Copyright

4th Estate

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.4thEstate.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by 4th Estate in 2019

Text copyright © Nigel Slater 2019

All recipe photographs © Jonathan Lovekin 2019

Except p. 183 and p. 279 © Nigel Slater 2019

Brushstrokes copyright © Tom Kemp 2019

Nigel Slater asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

Design by David Pearson

Author photograph by Jenny Zarins

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

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Source ISBN: 9780008213770

Ebook Edition © August 2019 ISBN: 9780008218171

Version: 2019-08-21

For James

Tom Kemp

Tom Kemp has had a couple of careers. He trained formally as a theoretical computer scientist and followed a sequence of post-doctoral research and programming posts. In parallel, he was learning to be an artist by studying the writings of ancient manuscripts, not their content but how they were made. In particular, he worked out the details of a Roman signwriting technique which has informed all his brushwork, both readable and abstract. This calligraphic training led to a deeper pursuit of writing in general and artworks in many media, including graffiti and digital work. Along the way he learned to make porcelain vessels on a potter’s wheel, an activity he describes as ‘calligraphy in 3D’, and these now form the large surfaces on which he continues to write.

tomkemp.com

Instagram @tom_kemp_

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Tom Kemp

Introduction

Winter Basics

A BROWN VEGETABLE STOCK

OATS, DRIED MULBERRIES, DATE SYRUP

In a Pan

ARTICHOKES, BEANS, GREEN OLIVES

AUBERGINES, GINGER, TAMARIND

BRUSSELS SPROUTS, BROWN RICE, MISO

BURRATA, BEANS, TOMATOES

BUTTERNUT, BREADCRUMBS, CURRY POWDER

BUTTERNUT, FETA, EGGS

EGGS, EDAMAME, BEAN SPROUTS

FENNEL, PEAS, HALLOUMI

JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES, PISTACHIOS, GRAPES

MUSHROOMS, HUMMUS, HERBS

PARSLEY, PARMESAN, EGGS

PUMPKIN, ONIONS, ROSEMARY

RAINBOW CHARD, EGG, NOODLES

TOFU, RADISH, PONZU

On Toast

BEETROOT, APPLE, GOAT’S CURD

CRUMPETS, CREAM CHEESE, SPINACH

EGGS, SPINACH, BREAD

LEEKS, CAERPHILLY, MUSTARD

MUSHROOMS, BLUE CHEESE, TOASTING MUFFINS

NAAN, MOZZARELLA, TOMATOES

In the Oven

ARTICHOKES, WINTER ROOTS, SMOKED SALT

BRUSSELS SPROUTS, SMOKED MOZZARELLA, DILL

BUTTER BEANS, PEPPERS, AUBERGINES

CABBAGE, BERBERE SPICE, CRUMBS

CARROTS, SPICES, PANEER

CAULIFLOWER, ONIONS, BAY

CHEDDAR, TARRAGON, EGGS

CHEESE, THYME, GRAPES

CHICKPEAS, RADICCHIO, BUTTER BEANS

FENNEL, CREAM, PINE KERNELS

LENTILS, SWEET POTATO, TOMATOES

MUSHROOMS, CHICKPEAS, TAHINI

ONIONS, TALEGGIO, CREAM

PARSNIPS, SHALLOTS, GOAT’S CURD

PARSNIPS, SMOKED GARLIC, FETA

POTATOES, BRUSSELS SPROUTS

POTATOES, SWEET POTATOES, CREAM

POTATOES, TAHINI, THYME

POTATOES, TOMATOES, HORSERADISH

PUMPKIN, CHICKPEAS, ROSEMARY

PUMPKIN, COUSCOUS, DATE SYRUP

PUMPKIN, MUSTARD, CREAM

SWEET POTATO, JALAPEÑOS, BEANS

SWEET POTATOES, TOMATOES

On a Plate

APPLES, BLUE CHEESE, WALNUTS

BEETROOT, BLOOD ORANGE, WATERCRESS

MUSHROOMS, ORANGE, BREADCRUMBS

RED CABBAGE, CARROTS, SMOKED ALMONDS

With a Crust

FILO PASTRY, CHEESE, GREENS

LEEKS, PARSNIPS, PASTRY

LEEKS, TOMATO, PECORINO

SHALLOTS, APPLES, PARMESAN

SWEDE, MUSHROOM, GRUYÈRE, THYME

SWEET POTATO, PUFF PASTRY

With a Ladle

BEETROOT, LENTILS, GARAM MASALA

BEETROOT, SAUERKRAUT, DILL

BLACK-EYED BEANS, ROSEMARY, KALE

BRUSSELS TOPS, BLUE CHEESE

CELERIAC, HORSERADISH, PUMPERNICKEL

CHEDDAR, CIDER, MUSTARD

FENNEL, CUCUMBER, MINT

MUSHROOMS, BUTTERNUT, SOURED CREAM

NOODLES, LENTILS, SOURED CREAM

ORZO, SMOKED MOZZARELLA, THYME

TAHINI, SESAME, BUTTERNUT

On the Hob

AUBERGINE, TOMATO, COCONUT MILK

CARROTS, RICE, CORIANDER

FREGOLA, GREENS, PECORINO

GNOCCHI, PEAS, EGG YOLK

HARICOT BEANS, RICE, ONIONS

LENTILS, SWEDE, PAPRIKA

MILK, MUSHROOMS, RICE

MOGRABIA, TOMATOES, LABNEH

MUSHROOMS, SPINACH, RICE

ORECCHIETTE, CAULIFLOWER, CHEESE

PARSNIPS, CASHEWS, SPICES

PEARL BARLEY, KALE, GOAT’S CHEESE

POLENTA, GARLIC, MUSHROOMS

POLENTA, THYME, TALEGGIO

RICE, BROCCOLI, PAK CHOI

RICE, LEMON, LIME

SWEET POTATO, COCONUT MILK, CASHEWS

TAGLIATELLE, DILL, MUSHROOMS

TOMATO, CHILLIES, UDON

Pudding

APPLES, CINNAMON, PUFF PASTRY

APPLES, GINGER CAKE, CUSTARD

APPLES, OATS, CHOCOLATE

APPLES, PEARS, RYE

BANANAS, BUTTER, PUFF PASTRY

CHOCOLATE, DRIED FRUIT, PISTACHIOS

CHOCOLATE, DULCE DE LECHE, CANTUCCI

CHOCOLATE, ORANGE ZEST, CANDIED PEEL

DAMSON, ALMOND, SUNFLOWER SEEDS

GINGER CAKE, CARDAMOM, MAPLE SYRUP

HAZELNUTS, BLOOD ORANGES, RICOTTA

ICE CREAM, CHOCOLATE, SHERRY

CRANBERRY, MINCEMEAT, MERINGUE

PAPAYA, PASSION FRUIT, MINT

PEARS, RED WINE, PECORINO

PUDDING RICE, ROSEWATER, APRICOTS

SHERRY, BLOOD ORANGES, CREAM

RICE, MILK, FIG JAM

Index

Acknowledgements

A note on the brushstrokes

A note on the type

About the Author

Also by Nigel Slater

About the Publisher

INTRODUCTION

Dinner is different in winter. The change starts late on a summer’s evening, when you first notice the soft, familiar scent of distant woodsmoke in the sudden chill of the evening air. Then, a day or two later, a damp, mushroomy mist hovers over the gardens and parks. Later, you notice the leaves have turned silently from yellow ochre to walnut. Autumn is here once again. You may sigh, rejoice or open a bottle. For many, this is the end of their year. For me, this is when it starts, when warmth, and bonhomie come to the fore. Energy returns.

With the change of weather, supper takes on a more significant role. We are suddenly hungry. Once the nights draw in, I am no longer satisfied by plates of milky burrata and slices of sweet, apricot-fleshed melon. No more am I content with a bowl of couscous with peaches, soft cheese and herbs for dinner. What I crave now is food that is both cosseting and warming, substantial and deeply satisfying. Food that nourishes but also sets me up for going back out in the cold and wet. And yet, I still find my diet is heavily plant-based with less emphasis on meat. It is simply the way it has progressed over the years and shows little sign of abating.

At the start of the longest half of the year, our appetite is pricked by the sudden drop in temperature, and as evenings get longer, we have the opportunity to spend a little more time in the kitchen. To mash beans into buttery clouds. Simmer vegetable stews to serve with bowls of couscous. To bring dishes of sweet potato to melting tenderness in spiced cream. And of course, the pasta jar comes out again.

My cold weather eating is more substantial than the food I eat for the rest of the year. Dinner becomes about one main dish rather than several lighter ones, and the focus shifts towards keeping warm. On returning home I will now happily spend an hour cooking. Maybe a little longer.

The oven gets more use at this time of year, the grill and griddle probably less. More food will come to the table in deep casseroles and pie dishes. I dig out my capacious ladle for a creamed celeriac soup as soft as velvet. The temperature of the plates and bowls will change. We want to hold things that warm our hands, a sign of the happiness to come.

There will be carbs. They protect and energise us. They bring balm to our jagged nerves. (Winter is nature’s way of making us eat carbohydrates.) Crusts – of pastry, breadcrumbs and crumble – add substance; potatoes fill and satisfy and there is once again a huge sourdough loaf on the table. Rice and noodles are no longer a side dish, and now become the heart and soul of dinner.

My autumn and winter cooking is every bit as plant-based as the food I make in the summer; it just has a bit more heft to it. Shallow bowls of rice cooked with milk and thyme in the style of a risotto. A verdant, filling soup of Brussels sprouts and blue cheese. A saffron-coloured stew of sour cream, herbs and noodles. Translucent fritters in a pool of melted cheese. Golden mushrooms astride a cloud of soft, yellow polenta. There is a tangle of noodles and tomato, peppery with chilli; roast parsnips and baked pumpkin; a wide earthenware dish of sweet potatoes and lentils glowing like a lantern, a herb-freckled crumble of leeks and tomato or swedes and thyme in a pastry crust and a tarte Tatin of soft golden shallots and autumn apples. It is all here, between these pumpkin-coloured covers.

This is also the season for ‘something on toast’. By toast I mean not only bread cut thick and rough-edged, but toasted bagels and crumpets, muffins and naan. Any soft dough that will crisp under the grill and will support a cargo of vegetables or is happy to be slathered with a thick wave of crème fraîche or hummus, roast vegetables or perhaps cheese to melt and bubble.

And, of course, there must be pudding. An early autumn crumble of damsons and almonds. Chocolate puddings (you really must make the ones with dulce de leche). Ginger cake with a cardamom cream and a custard pudding set with cake and apples. There will be nut-encrusted shortbreads with blood orange and baked apples with crisp crumbs and cranberries. I expect syllabubs and baked pears on the table, pastries laden with a golden dice of apples and scones pebble-dashed with nibs of dark chocolate.

I probably eat more puddings during the cold months, but mainly at the weekend. The main course recipes in this book are predominantly for two; the puddings, though, are all for four or more. You can’t really make a tart for two or a tiny batch of scones. The recipes are made for sharing with friends and family. That said, most of them are rather fine eaten the following day. Especially those little chocolate puddings.

A note on volume 1. Greenfeast: spring, summer.

Like all my books, the first volume of Greenfeast was written from and about my own kitchen. That it found itself welcomed by quite so many came as something of a pleasant surprise. I have lost count of the number of people who in the last few months have told me that this is the way they eat now, as an ‘almost vegetarian.’

The idea that so many people’s everyday eating is going through such a change and that meat is no longer our first thought when working out what we want to eat, is heartening to say the least. Apparently I am not the only person for whom meat is still looked forward to but as a once- or twice-a-week treat, not the knee-jerk star of every meal. I knew this was happening (you would have to live under a stone not to) but I genuinely hadn’t realised how widely and quickly the change has come about.

Yes, vegan cooking and full-blown vegetarianism is on the rise, but there are far more people who seem to prefer a less rigid approach to their eating. This makes sense on so many levels, but when all is said and eaten it is simply that the options for cooking without meat have never been more varied or delicious. There has never been a better time to celebrate the move towards a mostly plant-based diet.

WINTER STOCK

A good vegetable stock is worth its weight in gold on a winter’s day. As the nights draw in, we probably need a stock altogether deeper, richer and more ballsy than the delicate, vegetal liquids we might use in summer. Something that behaves more like a brown meat stock. Such a broth is immensely useful in my kitchen as a base for the heartier non-meat recipes that form the backbone of my daily eating, but also as something restoring to drink as you might a cup of miso. The colour must be dark and glossy, the flavour deeply, mysteriously herbal with a hint of mushroom and there should be a roasted back note, the sort you find in a long-simmered meat stock.

As you proceed, the kitchen will fill with the smell of onions, celery and carrots, which you roast with miso paste, then remove from the oven and simmer for a good hour with thyme, bay and shiitake. You could slip in a sheet of kombu for an extra layer of depth if you like.

The broth will need straining and separating from its spent aromatics, its deep, almost mahogany liquor dripping slowly into a glass bowl. The liquor can be used immediately, or kept in the fridge, covered, for up to a week.

Such a stock is a bowl of pure treasure. You can drink it like broth, dipping thick hunks of bread or focaccia into it; you can use it as base for a soup, adding steamed cauliflower or shredded cabbage, parsley and croutons, or add noodles, skeins of udon or little pasta stars to twinkle in the dark, mushroomy depths. Whenever the word ‘stock’ appears in a recipe, use it neat or let it down with a little water to taste. And it will freeze too, though I suggest in small containers, so it defrosts quickly.

And when all is said and done, is there anything quite so restoring as coming home to a bowl of deeply layered, smoky stock, to bubble on the stove, to which you add pieces of hot toast, letting them slowly swell with the bosky, fungal, roasted flavours from the bowl.

WINTER PORRIDGE

A winter’s day should start well. A steaming bowl of something to see us on our way. I invariably choose porridge. An oat-based slop to satisfy and strengthen, to bolster and soothe, to see me through till I get where I’m going. A sort of internal duffel coat. I doubt it will just be porridge of course, but porridge with bells and whistles: a trickle of treacle, a pool of crème fraîche, ribbons of maple syrup or a puddle of yoghurt. There may be golden sultanas and dried mulberries, pistachios or toasted almonds and perhaps some baked figs or slices of banana.

Porridge doesn’t necessary mean oats. You could use rye grain or barley and milk or water as you wish. There might be salt or sugar, cinnamon or ground cardamom or toasted pumpkin seeds. If I remember, there will be stewed fruit too: apples perhaps, or dried apricots cooked with sugar or honey. Porridge is never just porridge in my house. It is a winter staple, one of the building blocks of the season and something I could never think of being without.

A BROWN VEGETABLE STOCK

Deep flavours. A herbal, umami-rich stock for winter cooking.

Makes about 2 litres

onions, medium 2

carrots 250g

celery 2 sticks

garlic a small, whole head

light miso paste 3 tablespoons

water 80ml, plus 3 litres

dried shiitake mushrooms 50g

rosemary 5 sprigs

thyme 10 sprigs

bay leaves 3

black peppercorns 12

dried kombu 10g

Set the oven at 180°C/Gas 4. Peel and roughly chop the onions, then place in a roasting tin together with the skins. Similarly chop the carrots and celery sticks, then mix with the onions and the head of garlic, separated into cloves.

Mix together the miso paste and 80ml of water, then stir into the vegetables, coating them lightly. Bake for about an hour, tossing the vegetables once or twice during cooking, until everything is brown, fragrant and toasty.

Transfer the roasted vegetables and aromatics to a deep saucepan, add the shiitake, rosemary, thyme, bay, peppercorns and the sheets of kombu, then pour a little of the reserved water into the roasting tin, scrape at the sticky, caramelised bits stuck to the tin, then pour into the saucepan. Add the remaining water. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and leave to simmer, partially covered with a lid, for fifty minutes to an hour.

When you have a deep brown, richly coloured broth, tip through a sieve into a heatproof bowl or large jug and leave to cool. Refrigerate and use as necessary.

• Keeps for up to one week in the fridge.

OATS, DRIED MULBERRIES, DATE SYRUP

The solace of porridge. The sweetness of dried fruits.

Serves 2

porridge oats 100g

dried mulberries 50g

golden sultanas 75g

cream or crème fraîche 4 tablespoons

date syrup 2 tablespoons

Put the oats and 400ml of water into a small saucepan and bring them to the boil. Add a good pinch of salt and stir the oats continuously for four or five minutes with a wooden spoon until the porridge is thick and creamy.

Divide between two bowls, then add the dried mulberries and golden sultanas. Add spoonfuls of crème fraîche, then trickle over the date syrup.

• I often use dried apricots in place of the mulberries, but cranberries and dried cherries are good alternatives.

• The sweetness of the date syrup can be balanced by a spoon or two of stewed tart apples.

On a winter’s evening, I warm butter and olive oil in a shallow-sided, cast-iron pan, turn the heat down low and use it to fry thin slices of potato, Jerusalem artichoke or fennel. Vegetables that will crisp or soften as you wish, and to which I can add other ingredients at will – sweet black grapes and whole parsley leaves to the crisp artichokes; peas and salty cheese to the softened fennel. I do the same with slices of pumpkin or butternut squash, then introduce feta or breadcrumbs or perhaps a fried egg whose yolk will double as an impromptu sauce.

A heavy frying pan in which you can leave things to cook at a moderate temperature is worth its weight in gold. It is the gift I would give to a kid leaving home. The possibilities are endless. Mushrooms, sliced and sautéed with herbs to pile on a mound of silken hummus; beans whose outsides slowly crisp in olive oil and are then tossed with tomatoes and a wobbly egg of burrata; Brussels sprouts fried with miso paste to a deep walnut brown, then forked through sticky brown rice. They all give a substantial green and deeply savoury supper. The list is endless.

The success often lies in the pan itself. A pitted or wobbly-based pan will produce uneven results. Sometimes you need a thin-bottomed pan in which to flash-fry, other times a pan as heavy as possible that will hold the heat and which can be left to do its task while you get on with other elements of dinner. Choose your weapon.

It is worth finding a suitable lid. Especially if you are cooking vegetables that need to be brought gently to tenderness before a final crisping, such as potatoes, parsnips and carrots. The sort of heavyweight pans I find so useful for slow winter cooking often come without a lid, so it is not a bad idea to find one that fits before you leave the shop.

I am very fond of my old iron sauté pans, but they do need a bit of care when you first get them home. A good oiling with linseed oil, a long, slow bake in the oven and a careful dry before putting them away will give them a chance to develop a patina, a naturally non-stick layer that will, unlike a commercial non-stick finish, see you through a lifetime of suppers.

ARTICHOKES, BEANS, GREEN OLIVES

Crisp beans and fried artichokes. Dinner from the deli.

Serves 2

green olives, stoned 200g

olive oil 100ml

basil 20 leaves

lemon juice 75ml

parsley leaves from a small bunch

black garlic 2 cloves

olive oil, for frying 2 tablespoons

haricot beans 1 × 400g can

fine ground polenta 6 tablespoons

eggs 2

artichokes in oil 350g

groundnut oil, for deep frying

Put the olives into the jug of a blender, then add the olive oil, basil leaves, lemon juice, parsley leaves and black garlic. Reduce to a thick purée.

Warm the olive oil in a shallow pan that doesn’t stick, drain the beans and add them to the pan, then let them cook over a moderate heat, turning occasionally, until they are lightly crisp.

Put the polenta on a large plate. Break the eggs into a shallow dish and mix the yolks and whites together lightly with a fork. If the artichokes are whole, then slice them in half. Roll each half in the beaten egg, then place in the polenta and turn over, pressing down firmly to coat evenly.

Heat the groundnut oil, add the artichokes and fry till golden and crisp. Lift each from the oil and drain briefly on kitchen paper before dividing between two plates. Serve with the crisp beans and the olive paste and, if you wish, a wedge of lemon.

• Make a black olive paste if you prefer, using stoned black olives. I would also be tempted to add a pinch of dried chilli flakes when you blend the ingredients.

• You can use breadcrumbs instead of polenta. Sieve fresh dry crumbs on to a plate and roll the artichokes in them after coating in egg.

AUBERGINES, GINGER, TAMARIND

Hot, sweet, sour.

Serves 2

lime juice 100ml (about 2 limes)

ginger 30g

fish sauce 3 teaspoons

palm sugar 4 teaspoons

hot red chilli 1

hot green chilli 1

tamarind paste 4 teaspoons

groundnut oil 2 tablespoons

aubergines 300g

For the apple yoghurt:

mint leaves 12

a small apple

white wine vinegar 2 tablespoons

natural yoghurt 200ml

Put the lime juice into a mixing bowl. Peel and grate the ginger, stirring the resulting paste into the lime juice. Pour in the fish sauce, then stir in the palm sugar until dissolved.

Finely chop the red and green chillies, removing the seeds if you wish, then add them to the marinade with the tamarind paste and groundnut oil, combining the ingredients thoroughly.

Cut the aubergines in half lengthways, then into wedges as you might a melon. Now cut each wedge in half. Put the aubergines into the marinade, turn to coat and set aside for a good half hour. During this time they will soften a little.

Make the apple yoghurt: finely chop the mint leaves and put them in a small mixing bowl. Grate the apple into the bowl, it can be as coarse or as fine as you wish, then stir in the white wine vinegar and yoghurt, cover and set aside.

To cook the aubergines, heat a cast-iron griddle (and switch on the extractor). Place the aubergines on the griddle and leave to brown on the underside. Turn, loosening them from the griddle with a palette knife, and brown the other side. Keep the heat low to moderate, and make sure they are cooked right through – they must be fully tender.

Serve the aubergines, hot from the griddle, with the apple yoghurt sauce.

• Cut the aubergines in slices or wedges, as the fancy takes you. There will, I assure you, be much smoke, so switch on the extractor or open a window. Better still, cook them outside on the barbecue. Arm yourself with a palette knife to gently prise them from the bars of the griddle. I like to keep the heat no hotter than medium to give the aubergine time to cook through to the middle, a process you can speed up by covering the aubergines with an upturned metal bowl (or a lid, if your griddle has one). If you prefer, rather than the sour apple dressing, make a dressing of olive oil, lime juice and coriander leaves.

• A twist of noodles, tossed with the merest splash of sesame oil, could be a suitable accompaniment here, as would long-grain rice, steamed and seasoned with black pepper and sesame seeds.

BRUSSELS SPROUTS, BROWN RICE, MISO

The savour of miso. The homeliness of brown rice.

Serves 2–3

brown sushi rice 190g

Brussels sprouts 750g

groundnut oil 2 tablespoons

light miso paste 1 tablespoon

Japanese pickles (tsukemono) 2 tablespoons

Put the rice in a bowl, cover with warm water, then run your fingers through the grains. Drain, repeat, then tip into a saucepan, cover with 5cm of cold water and set aside for half an hour.

Wash and trim the sprouts, then cut each in half. Bring the soaked rice to the boil in its soaking water, add half a teaspoon of salt, cover and lower the heat so the water simmers. Leave for thirty minutes or until the rice is approaching tenderness. Remove the pan from the heat and leave to rest for ten minutes before removing the lid.

Warm the oil in a shallow pan. Toss the sprouts with the miso paste, then transfer to the hot oil, moving them round the pan as they become crisp and pale golden brown.

Remove the lid from the rice, run a fork through the grains to separate them, then divide between two or three bowls. Spoon the miso sprouts into the rice and add some of the Japanese pickles.

• Fried in a little oil, the miso paste forms a fine crust on the outside of the sprouts. Serve them as an accompaniment if you wish, but I like them as the star of the show, tucked into a bowl of sticky rice and scattered with salty Japanese pickles. I serve this as it is, but also as a side dish for slices of cold roast pork and its crackling. This is sticky rice, my favourite, but you don’t want it in lumps, so running the tines of a fork through the cooked grain is a good idea.

BURRATA, BEANS, TOMATOES

Milky snow-white cheese. Toasted beans. Peppery basil.

Serves 2

garlic 3 cloves

olive oil

cannellini beans 1 × 400g can

cherry tomatoes 250g

basil leaves a handful

burrata 2 × 250g balls

Flatten the garlic cloves with the blade of a kitchen knife, then peel away the skins. Warm four tablespoons of olive oil in a shallow pan and add the garlic, letting it cook briefly over a moderate heat. Drain the cannellini beans.

Cut the tomatoes in half, pour a little more oil into the pan, then add the tomatoes and the drained cannellini. Fry briefly, for four or five minutes, until the beans are starting to crisp a little.

Tear the basil leaves and add to the beans, stirring them in gently, until they start to wilt. Divide the beans and tomatoes between two plates, add the burrata and trickle with olive oil.

• The beans will crisp deliciously around the edges if you leave them to fry in the hot oil. Stirring them too often will cause them to break up as they develop their golden shell.

• Cannellini beans are my first choice here, but butter beans are worth considering too. Green flageolet don’t seem to work quite as well, though I am not entirely sure why.

• This is one of the lighter recipes in this volume, yet each time I make it, I am surprised by how satisfying it is.

BUTTERNUT, BREADCRUMBS, CURRY POWDER

Sweet golden squash. Warm, spicy curry. Crisp crumbs.

Serves 2

onions, medium 2

carrots, large 300g

groundnut oil 3 tablespoons

butternut squash 500g

curry powder 2 teaspoons

ground turmeric 1 teaspoon

vegetable stock 500ml

panko breadcrumbs 6 tablespoons

parsley, chopped 4 tablespoons

togarashi 1–2 teaspoons

Peel and roughly chop the onions and carrots, then put them in a large saucepan with the oil and place over a moderate heat. Let the vegetables cook for ten to fifteen minutes until the onions are pale gold.

Slice the butternut into 2cm-thick rounds, deseed and peel it if you wish. When the onions are nicely golden, stir in the curry powder, ground turmeric and a little salt and fry briefly, then pour in the vegetable stock and bring to the boil. Tuck in the slices of squash and lower the heat to a simmer. Leave for fifteen minutes, then remove the squash and place half of the sauce in a blender. Process to a smooth purée, then return to the pan and keep at a low bubble for five minutes.

Toast the panko crumbs in a dry pan till golden, then toss with the chopped parsley and togarashi. Slide the squash back into the sauce for a couple of minutes, sprinkle with the parsley crumbs, then serve.

• The sauce is based on a classic katsu, which flatters the sweetness of the butternut. You can turn up the heat if you wish with a little more togarashi seasoning or even a splash of chilli sauce.

• The warmly spiced sauce is also worth trying with baked aubergine or roasted parsnips.

• Togarashi, the Japanese spice mix, can be found in major supermarkets, Japanese food shops and online.

BUTTERNUT, FETA, EGGS

Crisp, light, sweet, salty.

Makes 9 fritters. Serves 3

butternut squash 300g

garlic 2 cloves

groundnut oil

eggs 2

feta cheese 200g

plain flour 4 tablespoons

thyme leaves, chopped 1 tablespoon

parsley, chopped 3 heaped tablespoons

groundnut or vegetable oil, for deep frying

Peel and remove the seeds from the butternut squash. Push the squash through a spiraliser to give long, thin strings.

Peel the garlic and thinly slice it. Warm a little groundnut oil in a large, shallow pan, then add the garlic, let it sizzle for a couple of minutes then, as it starts to colour, drop in the squash and fry for five or six minutes till the colours are bright and the squash is tender but far from falling apart.

Separate the eggs. Make a batter by mixing together the egg yolks, crumbled feta cheese, plain flour, a grinding of black pepper and the chopped thyme leaves and parsley. Beat the egg whites till frothy, then fold into the batter. Toss the threads of butternut with the batter.

Warm enough groundnut oil in a deep, heavy pan to fry the fritters. When the oil is at 180°C, take a large spoonful of the batter-coated butternut and lower into the hot oil. Repeat with a further three or four, frying for three or four minutes till crisp and golden in colour. As each fritter is ready, remove with a draining spoon and rest on kitchen paper. Continue with spoonfuls of the batter until you have nine fritters. Serve hot.

• So good are these little fritters that I have tried them with other vegetables too, including shredded courgette (a success) and beetroot (less so). It is worth having something to dip them into, such as a cucumber, mint and yoghurt dip or a bowl of especially creamy hummus.

EGGS, EDAMAME, BEAN SPROUTS

A soft pillow of egg. A tangle of vegetables.

Serves 2

edamame beans, podded 200g

spring onions 8

pak choi 200g

garlic 3 cloves

large green chillies 2

groundnut oil 4 tablespoons

bean sprouts 200g

eggs 6

nigella seeds 2 teaspoons

coriander a handful

Bring a pan of water to the boil, add the edamame and boil till tender – about eight minutes. Drain and refresh in a bowl of iced water.

Finely chop the spring onions, discarding the roots and any tough dark green leaves. Shred the pak choi. Peel and thinly slice the garlic. Finely slice the chillies.

Warm half the groundnut oil in a large, shallow pan, fry the spring onions, garlic and chillies till soft, then add the shredded pak choi and lastly the bean sprouts, tossing them in the hot oil and cooking for three or four minutes till softened.

Break the eggs into a bowl and beat them lightly with a fork. Add the cooked and drained edamame, the fried vegetables and aromatics. Season with a little sea salt and black pepper and fold in the nigella seeds and coriander.

Warm the remaining oil in a large metal-handled frying pan, pour in the omelette mixture and fry over a moderate heat for about eight minutes, until the edges have set and the middle is still almost liquid. Heat the oven grill. Place the frying pan under the grill and continue cooking for two or three minutes until the centre of the omelette is lightly set. (Ideally, it should be a little baveuse, verging on the point of setting.) Cut in half and serve.

• To the basic mixture you can add pretty much any vegetable you have to hand, from fried mushrooms to steamed shredded cabbage. The cooking time is brief, so most vegetables will have to be lightly cooked first. Brassicas such as long-stemmed sprouting broccoli work very well, as do any late autumn beans. I especially like steamed mustard greens.

FENNEL, PEAS, HALLOUMI

Fresh green flavours for a golden autumn day.

Serves 2

fennel 300g

olive oil 3 tablespoons

halloumi 250g

For the dressing:

frozen peas 250g

basil leaves 30g

mint leaves 20g

olive oil 150ml

Trim and thinly slice the fennel, no thicker than a pound coin. Warm the 3 tablespoons of oil in your largest frying pan, place the fennel in the pan in a single layer, then season lightly and cook until the fennel is light gold on the underside. Turn each piece over and continue cooking until soft and translucent.

Slice the halloumi into pieces slightly thicker than the fennel and place them in the pan, tucking them in wherever there is a gap, overlapping where there isn’t. Let the cheese toast and turn patchily gold.

Put the frozen peas in a colander and run them under the cold tap for a few minutes till they have defrosted. Let them drain. Whizz the peas, basil and mint leaves and the oil in a food processor till almost smooth – a slightly rough texture is good – then spoon over the cheese and fennel and serve. If you have a few fennel fronds, add them at the very end.

JERUSALEM ARTICHOKES, PISTACHIOS, GRAPES

Golden carbs. Black grapes.

Serves 2–3

a lemon

Jerusalem artichokes 200g

shallots, small 6

black grapes 150g

olive oil 3 tablespoons

golden sultanas 4 tablespoons

shelled pistachios 4 tablespoons

parsley leaves a handful

Halve the lemon and squeeze the juice into a bowl. Peel the Jerusalem artichokes, then cut into rounds approximately 0.5cm thick. Put the artichokes into the bowl with the lemon juice and toss together. This will prevent them going brown.

Peel the shallots and cut them in half from stem to root. Halve and deseed the grapes. Warm the olive oil in your largest shallow pan. Add the artichokes and shallots to the hot oil, turning them over when their underside is golden and they are starting to soften.

As the artichokes become tender, add the grapes and sultanas and lastly, the pistachios and parsley.

• Small potatoes can successfully replace the artichokes. You could also use parsnips. I find it best to use parsnips that have been steamed for ten minutes before frying. They are more tender that way.

• Should you find it easier, you can roast the artichokes instead of frying them, adding the remaining ingredients to the pan once the artichokes are golden.

MUSHROOMS, HUMMUS, HERBS

Creamed chickpeas. Sizzling mushrooms.

Serves 2

double cream 250ml

chickpeas 1 × 400g can

coriander leaves and stems 10g

dill 15g

parsley 10g

king oyster mushrooms 400g

olive oil 4 tablespoons

butter 30g

garlic 4 cloves

Warm the cream and drained chickpeas in a medium-sized saucepan for five minutes over a moderate heat. Tip them into a blender or food processor with the coriander, dill and parsley and process to a thick cream. Transfer back to the saucepan and season.

Slice the mushrooms into 1cm-thick pieces. Warm the olive oil and butter in a shallow pan, add the slices of mushroom and cook till golden on both sides. You may need to add a little more oil. As each mushroom browns, remove to a plate or piece of kitchen paper.

Peel and thinly slice the garlic, cook briefly in the pan until it turns gold, then return all the mushrooms to the pan. Warm the hummus, spoon onto plates, then add the sizzling mushrooms and garlic.

• Mushrooms, fried with butter and garlic, are just one possibility here; the soft, herb-speckled purée lends itself to sitting under deep-fried artichokes or roast parsnips, baked tomatoes or wedges of baked cabbage.

• Such purées can be made and kept in a small bowl overnight in the fridge, their surface splashed with olive oil and tightly covered. Stored like this, their texture will thicken and they can be spread on slices of hot toast for a quick bite to eat when you arrive home, hungry.

PARSLEY, PARMESAN, EGGS

Warm, soft, parsley-freckled drop scones. (Picture overleaf.)

Makes 6

parsley leaves 15g

self-raising flour 180g

baking powder 1 teaspoon

a large egg

milk 220ml

Parmesan, grated 5 heaped tablespoons

butter a little

Roughly chop the parsley leaves. Put the flour in a large mixing bowl, add the baking powder and combine. (You can sieve the two together if you wish.) Break the egg into a bowl and beat lightly with a fork to combine white and yolk, mix in the milk, then stir into the flour.

Add the grated Parmesan and chopped parsley to the batter. Melt the butter in a small saucepan, then remove from the heat. In a medium, non-stick or well-used frying pan, pour a couple of tablespoons of the melted butter and let it warm over a moderate heat. Pour in a sixth of the batter, making a round approximately the size of a digestive biscuit. Repeat with two more, then let them cook for four or five minutes, checking the underside regularly for colour.

When they are puffed and golden, use a palette knife to carefully turn each one over. Leave for a further three or four minutes, then lift out and keep warm. A sound test for doneness is to touch the centre of each scone with your finger. It should feel lightly springy. Continue with the remaining batter. Serve with the pumpkin hash overleaf.

• The drop scones can be flavoured with chopped thyme or rosemary, basil or tarragon. In which case I would serve them with grilled tomatoes, lightly crushed with a fork, or chopped spinach softened with a little cream.

PUMPKIN, ONIONS, ROSEMARY

Sweet and sticky squash.

Enough for 6

pumpkin or butternut squash 700g

onions, medium 2

butter 30g

olive oil 2 tablespoons

rosemary 3 sprigs

Peel the pumpkin and cut the flesh into cubes roughly 3 x 3cm. Peel and roughly chop the onions. Warm the butter and olive oil in a large, shallow pan, add the pumpkin and onions and let them cook, with a regular stir, for about ten minutes. Finely chop the rosemary leaves, discarding the stalks, add to the pan with a little sea salt and coarsely ground black pepper, then cover with a lid and leave to cook over a low to moderate heat for about fifteen minutes.

Check the onion and pumpkin occasionally to make sure they aren’t browning too much. They are done when soft and easily crushed between your fingers. Serve with the drop scones on the previous page.

• As well as a side dish for the drop scones this can be used as the stuffing for an omelette or frittata, or served as a vegetable dish piled onto steamed rice.

• Use the recipe above with courgettes instead of pumpkin.

RAINBOW CHARD, EGG, NOODLES

A joyful tangle of noodles and greens.

Serves 2

a red chilli, medium

a green chilli, medium

a bunch of coriander 25g

garlic 1 clove

ginger a 15g piece

rainbow chard 100g

eggs 3

groundnut oil 5 tablespoons

fresh udon noodles

soy sauce to taste

sesame oil a dash

Thinly slice the chillies. Cut the coriander stems into small pieces the length of a matchstick and reserve the leaves. Peel and thinly slice the garlic. Peel the ginger, then cut into skinny matchsticks. Remove the leaves from the chard and roughly shred them, then chop the stems into short pieces.

Break the eggs into a small bowl and beat them. Warm half the oil in a large, shallow pan over a moderate heat, pour in the beaten egg and leave to set, checking the underside after a minute or two. When the omelette is golden, flip over and let the other side cook for a minute or two, then remove from the pan and tear the omelette into small pieces.

Wipe the pan clean with kitchen paper, add the remaining oil and let it sizzle. Add the ginger, garlic and chillies to the pan and fry till golden and fragrant. Add the coriander and chard stems and continue cooking for two minutes, then add the soft noodles and toss everything together.

Add in the soy sauce and a little sesame oil, add the chard and coriander leaves and the torn omelette, and continue cooking for a minute till all is hot and sizzling.

TOFU, RADISH, PONZU

A gossamer-thin, crisp crust. Trembling tofu. A salty citrus dressing.

Serves 2

soft tofu 340g

ponzu sauce 4 tablespoons

sesame oil 3 teaspoons

rice vinegar 3 tablespoons

spring onion 1

radishes 4

coriander leaves a handful

cornflour or potato flour 6 tablespoons

ginger a thumb-sized lump

oil, for deep frying

Drain the tofu on kitchen paper. Mix together the ponzu, sesame oil and rice vinegar. Trim and finely chop the spring onion, then thinly slice the radish and add both to the dressing together with the coriander leaves.

Put the cornflour or potato flour into a shallow bowl or deep plate. Cut the tofu into six large cubes. Finely grate the ginger to a purée.

Warm the oil to 180°C in a deep pan. Gently toss the cubes of tofu in the flour, then lower into the oil and fry for three or four minutes till light gold in colour. Divide the dressing between two deep bowls, lift the tofu from the oil with a draining spoon, then lower three pieces into each bowl, top with the puréed ginger and eat while the tofu is still hot and crisp.

Two little words. So much joy. I sometimes think ‘on toast’ might be the best two words in the world. That slice of toast could be heavy with butter, shining pools forming on its surface; saturated with olive oil, glistening bright with crystals of sea salt, or perhaps its golden crust is shimmering with Marmite or honey.

Toast can be a round of ‘white sliced’ popping up from the toaster; thick air-pocketed sourdough, its crust caught black under the grill; neat rectangles of dark rye, all treacle and aniseed. Then again it could be a muffin, ripped rather than sliced in half, or a crumpet whose buttery cargo has trickled deep into its holes. Toast can be focaccia or ciabatta, fruit loaf or panettone, naan or roti. In short, any dough whose surface will toast crisply and hold something delicious.

I often tuck a piece of thick toast underneath a wedge of roasted pumpkin or aubergine, the bread soaking up the juices as it cooks. Almost anything, from broccoli you have cooked in butter on the hob to a stew whose juices deserve a thick pillow to soak them up, can be piled on top of toast.

It is difficult to think of anything more instantly satisfying than a thick wodge of golden bread under a pool of melted cheese. But that is just a start. I like to cook slices of leek or onion in butter till silky, then hide them underneath a layer of Cheddar or Wensleydale; mix grated beetroot and apple with goat’s curd or soft cheese and sit it on sourdough or rye.

We can extend the very meaning of toast to include any piece of dough whose surface has been deliciously crisped by the heat. Many is the time I have commandeered everything from warm oatcakes to a white sliced loaf to use as a supporting role for cooked vegetables or melted cheese. Even a crumpet fits the bill, especially when spread with a layer of cream cheese and topped with lightly cooked spinach. And I could never forget using naan as a soft cushion on which to put torn pieces of mozzarella with tomatoes or an English muffin spread thick with hummus and fried mushrooms.

There are no rules really. The toast should be thick enough to support whatever we put on top of it and it should be hot and freshly made. Other than that, we are surely free to mix and match toasts and toppings at will. Authenticity is of little interest here; what matters is that the two are compatible.

A slice of toasted bread has the ability to make anything more substantial. A lump of cool, milky burrata with a trickle of peppery olive oil; a trio of roasted tomatoes, their skins blackened from the oven and scented with basil and butter; a spoon or three of last night’s stew, brought to a steaming simmer, or the bread, cut thick and toasted and dunked into a bowl of soup where it will slowly sponge up every bit of goodness and savour.

BEETROOT, APPLE, GOAT’S CURD

Hot toast, cool curd, crisp seeds.

Serves 2

pickled beetroot 100g

a small, sharp apple

cider vinegar 2 tablespoons

sunflower seeds 2 tablespoons

poppy seeds 2 tablespoons

rye or sourdough bread 2 thick slices

goat’s curd 200g

dill, chopped 2 tablespoons

Coarsely grate the beetroot into a medium-sized mixing bowl. Grate the apple into the beetroot but don’t mix them together. Sprinkle the cider vinegar over the apple and beetroot.

In a dry pan, toast the sunflower seeds for three or four minutes till golden and fragrant, then mix them with the poppy seeds. Toast the bread lightly on both sides.

Stir the goat’s curd into the apple and beetroot, together with a little salt and half the seeds and chopped dill. Spread the apple and goat’s curd onto the toasts in thick waves, scatter over the remaining seeds and dill and eat immediately, while the toast is still hot.

• A light stir is all you need to mix the curd with the apple and beetroot. Over-mixing will result in a rather pink covering for your toast.

• Instead of the goat’s curd, try fromage frais or a fresh, fluffy goat’s cheese.

CRUMPETS, CREAM CHEESE, SPINACH

The comfort of crumpets. The goodness of greens.

Serves 2

spinach 100g

tarragon, chopped 1 tablespoon

chives, chopped 1 tablespoon

parsley, chopped 2 tablespoons

spring onion 1

cream cheese 200g

crumpets 4

Wash the spinach, remove any thick stems, then pile the still-wet leaves into a saucepan. Place the pan over a moderate heat, cover tightly with a lid, then let the leaves steam for a minute or two. Lift the lid and turn the leaves, so they soften evenly. When they are bright green and glossy, remove from the pan, squeeze the leaves almost dry and chop roughly.

Mix the chopped tarragon, chives and parsley together. Finely slice the spring onion and mix with the herbs, then stir into the cream cheese. Season with black pepper and a little salt. Toast the crumpets till golden, then spread each generously with some of the herb cream cheese. Pile some of the spinach leaves on top and tuck in.

• The crumpet’s holes have the ability to soak up anything we spread it with, from butter to herbed cream cheese. Rather than sit on top of the toasted crust, the melted cheese, cream, Marmite or whatever trickles down through the holes to become part of the crumpet itself. An utterly joyous conception and the reason for keeping a packet in the freezer.

• Once a crumpet is toasted, I find it best to cover the surface generously with something delicious, then return it briefly to the grill. Crumpets don’t hold the heat well, so an extra minute or so under the heat will ensure they are piping hot.

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