3 minutes, tossing to thoroughly combine. Pour away any excess liquid, squeeze over a little lemon juice and serve the mackerel on the wilted greens with the pickled radish on the side.

Crab, Jersey Royal and asparagus salad

Serves 2–4

This recipe unites my two favourite spring ingredients – Jersey Royal potatoes and asparagus – with creamy crab, fresh green apple and soft herbs for a celebratory salad. The dish has everything: an irresistible earthy minerality from the potatoes (which are fertilised with seaweed), buttery green goodness from the asparagus, and luxury from the crab and mayo which dresses the salad as you eat it. It’s worth making your own mayonnaise (you can make it in advance, it will keep in the fridge for a few days), but if you’re pressed for time, shop-bought works, too – just stir a good fresh egg yolk through it to enrich it. This is a lunch worth carving out a couple of hours for with a friend.

sprig of mint

300g Jersey Royal potatoes or new potatoes, scrubbed

300g crab meat, split into white and brown

juice of 1 lemon

pinch of cayenne pepper, plus extra for sprinkling

1 green apple, cored and finely chopped (skin on)

3 spring onions, trimmed and thinly sliced

200g asparagus spears, trimmed and each cut diagonally into 3 pieces

handful samphire or sea purslane (optional)

1 baby gem lettuce, outer leaves separated, washed and dried, heart split in half

10g chervil leaves

10g tarragon leaves

10g flat-leaf parsley leaves

sea salt

For the mayonnaise

2 egg yolks

½ tsp sea salt

juice of ½ lemon

100ml extra-virgin rapeseed oil

200ml vegetable oil

pinch of ground white pepper

1 First, cook the potatoes. Bring a large saucepan of well salted water to the boil, add the mint and the Jersey Royals and simmer for 15 minutes, until tender – do not be afraid of overcooking them, as they are far better soft than chalky. Turn the heat off and leave them to cool down in their cooking water (this retains their earthy flavour beautifully).

2 While the potatoes cook, make the mayonnaise. Put the egg yolks, salt and lemon juice in a food processor and blitz until smooth. With the blades still turning, very, very slowly drip in the 100ml rapeseed oil, a drop at a time, until the oil starts to emulsify and the mixture looks smooth and creamy. Once the rapeseed oil is incorporated, very slowly start to drip in the vegetable oil, blitzing the whole time, until it starts to thicken. Once you’ve added about half the oil and it’s looking thick and creamy, increase the pouring of the oil to a steady stream – making the mayonnaise will take 10–15 minutes. If it becomes too thick and stiff to work at any point, just add a few drops of water or a squeeze of lemon and blitz again. If it splits, see tip (see here).

3 Once the mayonnaise is plump and emulsified, add 1 tablespoon of water. This will lighten the mayo and make it creamier. Add the pepper and blitz until combined. Scrape it out into a bowl, taste for seasoning and add a little more salt or lemon juice until it really sings.

4 Mix half of the mayo with the brown crab meat, a squeeze more lemon juice and the cayenne pepper. Fold in the apple and spring onion. Taste for seasoning.

5 Bring a pan of salted water to the boil, add the asparagus and cook for 3–5 minutes, until just tender. For the last minute, drop in the samphire or sea purslane to blanch. Drain immediately and refresh in iced water.

6 Spread the brown crab meat and apple mayo out on a platter. Top with the drained potatoes, lettuce (leaves and heart), samphire (or sea purslane) if using, and asparagus, building up layers and seasoning as you go with salt, pepper and lemon juice. Top with the remaining mayo, followed by the white crab meat and soft herbs. Squeeze over a touch more lemon juice, sprinkle with cayenne pepper, if you like, and serve.

Cime di rapa

with roast peppers, chickpeas and oregano-baked feta

Serves 2 as a lunch or starter, or 4 as a side

This is a lovely veggie lunch in its own right, or a satisfying summer side to go with a barbecue. Cime di rapa is one of my all-time favourite greens – it has wonderfully sweet and tender leaves and a satisfying bitterness. Translating from Italian as ‘turnip tops’, it is also known as broccoli rabe or rapini, and is great in pasta dishes, on pizza or as a blanched side (dressed with plenty of lovely extra-virgin olive oil) for roasted or barbecued meats or fish.

400g mixed tomatoes, roughly chopped

1 garlic clove, crushed

50ml extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra for drizzling

pinch of dried chilli flakes

2 sprigs of rosemary

1 × 400g tin chickpeas, drained

2 romano peppers (or red bell peppers)

200g block of feta

1 tbsp fresh oregano leaves or 1 tsp dried oregano

pinch of coriander seeds

bunch of cime di rapa (or chard or cavolo nero), bases trimmed and leaves separated from stalks

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 Preheat the oven to 220°C/200°C fan/gas 7, or if you have one, fire up the wood oven.

2 Place the tomatoes in a roasting tray with the garlic, drizzle over half the olive oil and sprinkle with the chilli flakes, then season well with salt and pepper. Throw the rosemary in the tray and shake everything together, then roast in the oven for 15–20 minutes, until the tomatoes have softened and are starting to char and caramelise. Add the drained chickpeas, toss to combine, then return to the oven for another 10 minutes, until the chickpeas are roasted and are starting to crisp up.

3 In the meantime, char the peppers over a gas flame, on a barbecue or under the grill, until black and soft all over. Remove from the flame, place in a bowl and cover the bowl with cling film. Allow to cool then wipe away the blackened skin with kitchen paper (don’t worry if you can’t get it all off). Remove the seeds and cut the peppers lengthways into long, thin strips.

4 Put the feta on a piece of foil and drizzle over the rest of the olive oil. Scatter over the oregano and coriander seeds and wrap the foil around the feta. Place in the oven or on the embers of the barbecue and cook for 10 minutes, or until starting to turn golden and tender.

5 Bring a large saucepan of well salted water to the boil. Blanche the cime di rapa stalks in the water for a couple of minutes, then add the leaves, cooking both the leaves and stalks for a further minute, then drain. Remove the tomatoes and chickpeas from the oven, add the red peppers and cime di rapa and toss through. Remove the rosemary sprigs and serve with the baked feta on top and some extra olive oil drizzled over.

Quick wild garlic yoghurt flatbreads

Makes 2 medium or 4 small flatbreads

These speedy, four-ingredient flatbreads are perfect for a quick family lunch, a pre-dinner snack or on the side of the plate with a stew or curry to soak up the juices. They get a lot of airtime in our house, particularly in spring and summer when the wood oven is lit, but you can just as easily cook them on the barbecue too, or a hot griddle or frying pan. They have a moreish sour flavour (thanks to the yoghurt, which reacts with the self-raising flour to puff them up) and are just begging to be slathered with wild garlic pesto or butter while they’re warm. Experiment with some of the other flavoured butters (see here) in autumn: try brushing them with the porcini butter and topping them with fried wild mushrooms and tarragon. Don’t scrimp on the yoghurt with this one, full-fat is the way to go.

210g self-raising flour, plus extra for dusting

½ tsp salt

210g full-fat natural Greek yoghurt

1 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil

4 tbsp Wild Garlic Pesto (see here), or 30g Wild Garlic Butter (see here), melted

1 Put the flour and salt in a bowl and combine, then spoon in the yoghurt and olive oil. Give it a stir to combine everything, then, using oiled hands, bring the mix together into a soft dough. Briefly knead and scrape around the sides of the bowl to pick up any crumbs or scraggy bits, then allow the dough to sit in the bowl for a couple of minutes. While it’s resting, either heat up a cast-iron skillet over a high heat or set your grill to its highest setting. For those with a wood-fired oven, these are also great cooked in there as you would the Sourdough Pizza (see here).

2 Lightly dust the surface with flour and tip your dough out onto it. Split the dough into two or four, depending on whether you prefer 2 medium flatbreads or 4 small. Roll each piece of dough into a smooth ball and flatten each one on the surface with the palm of your hand, then roll it out using a rolling pin to your desired thickness and shape – I like these quite thick and pillowy (about 1cm thick).

3 If using a griddle pan, place your flatbread on it and cook over the highest heat for 3–5 minutes on each side, until golden and puffed, then remove from the pan and slather the top with the wild garlic pesto (loosened with the tablespoon of oil first) or butter while the bread’s hot. If using the grill, place the flatbreads under the grill and grill for about 4 minutes, until puffed and golden, then brush the tops with the wild garlic butter or pesto and return to the grill for another minute or two. If you’re cooking them in the wood oven, bake them as you would a pizza and brush them afterwards with the pesto or butter. Eat while still warm.

Waste not, want not allotment greens pasties

with cumin and za’atar

Makes 4

These rustic, meat-free pasties take their lead from Greek spanakopita and are perfect for picnics. They can be made with any combination of greens you like – it’s all about using up whatever you’ve got lurking in your fridge. I came up with them after a meagre and rather random haul of greens from my allotment; a mix of spinach, chard and kale along with some window-box herbs. The cumin in the pastry adds a pleasing earthiness, while the za’atar brings a bright blast of herbaceousness. Serve with a simple tomato salad.

1 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for drizzling

1 red onion, thinly sliced

1 garlic clove, crushed

2 slices of preserved lemon, deseeded and finely chopped (shop-bought or (see here)), or grated zest of ½ unwaxed lemon

250g mixed greens (chard, spinach, watercress, kale) and soft herbs (lovage, parsley, dill, basil, tarragon)

1 tbsp lemon juice

75g Fresh Curd Cheese (see here), ricotta or cream cheese

100g feta, camembert or mozzarella, diced or roughly chopped

1 tsp Fermented Green Chillies (see here) or shop-bought pickled green chillies (optional)

nutmeg, for grating

1 egg, beaten

1 tbsp za’atar

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the pastry

180g light spelt (or plain) flour, and 20g wholegrain rye flour (or 200g spelt or plain flour)

100g ricotta or full-fat natural yoghurt

1 tsp fine sea salt

½ tsp ground cumin

20ml olive oil

1–3 tbsp iced water

1 First, make the pastry. Place the flour(s), ricotta, salt and cumin in the bowl of a food processor and blitz until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Add the olive oil and the iced water, a tablespoon at a time, sprinkling it all across the crumb and blitzing between additions until the dough clumps together (you may not need all the water). Tip the dough out into a bowl and mould it into a ball. Wrap it in greaseproof paper (rather than cling film, which makes it sweat) and leave it to rest in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

2 Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a non-stick frying pan over a medium heat and slide in the onion, garlic and preserved lemon or lemon zest with a pinch of salt. Cook for about 5 minutes, until softened and fragrant but not colouring, then add the greens. Season with salt, pepper and a little lemon juice, put the lid on and let them wilt down for a couple of minutes. Remove from the heat and transfer the greens to a sieve to drain, pressing down on the greens to get rid of any excess moisture. Roughly chop them, then tip into a bowl, add the cheeses and fermented chillies (if using) and toss to combine, grating over a little fresh nutmeg and salt and pepper. Leave to cool.

3 Remove the pastry from the fridge, unwrap it and divide it into four equal balls, pressing the balls into discs. Dust the surface with flour and roll each ball out to a circle about 20cm in diameter and just a little thinner than a pound coin.

4 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6 and line a baking sheet with baking parchment.

5 Fill each circle of pastry with the cooled greens and cheese mix, leaving a 2cm border around the edge of the filling, drizzle over a little more olive oil and fold the pastry around the filling to seal. It’s up to you how you do this. You can either fold one half of pastry over the filling, seal to the other half and crimp like a pasty, or you can fold the edges up into the middle like an envelope or a little bag. Once formed, place on the lined baking sheet and chill for about 10 minutes, until firm.

6 Remove the pies from the fridge and brush them with the beaten egg. Scatter over the za’atar and bake in the oven for 35–40 minutes, until the pastry is crisp and golden.

Asparagus, pea and lovage croquettes

on a garden salad

Serves 4

Broken open, these crunchy, golden croquettes reveal all the joys of spring. Oozing with a vivid green filling of peas, asparagus and fragrant, slightly spicy lovage, they are at once indulgent and virtuous, and serious fun. Here I serve them with a dollop of sour cream but they are also lovely with the homemade mayo (see here).

For the asparagus

420ml salted water

200g asparagus spears, trimmed

juice of 1 unwaxed lemon

1 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for drizzling

For the croquettes

150g frozen peas

25g lovage leaves and stems (or flat-leaf parsley), roughly chopped

40g butter

1 tsp crushed pink peppercorns

150g plain flour

1 tbsp white wine

50g Comté or Gruyère cheese, grated

30g feta, finely crumbled

grated zest of the lemon above

150g panko breadcrumbs

4 eggs

150ml vegetable oil, plus extra for greasing

For the garden salad

2 handfuls of mixed seasonal leaves (I love sorrel, spinach and nasturtium)

handful of lovage (or flat-leaf parsley), leaves picked

handful of pea shoots

2 spring onions, trimmed and finely chopped

juice of 2 lemons or 1 tbsp elderflower vinegar (see here)

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

To serve

150g sour cream

handful of edible flowers (chive, wild garlic or nasturtium work well) (optional)

1 First, cook the asparagus. Bring the water to the boil in a saucepan. Add the asparagus and cook for 3–5 minutes, or until tender. Remove with a slotted spoon and leave to cool slightly. Reserve the water in the pan. Cut away 2cm of the bottom of each spear, very thinly slice and set aside in a bowl – this will go into the croquettes. Place the remaining tips in a separate small bowl and toss with a little of the lemon juice and olive oil for the salad.

2 For the croquettes, bring the asparagus water back up to the boil and add the peas. Cook for 1 minute, then add the lovage. Cook for 30 seconds. Take out 50g of the peas with a slotted spoon, leaving the rest in the pan of cooking water. Put the reserved peas in the bowl with the sliced asparagus set aside for the croquettes. Pour the pan contents – the peas, lovage and cooking water – into the bowl of a food processor and blitz until you have a smooth green liquid – you’re going to use this for the bechamel.

3 Heat a non-stick frying pan or skillet over a medium heat. Melt the butter in the pan with the crushed pink peppercorns. Gradually stir in 60g of the flour and cook for 2–3 minutes, stirring constantly, until the mixture has thickened and is smelling nutty. Reduce the heat slightly, add the wine and blitzed pea mixture and cook, stirring, for 5–6 minutes, or until you have a thickened, smooth sauce.

4 Stir in the cheeses, lemon zest, sliced asparagus and reserved peas, stirring until the cheeses have melted in nicely. Season well with salt. Pour onto a plate or tray, allow to cool and cover with cling film. Put it in the fridge to chill in the fridge for at least 2 hours (you could leave it overnight), until well set.

5 Once the mixture is set, grab it out of the fridge. It’s time to ‘crumb’ (or, as the French call it, ‘pané’) and because this is quite a chunky, veg-packed mix, you need to give the croquettes a double coating. Gather two plates, a bowl and a flat tray covered with greaseproof paper. Place the remaining flour on one plate, the breadcrumbs on the other, and crack the eggs into the bowl. Lightly beat them, then, using oiled hands so that they don’t stick to the mixture, pinch off about a ping-pong-ball-sized lump of mix, roll to form it into a croquette or cylindrical shape. Repeat with all the mixture to make 10–15 croquettes, placing them on the greaseproof paper. Chill for 15 minutes. Then, using one hand and keeping the other clean for handling the rest of the mix, dip each croquette in the flour, tossing all over to coat, followed by the egg and breadcrumbs to coat completely. Repeat the process with the rest of the croquettes, until they are all coated, then repeat once more with each one and chill them all in the fridge for 10 minutes.

6 Heat the vegetable oil in a high-sided frying pan over a high heat until it’s shimmering. Place a plate lined with kitchen paper next to the hob and shallow-fry the croquettes in batches for 3–5 minutes, turning them to produce an even golden crumb, until crisp. Drain on the kitchen paper and season with salt.

7 For the salad, place the seasonal leaves, lovage and pea shoots in a salad bowl. Add the reserved asparagus spears, spring onions and lemon juice or elderflower vinegar, drizzle with a little extra oil, season with salt and pepper and toss together lightly to combine.

8 Spread the sour cream on four plates and top with the croquettes. Pile on some salad and garnish with the edible flowers.

Wild garlic/harissa cheese straws

Makes 12–15 cheese straws

Yes, there are plenty of very good shop-bought cheese straws out there, but I wouldn’t be encouraging you to make these unless I thought they were worth it. Your guests will be in awe when you breezily tell them that the cheese straws are ‘homemade, darling’, and some inevitably crumble in the oven, making for bonus chef’s-perk nibbles. Once you get the hang of this method, the chances are you’ll be busting these out at every given opportunity and trying to feed them to everyone you know. I’ve included seasonal tweaks – wild garlic pesto for spring, and spicy harissa for the rest of the time. You’re welcome.

225g self-raising flour, plus extra for dusting

large pinch of cayenne or red chilli powder

½ tsp sea salt

nutmeg, for grating

150g cold unsalted butter, cut into small dice

1 tsp Dijon or English mustard

100g Cheddar, Gruyère or Comte, finely grated

1–3 tbsp iced water

2 tsp Wild Garlic Pesto (see here) or rose harissa (I like the Belazu one)

1 egg, beaten with 1 tbsp milk

1 Sift the flour, cayenne or chilli powder and salt into a bowl and grate over some nutmeg, then stir. Add the butter and lightly rub it into the flour until the mixture has the consistency of coarse breadcrumbs – it’s okay if there are a few smooth flakes of butter in there. Stir through the mustard and half the cheese, then sprinkle over a tablespoon of the iced water, bringing the mixture together with your hands, squeezing until you have a smooth dough. Add a little more water if needed. Roll it around the bowl to pick up any stray crumbs or scraggy bits – you can dampen your fingers to help with this if you need to. Mould it into a ball and flatten to a disc, wrap it in greaseproof paper and chill in the fridge for at least 30 minutes.

2 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6 and line a couple of baking trays with baking parchment.

3 Unwrap the chilled pastry and roll it out on a surface lightly dusted with flour to a large rectangle just a little longer than the length of this cookbook and about 5mm thick. Fold it in half like a book, rotate it by 90 degrees and fold it in half again, then roll it out once more to a large rectangle, just bigger than the size of this book. Spread the pesto or harissa all over the pastry, then cover with the remaining cheese. Fold the pastry in half like a book again, so the filling is contained (don’t worry if some escapes out the sides), and carefully roll it out lengthways to a rectangle about the size of this book, or 15 × 22cm. Place on a baking tray, trim the ragged edges with a sharp knife, brush with egg wash and chill in the fridge for 10 minutes, or until firm.

4 Cut the chilled pastry into strips – I think 13–15cm long and 1–1.5cm wide is just perfect. Either bake them as they are, or, if you’re feeling a bit swish, very gingerly pinch the ends and twist them ever so slightly to reveal the filling and underside of the pastry. Brush any exposed pastry that wasn’t coated in egg wash, place the straws on the lined baking trays and bake for 12–15 minutes, or until golden and oozy. Remove from the oven, allow to cool slightly, then serve still warm, or at room temperature.

TIP: the pastry can be a little delicate to work with, but it’s easy to patch up, and if they crack a bit once you’ve shaped them, a little extra grated cheese on top before you bake them can cover a multitude of sins. Remember, the beauty of making cheese straws yourself is that they should be perfectly imperfect.

My go-to dips

When I was a kid, it was my job to hand round dips at my parents’ dinner parties and I guess I’ve never grown out of it. Dips are an ideal way to start a meal because they can be made ahead, are communal and a great vehicle for lovely crunchy raw vegetables or the homemade spiced crackers (see here).

Roast squash and Parmesan ‘queso’

Serves 4–6

This dip is based on the creamy, cheesy Tex Mex dip ‘queso’, which is usually made with shedloads of orange American cheese. Here, I make it with roasted butternut squash with charred jalapeño, and serve it with spiced, popped pumpkin seeds for some much-needed crunch.

2 garlic cloves (skin on)

1 shallot (skin on)

500g butternut squash, peeled, deseeded and cut into chunks

pinch of cumin seeds

leaves from 2 sprigs of thyme

3 tbsp olive oil

1 red jalapeño chilli

2 tbsp water

1 tsp salt

1 tbsp lemon juice

1 tbsp cream cheese

50g Parmesan (or vegetarian hard cheese) grated

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the toasted pumpkin seeds

1 tbsp rapeseed oil

1 tbsp pumpkin seeds

½ tsp cayenne pepper

To serve

1 tbsp Fermented Green Chillies (see here)

1 tbsp coriander leaves

tortilla chips, to serve

1 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6.

2 Put the garlic cloves, shallot and butternut squash chunks in a roasting tray and season with salt and pepper. Scatter over the cumin seeds, thyme leaves and pour over the olive oil, tossing to coat everything well. Cover the tray tightly with foil and roast in the oven for 40 minutes, or until a skewer can be inserted into the squash and meet no resistance.

3 Meanwhile, heat the rapeseed oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat and fry the pumpkin seeds for a couple of minutes until popped. Transfer to a bowl and season with cayenne and salt.

4 Scorch the jalapeño chilli over a gas flame until softened and partially blackened, then rub off the skin with kitchen towel, split it lengthways and remove the seeds.

5 Remove the squash from the oven and allow it to cool slightly for a couple of minutes, then squeeze the shallots and garlic from their skins and transfer them to the bowl of a food processor. Add the roasted squash and all the remaining ingredients (including the scorched, deseeded jalapeño) and blitz on high for a few minutes until you have a creamy, smooth dip. Season to taste and adjust the acid and salt accordingly. Scrape into a bowl and top with the fermented chillies, toasted pumpkin seeds and coriander. Serve with tortilla chips.

Charred onion and sour cream

Serves 4–6

This is an update on one of my favourite classic dips – sour cream and onion – which did the rounds at the parties of my youth, scooped hungrily into mouths on the curve of a similarly flavoured Pringle. This is great with proper potato Kettle chips.

2 tbsp rapeseed oil

4 medium white onions, thinly sliced

big pinch of sea salt

pinch of caster sugar

2 tsp pomegranate molasses

200g sour cream

50g mayonnaise

3g chives, finely chopped, plus extra snipped chives, to garnish

flatbreads or raw veg, to serve

1 Heat the oil in a heavy-based frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add the sliced onions, salt and sugar and cook, stirring every now and then, for 10–15 minutes, until the onions are charred, softened and delicious. Stir in the pomegranate molasses and allow to cool.

2 In a bowl, combine the sour cream and mayonnaise. Slide in the cooled onions and chives and stir to combine. Taste for seasoning and leave to infuse in the fridge for a couple of hours to allow for the flavours to develop (if you have time). Serve in a bowl garnished with extra chives. Serve with flatbreads or raw veg for dipping.

Broad bean, mint and feta

Serves 4–6

Broad beans are one of the first things I successfully grew on my allotment, following in my father’s footsteps as he was an avid fan of the ‘broads’. They are very easy to grow. You simply bury the seeds (as early as February) and after a few months the green shoots start to emerge. I make this perky dip to celebrate my allotment haul, but it’s also very agreeable made with frozen broad beans that have been blanched and peeled.

500g broad beans (fresh or frozen)

2 garlic cloves, peeled

small bunch of dill fronds, reserving some for garnish

small bunch of mint leaves reserving some for garnish

2 tbsp tahini

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

1 slice of preserved lemon (shop-bought or (see here)), chopped

100g feta

juice of 1 lemon

sea salt and ground black pepper or pink peppercorns

1 Bring a saucepan of salted water to the boil, add the broad beans and garlic and cook for 3–5 minutes, until tender. Add the herbs at the last minute just to blanch them until wilted. Drain, reserving the cooking water. Peel the broad beans and discard the skins.

2 Place the beans, garlic, cooked herbs and all the remaining ingredients in the bowl of a food processor and blitz until smooth, adding a little of the cooking water to loosen, if needed. Taste for seasoning and acid and adjust accordingly. Transfer to a bowl and leave to infuse in the fridge for a couple of hours to allow for the flavours to develop (if you have time), then serve in a bowl, drizzled with more extra-virgin olive oil and garnished with the reserved herbs and pink peppercorns.

TIP: This also makes for a lovely breakfast topped with a crispy fried egg and some rose harissa.

Chermoula cannellini bean

with crispy fried artichokes

Serves 4–6

Chermoula is traditionally a North African marinade for fish, but the zippy combination of coriander, cumin, cayenne and paprika is a fantastic way to flavour this creamy cannellini bean dip. I make a big bowl of this and top it with crispy fried artichoke hearts, which are coated in semolina and fried until crunchy and golden. Try and use the good-quality jarred artichokes that come packed in oil as they have a really fantastic piquancy to them, which works nicely against the richness of the dip. It also happens to be vegan and gluten free.

flatbreads or crispbreads, to serve

For the dip

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp cumin seeds

¼ tsp coriander seeds

2 garlic cloves, crushed

1 × 400g tin cannellini beans, drained (reserving 1 tbsp water from the tin)

½ tsp smoked sweet paprika

½ tsp cayenne pepper

2 slices of preserved lemon (shop-bought or (see here)), chopped

1 tbsp lemon juice

2 tbsp chopped coriander leaves

1 tbsp flat-leaf parsley leaves, plus extra, finely chopped, to garnish

For the crispy artichokes

2 tbsp olive oil

3 tbsp semolina flour

½ tsp cumin seeds, ground in a pestle and mortar

pinch of sea salt, plus extra to serve

200g olive oil-packed cooked artichoke hearts

1 Heat the olive oil for the dip in a large frying pan over a medium heat. Add the cumin and coriander seeds and garlic and fry for a couple of minutes until aromatic, then tip in the cannellini beans and toss everything together over the heat for a minute. Remove from the heat and transfer to the bowl of a food processor with all of the remaining dip ingredients. Blitz to a smooth paste, adding a splash of water to thin until creamy. Taste for seasoning and adjust accordingly with more salt or acid, until it really sings. Leave to infuse in the fridge for a couple of hours to allow for the flavours to develop (if you have time).

2 To make the crispy artichokes, heat the olive oil in a non-stick frying pan over a medium-high heat. Put the semolina flour, ground cumin seeds and salt in a bowl and toss to combine. Drain the artichokes from their oil and one by one coat them in the semolina. Once fully coated, slide them into the oil and fry for a couple of minutes until golden and crisp, turning them to make sure they cook evenly. Remove with a slotted spoon to a plate lined with kitchen paper and scatter with a pinch of sea salt.

3 Serve the dip topped with the crispy artichokes, with flatbreads or crispbreads for scooping.

Beetroot, coconut and curry leaf

Serves 4–6

Beetroot and coconut is a flavour combination I discovered in Sri Lanka, where beetroot curry is a staple. This vegan and gluten-free dip takes its lead from this curry (see here) and is a winner served with crisp seeded crackers (see here) or crisps.

500g raw beetroots, scrubbed

olive oil, for drizzling

1 tbsp coconut cream

juice of ½ lime

½ tsp red chilli powder

100g drained tinned chickpeas

1 tbsp extra-virgin coconut oil

1 tsp black mustard seeds

handful of fresh curry leaves

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

crushed pink peppercorns, to serve

1 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6.

2 Toss the beetroots in a roasting tray with a drizzle of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Cover the tray with foil and roast in the oven for 1¼ hours, or until a skewer inserted into a beetroot comes out with no resistance. Remove and leave to cool, then peel the beetroots and roughly chop.

3 Place the beetroot in a blender or food processor with the coconut cream, lime juice, chilli powder, chickpeas and big pinch of salt, and blitz until you have a smooth purée.

4 Heat the coconut oil in a frying pan over a medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds and when they start to pop, add the curry leaves and fry until crispy but not browned.

5 Season the dip with salt and pepper to taste, scoop it into bowls and top with the mustard seed and curry leaf mix. Stir and serve warm or cold, garnished with pink peppercorns.

Ras el hanout roasted chickpea

Serves 4–6

A spoonful of ras el hanout transports you straight to the spice souk. A heady, fragrant North African spice blend composed of more than 30 ingredients, it translates from the Arabic to mean ‘top of the shop’.

Serve it with warm pitta bread or yoghurt flatbreads (see here), or as part of a meze plate with Labneh (see here), roasted veg and freekeh.

2 × 400g tins chickpeas, rinsed

1½ tbsp rapeseed oil

2 garlic cloves (skin on)

3 tsp ras el hanout

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

2 tbsp tahini

140ml cold water

1 tsp salt

2 tbsp orange juice

1 slice of Preserved Orange (see here), chopped, or grated zest of ½ orange

2 tbsp coriander leaves, finely chopped, plus a few whole leaves, to garnish

1 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6.

2 Dry the chickpeas with a clean tea towel and put them in a large roasting tray. Add the rapeseed oil, garlic cloves, ras el hanout and a pinch of salt and toss to coat. Roast in the oven for 25 minutes.

3 Leave to cool for a few minutes after roasting, then transfer to a food processor (squeezing the garlic out of the skins first), reserving a handful of chickpeas for garnishing. Add all the other ingredients and pulse until creamy, but still slightly chunky. Transfer to a bowl, top with the remaining chickpeas and drizzle over more olive oil for good measure. Scatter over the coriander leaves and serve.

Memorable Mains

This is the place for golden-crusted pork chops rubbed with fennel, thyme and cayenne (see here), and squishy fried aubergine with crispy roasted chickpeas and labneh (see here); things you can rustle up without too much trouble. Giving care and attention to those important details, however – like frying those aubergines to a silken splendour – elevates the ordinary to the extraordinary, making these meals, well, you guessed it: memorable.

As well as making the most of seasonal veg in the Burrata and Roast Root Rave Salad (see here) and Allotment Greens Orecchiette (see here), this chapter is alive with some of my favourite international influences, and will bring some revelations, like how off-the-charts salmon tastes when cooked gently in a marinade of tahini and preserved lemon; what fresh curry leaves can bring to your kedgeree; and how an anchovy-laced béchamel can transform our old pal broccoli. You’ll put your sourdough starter to good use again to make the Sourdough Pizzas (see here) – perfect for a pizza night with pals – and your vegan mates will love you for the delicious Sri Lankan-inspired vegan curry feast you cook up for them (see here).

Pork chops rubbed with fennel, thyme and cayenne

Serves 2–4

You can’t beat a succulent pork chop for a simple, satisfying meal thrown together in a matter of minutes. This effortless fennel, thyme and cayenne rub flavours the meat beautifully, and is also good as a seasoning for homemade pork burgers, or a rub for chicken. Find chunky, best-end pork loin chops with a nice layer of fat for crisping up. Serve with a bright, sharp shaved salad such as the Shaved Fennel, Radish and Pickled Peach Salad (see here and pictured here).

1 tsp fennel seeds

1 tbsp sea salt

½ tsp cayenne pepper

1 tsp caster sugar

grated zest of ½ unwaxed lemon

leaves from 2 sprigs of thyme

4 skinless pork best-end loin chops (about 250g each)

1 Toast the fennel seeds in a dry frying pan over a medium-high heat for a minute or two, until fragrant and golden. Transfer to the bowl of a food processor, or a pestle and mortar, add the salt, cayenne pepper, sugar, lemon zest and thyme and blitz or pound in the mortar until finely ground.

2 Season the flesh of the pork chops with the salt mixture, rubbing it into the meat but avoiding the fat (you’ll only need about half of the salt mixture – store the rest in an airtight container and use it for other meats, or chicken). Leave the pork chops to sit in the rub at room temperature for 1 hour (if you’re leaving them for any longer than that, keep them in the fridge), then gently rinse them and pat dry with kitchen paper.

3 Heat a griddle or skillet over a medium-high heat, or prepare a barbecue.

4 Grill the pork for 5 minutes on each side (or a little longer if the chops are really thick), pressing the fat against the pan or barbecue grate to render some of it out and crisp it up. If you’re cooking the pork in a pan, baste it in its own fat. Remove from the heat and leave to rest for 10 minutes, then serve with a salad.

Chilli, broccoli and anchovy gratin

with pan-fried red mullet

Serves 4

Red mullet is one of my absolute favourite fish. Aside from being crazy beautiful, its iridescent rose-red skin has a wonderful nuttiness, and its flesh a special sweetness that requires very little from the home cook, other than a quick pan-fry. This leaves you free to lavish the broccoli with a bit of attention, and really, it’s never felt sexier than it does here, cloaked in this creamy, yet deeply umami béchamel made with anchovies, garlic and chilli. Rosemary adds an aromatic edge, while sourdough breadcrumbs and pumpkin seeds provide an irresistible crunch and tang. Once you’ve made and tasted this gratin, I’m convinced you’ll want to use it as a side dish for all manner of things, as it’s also superb with meat such as rare roast beef, or salt marsh lamb, and you could even make it into a meal in itself served with a little pasta or warmed white beans.

2 small-medium red mullet, cleaned, scaled and gutted

2 tbsp olive oil

thumb-sized strip of lemon zest, pith removed

leaves from 1 sprig of thyme

For the gratin

1 large head of broccoli, broken into florets, leaves set to one side, stalk trimmed and thinly sliced

2 tbsp olive oil, plus extra for greasing

grated zest and juice of ½ unwaxed lemon

1 red jalapeño chilli, deseeded and half sliced, half diced

5 good-quality anchovy fillets in oil, chopped

1 garlic clove, crushed

2 sprigs of rosemary, leaves picked and roughly chopped

2 tbsp plain flour

glass of white wine

300ml whole milk

75ml double cream

6 tbsp anchovy breadcrumbs (see here)

2 tbsp pumpkin seeds

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 Take the mullet out of the fridge, put it on a plate, season with a little salt and leave to reach room temperature.

2 Bring a large saucepan of well salted water to a rolling boil. Add the sliced broccoli stalk and boil for a couple of minutes, then add the florets and boil for another 3 minutes, until tender, adding the leaves for 30 seconds before you drain. Drain the broccoli and toss it into an oiled roasting tray. Squeeze over a little lemon juice and scatter over the sliced chilli.

3 Return the pan to the hob and heat the olive oil over a medium-high heat. Slide in the anchovies, garlic, lemon zest, rosemary and diced chilli and fry for a few minutes, until the anchovies have melted into the oil.

4 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6.

5 Tip the flour into the oil and stir quickly to form a paste or roux, let it cook for a minute or two, until it smells nutty, then add the white wine and cook, stirring, until smooth. Now, slowly add the milk, whisking continuously, and cook for 5–8 minutes, until the sauce has thickened, breaking up any lumps with the whisk. Add the cream and whisk to incorporate. Season with salt and pepper and pour the sauce over the broccoli. Scatter over the anchovy breadcrumbs and pumpkin seeds. Bake in the oven for 20 minutes, until bubbling. Remove from the oven and leave to rest while you cook your mullet.

6 Heat the 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a non-stick frying pan over a medium-high heat and add the lemon zest and thyme leaves, stirring for a few seconds. Slide in the fish and pan-fry, basting them with the warm oil, for about 2 minutes on each side, until the flesh is opaque and cooked through. Serve with the gratin.

Sri Lankan-style beetroot curry

Serves 4

The beetroot curry from the second night of our Sri Lankan honeymoon has been obsessively recreated in our kitchen ever since. Deep purple, rich with coconut and the earthy, fragrant, smoky flavours of Sri Lankan curry powder, roasted to bring out extra flavour in the spices, it’s a favourite meal for when vegetarian and vegan friends are round. Sri Lankan curries centre around seasonal vegetables cooked with black mustard seeds, fresh curry leaves, roasted curry powder and, crucially, fresh coconut: its luscious oil, reviving water and rich, luxurious cream, which are all added at different stages. A tin of good-quality coconut milk and dried curry leaves make perfectly reasonable substitutes for fresh, but it is worthwhile making the roasted curry powder (see here). This dish is adaptable to almost any vegetable glut– swap beetroot for cauliflower, parsnip or courgette, even runner beans in summer. Serve with black or basmati rice, Tomato, Coconut and Spinach Dahl (see here) and Coconut Sambol (see here).

400g raw beetroot, peeled and cut into thick matchsticks

1 tsp fenugreek seeds

1 tsp red chilli powder

2 tsp sea salt

2 tbsp coconut oil

1 tsp black mustard seeds

handful of fresh curry leaves (or 2 tsp dried curry leaves)

½ red or white onion, thinly sliced

1 garlic clove, crushed

⅔ green chilli, thinly sliced

1 tomato, finely chopped

1 tbsp Roasted Curry Powder (see here)

200ml coconut milk

cooked black or basmati rice, to serve

1 Put the beetroot in a bowl with the fenugreek, chilli powder and 1 teaspoon of the salt and mix by hand.

2 Heat a non-stick frying pan or wok (with a lid to hand) over a medium-high heat. Add the coconut oil and black mustard seeds and fry until they start to sizzle and spit, then add the curry leaves, swirling them around the pan with a wooden spoon to infuse the oil. Now, slide in the onion, garlic, green chilli and the remaining salt. Cook, stirring, for a few minutes, until the onion is starting to colour, then add the beetroot and fry for a couple of minutes, stirring to combine it with the contents of the pan.

3 Add the tomato and roasted curry powder and fry for a couple of minutes, until the tomato is starting to break down and release its juice, then add the coconut milk, stirring to combine. Cover and cook, stirring every now and then, for 10–15 minutes, until the beetroot is tender and cooked through and the curry is glossy and reduced. Remove from the heat and serve with rice and yoghurt flatbreads (see here), spinach dahl and coconut sambol on the opposite page.

Tomato, coconut and spinach dahl

Serves 4

Frugal, nourishing and brilliantly flavourful, this dahl uses two kinds of lentil for added texture, and is vegan, so everyone can enjoy it. Before I started making my own, I always imagined dahl took hours and hours to cook, but if you soak the lentils ahead, it’s actually so quick to make. It’s perfect with beetroot curry (opposite) but is also great with a fried egg, roasted cauliflower or broccoli, some fried smoked tofu or aubergine on top.

100g split red lentils

50g split yellow or green lentils

1 tsp salt, plus a pinch

1 tbsp ground turmeric

1 tbsp coconut oil

1 tsp black mustard seeds

handful of fresh curry leaves (or 2 tsp dried curry leaves)

½ red onion, diced

½ tsp cumin seeds

1 garlic clove, crushed

2 tomatoes, cut into wedges

5 tbsp creamy coconut milk (fresh or tinned)

2 handfuls of baby spinach leaves

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 Soak the lentils together in a bowl of water for a couple of hours, then rinse, drain in a sieve and place in a saucepan. Cover with cold water (about a finger’s tip above the level of the lentils), add the teaspoon of salt and the ground turmeric and bring to the boil. Simmer for 10–15 minutes, until tender but still holding their shape.

2 Meanwhile, melt the coconut oil in a frying pan or wok over a medium-high heat. Add the mustard seeds and fry until they start to sizzle and pop, then add the curry leaves, onion, cumin, garlic and pinch of salt and cook for a few more minutes, until the onion starts to colour. Add the tomatoes and cook, stirring, for about 5 minutes, until the tomatoes have collapsed and given up their juice.

3 Add 4 tablespoons of the creamy coconut milk and spinach to the dahl and simmer for another 3 minutes, then pour in the contents of the tomato pan, along with the final tablespoon of coconut milk. Stir, taste, season with salt and pepper and serve or keep warm by covering with a tea towel.

Coconut sambol

Serves 2–4

Heaped on the side of the plate and dusted onto every mouthful of curry, this spicy condiment, based on Sri Lankan pol sambol, is at once fiery, tangy with lime juice and cooling with creamy coconut. It can be made ahead and kept in the fridge.

½ red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped

½ red onion, finely chopped

¼ tsp sea salt

1 tsp freshly ground black pepper

pinch of dried chilli flakes

4 tbsp desiccated coconut or fresh coconut

juice of 1 lime

1 In a pestle and mortar, grind the chilli, red onion, salt, pepper and dried chilli flakes together until well combined and the onion releases some juice.

2 Add the coconut and grind again, then add the lime juice and mix well. Taste and season further with salt and lime if needed. Store in the fridge.

Squishy aubergine, crispy chickpea and broccoli salad

with homemade ferments

Serves 2

Something magical happens when salted aubergine is fried in plenty of oil – the aubergine at once sucks it up, creating a silken, creamy inside, while the outside of the flesh caramelises and browns, making something deeply savoury and utterly addictive. Paired with nutty roasted broccoli, cooling labneh and crispy spiced chickpeas, with an array of homemade ferments to cut through the richness of the aubergine and tahini dressing, this salad has it all. The inspiration for this dish came from one of my favourite local restaurants, The Good Egg in Stoke Newington, which specialises in Israeli food and serves ‘Sabih’ – a popular Israeli sandwich of fried aubergines and boiled eggs stuffed into pitta bread. Add boiled eggs to this to beef it up, or lose the labneh to keep it vegan.

1 large aubergine, cut into 1.5-cm slices

1 tsp sea salt flakes

1 × 400g tin chickpeas, drained

½ head of broccoli, broken into florets, including leaves

3 tbsp rapeseed, olive or vegetable oil

pinch of dried chilli flakes

1 tsp smoked sweet paprika

handful of flat-leaf parsley leaves

handful of dill fronds

handful of mint leaves

1 tsp sumac

150g Labneh (see here)

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the dressing

20g preserved lemon, deseeded (shop-bought or (see here))

1 tbsp lemon juice

4 tbsp water

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp honey

1 tsp salt

1 garlic clove

½ tsp cumin seeds or ground cumin

1 tbsp good-quality tahini

To serve

1 tbsp Fermented Turnips (see here), drained

1 tbsp Pink Pickled Onions (see here), drained

1 tbsp Fermented Green Chillies (see here), drained

2 toasted pitta breads

1 Place the aubergine slices in a sieve over the sink or a bowl and scatter the sea salt all over. Leave it to sit and drain the moisture from the aubergine for about 30 minutes.

2 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6. Dry the chickpeas with a clean tea towel and tip them into a roasting tray. Add the broccoli, broccoli leaves, 1 tablespoon of the oil, chilli flakes, smoked paprika and some salt and pepper and toss together. Roast in the oven for 25–30 minutes, until the chickpeas are really crispy and the broccoli is crispy at the edges but tender when cut into.

3 Meanwhile, wipe off any excess water from the aubergine with kitchen paper, then heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of oil in a heavy-based frying pan or skillet over a medium-high heat. Once the oil is shimmering hot, add the aubergine slices and fry for 4–5 minutes on each side, until nicely browned on the outside and squishy in the middle. You may need to add a little more oil as you go. Transfer to a plate lined with kitchen paper and set aside.

4 To make the dressing, put all the ingredients into the bowl of a food processor and blitz until you have a loose but emulsified dressing.

5 Toss the roasted chickpeas and broccoli in a bowl with half the fresh herbs and the sumac. Season with salt and pepper and coat with a little of the dressing. Spread the labneh over a serving platter and top with the salad, then strew the fried aubergine, remaining herbs and ferments over the top. Serve with fluffy toasted pitta and the dressing on the side.

Burrata and roast root rave salad

with harissa and walnut salsa

Serves 4 as a starter, 6 as a side

This is a showstopper of a salad, perfect as a sharing platter and a great way to make a fuss of the meat-free people in your life. People always swoon for burrata, and here it lends its bursting creamy splendour to a medley of root veg, roasted until tender and caramelised and piled atop mounds of fregola (a spherical, toasted Sardinian pasta) and lentils. With a punchy salsa to spoon over the whole lot, and the burrata to tear into, it’s an all-star line up of spice, sweetness and umami. If you’re making it for veggies, sub the anchovies for capers or black olives.

150g puy lentils

200g fregola or giant couscous

2 large beetroots, scrubbed

olive oil, for drizzling

300g organic carrots, scrubbed and halved lengthways

100g parsnips, scrubbed and halved lengthways

4 banana shallots, peeled and halved lengthways

4 slices of Preserved Orange (see here) or zest of 1 orange

1 tsp cumin seeds

1 tsp coriander seeds

pinch of dried chilli flakes

1 tbsp honey or maple syrup

leaves of 3 heads of chicory

2 large burrata

handful of parsley and coriander

sea salt and black pepper

For the pickled beetroot

100ml cider vinegar

5g sea salt

30g caster sugar

½ tsp each fennel seeds, mustard seeds and coriander seeds

½ cinnamon stick

2 candy-striped beetroots, peeled and thinly sliced

½ red chilli, thinly sliced (optional)

For the walnut salsa

50g walnuts

40g tinned anchovy fillets

1 tbsp rose harissa (I love the Belazu one)

1 tbsp flat-leaf parsley leaves

1 tbsp coriander leaves

1 tbsp orange juice

1 tbsp lemon juice

100ml olive oil

1 Cook the lentils in salted water, according to packet instructions, and the fregola separately (also in salted water) until al dente, drain both and transfer to a bowl. Pour in 1 teaspoon of olive oil and fork it through so that they don’t stick together.

2 Now pickle the beetroot. Combine the vinegar, 100ml water, salt, sugar and spices (except the chilli) in a non-reactive pan and bring to the boil. Place the beetroot slices and chilli (if using) in a clean heatproof jar or jug and pour over the pickling liquor. Leave to steep.

3 Preheat the oven to 200°C/180°C fan/gas 6. Take a piece of foil big enough to wrap the beetroots and place the whole beetroots on it. Drizzle with a little olive oil and season. Wrap the beetroot in the foil, leaving a little air between them, and place on a baking tray. In a roasting tray, combine the carrots, parsnips, shallots and preserved orange or zest, pour over a little olive oil to coat, then scatter over the spices and drizzle over the honey or maple syrup. Season well with salt, give everything a good toss, then put that tray and the foiled beetroot tray in the oven, with the beetroot tray on the top rack.

4 Check the parsnips and carrots after 35 minutes. They should be browned and tender with crispy edges, but not dry, while the shallots should be nicely caramelised and sticky. When done, remove the tray from the oven. Roast the beetroots for 1 hour in total, until they are tender all the way through (use a skewer to check). Remove from the oven and leave until cool enough to handle, then use some kitchen paper or the back of a spoon to peel away the skin, and slice them into wedges.

5 To make the salsa, blitz the walnuts in a food processor briefly until coarsely chopped, then add the anchovies, harissa and herbs and blitz again to combine. Add the the orange juice, lemon juice and the olive oil. Blitz again, then taste and season with salt to taste.

6 To assemble the salad, add the chicory and herbs to the bowl of lentils and fregola, season with salt and pepper and add a splash of the beetroot pickling liquor and a little olive oil. Toss to coat, then arrange on a sharing platter. Top with the roast beetroots, carrots, shallots, parsnips and burrata, then dress with the salsa. Drain the beetroot from the pickling juice (reserving the juice for another use, see Rhubarb Poaching Liquor Roast Parsnips here). Scatter over the pickled beetroot and serve with extra salsa on the side.

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