Spooning with Rosie
Food, Friendship & Kitchen Loving
Rosie Lovell

To Raf – the harshest critic and the hungriest companion

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page

Dedication

INTRODUCTION

DAWN CHORUS

Muesli

Pancetta & Quail’s Egg Tart

Cinnamon Toast

Creamy Scrambled Eggs with Chilli Jam

Mum’s Seedy Soda Bread

Soda Bread with Tomato & Oregano

Rupert’s New York Eggy Bread with Bacon & Maple Syrup

Omelette with Potatoes, Peperoncino, Tomatoes & Cheese

Fried Bread with Sweet Chilli Sauce

Mum’s Piping Popovers

Australian Marmalade Muffins

Porridge with Golden Currants & Muscovado Sugar

Gazpacho for a Barcelona Morning

Raspberry Risen Pancakes with Clotted Cream

Colombian Scrambled Eggs with Frills

Buckwheat & Banana Pancakes with Runny Honey

The Ultimate Sausage Sandwich

Economical Oeufs en Cocotte

LOVESOME TONIGHT

Risotto Milanese with Morcilla & Rocket & Asparagus Salad

Tomato & Pont I’Evêque Proposal Tart

Garlic Fried King Prawns, Hot Spanish Squid & Balsamic Onion Tortilla

Vietnamese Salad with Steak

Pyrenean Duck with Champ

A Ceviche Fish-off with Corona & Guacamole & Tomato Salsa

Frozen Berries & Grapes

Sweet Pastry Swirls

Affogato

Lemon Tart

Bunty’s Brandy & Oranges

FEASTING FIESTAS

Esme’s Hot Wings, Daddy’s Jamaican Ackee & Saltfish, Fried Plantain & Coconut Coleslaw

Moroccan Honey Chicken, Pomegranate Couscous & Chickpea Purée

Lots of Houmous, Halloumi with Red Onion, Stav’s Babaghanoush, Daddy’s Meatballs & Carrot Purée

Roasted Salmon & Fennel Pâté & Puff Pastry Pie

Chicken Pieces Two Ways, Potato Gratin, Carrot & Celeriac

Hot Chips & Tips

Rice Cubes, Tofu with Mangetouts, Mango, Cucumber & Mint Salad, Sweetcorn & Carrot Fritters

Apricot-stuffed Belly of Pork, Spring Cabbage with Caraway Seeds, Spinach in White Sauce

Indian Stuffed Squid, Jeera Rice, Turmeric Cabbage

Ice Cream with Chocolate & Honey Sauce

Yoghurt, Saffron & Cinnamon Sorbet

Carrageen with Nutmeg, Cream & Maple Syrup

Poached Pumpkin with Crème Fraîche

Barbara Fitzgerald’s Clafoutis

Marmalade Queen of Puddings

Rice Pudding, Indian-style

Sweet Little Coconut Cakes

JAMMING SUPPERS

Pulpo on Toast

Sardine Pâté on Baguette

Smoked Mackerel Pâté on Toast

Baguette with Boquerones

Pan con Tomate

Fontal & Grated Braeburn on Toast

Bruschetta with Cucumber, Basil & Chilli

Bruschetta with Spinach & Sultanas

Crispy Chicken Pieces, Polenta & Roasted Red Pepper Sauce

Squid Ink Spaghetti with Prawns, Chilli & Bacon & Roasted Fennel Salad

Fillet of Pork with Mustard & Honey Sauce, Lemon Smashed New Potatoes

A Little Roasted Chicken with Lemons & Penne, Tzatziki-style

Smoked Mackerel & Chard Bake with a Crunchy Top

Smoked Haddock & Watercress Risotto with Griddled Courgettes

Moules Marinière with Spaghettini

Pumpkin & Gorgonzola Lasagne

Herby Homemade Pasta Sheets with a Perfect Yellow Tomato Salad

Homely Saffron Chicken

Pearl Barley Risotto with Tomato & Ricotta

My Lasagne, with Chestnut, Pancetta & Cabbage

Super Easy Mushroom & Chicken Korma with Raita

Coconut & Cardamom Custard

Biddy’s Microwave Steamed Pudding

Dark Chocolate & Raspberry Cups

Sweet Yellow Lentil Dhal

Baked Amaretti & Goat’s Cheesecake

Really Easy Brandy & Almond Tiramisù

Golden Brown Tarte Tatin

Mallika’s Baked Yoghurts Two Ways

SOULFUL GRUB

Stav B’s Pumpkin & Red Lentil Soup

Raf’s Lettuce Soup

Gascon Soup made with Wild Mushrooms, Tomatoes & Sherry Vinegar

Onion & Butter Bean Soup

Courgette, Chickpea & Mint Soup

Spiced Carrot Soup

Beetroot & Pear Soup

Warming Orecchiette with Sausage & Sage

Raf Daddy’s Groundnut Curry

Polenta & Vegetable Bake for Dani

Ebi Chilli Men for Tom & Olly

Doctor Helen’s Signature Butternut Squash Pasta with Chilli Flakes & Chorizo

Korean Beef Salad

Broccoli & Cauliflower Cheese

Simplest Red Spaghetti with Thyme, Straight From Urbisaglia

Alice’s Cottage Pie

Sweet Laksa with Udon Noodles

Cabbage & Sausage Hotpot

Penne with Creamy Tomato & Tuna

Lamb & Aubergine Pilaf

Tuscan Bean Stew with Riso Pasta

BALMY BITES

Pea & Mint Dip

Aubergine & Salami Stacks

Pat’s Green Beans with Goat’s Cheese

White Alubias with Anchovies & Herbs

Sonar Lentil Salad

Herby Spare Ribs, Porchetta-style

Moroccan Salsa

Dom’s Marital Potato Salad

Mum’s Lemon Garden Vegetables

Summer of Love Salad

Nutty Brown Rice & Bean Salad

Mr Dan’s Bulgar Wheat Salad

Radicchio & Pancetta Salad

Gillie’s Chicory & Orange Salad with Two Different Dressings

Rosemary-roasted Sweet Potatoes

Fruit Brûlée

Apple Purée with Syllabub

Orange Blossom Custards

Semolina & Syrup Cakes

Far Out Eton Mess

Rhubarb & Whiskey Fool

Essentials

COFFEE, TEA OR ME?

Drop Scones, Mum’s Way

Yoghurt Cake

Simplest Orange & Almond Cake

Edna’s Chocolate & Hazelnut Cookies

Classic Cricket Tea: Victoria Sponge with Strawberries & Cream

My Spiced Apple Cake with Buckwheat

Orange Shortbread

Baby Banana Cakes

Doctor Helen’s Mascarpone Mojito Cheesecake

Honey Flapjacks

My Favourite Places to Eat, Drink & Shop

Index

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

INTRODUCTION

Another late night in Soho at the New Evaristo Club. Now, as usual, my alarm is pounding at me, calling me to the deli. Showered and squeezed into trusty jeans, I dash out of the door of my damp 1930s flat. Round on the main road I pass Simon, one of the more amenable local down-and-outs. ‘All right, Ma’am.’ He’ll be in later for his hot chocolate with five sugars. I nip into the Portuguese deli to pick up fresh rocket for the shop, and then into the Iraqi supermarket to buy free-range eggs for the scrambling rush later. Electric Avenue is particularly alive at this time of the morning, with sex workers, red snappers, pig’s tails and pulsing beats coming from every crevice. The fishmongers holler at me and, laden with my shopping, I nod my good-mornings to market traders and road sweeps.

Arriving at the deli, I fling the door wide open, turn the fans on and get The View playing, to beat out my tired head. Pastry out of the fridge for rolling, cakes onto the stands, tables and chairs outside, oven on, flick lights. The daily cheese and bread deliveries arrive – Sardinian Pecorino, Taleggio, Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire, Hereford Hop, sourdough, rye, ciabatta – just as I’m making myself a double-shot cappuccino to drink in the last bit of peace on my doorstep.

Brixtonians rush past on their way to the tube, with cheery waves. My moment is broken by the first telephone call of the morning – Alice. ‘What shall I cook for my date tonight?’ (She’s excited, so I’m thinking risotto with black pudding and ice cream drowned in espresso.) By this point I’m juggling, squeezing lemons for the daily batch of houmous with the phone wedged between my shoulder and cheek. My first early customers, the loyal Bharat and superwoman Kylie Morris, arrive, armed with newspapers and requesting their morning soya lattes.

As I steam their milk, I’m mulling over what salad to make this morning. Vietnamese carrot and peanuts, nutty brown rice with seeds, or couscous with mint and feta? And as they eat their toast with mackerel pâté, I’m wondering what will soothe my weariness tonight. Baked polenta, beans on toast or boquerones? Mum is calling. Have I got time to pick up the phone before the next customers descend? ‘Oh darling, you’ll never guess what we had for supper last night…’ Asparagus from her garden. The day is truly in swing now. I’m navigating cooking, serving breakfasts and all the usual flurry of telephone calls, Daddy’s usual herbal tea and the ordering, when I drop my ciabatta…a curly-haired boy has just ambled in…And how shall I woo you with my wares?

DAWN CHORUS

Foods for the first wave of a hangover, or just to start the day with a bang, when you need some morning loving or have a dawn appetite. These breakfast recipes hail from the deli, my travels and a frugal upbringing. Favourite morning foods. Starting the day with an egg is surely one of life’s best treats. But sometimes we crave something more wholesome, to kick-start the morning and give sustained energy, like porridge or muesli. I often make a vat of muesli, which keeps me going for a few months and is a good economy drive when I’m a bit stumped for cash.

It all rather depends on who you’re with and how you’re feeling, and what’s actually in the fridge: hangovers usually demand fried foods like Rupert’s eggy bread, but friends for breakfast could prompt some steaming sweet muffins. My mum says breakfast is the best meal of the day, which it certainly is at her big oak table, with her homemade yoghurt, popovers, marmalade and bread and fragrant coffees.

Each country has its own take on breakfast too, often revolving around the glorious egg. I never tire of the magical egg. Egg-fried noodles on the Khao San Road in Bangkok, eggs Benedict in London, oeufs en cocotte in France. An omelette is one of my favourite ways to use up leftover vegetables.

Some of the recipes, however, like soda bread and muesli, require some pre-planning to stand you in good economical stead during the week. Other breakfast recipes will be more for that weekend drawn-out brunch affair, like the ultimate sausage sandwich along with a big cafetière. Many of these recipes are just as good for a last-minute supper or a lovers’ midnight feast. And of course the bread (on page 12) is fantastic as an addition to every meal of the day.

Muesli

Makes about enough for 30 breakfast sittings

Muesli is such a great breakfast hero. You will start the day with health and happiness. It’s wholesome, and I like it with lots of wheat flakes. My mum used to add cream to every cereal we ate, but I’m managing to restrain myself here, in favour of cutting up crunchy apple and sweet banana and spooning tart yoghurt on top. If you make a vat of this, you can keep it jarred up in the cupboard and it works out so much cheaper than buying packets of the stuff. And it can last up to six months – well, that’s if you still have any left after that long.

You will need a really serious piece of Tupperware to store this.

250g coconut flakes

3 tablespoons golden caster sugar

1kg jumbo oats

700g golden currants

1kg wheat flakes

First of all heat the oven to 200°C/Gas 6. Lay out the coconut flakes on a large baking tray and scatter over the caster sugar. Place in the oven for 10 minutes, or until the flakes are toasty and golden – keep checking them, as they are easily burnt. Set aside to cool. Meanwhile, measure out the oats, currants and wheat flakes and pour into your big container. Give them a thorough mix around. This is best done by sealing the container and jiggling it around, like a barman with a cocktail shaker. When the coconut is cool, add it to the muesli and give it another good shake to distribute.

For 1 Bulky Breakfast Sitting

1 cup of your homemade muesli

1 small Braeburn apple

1 banana

1 tablespoon natural yoghurt

1 dessertspoon runny honey

2 tablespoons full-fat milk

Measure out the muesli into a bowl. Core the apple and slice it into 8 pieces, which you then again cut into little bits over the muesli. Then slice over the banana and pile on the yoghurt, honey and milk. I eat this in bed, with mint tea.

Pancetta & Quail’s Egg Tart

Makes 6 squares

I think I snitched this from a magazine, because it looks so beautiful and clever and is actually very simple to make on a Saturday morning in the deli. There are two ways my trusty customers devour this: either they grab a slice on the run, as if from a pizza stand, or they eat a square with a spinach and olive salad, more as a brunch. It’s a versatile tart. I’ve also made it for a light supper, along with a good Sunday night film, because it’s easy-peasy.

The quail’s eggs are just so lovable for their dinkiness. Being made of pancetta and these mini eggs means that the tart needs a little preplanning. Chinese supermarkets sell quail’s eggs, as do good butchers and niche delis. Smoked pancetta is also sold at good delis, preserved along with herbs and peppercorns. So it’s the kind of thing to cook if you know in advance that you are having a sleepover or want to impress a guest. Slice it into squares, if you are all on the run first thing, as I do in the deli. Regarding the puff pastry, I prefer the ready-rolled kind, but the thicker slabs are more widely available. It depends what you can get your hands on.

250g puff pastry (defrosting bought ready-rolled puff pastry will take 1¹/₂ hours)

some plain flour for rolling

10 thin slices of smoked pancetta

6 cherry tomatoes

a little full-fat milk for glazing

6 quail’s eggs

Preheat your oven to 160°C/Gas 2. Ideally, you will have bought ready-rolled pastry. If not, roll out the pastry slab on a floured surface so that it is big enough to cover a baking tray that measures about 20 × 30cm. Spread the pastry out over the baking tray so that it comes right up to the edges. Lay the pancetta on the pastry, leaving a couple of centimetres clear all the way round which you should then incise with a sharp knife so that the pastry can rise around the pancetta to form a crust. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half and lay them on top of the pancetta, cut side up. Using your fingers (or a pastry brush if you have one), wipe a little milk around the pastry edge to help it brown. Place the tart in the oven for 10 minutes, or until the edges are puffing up around the pancetta and browning just a little. (You may need to further incise the pastry to release so that it can puff, after it’s been in the oven for 5 minutes.)

Remove the tart from the oven and carefully crack the quail’s eggs evenly over the pancetta layer (the shells have much more give than our more familiar brittle chicken shells). Return to the oven for just long enough for the eggs to solidify, which will be 4 or 5 minutes. The pancetta should now be getting crisp and dark too. It is a matter of a few minutes, though, so keep a close eye on the oven.

When the tart is ready, slice it into 6 pieces with a sharp knife. It is at its best when the yolks are still soft in the middle, and ooze out over the pancetta in your hands.

Cinnamon Toast

Makes 6 slices

My brother Olly and I loved The Pooh Cook Book when we were little. The wording was great; all about ‘Smackerels, Elevenses and Teas’. I love those weird made-up words. Alice (my beautiful partner in crime) and I use ‘melge’, which really means to mix, and mush and marinade, but it’s our own more onomatopoeic version.

Mum amazingly let us make a mess and get enthusiastic about cooking even at this level. I hope I do the same with my children, as we definitely had a good time beating butter, licking bowls and watching cakes rise through tinted oven glass. This cinnamon toast is a classic. All you need to do is make a flavoured butter and lather it over what you have to hand, bagels, buns, toast, whatever. The butter keeps for ages in the fridge, so if you make a big batch, you have midnight feasts covered too.

150g unsalted butter

100g golden caster sugar

35g ground cinnamon brown bread for toasting

Leave the butter out for a few hours at room temperature, to soften in a large mixing bowl. Then gradually cream in the sugar and cinnamon with a sturdy fork until it is a homogeneous paste. Alternatively, you can whiz it all up by using the pulse mode of a blender, if you have one. Decant the butter into a small pudding basin, toast your toast, and lather on the sweet, flavoured butter.

Creamy Scrambled Eggs with Chilli Jam

For 2

This comes originally from the little deli I first worked in, in Rotherhithe. It was set right by the Thames, and was a dream world of fun with fellow delistress Lulu, fantastic evenings of cooking and dancing. She taught me how to woo in an apron. These creamy eggs were a best-seller there, and are in my shop too. It’s so cherished that on a Saturday morning it’s pretty much all we make. The chilli jam surprises everyone, as the sweet spiciness works just right with the velvety eggs. I use Tracklements, but if pushed, sweet chilli sauce would do. It’s the ultimate hangover cure according to my oldest girlfriend, Doctor Helen, combined with a feisty Fentiman’s ginger beer, a macchiato, and a sparkling water, all consumed in unison by those in the know. Sometimes I make it mid-afternoon for a snack too.

6 medium free-range eggs

200ml single cream a generous pinch of Maldon sea salt

1 ciabatta loaf butter for the ciabatta

4 fine slices of prosciutto

2 tablespoons chilli jam freshly ground black pepper

Crack the eggs into a microwaveable bowl. Lightly beat them with the cream and salt, so that there are still some defined yellow and white bits. Slice the ciabatta and place under a low grill, dough side up, in order to crisp up and lightly brown. Place the eggs in the microwave for 1 minute. With a fork, scrape around the edges of the bowl and break up any firmer bits. Return it to the microwave for another minute and repeat the process. It may need a further 20 seconds. Be careful not to overcook the eggs. They should be creamy and delicious and lightly risen, which, remarkably, the microwave is perfect for. They continue cooking once they are removed from the bowl, so if in doubt, do slightly undercook them.

If you do not own or prefer not to use a microwave, making them old-school style is great too. For this, melt a little extra butter in a medium pan. Beat together the eggs, cream and salt while the butter is slowly warming. Add this to the pan, and continually stir with a flat-ended wooden spoon to keep pulling up the cooked layers of egg that are created at the bottom of the pan. When the eggs are still pretty liquid but forming enticing sunny lumps, remove from the heat to sit for a few minutes. Just as with the microwave method, the eggs will continue cooking even when removed from the heat. And so, by removing them early, this is how to get them perfectly creamy and not overdone.

Once removed from the grill, lather the ciabatta with butter, arrange on two plates with the prosciutto and chilli jam, and divide the eggs between the plates. Scrunch over a hefty dose of ground black pepper for seriously perfect eggs.

Mum’s Seedy Soda Bread

Makes 2 loaves

Soda bread is a wonderful cheat’s bread. It makes for an encouraging initiation into the world of baking, so get cracking. My mother skilfully leavened abundant firm loaves practically daily, decorated with beautiful wheatears and laden with seeds. But for me, it felt like a whole other level of kitchen excellence, slightly out of my reach. By its very nature, soda bread does not require all the leavening and kneading of a normal yeast loaf, so don’t be shy. And once you can see the texture that it needs to be, sloppy but nutty, like a moist porridge, you can be free to throw in whatever you want: poppy seeds, dried herbs, sesame seeds, olives, pumpkin seeds. And you can substitute the sugar here with good honey, for a deeper flavour. Making two loaves, you can put one in the freezer for a rainy day, but if you just want to bake one loaf, divide the quantities below in half.

Of course there’s something deeply impressive about baking your own bread, so I frequently find myself making Mum’s soda bread when I’ve got people over for dinner. It’s so easy: make the bread first (as soon as you get in the door), and while it’s in the oven you’ll have time to prepare some other knick-knacks for dinner. It’s particularly delicious with my favourite salmon and fennel pâté (see page 95) and a crunchy salad. And incidentally, it’s slightly lower in gluten due to the spelt flour.

a small knob of butter

200g wholemeal flour, plus a little more for dusting the bread tins

300g spelt flour

4 tablespoons bran

2 tablespoons wheat germ

2 heaped teaspoons baking powder

Maldon sea salt

1 tablespoon muscovado sugar

4 tablespoons sesame seeds

1 tablespoon caraway seeds

2 teaspoons coriander seeds

100g linseeds

565ml semi-skimmed milk (milk on the turn is even better)

Preheat the oven to 200°C/Gas 6. Butter two traditional 900g bread tins (about 19 × 11cm) and then lightly flour each one, banging it around so that the base and sides are lightly dusted. Set these aside. Measure out the flours, bran, wheat germ, baking powder, salt, sugar and seeds into a big mixing bowl. With a fork toss around to evenly distribute the flours and seeds. Then measure out the milk and gradually mix it in with the fork. It should look sloppy, so don’t worry if it doesn’t look how you imagine bread dough to be. The reason it is so wet is so that it makes for a really deep flavour, once everything has been dehydrated by the baking process.

Turn this mix out evenly between the two bread tins, which will require you to use a spatula to get all the liquidy cakey mix out. Place in the oven for 25 minutes. It should have risen by this point and be crisp and cracking on the top. Then turn the oven down to 170°C/Gas 3 and continue baking for a further hour and 10 minutes.

Once removed from the oven, turn out the loaves on to a cooling rack for an hour. If they are baked right, they should make a hollow sound when tapped on the bottom. These loaves are best when they have been cooled for a few hours or overnight. Eat for breakfast, lunch and dinner with unsalted butter.

Soda Bread with Tomato & Oregano

Makes 1 loaf

100g white flour

150g wholemeal flour

1¹/₂ tablespoons bran

1 tablespoon wheat germ

1 teaspoon baking powder

2 handfuls of sesame seeds

1 dessertspoon honey

1 tablespoon tomato purée

150ml full-fat milk

1 tablespoon dried oregano

Follow the directions above, adding the tomato purée to the milk to dissolve it. Then mix the milk into all the dry ingredients as normal and bake for an extra 20 minutes to dry out any excess moisture.

Rupert’s New York Eggy Bread with Bacon & Maple Syrup

For 2

In New York for a decadent long weekend, I gorged on those famed diner breakfasts and my good friend Rupert immediately leapt to the forefront of my mind. When we lived together in Edinburgh, he’d emerge from his cupboard-like room at 1 p.m., saunter down to the shop and buy his essential breakfast ingredients, and offer up this fantastic creation to whoever was disclosing their woes at our kitchen table.

This early morning dish has all the abundance of a New York start, with the thick sweetness of syrup and saltiness of bacon. (There’s something really great about sweet things like maple syrup with bacon. Actually almost anything sweet with pork is a winner: honey, apples, plum sauce, a sugar glaze with cloves…) According to heroic food writer Jake Tilson, ‘For a Breakfast lover, visiting New York is like finding the source of the Nile.’ That amazing American abundance: never-ending weak coffee, and sticky jugs of maple syrup at every table. This breakfast combines both Rupert’s loving moniker, and that distinctive New York flavour.

4 large free-range eggs

1 coffee-sized cup of full-fat milk

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

4 slices of really soft fresh white bloomer

4 rashers of smoked streaky bacon

maple syrup

Find a wide flat-bottomed bowl or serving dish, and in it beat together the eggs, milk, pepper and salt. You will need to get two frying pans hot and at the ready. If possible, a bigger one for the bread, and a smaller one for the bacon. Divide the vegetable oil between these pans. Allow 2 of the slices of bread to soak in the egg bowl and drink up a quarter of the beaten egg. When the oil is quivering, begin by frying the rashers in the small pan. Turn the slices of bread over and coat again to absorb a further quarter of the egg mix. Add the 2 slices to the bigger of the pans, and get the other 2 slices of bread soaking in the same way so that all the egg is equally absorbed. Now add these to the larger bread pan. Sizzle each side of the bread slices, while keeping an eye on the bacon. The bacon should be beginning to brown and crisp at the edges. When the bread slices are browned as well, and slightly swollen and risen, remove to a plate and top with the crisp bacon and lots of maple syrup. Have it with strong tea, and a good gas.

Omelette with Potatoes, Peperoncino, Tomatoes & Cheese

For 3 hungry friends or 4 abstemious ones

Mostly because we were never flush, but also because he rightly hates waste, my father had the habit of frying up leftovers. This did lead to some serious disasters along the way. My brother Olly and I still giggle over his duck skin stew! However, leftovers can be a great addition to a morning omelette: a little remaining tomato sauce? Peppers on the turn? Slightly dry Cheddar? Daddy’s old schoolfriend Giles even recently wrote to him about the merits of leftover angelfish curry in an omelette.

Here I use cooked potatoes. They could be little new ones, cold mashed or just boiled from the night before. They would all work. The dried chilli flakes are a great storecupboard essential, and, added here, will really wake you up. I bought a few jars of peperoncino when I was in Italy, but you can get little bags of these chilli flakes in good old-fashioned continental delis too. I most recently made this spiced omelette with Raf for our super-cool adopted DJ son, Toddla T, after a night out at the Grecoroman Sonic Wrestling party. The chilli flakes were our tonic. It hardly needs to be mentioned that an omelette is also an excellent last-minute dinner. When I’m back a little late, it’s what I cook up. You too will be sated in a matter of minutes.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium onion

200g cherry tomatoes or about 3 ripe plum tomatoes

400g cooked potato, either boiled or mashed

1 teaspoon peperoncino (chilli flakes)

6 medium free-range eggs

100g Gouda or any really melty cheese

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

a healthy handful of rocket or spinach

Find a large heavy-bottomed frying pan and begin warming the olive oil on a low heat. Meanwhile get all the vegetables prepared: peel and finely chop the onion, cut the tomatoes in half, and if need be further slice the potatoes so that they are in about 2cm cubes. Add the onions to the pan and let them sweat until they are turning transparent. Now add the tomatoes and sweat for a further few minutes along with the peperoncino, stirring all the while. When the tomato skins are beginning to split, add the cooked potatoes.

In a bowl, beat the eggs thoroughly and then grate in half the cheese. When the potatoes are hot through, pour in the egg mixture and season well. Tumble the rocket over the top of the omelette, followed by the remaining cheese. Keep heating the omelette on the hob until it is drying out at the edges, which should take a few minutes.

Meanwhile turn the grill on to a low setting. Place the omelette under the grill so that it is just sealed on top, which will take about 2 minutes. You still want some soft creamy egg in the middle. Slice into 3 or 4 pieces and dish up with some Dijon mustard.

Fried Bread with Sweet Chilli Sauce

For 2

When we lived together at university, Anna and I frequently felt…a little tender. We’d set ourselves up good and proper for a day of vegging. Still in our pyjamas, we would go down to the shop to buy bumper amounts of juice, cheap bread and sweet chilli sauce, to accompany an array of high-school movies and a day’s hilarity. Really, we were making our own fun, because we were just too broke to order a takeaway. This became our substitute for sesame prawn toast and those exciting hot tinfoil boxes of Chinese delights. They really hit the spot in a gross and junky way, which is sometimes exactly what we needed to indulge ourselves.

4 slices of corner-shop bread

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 tablespoons sweet chilli sauce

Carefully slice the crusts off the slices of bread. Heat the vegetable oil in a big frying pan on a medium flame. When the oil is rippling, dip a corner of the bread into it to check that it sizzles. Providing it does, add the 4 pieces of trimmed bread and fry until golden and crisp. Turn them over to do the same on the other side. Pour out the sweet chilli sauce into a ramekin and set aside ready for the dipping. When the bread has absorbed the oil and is stiff and golden on both sides, remove from the pan and, on a wooden chopping board, slice each piece into soldiers. Scoop these into the sweet chilli sauce, and munch immediately. There you have our fakery. For best results repeat this dish a few times throughout a long and lazy day.

Mum’s Piping Popovers

Makes 6 to 8 popovers

Popovers are another of my mother’s great brekka additions. She caught her obsession for these sweet Yorkshire puddings at her sister Judith’s house, and has made them ever since. If we found out that they were on the breakfast menu, my brother and I were up early and eager and at the table, armed with knives and forks. The hole in the centre of the popover is filled with a knob of butter and a generous splash of maple syrup. The most exciting bit is when you pull them open, and the unctuous saccharine river oozes out from them.

115g plain flour

a pinch of salt

a little freshly grated nutmeg

2 medium free-range eggs

215ml full-fat milk

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

butter and maple syrup, to serve

Preheat the oven to 220°C/Gas 7 and place a deep muffin tray in the oven to warm right up. If you are using a liquidiser, put the flour, salt, nutmeg, eggs and milk into the bowl or jug, and give it a good whiz, so that it is a smooth batter. If you are using a whisk, start by beating the eggs in a big jug or mixing bowl. Then add a little of the milk before adding the flour, salt and nutmeg. Loosen it again with the rest of the milk.

Take out the piping hot tray, pour a little oil into each hole, and return to really hot up in the oven. This will take about 5 minutes. Then pour the batter into each hole, about halfway up because they will rise. They will sizzle and start to cook the minute they hit the oily hole. Return the tray straight away to the oven, turning the temperature down to 170°C/Gas 3, and bake for 20 minutes, by which time they will look like little Yorkshire puddings. They should be, according to my mum, ‘puffy, crisp and hollow inside’. To serve, place a little knob of butter into each sunken centre, along with a glug of maple syrup.

Australian Marmalade Muffins

Makes 8 muffins

Marmalade and muffins are both time-honoured components of a breakfast, and are happily joined under the same umbrella in this clever recipe. Whilst in Australia I learnt a lot about a decent breakfast: muffins and cupcakes, savoury pastries and delectable coffees. I picked up this winner too. While we are on the subject of Australia, I swear by the Australian Woman’s Weekly books. They are not only reasonably priced magazine-style books, but really comprehensive and much more adventurous than you may think at first. They span national to mood foods, and are never too expensive if you fancy getting your head around a new issue in the kitchen.

These are magnificent breakfast treats packed with marmalade and are best straight out of the oven, first thing. So when I make them in the deli, they don’t last long on the cake-stand. They are particularly good with a well-brewed pot of tea. And the trick with muffins, for that lovely risen and cracking top, is not to over-combine the mixture in the final stages. This means that they are best made, really, in a slapdash fashion, which is lucky.

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

125g softened butter

300g self-raising flour

¹/₂ teaspoon baking powder

1 orange

2 medium free-range eggs

150g caster sugar

2 tablespoons thick-cut marmalade (preferably my mum’s dark one)

125ml full-fat milk

Preheat the oven to 160°C/Gas 2. Using a pastry brush or some oiled kitchen towel, grease each hole in a muffin tray with a little vegetable oil. Measure the butter, flour and baking powder into a big mixing bowl. Quickly rub them together, as you would when making pastry, lightly with the tips of your fingers. Now grate the zest of the orange into this. Beat the eggs together in a cup, and roughly add to the flour mix with a knife. Then roughly stir in the sugar, marmalade and milk with speed. Do not over-mix, or it will become too homogenised.

Turn the mix out equally into the muffin tray, but do not overload the holes, as they really do rise. Place in the oven for 20 minutes or until just firm and steaming. You can also check them by plunging a toothpick into the middle of one. If the toothpick comes out clean, they are ready, but if there is any liquid or cake mix clinging to it, they need a few more minutes. Remove to a cooling rack by releasing each muffin with a fruit knife, and cool for a few minutes before dishing them up with a big pot of tea.

Porridge with Golden Currants & Muscovado Sugar

For 2

Word has it that oats are a superfood (which means, for me, merely that it keeps the wolf from the door). And porridge is one of those delicious breakfasts that not only keeps your energy up but in winter keeps you warm on the inside too, rather like a hot bath. This is very useful if you start the day at the bus stop in the cold. When customers come into Rosie’s looking a little sorry for themselves, I usually suggest a big bowl of steaming porridge, to ward off the morning misery.

The golden currants are a sweet addition, and the muscovado sugar gives it that treacle-like rich depth. The timing of porridge rather depends on the oats. If you use the coarse nutty kind, it will take longer to homogenise. If you use finer, flourier packaged supermarket oats, it should take a little less time to achieve this comforting and maternal dish.

100g wholegrain rolled oats

500ml full-fat milk

a pinch of table salt

100g golden currants

2 dessertspoons muscovado sugar

Measure out the oats into a small pan along with the milk. Add a pinch of salt and put the pan on the smallest ring on the hob. Rapidly heat for 5 minutes, stirring with a wooden spoon until it looks deliciously nutty and gluey. Take it off the heat for a moment to settle, before dishing out into bowls and topping with the light currants and dark sugar. You may want to wash the porridge down with a little extra cold milk.

Gazpacho for a Barcelona Morning

Makes a big bowl or about 8 mugs

The first time I tasted gazpacho was at Laurie Castelli’s house. He was one of the first to discover my little deli in Brixton, and so then we were new friends. He now lives in Colombia with his beautiful son and wife, but at the time he lived on crack alley, Rushcroft Road. He lured me over to his stylishly minimal flat to try his brother Gian Castelli’s impeccable cold tomato soup. I left with the offer of a ride on his Moto Guzzi, a cinema date at the ICA, and a delicious taste for this perfect Spanish pick-me-up. As it’s a soup, it’s an unusual choice for breakfast, but trust me, this will wake you up, and cleanse you too. Because the vegetables are all raw, it feels incredibly medicinal.

The next time I came across gazpacho was in Barcelona. My friend Lovely Linda, who was heavily pregnant with Leo at the time, downed a carton of this each morning. And when I tried it too, it made perfect sense. But feel free to drink it at any time of day: in little glasses as a summer starter; in thimbles accompanying a light supper; or as a mid-afternoon reviver. And the trick with Gian’s gazpacho is the use of ground cumin, giving it a Moorish edge. Beware, though, I’ve bust a few blenders masticating this soup. It’s pretty hard to pulverise.

1kg ripe red tomatoes

1 red pepper

1 medium cucumber

1 medium onion

2 garlic cloves

120ml extra virgin olive oil (for posterity’s sake, Spanish, if you can find it), plus a little more for drizzling over at the end

2¹/₂ tablespoons sherry vinegar

2 teaspoons ground cumin

2 teaspoons caster sugar

1 teaspoon Maldon sea salt

freshly ground black pepper

Find a really big mixing bowl to decant each of the ingredients into once they have been prepared: roughly chop the tomatoes into eighths; deseed the pepper and slice into strips; peel and roughly chop the cucumber, complete with seeds; peel and dice the onion and peel and chop the garlic cloves. Pour the extra virgin olive oil, sherry vinegar and cumin into the bowl and mix everything up with your hands. If you have a strong hand-held blender, give it a really good purée, but it’s better still if you have a Magimix, which you can decant the lot into and pulse away on.

When it is a smooth thick soup, you are ready for the next stage. Find a large sieve, place it over another large mixing bowl and pour the gazpacho into it (though Raf recently picked me up an amazing mouli-légumes in Barcelona, which is the real deal in blending a perfect gazpacho). With a metal spoon or a spatula work the soup through the sieve so that it becomes ultimately smooth. You will need to scrape the bottom of the sieve from time to time, to remove the thicker bits. By the end, you will be left with just the woody parts of the vegetables and seeds in the sieve, which you can then discard. Now give the silky gazpacho a thorough mix with a whisk, and season according to your taste, with a little sugar to bring out the flavour of the tomatoes, and also pepper and salt. Serve with a few ice cubes in each mug and a drizzle of excellent Spanish extra virgin olive oil.

Raspberry Risen Pancakes with Clotted Cream

Makes 10 pancakes

These should really be cooked on a griddle pan, like my mum has, but I’m still fruitlessly trying to prise it away from her. A griddle pan is one of those entirely flat iron pans that has a handle running up and over and round to the other side, almost looking like one half of a weight and measure. And because I don’t have this wonderful tool, and you probably won’t either, I just cook them in a big flat frying pan. The warm raspberries are absolutely delicious with thick clotted cream, and are reminiscent of a good old-fashioned cream tea. I’d just as easily cook these for pudding, with some delicious vanilla ice cream to serve.

British raspberries are in season during July and August, so this is naturally a summer brekka. If you stumble upon a good supply during these months, buy a fair few punnets and freeze whatever is surplus to your requirements. Raspberries lend themselves very well to freezing, and your conscience will be clear too. At other times of the year, you may choose to vary the topping. In deepest winter, try finely sliced ripe pears as a substitute.

1 medium free-range egg

130g self-raising flour

50g caster sugar

a pinch of salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

150ml full-fat milk

2 tablespoons butter

170g raspberries

a dusting of icing sugar clotted cream

Preheat the oven to 100°C/Gas ¹/₄. Line an ovenproof serving dish with a clean drying-up cloth, and place in the oven to warm gently. You will decant each batch of pancakes on to this to keep warm. Thoroughly beat the egg in a mixing bowl. I use my lipped batter bowl, but a wide jug would also do. Add half the flour, the sugar, salt and baking powder, beating with a whisk. This will form a thick elastic batter. Then add the milk, making sure there are no lumps but that the batter is now light and smooth. Now add the remaining flour. It may need a little water to loosen it further. The consistency should be thick but creamy and entirely lumpless. Set aside for an hour if you can stand the temptation, as this makes for a better pancake in the end.

Heat 1 tablespoon of the butter, or some vegetable oil, in a large flat-bottomed frying pan, so that it is silky with fat but not verging into deep-frying territory. Allow the fat to become melted and hot and slippy when the pan is tilted, and then pour out some batter, or add a spoonful of the batter if you are using a bowl, and drop over this 6 or 8 raspberries. The pancakes should be about the diameter of a wine bottle. You will get 2 or 3 in the pan. Allow them to really brown and go golden on the bottom. They are ready to turn when the top side is bubbling and beginning to firm up around the berries. Flip each one over with a heatproof spatula or palette knife, and colour the other side. They should rise a little and firm up, and each side should take just over a minute. Remove to the warm dish before going on to the next batch. They are best after 10 minutes drying out in the warm oven. Finally dust the pancakes generously with some icing sugar if you like. Serve with a smudge of clotted cream on each.

Colombian Scrambled Eggs with Frills

For 2

There’s a great bona fide Colombian restaurant in Brixton market called Como y Punto, and they do an epic breakfast. Their proud kitchen is reassuringly evident from the café, and little pots of salsa sit at every table for you to help yourself to. The last time I ate there, we entirely demolished the salsa, because it’s so jolly delicious.

Luckily there are wonderful shops in Brixton where you can buy and even see corn bread being made. Though in case you haven’t any Central or South American shops near you, I’ve added a cornmeal pancake recipe too, from Raf’s mum, Maggie, and her epic cookery book collection. This colourful and tangy breakfast is all about finely chopping everything. It is best with milky Colombian-style coffees.

The Salsa

1 big juicy tomato

a few stalks of fresh coriander

1 spring onion

1 big red chilli

2 teaspoons white sugar

3 dessertspoons white wine vinegar

¹/₂ teaspoon table salt

First prepare the salsa by seriously chopping the tomato, coriander, spring onion and chilli finely with a large sharp knife. For best effects, you want to get a swinging rhythm going by holding down the pointed end of the knife and chopping all over the vegetables. However, if you have a little hand-held blender it would be helpful here to make this a thin and fine salsa. Then add the sugar, vinegar and salt. Decant this into a ramekin for the table.

The Corn Cakes

100g coarse or medium cornmea

40g plain white flour

¹/₂ teaspoon salt

¹/₂ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

1 large free-range egg

200ml soured milk (soured by squeezing ¹/₂ lemon into the milk, and leaving to rest for 5 minutes)

4 teaspoons vegetable oil

Measure out the cornmeal, flour, salt and bicarbonate of soda, and thoroughly mix together. Then beat together the egg and soured milk, and gradually whisk this into the dry ingredients. It should be a sloppy cake-mixture type of batter. Heat a teaspoon of oil in a medium frying pan on a high heat to bring the heat of the pan right up. When the oil is rippling and ready, turn the heat right down to low and wait a moment before pouring in enough batter to form a 12cm round. Fry for a few minutes, so that the edges are quite brown and crinkled and the surface is smattered with rising bubbles and is nearly dry. Release the cake around the edges with a palette knife or flat frying flipper, and turn it over. You will only need to fry the second side for a moment, to seal it. The cake should be speckled brown and a little risen if fried correctly.

Remove from the pan to a kitchen towel, to absorb any excess oil. Repeat this process with another teaspoon of oil until all the batter is gone.

The Eggs

1 green chilli

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

1 small onion

1 small fresh tomato

4 large free-range eggs

a pinch of table salt

Remove the seeds from the chilli and finely chop so that it is almost shredded. Heat the oil on a medium heat in a big frying pan. When it is rippling, add the fine pieces of chilli. While they’re sizzling, peel and dice the onion really small and add to the pan. Deseed the tomato, and again finely chop this before adding to the pan. Leave to sweat for a minute. Then crack the eggs into the frying pan. With a heatproof spatula, break the yolks and stir everything together, but so that the white and yolk colours are still quite defined. Turn the heat down and continue to fold the eggs over with the spatula. When they are quite firm and integrated with the vegetables, remove everything from the pan and lay it out on two plates with the corn cakes. Heap the salsa on top, and season with table salt if necessary.

Buckwheat & Banana Pancakes with Runny Honey

Makes 4 pancakes

I love making pancakes: so easy a child can make them, and super fun because of the theatrical flipping. I spent a good deal of my formative years making pancakes, so I have happy flipping memories, but I must admit I don’t always get it quite right. I loved making them so much that in my early teens my dad bought me a beautifully thrown pottery batter bowl with a perfectly sculpted lip for pouring. The best pancakes are made with a little patience, as the batter should really sit for an hour at least before it is used. And for some reason, the first one to hit the oil is always a bit dud. My grandmother calls the first the dog’s pancake, for that very reason.

Buckwheat has a really distinctive flavour and texture. It is almost sour but in a really good tangy way, and gives a much more delicate body to the pancake, as it seems more finely ground than regular flours. It is also dark with a malty aftertaste, which really suits the combination of the banana and honey. By whisking the egg white in these pancakes, you will achieve a wonderful lightness that perfectly contrasts the dense banana and sticky honey.

1 medium free-range egg

80g buckwheat flour

100ml full-fat milk

a pinch of salt

1 tablespoon golden caster sugar

4 bananas that are just about to turn

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

4 dessertspoons runny honey

Separate the egg, placing the yolk in a lipped jug or bowl, and the white in a really clean metal mixing bowl. Add the buckwheat flour, milk, salt and sugar to the egg yolk, and whisk thoroughly to integrate into a smooth thick paste. There shouldn’t be a single lump. Set this aside for an hour and then vigorously whisk the egg white so that it forms quite firm peaks. Fold this into the thick batter mix, being careful not to lose the air you have laboriously made.

Peel the bananas and set aside, ready to be rolled in the pancakes. Heat a little oil in a good hard-bottomed frying pan. Get it consistently hot before pouring in about a cup or ladle of batter. You should have to really work it around the pan to cover it, as the foamy batter is not loose like a regular batter. By working it, though, it will be a light and crisp affair (rather than a stodgy mattress of a pancake). When the first side is cooked, the pancake will begin to brown at the edges. At this point quickly flip it (or turn with a flat bendy knife, carefully releasing it from the edges) and quickly cook the other side by merely sealing it. The pancake should look slightly decorated with golden spots. Now place a banana off centre on the pancake and fold the pancake around it, pressing down a little to seal. After a few minutes, remove from the pan to a waiting plate and hungry face before starting the whole process again with a little more oil if necessary. Pour over a little runny honey before serving.

The Ultimate Sausage Sandwich

Makes 2 sandwiches

I’m so lucky that there’s a great butcher round the corner from my shop. They make their own sausages in all the colours of the rainbow…with herbs, lamb, leek, even chicken. If you can build up a relationship with your butcher, meat-buying will be a rewarding and pleasurable part of the shop, so give it a go. And you’ll be supporting your local community, which will make it a better place for you to live.

The ultimate sausage sandwich is subtle in perfection. Sometimes the simple things are the most challenging to get right, like a roast or a fry-up. Here, it’s all about the scrumptious balance of husky sausage, tart mustard, sweet tomato, peppery rocket and buttery warm bread. These are fast catching up with scrambled eggs and chilli jam as the Saturday morning favourite at Rosie’s.

3 good pork sausages

1 small ciabatta loaf or 2 ciabattini

2 large tomatoes

unsalted butter (French, if you can find it)

2 teaspoons smooth Dijon mustard

2 handfuls of fresh rocket

freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 200°C/Gas 6. Divide the sausages, but do not prick them (that way you will keep hostage all the wetness and flavour that is waiting inside for you). Line a baking tray with greased paper and lay the sausages on top. Place in the oven on the top shelf for 20 minutes, turning once. Remove the sausages from the oven but leave the oven on. Cut the ciabatta into 2 square hunks, and slice each again in half. Place these back on the top shelf of the oven, dough side up, to warm and crisp and colour.

Meanwhile, slice the tomatoes into roundels, and the sausages in half. These will be divided between the two sandwiches, giving each one 1¹/₂ sausages. When the bread is beginning to colour, which will take 3 or 4 minutes, remove from the oven, generously butter, and add a teaspoon of Dijon mustard to 2 of the slices. Add 3 sausage slabs to the Dijon-decorated sides and split the tomatoes between each sandwich. Finally grab a handful of rocket, shower with freshly ground pepper and seal with the singularly buttered top layer of ciabatta. Tuck in.

Economical Oeufs en Cocotte

For 2

This is a great way of using up a leftover tomato pasta sauce. It is basically an egg poached and baked at the same time, in a tomato nest. Many countries have a version of it. I recently found a Turkish variation called menemen. This nestles in a vegetable ragout and is on offer as a quick snack in train stations and ports, which goes to show that it’s another one of these breakfast recipes that’s just as good, any time of day.

Anyway, Alice and I first ordered eggs en cocotte without really knowing what we were getting, in a brilliant little café in Camden Passage, giggling our morning heads off. Needless to say, I ate both hers and mine, as she had, as always, lost her hangover appetite, and because I thought it so tasty and clever. I wanted it over and over.

They will be most successful if you have those lovely shallow terracotta ramekins, but a small oven dish will do. If you just fancy this for breakfast, but don’t have the necessary leftovers, you can quickly rustle up a simple sauce for the eggs’ bed. I eat it for a light supper when it looks like there’s nothing in my very occasionally unloved cupboards.

The Sauce

450ml leftover tomato sauce, or

1 tablespoon olive oil

¹/₂ medium onion

1 garlic clove

5 large tomatoes

1 teaspoon tomato purée

1 teaspoon sugar

Maldon sea salt

freshly ground black pepper

Preheat the oven to 160°C/Gas 2. If you are making the tomato sauce from scratch, first warm the olive oil in a frying pan on a medium heat. Peel and finely dice the onion and add to the hot oil. Sweat for a minute, then peel and crush the garlic and add this to the pan. Chop the tomatoes into about 12 pieces each, and add these too. Simmer for 15 minutes, or until the sauce is reduced and quite smooth. Finally dissolve the tomato purée in the sauce, with some sugar and seasoning.

The Eggs

2 large free-range eggs smoked paprika

Decant the sauce into either two big ramekins or one smaller oven dish. Make two deep holes in the bed of sauce for the eggs, and crack them in, pinching a little paprika over each yolk. Place in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the egg is just firm on the top and the sauce is sizzling with a deep redness at the sides. Serve with some good buttered bread. One of my favourites is sourdough.

LOVESOME TONIGHT

Food and love are hopelessly entangled in my mind. I for one have a hungry heart. Feeling giddy with excitement, eating oysters at Borough Market, while my boy held my hand. Slipping out of bed on a Sunday morning, to the Portuguese for café con leche and pastéis de nata. Preparing a big winter hotpot together for our friends, listening to Radio 4. And the simple stuff, like shelling beans, while the heart goes boom. It’s all to do with the senses.

Here is a gathering of recipes, all successfully tried and tested, for seduction in the kitchen. Whether it’s an emergency date, or one of those evenings planned long in advance, full of anticipation and palpitation, my advice is to crank up the music, and let the juices flow. It’s one of the finest things to do for the one you love. You should really enjoy working your magic, and casting some culinary spells.

Generally I like to eat quite simple foods when I’m in for seduction. Simple but really impressive, like for instance duck breasts, or really good steak. Your meal should be full of impact and thought, without appearing fussy or over-zealous. And don’t forget, if you are cooking for men, the demands are altogether different: Raf’s face frequently falls when I realise I’ve not incorporated massive potatoes, pans of rice and wedges of plantain into every meal!

I once shared a Bramley sorbet with verbena jelly in a dark and seducing booth in Black’s. It’s in the depths of sultry Soho and is one of my favourite places to go for simple food and uncomplicated dining. It was subtle, refreshing and lip-tinglingly good. Inspired by this, I have kept these puddings simple but suggestive, because hopefully you’ll be too enthralled by your date to want to be clattering around in the kitchen blow-torching a brûlée.

Risotto Milanese with Morcilla & Rocket & Asparagus Salad

For 2

I first made this for a clandestine, last-minute dinner date. Alice and I had been drinking rosé in Brixton when he called (‘Oh God, Al, what am I to wear? Crap, the flat’s a tip!’). I rushed round the corner, a little tipsy, to get express advice from Manuel in the Portuguese deli and butcher, O Talho. He recommended this simple risotto, with the rich addition of morcilla (Spanish black pudding). The greenery and risotto are a perfect contrast of crunchy and fresh with wet and warm, and the Parmesan brings all the flavours together. So there is a happy relationship on the table already. It turned into a whole weekend of delirious fun together. Eureka.

Rocket & Asparagus Salad

This is a simple salad but rather depends on the seasons. Asparagus is in season from April through to June. When shopping for vegetables I try and bear this in mind, especially on the rare occasions that I’m in a supermarket. In these larger shops there always tends to be a choice – you just need to look closely at the label. As everything tastes much better if rightly in season, it’s in your interests to make that little extra effort.

a bundle of asparagus lots of olive oil

3 generous handfuls of fresh rocket

juice of 1 lemon

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

50g Parmesan shavings

To make the salad, bend the asparagus spears until they snap. This will have them breaking at just the point of tenderness, and eliminate any woody stumps. Heat some olive oil in a griddle pan, and when it is really hot, and just beginning to smoke, add the spears. Sear until they are tattooed with black lines, then remove from the heat and allow to cool a little. This will only take a few minutes. On a flat serving plate, lay out the rocket leaves and scatter the asparagus over them. Simply season with the lemon juice, the oil from the griddle pan, and lots of pepper and salt, before piling on the shavings of Parmesan.

Risotto Milanese with Morcilla

Although risotto is easy to cook, it is a challenge getting perfect results. This dish should not be a sloppy rice pudding, neither should it look like an oily paella. It is somewhere in the middle. Sophisticated but soothing.

Regarding the stock, it’s preferable to have made a good chicken one. However, few have the time to labour over bones. I mostly use a good European powdered stock. If you are feeling lavish, however, you could buy a fresh jarred stock. These are available in some delis and better supermarkets. The John Lusty brand is pretty trusty.

a big knob of butter

1 large onion

150g Arborio rice

500ml hot Marigold Swiss vegetable bouillon powder stock

1 large glass of wine (about 200ml)

1 tablespoon olive oil

6 roundels of morcilla or black pudding

lots of freshly grated Parmesan

When it comes to cooking the risotto, remember that all the additions to a risotto are salty, so beware of seasoning until the end. While half the butter is melting in a wide flat pan on a very low heat, peel and very finely dice the onion and add to the pan. The onion will gradually appear soft and translucent, but not browned (about 5 minutes or so). Add the rice and mix in, then cook for about a minute, to seal it. When it is just beginning to brown, add a ladleful of hot stock and stir until the rice has absorbed it. Keep adding stock, bit by bit, stirring all the time and giving it lots of love and affection. Add the wine, again gradually, allowing the alcohol to bubble off and evaporate.

Once the rice has absorbed most of the stock, and tastes almost cooked, heat some oil in another frying pan, so that it is really hot. Add the roundels of morcilla and crisp them up. This will take a minute or so on each side. The risotto takes about 20 minutes of nurturing before it is nutty but cooked. Like al dente pasta. When you feel that the texture is both shiny and creamy, turn the heat off and melt in the final bit of butter, and the Parmesan, almost beating it. This, according to Locatelli’s bible, is the mantecatura, where it all comes together. Place the lid on the risotto pan and let it sit for a few moments. Heap the risotto on to a plate, with the morcilla pieces balancing on top.

Tomato & Pont I’Evêque Proposal Tart

For 2 with leftovers

The quick rubbing and drawing together. The rolling, chilling, blind baking and goldening of pastry. It’s a tactile thing. And finally, filling the case and seeing the results prosper. As a child I couldn’t bear the feeling of melting butter between my fingers, rather like sand between my toes. I’m a little more worldly now, and love getting my hands stuck in. Nothing beats homemade pastry (though I have been known to cheat and buy shop-bought, if really short of time). This tart prompted a proposal from an old boyfriend of mine, Pat, so it must be good, surely?

Once you have mastered the basics, your tart options are endless. Broccoli and Saint-Agur; Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire and apple; fennel and Pecorino; pea, mint and feta; spinach, black olive and anchovy; wild porcini and Gruyère and so on. All you need to know is what marries well, which comes with practice and confidence.

Serve this tart with a well-dressed green salad, and homemade soda bread (or a good shop-bought one, if you haven’t the time). A simple but perfectly sating meal for two, which would be especially ideal if you’ve got a vegetarian on board too. The tart is a generous one: I use a 25cm diameter fluted flan tin that feeds four. That way you’ll have something tasty for leftovers.

The Pastry

200g plain flour, plus a little more for rolling

110g unsalted butter

Maldon sea salt

You can make the pastry separately from the tart, even a day before. Fill a generous mixing bowl with the flour, diced butter and a pinch of salt. With cold hands quickly rub it between your fingers. The lighter your touch, the more delicate your pastry will be. If done with finesse you will have superb results. When the butter is consistently combined with the flour, drizzle small amounts of cold water over it, bit by bit, and with a knife draw the breadcrumb-like mound together into a moist ball. On a floured surface, roll out the pastry to fit your tin. Push it in all directions, so that it makes a circle a little bigger than the tin. Roll this up on to the rolling pin, and then unravel it gently over the tin, tucking the pastry into the edges and pressing firmly into the crinkles. Finally roll the rolling pin over the top of the tin to perfectly trim the sides to the correct height. Turn the oven to 250°C/Gas 9 or as high as it will go, but put the pastry-filled flan tin into the freezer. After 20 minutes, remove the flan tin, line it with greaseproof paper, and fill with baking beans, or dried chickpeas. Blind bake for 10 minutes. For the best pastry, remove the paper and beans and return to the oven for a further few minutes to dry out the base of the case. No one likes soggy pastry.

The Tomato & Pont I’Evêque Filling

750g cherry tomatoes

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

1 teaspoon caster sugar

a little olive oil

4 medium free-range eggs

284ml double cream

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

1 x Petit Pont I’Evêque or 250g Pont I’Evêque

2 teaspoons dried or fresh thyme

To make the tart, preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas 4. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half and place cut side upwards in a roasting tin lined with greaseproof paper. Drizzle over the balsamic vinegar and sprinkle with sugar and a little olive oil too. Place them in the oven and allow them to dry out – they’ll take on a rich, sweet flavour. They should take about an hour. Meanwhile, whisk up the eggs and cream in a measuring jug, with seasoning. Turn the tomatoes out into the baked pastry case and pat them down to make a dense rich red layer. Pour the eggy custard on top of the tomato and place in the oven for 10 minutes. Take out of the oven. Slice the Pont l’Evêque into strips and place on top of the nearly set and firming custard. Shred over the thyme, and return to the oven. Bake for a further half an hour, or until the cheese is blistering and turning golden and the tart is entirely set.

Garlic Fried King Prawns, Hot Spanish Squid & Balsamic Onion Tortilla

For 2

Sometimes a girl’s got to give. A few years ago I was forced to go to extreme lengths to steal an evening with my then boyfriend. It was near impossible to find time when he wasn’t DJ-ing, going to a gig, or sorting out his sock drawer. So I lovingly took this whole meal on the P4 bus, with each individual bit prepared in little pots so that I could create it in situ. That’s love, or is it dementia?

Saucy and juicy, the seafood flavours are wonderful mopped up with the yolky yellow tortilla. I like sucking the sweet garlicky coating off the prawns, then shelling them and devouring the tender meaty chunks within. The chilli will have your mouth wonderfully tingling too. And the squid has good smoky paprika as the resounding Moorish ingredient. This is something I only discovered when I opened my little shop in Brixton market. There are many varieties of this magic dust, and it usually comes in beautiful little tins. I use a hot Santo Domingo, which is imported by Brindisa and will bring a smouldering heat to almost any meal. These smells remind me of Marrakesh and Barcelona all in one, full of mystery and hot reds.

The way you manage this meal is up to you: the prawns could be served as a starter or all together with the squid and tortilla. And if you don’t want to do both the squid and the prawn dishes, double up the quantities of one and serve it with a simple green salad. Though if you are using this for wooing, you might just check that your lover doesn’t have an aversion to seafood. It is a bit like Marmite: you either love it, or you hate it.

Balsamic Onion Tortilla

1 medium free-range egg

3 medium free-range egg yolks

500g new potatoes

lots of olive oil or butter

100g balsamic onions (or pancetta)

Maldon sea salt

freshly ground black pepper

The essence of a tortilla is patience. First, whisk up the egg and yolks in a mixing jug and set this aside. With the fine flat blade of a mandolin, finely slice the potatoes. Heat lots of olive oil or butter on a low heat in a good non-stick frying pan. This is so that the potatoes (with their high starch content) don’t stick to the bottom of the pan. Add the potatoes and attentively turn them, while also allowing them to become golden in parts. When they are beginning to look transparent, after about 20 minutes, use a flat-ended wooden spoon to slightly mash them up. In doing so, the potato pieces will be able to lie side by side to make a compact cake like a jigsaw puzzle.

Chop the balsamic onions (or pancetta) and scatter over the potatoes. Season with lots of pepper and salt, and then pour in the egg mix. This should be just enough to bind the tortilla, which is much lighter on the egg front than an omelette. Continue to cook on a very low heat until it begins to come away from the edge of the pan. Using a flat plate, turn out the tortilla so that it can then be returned to the pan to brown the top side. This will take 5 minutes, much less time than the first side. When you are happy with the golden colour, remove from the pan, and slice like a cake.

Hot Spanish Squid

1 red pepper

4 garlic cloves

2 chillies

lots of olive oil

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon caraway seeds

3 tubes of squid

1 teaspoon golden caster sugar

juice of 1 lemon

¹/₂ bunch of fresh parsley

For the squid dish, deseed the pepper and cut into hunks. Whiz them up with the peeled garlic and the chillies to make a purée, using a hand-held blender or Magimix. Warm some olive oil in a pan and fry the paprika, cumin and caraway seeds. This is the best way to release the aromas of spices. After a few minutes’ frying, add the pepper purée. Cook at a very low heat for about half an hour, or until the juices are a little reduced. If it begins to dry out, add a tablespoon of water at a time to loosen and continue breaking down the flavours. During this time, rinse the squid under a cold running tap and chop into rings 1cm wide (you may need to remove the cartilage, which lies inside the white squid sac. See Feasting Fiestas, page 121). Add this to the pan at the last minute, along with the sugar, lemon juice and parsley, which should be roughly chopped. It will need a minute or two to combine all the flavours and cook the squid, which will go from milky clear to white, but not rubbery please. You may need to add another teaspoon of sugar to balance the flavours, so taste to check.

Garlic Fried Prawns

6 garlic cloves

1 fresh chilli

a big knob of butter

12 large king prawns

1 glass of white wine or rosé

To cook the prawns, heat the butter in a pan, peel and finely chop the garlic and chilli and throw them into the pan. Allow them to fry long enough to smell but not turn brown; a few minutes. Add the prawns and then the wine, so that they have just enough time to turn from translucent to pinky-white, and the alcohol from the wine has had time to evaporate. You will need to turn over the large prawns so that each side gets well cooked. It will take 3 to 5 minutes. Then take off the heat. Roll up your sleeves, and enjoy the mess.

Vietnamese Salad with Steak

For 2

This salad will always remind me of a summer date, in the early throes of romance. We’d been to a private view at my friend Piero’s gallery, and when we finally hailed a taxi back to Brixton it was much later than expected. Luckily for my date, I’d thought ahead: the fresh, crunchy flavours of the Vietnamese salad had been marinating all afternoon, and so we were at the table in minutes, devouring this awesome Asian feast.

I mix and match the salad ingredients according to my mood: sometimes heavy on the carrots, sometimes lighter on the coriander. With noodles. With poached chicken pieces. It’s an endlessly evolving prototype, so feel free to experiment. Whatever you decide on, this dish is full of colour and texture and abundance and is really impressive.

I cannot stress enough how much I love my mandolin slicer. It makes everything that comes under its knife look seriously svelte. And where a grater releases a lot of the juices, a mandolin is sharp enough to leave the vegetables unbruised. There are few things that are imperative in a kitchen, but I would say that the mandolin is one. So…

The Salad

4 medium carrots

1 red pepper

1 yellow pepper

3 spring onions

3 tablespoons slightly salted peanuts

a big handful of fresh coriander

a big handful of fresh mint

juice of 1 lime

2 teaspoons fish sauce

2 tablespoons peanut oil

2¹/₂ tablespoons rice vinegar

1 dessertspoon soy sauce

1 teaspoon sugar

With a mandolin slicer on the fine setting, slice the peeled carrots over a nice big salad bowl. Slice the peppers and spring onions lengthways into matching shards. If you have a Magimix, pulse the peanuts to crumbs, but not dust. I usually put them into a plastic bag and attack them with a rolling pin, which can look a little crazed if someone unexpected finds their way into the kitchen. Finely chop the herbs and then mix everything together in the bowl with your hands. Finally mix up the remaining ingredients with a fork and pour over your salad.

The Steak

2 fillet steaks, weighing about 180g each

5 tablespoons soy sauce

freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon soya paste (which can be bought at Korean and Japanese supermarkets: see My Favourite Places to Eat, Drink & Shop, page 338)

2 tablespoons peanut oil

Now for the steak: first, don’t hold back on the price, especially if you like it rare, because if it is not good quality it will be tough. Although I don’t advocate big spending, it really is worth it here. Marinate the steaks in 3 tablespoons of the soy sauce and lots of black pepper for an hour at the least. Meanwhile, thoroughly mix the remaining soy sauce with the soya paste. This will be the accompanying dipping sauce for rare steaks.

In a heavy-bottomed pan, heat the oil so that it is piping hot. Add the steaks and turn down to a medium heat. Fry them for just long enough so that they are sealed and browning in parts, which will be about 4 minutes on the first side. Flip and do the same on the other side, adding any leftover soy sauce to the pan. For rare steak, when you press it, it should feel like the flesh between your thumb and index finger, when spanned and relaxed. Remove quickly from the pan, and serve up with the salad as a vibrant feast.

Pyrenean Duck with Champ

For 2

The fattiness of a duck breast is amazing, and anyone who removes it is insane. The best duck I have ever eaten was with Pat, in the heart of the Gers. We were staying at his parents’ beautiful home, in the shadow of the Pyrenees. They fried it on their open fire and we all huddled around to ward off the January frosts. It was a rare and wonderful moment. The skin of the bird became sweet and crisp, but the flesh was still rare and tender. Sheer indulgence, and possibly the best way to eat this game.

In this recipe, the aim is to have really crisp skin on top and tender, rare flesh underneath. When you carve the breasts, a fair amount of juice will run out. Catch this, and pour over the champ after plating it all up. This meal is great for real meat lovers, with wonderfully conventional tastes. I tested the recipe out on the lovely Miranda and Mr Smiley, and even converted him to the merits of fruit with meat, so was very satisfied indeed. The fruit against the tangy champ is yet another great dynamic on the plate. Serve with a little broccoli or wilted spinach leaves or green beans.

The Champ

500g King Edward potatoes, or any other British floury variety

6 spring onions

50g butter

100ml double cream

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

Peel the potatoes and cut them into quarters. Place in a large saucepan of water and bring to the boil. Put a lid on top, and simmer on a medium heat until they slip off a sharp knife (up to half an hour). In the meantime, finely chop the spring onions, using as much of the green parts as you can. Drain the potatoes and return them to the pan. Add the butter and the cream. Mash thoroughly, until creamy and smooth, then season with pepper and salt. Champ is much more velvety than its English brother mash, so really put some elbow grease into it. You could even use a hand-held whisk. Finally, add the spring onions.

The Duck

2 duck breasts

50g butter

1 nectarine

Now for the breasts: score the skins so that you go almost as deep as the flesh. Using a griddle pan, if you have one, heat the butter on a medium to high heat so that it is near to smoking. Attentively place the duck in the pan, skin side down. This will create some serious spitting. Fry for 10 minutes, or until the skin is beginning to brown and become crispy, then turn the breasts over. Continue to cook, allowing all the fat to melt out of the bird, while finely slicing the nectarine. Once the breasts have had another 5 minutes and they are to your taste (like steak, it is up to you how rare you want them – for me, the bloodier the better), remove and let them relax on a chopping board. Add the sliced nectarine to the pan, so it cooks in the duck juices. Quickly pan-fry for a few minutes, then with a heavy fork mash it a little so that it is almost like a chutney. Carve the duck into morsels and pile the champ on to the plate, with the nectarine alongside.

A Ceviche Fish-off with Corona & Guacamole & Tomato Salsa

For 2

I’m planning a fish-off with Raf. He’s going to cook tuna marinated in grapefruit juice and soy sauce, and I’m seducing him with ceviche and Corona. Do eat it with beer, though: I’ve made the mistake of eating this with red wine, and spent a good few minutes hopping around trying to assuage the heat of the chillies.

Most famously from Peru, ceviche is seafood marinated in lime juice. You can use any white fish or shellfish: scallops, prawns, squid, sea bass, cod and so on. Partially cooked by the lime, it’s just a small step from sushi, and therefore exceedingly enticing for fish fanatics. The chilli heat is tempered by the tender fish that will melt in your sizzling mouth. The first time I made this dish, it really did blow my mind.

The flavours in the fish are fresh and zesty and chilli hot, and suit equally fresh vegetables like this salsa and guacamole. You’ll need to buy a sack of limes. You have been warned! The ceviche and salsa can be served with fried plantain, pitta, crispy tortilla chips or with the corn cakes in Dawn Chorus (on page 33). I like the pic’n’mix style – an array of little bowls to get entangled over. But of course, guacamole is one of those favourite foods that everyone loves, especially if there’s a big bowl of it in the middle of a table of waiting and drinking friends. I often make this to whet everyone’s appetite, whether having an Americas meal or not.

The Ceviche

12 tiger prawns

200g sea bass or sea bream

1 fleshy index-finger-sized chilli

2 generous handfuls of fresh coriander

6 limes

Start with the ceviche, as it needs time to marinate. You need to prepare your fish carefully, so with a very sharp knife, cut down the back of the prawns and remove the black string. Strip them of their legs and shells, carefully removing the head. Take the skin off the fish and cut into slivers about 1cm wide. Place the seafood and fish in a freezer bag. Finely chop the chilli and coriander, and add this to the bag. Squeeze in the limes and give it all a really good mix around. Tie up the bag and leave to marinate in the fridge, sitting in a bowl, for a couple of hours.

The Guacamole

2 garlic cloves

2 really ripe avocados

3 cherry tomatoes

juice of 3 limes

1 fleshy index-finger-sized chilli, with seeds

¹/₂ red onion

a small handful of fresh coriander

Maldon sea salt

freshly ground black pepper

Now for the guacamole. If you have a hand-held blender this would come in very handy. (If not, a pestle and mortar is fine.) Peel the garlic and place in a tall-sided bowl or jug. Now stone the avocados (I do this by halving the fruit then flailing a large knife into the stone, which will twist the whole thing out – precarious but effective) and scoop the bright green flesh into the bowl. Chuck in the tomatoes, and squeeze in the lime juice. Then add the chopped chilli, peeled and diced onion and roughly chopped coriander, and give it a good pulsing with the blender. Season after tasting.

The Tomato Salsa

¹/₂ cucumber

4 big tomatoes

3 garlic cloves

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

Lastly the salsa. Partly peel the cucumber, halve it lengthways and then deseed by incising either side of the seeds and scooping them out with a teaspoon. Deseed the tomatoes. Chop both finely into little cubes, peel and finely chop the garlic, and put everything into a bowl. Dress with the olive oil and season.

Frozen Berries & Grapes

For 2

This was Doctor Helen’s idea. It’s brilliant, and perfect for sharing, cuddled up on the sofa with your sweetheart. It is exactly as it says, and so couldn’t be easier. The frozen fruits come out like little bullets of sorbet, perfect for grappling over after a good feed.

berries of your choice

Choose your berries (I would suggest green grapes and blueberries, and raspberries are great too, all in season during the summer) and rinse them under a running tap. Dry them with some kitchen towel or a clean linen drying-up cloth. Leave them in a Tupperware box for at least 2 hours in the freezer, and there waiting, with no effort, are your mini sorbet jewels.

Sweet Pastry Swirls

Makes about 15 sweets

Using up off-cuts of pastry is something I end up doing a lot. It’s my family thriftiness, where all wastage was rehashed into the next meal, fed to the chickens or dogs, or put in the compost. It is a natural reflex. So if you have some leftover pastry, after making a tart, you are already halfway there. I’m cheating by calling it pudding, because it is really just something to munch on with coffee that will look effortless. In the shop I make these with cinnamon, to treat my special customers, a surprise nestling in the saucer of their cappuccino. You could also try spreading with a film of chocolate or jam – fig or quince is delicious. It is not that far from a fig roll, after all. You can really experiment.

off-cuts of pastry, about a handfu

some plain flour for rolling

1 teaspoon olive oil

1 tablespoon granulated sugar

3 tablespoons ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons warm full-fat milk

Preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas 4 and line a baking tray with greaseproof paper. Roll out the pastry on a floured surface so that it forms a long but not too wide sheet, about 10cm in width, and as long as you can make it. Create a paste by mixing the olive oil with the sugar and ground cinnamon. Add 1 tablespoon of milk to the paste to loosen it. With a palette knife, spread this evenly over the pastry. Using a pastry brush, dab some of the remaining milk along one side of the pastry sheet. Now roll it from the opposite side to create a long thin sausage. It should seal where you have dabbed it with milk when pressed. Paint the top of the sausage with the rest of the milk. Slice into 2.5cm pieces, and bake on the lined baking tray for 10 minutes, or until the pastry colours. Remove from the tray to cool, and serve with good coffee.

Affogato

For 2

This is a great way of doing something super stylish with zero effort. Perfect, therefore, for a date. It is, quite simply, ice cream drowned in espresso. There is something amazing about the contrasts of hot and bitter with ice cold and sweet. It throws your tastebuds into confusion. The added brilliance is that you can really experiment with the ice cream flavours here, though I would avoid fruit ice creams. Anything nutty works really well with the espresso. My favourite is Amaretto, but Jude’s (www.judes.co.uk) do an awesome butterscotch one too that is delicious here and perfectly sweetens the coffee.

2 small strong cups of espresso coffee (I use Molinari because it’s what I serve up at Rosie’s)

4 balls of good-quality ice cream

Boil the kettle to make a strong pot of coffee, like espresso, pouring over the water and letting the mountain of coffee settle until it can be easily plunged. You can leave it to sit for 10 minutes or more. The stronger the better, as it will get the heart racing. Meanwhile, bring the ice cream out of the freezer so it has time to soften enough for you to scoop it out. I sometimes serve this in my little Pyrex coffee cups, which I bought in France at a brocante. Put a couple of scoops in each coffee cup and bring to the table with the cafetière. Pour over an espresso-sized amount of coffee, or one part coffee to one part ice cream. Eat sooner than immediately.

Lemon Tart

For 2 with leftovers

My first experience with a serious lemon tart was in Toulouse on a mini-break. The boy in question and I had just shared a sturdy cassoulet by the cathedral, and were walking through the back streets when we stumbled on a beautiful teashop. This idyll was a heavenly Alice in Wonderland boudoir, with cakes piled high on tiered stands, and chic, sleek, gossiping French women. My eyes were on stalks and we shared the most delicious lemon tart. So delicious that it famously caused a stir in his trousers and it has been our joke ever since.

Here is my re-creation. It’s something to do with the contrast of the sweet pastry and sharp custard that does it, making your jaw ache with longing for more and more citrus custard. And it being a classic pudding means that pretty much anyone you are entertaining will fancy a slice. This sunny tart goes down a treat at Rosie’s because it’s just so perfectly tangy.

The Pastry

100g plain flour, plus extra for rolling

25g caster sugar

50g fridge-cold unsalted butter

1 medium free-range egg yolk (keep the white for meringues)

For the pastry, sift the flour and sugar together into a large bowl, and chop the butter into this. Quickly and with cold dry hands, rub in the fat until it looks like damp breadcrumbs. Separate the egg and throw the yolk into the pastry mix. With a knife, cut through the mixture to combine into a dough ball. You may need a little extra cold water to fully draw it together.

On a floured surface, roll out the pastry to fit a loose-bottomed rectangular flan tin measuring about 8 × 23cm. Sweet pastry, or pâte sucrée, is stickier than the average shortcrust, so make sure you have plenty of flour to hand. Then roll it over the tin and push in the edges, being careful not to split the pastry. Roll the pin over the tart tin to cut off any excess pastry (which you can keep aside for pastry swirls, see 69), and place in the freezer for half an hour.

Meanwhile, heat the oven to 200°C/Gas 6. When the oven is piping hot, and the pastry is really cold, you are ready to blind bake. Line the pastry tin with greased paper or tinfoil, and scatter with baking beans or dried chickpeas. Place in the oven for 10 minutes, or until the edges are beginning to brown. Keep a close eye on it. Remove the baking beans and lining paper and bake for a further couple of minutes to dry out the base. Remove from the oven to cool while you make the lemon custard filling. Keep the oven on, but reduce the temperature to 180°C/Gas 4.

The Lemon Filling

2 lemons

2 medium free-range egg yolks

2 medium free-range eggs

90g sugar (caster or icing sugar)

150ml double cream, plus a little extra for serving if you like

For the lemon custard, grate the lemon zest and combine with the egg yolks and eggs. Sift in the sugar and then add the cream. Lastly mix in the juice of the lemons. Return the pastry case to the oven shelf, and pour the filling in now. That way you can’t spill it over the edge of the pastry case in transit. Bake for about half an hour, or until the top has just stopped wobbling.

Bunty’s Brandy & Oranges

For 2

My grandmother Bunty is a great cook too. When people knew little of Mediterranean food in the 1950s and 1960s, she was churning out moussaka and pasta for her large and extended family. This dish is her moniker. Though perhaps it’s brandy that is her signature really. Brought up in France, she has a tipple in her coffee every morning to jump-start her day. The brandy is a good way to inject a little life into your lover, as it has a tendency to make the heart rather palpitate.

The key to this simple dish, apart from being utterly delicious and full of kick, is in the presentation: either laying the slivers of orange out flat on a pretty, decorated serving plate, or piling them up in coloured glasses or flutes with a brandy and juice pool enticing you at the bottom.

4 oranges (I sometimes use blood oranges)

2 tablespoons granulated sugar

6 tablespoons water

8 tablespoons brandy

With a very sharp serrated knife, peel the oranges, removing all the pith. Slice them finely into roundels and arrange, as you will serve them, either in a beautiful bowl or a couple of flutes, catching the orange juice.

In a small saucepan, make a caramel syrup with the sugar, water and excess orange juice. Warm this on a low heat to reduce. It should begin to darken and thicken. When this has just turned a golden brown colour, but before it burns, pour the brandy over the oranges, and then this syrup. You can do all of this in advance. Resist serving with cream, as it curdles with the juice of the fruit. In winter, adding a cinnamon stick to the syrup will add warmth, while in summer you could add a sprig of mint.

FEASTING FIESTAS

I love dinner parties. Plotting, inviting, shopping, scrubbing, cooking…and devising the menu to fit my hatching plan: are we having a drawn-out dinner with red wine and kitchen dancing, and lots of courses, or are we having an impressive but light meal before going out like an army of ravers? And then, have we got enough chairs? I usually over-invite and end up with a ram of people around a small table. And then there is the mixing of friends, old and new. I love the melting pot.

My parents were always feeding people, beautifully, on a shoestring. Flowers crept in from the garden, chard and borage picked from the vegetable patch. My dad polished candlesticks, with Jimmy Cliff records playing in the background. As they sat down to eat, I’d sit in the dark at the top of the stairs and eavesdrop on all the family secrets. And when we were a little older, my brother Olly and I were included in these feasts of gratin, salmon and hollandaise.

My dinners are a little more informal than my parents’. I expect people to help themselves and clear the plates and really get stuck in. I probably cook more laid-back food, and things are always a bit makeshift, and quite often I forget some ingredients and have to improvise. When Alice and I lived together in a tiny little flat above a fishmonger, with no natural light, we managed to feed a stream of friends, and all around our glass-topped desk. And we were constantly broke too, so it was a thrifty but consistently exuberant business.

Esme’s Hot Wings, Daddy’s Jamaican Ackee & Saltfish, Fried Plantain & Coconut Coleslaw

For 8

My dad had a few Jamaican girlfriends in his youth, before he met my mum. He picked up this dish too, ackee and saltfish. It’s one of my all-time far-out favourites. When I moved to London with him, aged eighteen, I’d beg him to make this, whenever we were having Peckham dinner parties. Ackee is a delicate yellow fruit that feels a little like a tender egg yolk, and looks brainy. The fish is salted to preserve it, like the Spanish bacalao, and is the perfect wedding to the ackee. And of course, the ingredients are everywhere in abundance in Brixton market.

Esme, of Esme’s hot wings, is the wonderful Jamaican lady who runs an organic vegetable shop opposite mine in the market. She’s a real mum, and has always looked after me. This is her spicy marinade. The reason I started making hot wings is that I’m a horror, and love the odd late-night takeaway. My glamorous funny friend Zezi and I have been known to devour more than a box each, after a night out. So I figured it was better for me to learn to make them for myself than to gorge in such a rotten way. These hot wings are good for a summer picnic too.

Esme’s Hot Wings

3 fresh plump tomatoes

1 medium onion

2 large chillies

juice of 1 lime

1 teaspoon mild curry powder

2 teaspoons cayenne pepper

1 tablespoon soy sauce

3 teaspoons caster sugar

1 teaspoon ground cloves

2 tablespoons self-raising flour

2 teaspoons table salt

16 medium chicken wings, organic if you can find them

Preheat the oven to 150°C/Gas 2. If you have a blender this will come in really handy now. If you don’t, then you are going to have to finely chop the ingredients thoroughly to form a blended marinade and possibly use a potato masher to really pulverise them. Back to the blender though: roughly chop the tomatoes, peel the onion and place in a blender along with the chillies and lime juice. Use the pulse to blend the vegetables, and then add the curry powder, cayenne pepper, soy sauce, sugar and cloves. Pulse again so that it is a watery paste, and no one thing is visible. It should be a pale red. Now add the self-raising flour and salt and pulse again.

Pour this marinade over the chicken wings and give it a thorough mix around so that the pieces are entirely coated. Decant the hot wings to a non-stick baking tray and place in the oven for 1¹/₂ hours, turning about three times during this period. When you turn the wings, make sure you really coat and scoop them round in the marinade. Inevitably, some of this marinade will have stuck to the pan. So when you remove the chicken from the pan, make sure you are fastidious in getting all of it out. Lather any of this remaining sauce over the chicken pieces. You can eat these either warm or cold. And they are great to munch on when you get home and in need of a little salt; just remember to wash your face before you go to bed.

Ackee & Saltfish

I recently had an excellent ackee and saltfish with Raf. He took me, and the famous poet Derek Meins, to Lundies in Brockley. They make the best jerk pork I’ve ever tasted. It is succulent and amazingly slow-cooked. And the ackee and saltfish was deliciously made, full of soft onions and strips of green pepper. So I’ve incorporated some of their style into my dad’s recipe, and also the fine advice of my gigantic Jamaican hustler friend Larry, who recommends adding either tomatoes or tomato ketchup. This is the endearing way in which recipes grow and evolve.

800g skinless and boneless saltfish pieces

2 tablespoons coconut oil

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

4 medium onions

2 green peppers

6 rashers of unsmoked bacon

2 teaspoons cayenne pepper

1 × 400g tin of chopped tomatoes

4 teaspoons fresh thyme

a pinch of granulated sugar

2 × 540g tins of ackee in salt water

You need to soak the saltfish for at least 12 hours. This is very important, as it will clean off all the preserving salt. If you don’t, you will have a seriously parching dinner. Once it has thoroughly soaked, rinse the fish under a running tap and set aside. Heat the coconut oil in a large saucepan on a low flame and fry the cinnamon and nutmeg briefly to release the flavours. Meanwhile, peel and slice the onions into thin strips, and deseed and finely slice the peppers. Add these to the pan, and gently fry for a few minutes to soften. Now cut the bacon into finger-width strips and add to the pan. Sweat for a further few minutes before adding the cayenne pepper, tinned tomatoes, thyme and sugar. Place a lid on the pan and simmer for half an hour, so that the onions are as soft and sweet as they are at Lundies. Now add the rinsed saltfish and simmer for another 5 minutes. Finally, drain and rinse the ackee very carefully, as they break up easily. Add to the saucepan for just long enough for them to warm through, stirring as little as possible.

Coconut Coleslaw

4 large carrots

the same amount of white cabbage as carrots

2 tablespoons groundnut oil

1 lemon or lime

2 tablespoons desiccated coconut

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