All posts filed under: Food

peach and mint sangria

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Welcome, all ye who love summer. The heat of it. The gleam of it. The relaxed, open sensation of it. It’s the time of year when you become “holiday you” and then try and take that person through to the rest of the slightly colder, more insular months. The one who walks barefoot and laughs full-throated at cobbleside tables. Who packs picnics and hopes for fair weather, head tilted upwards, instead of checking the weather forecast. Who throws on a pair of sandals and sunglasses and calls it a day, letting the sunshine melt away your flaws. This is the drink for you. Make it up the night before and leave it in the fridge – when you’re ready to greet the sun, it’ll be ready to go with you. It’s refreshing, fruity, and packs a summer punch. That is to say, you’ll be happy sipping this on a picnic blanket with good friends – and no other plans. It goes without saying, but use the freshest ingredients you can. During the summer, peaches are …

spiced carrot and chickpea salad

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This is a salad for a day when you need nourishing, but you also need a bit of heft. The chickpeas lend the dish a reassuring, creamy, nutty weight, while the carrots offer crunch and sweetness. The earthiness of the spice is balanced by the zing of fresh citrus and mustard and, over it all, a sprinkle of grassy parsley; a delightful colour contrast, as much as a flavour complement. You can eat this on its own (and I have), but it’s lovely as part of a mezze spread. Or on the side of some grilled aubergine with a dollop of hummus for good measure. The below recipe uses canned chickpeas for speed and convenience, but dried chickpeas beat it for taste and texture by a mile. If you’ve got the time, soak 100g dried chickpeas overnight in plenty of water with a large pinch of salt. The next day, drain them and put them in an oven-safe pot with a lid (a cast iron casserole, for example), cover with plenty of water, a teaspoon …

early morning at the mercado central de atarazanas

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Mechanical, beautiful, merciless. There they stood, gutting and chatting, fishmongers all, masters of their craft, placidly ignoring the one or two mad people (hello) early enough to have arrived at the Málaga food market – the Mercado Central de Atarazanas – before the day’s wares were unboxed, the shutters rolled up, the fish disembowelled. They couldn’t give two figs that we were there. They weren’t going to rush; this is just how their days start. An easy flick of the wrist and the prepared anchovy whizzes into the box. New fish. Practised movement. Mind hardly on the task, more focussed on the chat, which, of course, we couldn’t understand – or look away from. We were meandering through the market, staring openly. The language barrier somehow making us invisible, or so it felt as we gaped, openly, at the links of chorizo, dangling from hooks. The huge heads of swordfish, de-bodied and staring at the metal roof, pointing their rapiers to the sky. Fuzzy sunset-coloured peaches. Gleaming red, yellow, green tomatoes. Tightly packed Padrón peppers, …

cured lemons

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My pickling and preserving ambitions have now exceeded the limitations of my fridge. There are jars of dilly pickled carrots. Homemade limoncello. Seville marmalade, of various sorts and peel stripes (grapefruit, lime, blood orange – oh my!). The old bars of my fridge shelves are sagging under the weight. And I can’t stop. There are too many things to make. One of my favourites, which has been out of commission for a while, are the cured lemons from The Palomar Cookbook, gifted to me a few Christmases ago by my brother and his girlfriend. The Palomar itself is a restaurant in London serving the food of modern Jerusalem, by way of North Africa, Spain and the Levant. And the book – a labour of love, with input, recipes, and techniques from different members of the team – is a collection of some of the restaurant’s great dishes. Some you might recognise, like labneh and fattoush, others you might not, but you’ll soon clamour to make, like the scallop carpaccio with “Thai-bouleh” (which swaps out lemon …

creamy pumpkin rigatoni

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At this time of year, I invariably have odd half cups of pumpkin puree leftover from making pancakes, waffles, and the like. This year I even played around with a pumpkin pie ice cream, which was, in the end, really rather tasty. So a pumpkin overflow isn’t exactly the worst problem to have. In fact, come lunchtime, it’s often the best ingredient for a fast, seasonal and, most importantly (at least on cold, dreary days), warming meal. This takes about as long as your pasta takes to cook. While it bubbles away, you can hover near the stove assembling and stirring the sauce, and enjoying the balmy heat of the kitchen (a boon when your flat refuses to acknowledge that the heat is on full whack). You’ll notice that much of this is “to taste” – from the amount of nutmeg to the parmesan. Embrace that. Grab a spoon and taste as you go. After all, the oven’s on and it’s a nice warm place to be. Maybe you want your pasta extra cheesy today? …

duck and bulgur salad with feta

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Packed full of herbs, earthy from the bulgur, with a slow sharp slap of creamy zing from the feta, this is a memorable salad that’s just right for this time of year. It’s been, as the Scots say, dreich for days now. Low grey skies and clumps of wet leaves as far as the eye can see. But I love this kind of weather. It smells good outside, fresh, like everything’s getting a good scrub. Getting right to the quick. Finding myself in need of a lunch for one, and a break from work, which was causing me not a little amount of stress, I decided to bring together a few ingredients for a nourishing meal. To take a proper break to make something that would taste good and make me feel great. The result is an autumnal meal, slightly nutty from the fine brown bulgur, and rich from the duck, but one that’s light and fresh nonetheless. A meal that makes the rest of your day feel full of promise. I don’t recommend cooking …

tahini toast with apple and cinnamon

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This is one of my perfect autumn breakfasts. And although I’m writing about it here, it’s hardly a recipe. More of a suggestion of how to assemble a pretty cracking piece of toast. Basically, spread some good sourdough toast thickly with tahini, layer on some thin (thin) slices of fresh apple, and then sprinkle it all with ground cinnamon and crunchy Maldon salt. Eat with a hot cup of coffee alongside and just wait – everything in the universe will align in that bite, and everything will feel good, and warm, and autumnally-suffused with spice. This is a simple dish, and as such, you will taste all the elements involved. That’s kind of the magic. You get the crunch from the bread, and the savoury pop from the snowy flakes of good salt (hello, Maldon, you delicious beast). The warm freshness of the apple balanced by the smooth nuttiness of the tahini. And then cinnamon wrapping it all in scent and spice. So, pay attention to what you use. Starting with the bread: I would …

summer pea, pancetta, and parsley soup

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This dish will henceforth be known as the “three ps soup” in my house, both because it seems fitting, and because it’s a sister dish to my “four ps pasta”. But the latter does require a little explanation, if you’ll allow for a small detour from soup to pasta. The four ps pasta is one of the most memorable foods from my childhood. My mum would make it, without a recipe (although I do believe it originally started with Claudia Roden), seeming to conjure happiness out of a few fridge and storecupboard ingredients. To my hungry eyes, it seemed like my mum was in possession of the most entrancing kitchen magic as the house would fill with savoury-scented clouds of sizzling bacon, the hug-like fug of simmering chicken broth. Served in big bowls, with a little bit of brothy sauce, it has all the charm and healing powers of chicken soup, but with pancetta. Yum. Peas give it sweetness. Parsley a little earthy grassiness. And the fourth p? Well, that’s parmesan – unleash a few …