The simplest dinner ever: a variation on bubble and squeak

It goes like this.
Take as many potatoes as you can eat.
As many carrots as you can eat.
As much green cabbage, spinach or robust, greens as you can eat -make it a butchy brassica, though.

Cook the lot, peeling the potatoes if you're up to it. I suppose you could cook them all together, if you time it right. Cook them until they are well done, then drain, mash roughly and chop up the greens further if need be. Mix, then pile the lot into a bowl and season very generously with balsamic vinegara, seal salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper. A fried or couple of poaxhed eggs on top would be good.

This should serve one. It's what I cook for me when everyone is in bed or out and I've had a shite day. Eat in bed or maybe under a blanket somewhere.

xxxx

Weekend chicken with a hot stuffing - a present for Giles and Kate

I am, largely, a lover of vegetables, grains and the like. But, as my friends have observed, I do roast a lot of chickens. Well, I've been out teaching tonight and come home to a few glasses of red wine and so I've come over all sentimental-like and feeling like writing a recipe for the estimable Giles and Kate.

You may shy away from cooking a chicken with stuffing in it. Maybe this is because you're concerned about getting them both at the right temperature and fretting about it. In which case, man up. But hey: there is another way. You just put hot stuffing in the chicken. Makes it less fiddly to ensure that both are properly hot and cooked through and it's also kind of sexy and earth-mothery to produce this big pan of golden stuffing and bird and just dole it out. So this is what you do.

Take a proper chicken - which is to say an organic (and free range) bird. Put it upside down (thus, breast side down) in a large roasting tin, having rubbed it with olive oil and salt and pepper. Now cook about 500g of couscous and, when done - but barely thus - add a tablespoon of olive oil, a teaspoon of crushed red chilli, lots of freshly ground black pepper, a good pinch of sea salt flakes, a handful of fresh parsley, roughly chopped, a finely chopped garlic clove and the zest of a lemon. Squeeze the juice of the lemon over the chicken just before you put it in the oven. Oh - having first stuffed the bird with this mixture, well turned over and amalgamated. The oven should be on 200 and you roast the chicken on its back for half an hour, then you turn it over and cook it until its juices run clear when you pierce the bit where the thigh meets the breast.

 I should say that there will be plenty of stuffing to fill the bird and go around it, so you get some couscous which is soaked in all the delicious juices and very soft and some which has crisped and caramelised in the heat. This is all fabulous. You could serve some green vegetables alongside, but I'm not sure I could really be bothered. One idea is to roast some green beans with olive oil and chopped cherry tomatoes plus a couple of garlic cloves (which you then squish into the ad hoc sauce that's produced) and lots of black pepper. This will take about twenty minutes to cook and I will leave proportions to your discretion.

Serve in mighty helpings. Easy, hands off and sexy as f***. (I did say about the wine, didn't I?)

A soup that whips and kisses

I am aware that sounds, shall we say, suggestive but look: I'll take it where I can find it! Today, the temperature has indeed dropped. I'm pretty much shirt sleeves all year, but I noticed others in gloves, so try this for supper tonight. It's what I had for lunch.

Rinse 250g of red lentils under cold running  water and put these to one side. Now, in a large saucepan, sweat one finely chopped onion, two finely chopped garlic cloves and half a fresh red chilli, finely chopped. in some sunflower oil. When they have softened and the onion and garlic browned, add the lentils and stir them around and then add a dessertspoon of Marigold brand vegetable stock powder. You could use any brand really, but this is what I prefer and it's unadulterated stuff. You could just use plain water. Stir well and then add water to cover and half as much again plus a good handful of greens. I used frozen leaf spinach, which is a store cupboard staple for me. You could use fresh dark green cabbage, shredded into long strips. Right: bring this lot to the boil, at which point you need to skim the froth made by the lentils, then turn it down to a gentle simmer and cook for around thirty minutes, stirring occasionally and adding more water if need be.

Now, when it's done, salt to taste and that's it OR make an Indian tarka mix by heating some oil in a pan, adding about a half teaspoon each of cumin and coriander seeds and maybe some brown  seeds too  and warming them through in the oil until they splutter and pop but not burn! For burned spices do a bitter mixture make. Then pour the lot, oil and all, into the soup and serve. Nods to dhal, obviously - but I'm not thinking of it as that.

Kisses because it's velvety and comforting. But the chilli and, if you've used it, the mustard seeds, will whip your arse. 

Chicken and vegetable biryani: an inauthentic, fast supper for five

This is done at a sprint, which is the shape of my life on any number of days. Because I'm also naturally very clumsy, all manner of accidents abound - but I digress. This is a rice, vegetable and chicken dish which you can cook in a casserole dish and forget about for a while - remembering to stir once. Here's what I just did.


With a pair of sharp kitchen scissors, cut up six chicken breasts. If they are already skinned, you don't need to brown them; if not, brown the pieces for a couple of minutes, so that they are seared and golden. Then chuck them into your casserole dish. I've used an enamel roasting dish in which I usually roast chickens. Now add a teaspoon of crushed red chillies, a tablespoon of so of garam masala (I know you should only add this at the end, but it will work as a warm subtle flavouring if added at the beginning, too) and plenty of freshly ground paper. I didn't add salt only because customer number five tonight is eleven months old, so I'll be adding that at the end. Toss the chicken in the spices, add eight finely chopped cherry tomatoes, three finely chopped garlic cloves, four potatoes peeled and cubed and a small cauliflower (not the leaves in this case) pulled into florets - or hell, just torn apart. I am a bit slapstick in the kitchen. Now add a couple of handfuls of frozen peas and, finally, 250 g of basmati rice, which you have first rinsed carefully. Toss the lot carefully and then add boiling water to cover, stir again and put the dish in the oven, lid on at 200 (hot - you know your oven best) and leave it for about thirty minutes, then stir and cook for another thirty minutes until the rise is done and the water all absorbed. You may need to add water during the cooking time; you can do this when you stir. 


That's it. Salt to season at the end and garnish with crisply fried onions and fresh coriander if you like. x

An approximation of Southern barbecue

I know it's hardly barbecue season (I'd say barbeque but we're down South right now), but I think my beloved looks a little forlorn so I'm doing an approximation of a Southern (as in Southern United States as in Georgia, in his case) barbecue.You know: to cheer him up?

To a Southerner, barbecue is not what we Britishers know it as. Proper Southern barbecue usually refers to pulled pork - perhaps a shoulder basted with a vinegar or tomato-based sauce and cooked long and slowly. Traditionally, it would have been cooked overnight, under the watchful eye of the pit masters. For a description of such things, may I refer you to my (still) favourite book on Southern food, Damon Lee Fowler's Classical Southern Cooking (New York, 1995)?

So, you cook your meat of choice and you pull it, which is to say that you tear it into shreds with two forks and then serve it in or with bread and whatever else you like. In my case, a request was made for coleslaw - more on which in a minute.

BUT WAIT! What good is this to you? Do you remember my rattling on about slow cookers? Well here's what I put in to cook at 9 am. NB: I have a large slow cooker, but this recipe could also be done in a low oven, maybe even overnight. I find my slow cooker does quite well as a pit!

Take a pork shoulder of around one and half ks.(Yes I know that's a lot, but I'm after copious leftovers) and put it in your slow cooker. Then, in a bowl, mix together six tablespoons of cider vinegar, six of tomato ketchup (full fat!), five of soft brown sugar, a palmful of seal salt, five chopped garlic gloves, a couple of teaspoons of paprika, either ordinary or smoked and a couple of sage leaves, finely chopped. Now add lots of ground black pepper. Mix well and add a cupful of water and then rub the lot into the meat. Stick on the lid and, on medium, cook for around six hours. You just take it out (it's a large piece of meat so use a meat thermometer or check the inside of the meat carefully - but I'm confident that all will be well) and it should be so tender that you can pull it apart with forks. You could also have cooked this on slow for about four hours or high for around eight. It may need more time and won't come to any harm if, anyway, you do need to leave it for more. All should have worked pretty well, but I do miss the dense smoky taste of proper barbecue.....

Incidentally, most Southern cooks would, I think, have trimmed the pork well, taking the fat and skin from the top. I don't: I leave it on, making sure it's well scored first and then, when I'm pulling the meat, I first cut off the top layer and blitz it in a hot oven or under a grill so that there is crackling for those who want. Eyebrows were raised when this practice was suggested to a good lady of Virginia, but I'm standing by it.

Serve the barbecue hot, stuffed into bread rolls of your choice if I were you, but it's also pretty darn good cold. Oh: a final thought: if you are going to be cooking it in a traditional oven, I'd advise adding the tomato ketchup later as otherwise it might burn and taste acrid.

And the coleslaw? All you want is finely sliced cabbage of your choice - as much as you think you'll eat - and finely sliced onion. Today, I just don't have time to whip up the mayonnaise, so I'm cheating with some Helman's, plus a tablespoon of extra virgin olive oil, sea salt and plenty of freshly ground black pepper. I think that's how coleslaw should be: no carrots and not sweetened.

Slow cookers continued i'faith

Here's another from the slow cooker just for you. Remember that my slow cooker is a large one and I'm generally cooking for five or so.


If you have a ham hock or a large piece of gammon, try this...


First of all, you might want to soak the meat for a few hours if you think it will be salty and then just put it in the slow cooker together with four chopped carrots, four chopped medium potatoes (I'd say to be really lazy, don't peel, but really, they're better peeled), a small handful of whole black peppercorns, one onion cut into rings and those into half again and then a green of your choice - ideally a big bold brassica: you can use something tougher here because it will stand up to the slow cooker. I'd say two generous handfuls of it - shall I say collards or spring greens?- roughly shredded. Then dice (not too small) a smallish swede or half a large one, add 250g red lentils (rinsed and picked over for stones) and cover with water, stirring carefully. Depending on the saltiness of the meat, it might be best not to add salt but to do it later. Cook overnight on low in my case: I put this lot in not ten minutes ago. 


The next day or later that day (I'm allowing around nine hours here), check seasoning and carve the meat. You could serve the soup first and then slices of meat with the vegetables (which will have all but disintegrated) as a second course, or just hack bits off the meat, stirring them back into the soup and serve as is with some bread with a good cracking crust and, if I were you, some pieces of mature cheddar sunk into it. Which is what I did as a child and have done ever since. And with cheese that my dad used to get from the Mendip Dairy on the way to see my grandad in Burrington Combe in the Somerset of my childhood.. 

Slow cookers

Well now, the old black dog has come to visit for a while, but he was accompanied by the timely arrival of an enormous slow cooker. So here's a thought: if you are stuck in the doldrums (for to be becalmed sounds lovely but it actually means that temporarily you cannot go further: I digress), invest in a slow cooker. A great big one. And try these. All serve six with leftovers.All these are based on the simple principle of setting the cooker to low and leaving it on overnight.


For a simple pasta sauce, a good couple of tablespoons of decent olive oil, two cans of plum tomatoes, which you crush in your hands as you go. Then add a tin of anchovies, soaked a little perhaps, two handfuls of pitted green olives, lots of freshly ground black pepper, a tablespoon of capers, a heaped tablespoon of tomato puree, three finely minced garlic cloves, half a fresh red chilli, finely sliced (I don't decide because I am tough like that). Into that go three handfuls of frozen mixed peppers - an excellent product which you should have in your freezer - and about 500g minced beef, preferably organic. Stir and that's it. I just stand there chucking it in because that seems to befit this style of cooking. Your pasta sauce will be ready by morning - or just leave it cooking all day. Serve with a pasta of your sauce, but if it were me (which it was), that would be spaghetti or linguine.


So, if you are grumpy, frumpy, resentful about cooking for your fussy and unappreciative family -I'm not saying this is me, but I am saying that cooking meals day in day out can sure make you feel like this - make your house smell happy and comforting with the addition of this piece of kit. You know you want to. Plus, if it floats your boat, you'll feel like an earth mother (or should I say bountiful provider of either gender), when you're sharing out vast platefuls of your slowly, happily-cooked food. Boo to the old black dog, toox

A simple lunch for one

An avocado salad. With balls.

Current pregnancy cravings are for anything sour and salty (this tends to be active most of the time, now I come to think of it) and I have a bit of an avocado fetish but....this will do you at any time, as long as you are not squeamish about anchovies!

Take a tin of anchovies, drain off the oil and then leave them for a few minutes to de-salt, either in water, milk or a mixture of two. While you... take a ripe avocado and hack it into pieces - I leave the size to your own aesthetics. Put them on a plate. This will be the plate you eat off; you can make it all look prettier later on. Now,  add a heaped tablespoon of any olives you like and a couple of tablespoons of some good quality plain cottage cheese. Remove the anchovies from their liquor, rinse them gently and gently tap the water off them and then roughly chop. Put them on the plate with the rest of the ingredients. Now, quickly whip up a scant tablespoon of dressing with a smidgeon of extra virgin oil (remember the avocado is quite oleaginous, so maybe you don't need so much) and a good few squeezes of lemon juice, to which you then add a few drops (taste for preference) of chilli sauce: Encona brand is always the one for me. Tip this over the salad and then mix the salad right there on your plate, forking it over gently. That's it. If you had some decent tomatoes knocking about, you could also add them, diced roughly.

Well, that was my lunch today: try it?

(photo joel washing at flickr - thank you)

Best ever cheese on toast

Hmm. Potatoes; cheese; cups of tea; lighting  fire. OOOH. There is proper snow outside, but I am fading a little so for an emergency tea, something in bed alone or when just ravenous...

Get some good crusty brown bread. Don't make it too thick or too thin. I like to toast it very lightly first. Now layer thick slabs of mature cheddar over it and grill until bubbling - possibly with the edges just a little charred. Transfer to a plate - preferably a warm one - and then douse it quickly with Worcestershire ( Worcester!) sauce. Not drown, mind. Eat quickly, probably with drops of the sauce running down into your lap. This is excellent with some thick slices of unsmoked back bacon to one side, too.

That's it.

The cup of tea

THIS BLOG IS BACK. I TOOK A LITTLE BREAK BECAUSE OF OTHER COMMITMENTS. BUT SPREAD THE WORD AND PUT THE KETTLE ON

BECAUSE

I have been disturbed, in recent months,  by the fact that I have gone off cups of tea. This has been due to morning sickness (number three on the way) BUT HOORAH! While green pesto -or in fact the smell of basil in any setting- and -horrors- chicken are out for the time being, the tea is back. THIS IS IMPORTANT. Like Dr Johnson, you see, I prescribe cups of tea for refreshment, solace and general good cheer. My mother was big on sherry for this, but obviously that's out right now and one cannot be imbibing sherry through the day. So here is my prescription for you. OH: I fear I am so very British.

Put on kettle and, simultaneously, radio 4. Go to cupboard and select a mug. Again THIS IS IMPORTANT. I am instantly depressed by the thought of a cup of tea in a thin mug. You know; one that looks a bit delicate, with a spindly handle. Technically, it might be from your 'best mugs' collection, should you have such a thing, but right now it doesn't cut it. I apologise for the slight vulgarity of the simile, but my mother once said (this must have gone in deep) that thin lips suggested meanness. You know; like a limp handshake (unless you were actually dying)? So, drinking tea from a thin little mug, however pretty, would be, for me, like kissing a man with thin lips. It would not suggest abundance and generosity.  I prefer a solid little willow pattern cup and saucer or a chunky-looking mug with a good thick rim. My two favourites of recent years have been the gloriously tacky 'Georgia Peach' mug with the revolving peach on the handle and, also from the Southern U.S., a thick pink mug sold by an old fashioned family restaurant and diner at Fancy Hill, just outside Lexington in Virginia. There's a picture of a cadillac on it because it hails from 'The (pink) Cadillac Cafe'. It has no handle because, well, this ain't no couture mug and it wasn't stuck on properly. But I don't care: I love it and it speaks to me.

Now, I wouldn't complain if you made me tea with a teabag just in that thar mug, but best of all, is for you to use either loose or tea bag in my blue teapot - which you have warmed - and that you then leave it to brew properly. For here are some more depressing things done by friends and family of mine. A certain friend: one tea bag between two and then just a quick dip in the water. NOOOO! A certain person to whom I might be related by marriage: similar concept, but the tea bag is also left on the side of the sink (albeit on a sweet little saucer) ALL DAY. I think that tea bag just does one person apiece. But even so. NOOOO!

Leave that tea to brew and let it be known that, in our area of deep lime and its attendant hard water, I favour the brand called Yorkshire Tea for hard water areas. I could go on about all sorts of teas but right here, I won't. Good and strong and a little bit malty. Pour the tea into the mug first then add the milk. But leave room in the cup or mug for plenty of milk. Strangely enough, I favour quite full-bodied tea, but I like plenty of milk. I have been told this is a bit common.

Sit in a soft chair and continue listening to radio 4, ignoring all chores and outside interference.

I am suppposed to say, I think, that if you are up the duff (sic: pregnant), you should keep your caffeine intake low. But, also, babies like you to be happy. So have a biscuit or some sort of slab of fruit cake it with it.

Watermelon

The watermelon. Just how beautiful is it? Happy July the 4th yesterday, by the way. "Oh say can you see" some very cool things to do with your watermelon?

1. As is. Just cut it into what, in our house, is known as a watermelon smile. A big slice. Dig in.

2. As before, but cut around the rind, score and then cut perfect little chunks. Serve them in a bowl with a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds (even more beautiful this) or a sprinkle of dried ginger and maybe just a few shavings of lemon peel.

3. Keeping the chunks, as before, stash them in in the freezer and have them ready, like lovely pink ice cubes, to slosh into a vodka and tonic or a martini. Experiment and see what you like. You could whizz them in the blender, of course.

4. Make a fine smoothie with watermelon chunks and an orange.

5. Refer to earlier in this blog for a fine watermelon pickle.You use only the rind for this one.

6. Whizz up the chunks with some lemonade and lime zest for a non alcoholic party drink or, sod that, just for you.

7. Try  a few cubes of watermelon with some a little finely ground sea salt and a few grindings of black pepper. You'll either love this, or you won't. Also excellent for dysentery - when you're over the worst!

Thanks to Stephen Depolo at flickr for his watermelon photos!

Headline: jacket potato gives hug on difficult day

To left: don't roasting things cheer you along? In the picture: large chunks of squash being roasted with a splash of olive oil and some black pepper at the house of Mrs Pat Jones: aka one of my marvellous aunts who cooks and totally ROCKS. Having no mother in my adulthood, these girls are very important. As is their cooking. But I digress, because I'm blathering and you might want to know what to do for your tea.

Right: take as many jacket potatoes as you think you can eat, rinse them, pat dry carefully and then massage them with sea salt. Put them into a hot oven and cook for about 30 minutes, possible more. The sea salt should have crisped up the skin and, inside, the potato will be soft and fluffy. Now, after about twenty minutes of potato cooking time, put into the oven (in a baking dish) a big handful of cherry tomatoes, a whole fresh green chilli, chopped as you might like,  it plus a sliced medium onion. Make sure you have put a good tablespoon of olive oil in with the vegetables.

So, take out the potatoes when they are done, cut into them, add a dab of butter if you like and then pile the tomatoes, onions and chilli on top.

That's it. Simple but manages to be quite luxurious and a sort of hands off sort of dinner. In fact, what I just cooked for myself just now while answering reproachful-sounding '"ring me" messages and attending to children .

Chick peas (garbanzo, gram, etc...): get a bag for your cupboard

This is a big rustic salad which I made a few minutes ago. It's very good for this time of year and the flavour packs a hefty punch.

Take a bag of chick peas - about 500g. Soak them for three or four hours, bring to the boil then simmer until they are still firm, but not hard. That is, without a hard centre but still with plenty of bite. If you cook your own you'll have something with plenty of texture. I could be wrong, but I've never found tinned chick peas any good and they tend to be overcooked. So, after you bring them to the boil - and presuming you have soaked them, they should be done in about twenty five minutes or so.

Drain the chick peas when they are done, rinse them under cold water and drain carefully. Now stick them in a big bowl with three chopped spring onions, half a chopped cucumber, one finely chopped green chilli, a couple of teaspoons of drained and rinsed capers, a good squeeze of lemon juice, a small piece of grated fresh ginger, six chopped cherry tomatoes and lots of freshly ground pepper. Taste for salt. If you want to, add to the salad's instant dressing with some sunflower oil?

Serve straight away if you've used tomatoes and cucumber; if you didn't, then the salad can sit for a few days.

I'd serve this as is, but it would be good with grilled fish or chicken. Maybe from the barbecue? Also, if I had not added the ginger, I might like the salad with some grilled halloumi cheese OR I might add crumbled feta cheese to the salad. Cut everything really finely, add a pinch of green mango powder, a couple of teaspoons of cumin seed, leave out the capers, add a couple of cloves of finely chopped garlic and then some roasted black urad dhal and you would have a very fine South Indian salad. Check out the selection of dhals (or dals) at www.spicesofindia.com

Watermelon rinds?

Well now, what have we here?

In my view, the watermelon is one of the most beautiful fruits. We have just carved one into huge slices and so we have some rinds left over. Now, in the Southern United States, these rinds might be used to make a pickle. You may well see the same in India. Here is what I just did although, let it be said, it does not make a terribly long lasting pickle.

You have eaten your watermelon. If you didn't wash the rinds, do it now. Cut them into strips and then into little squares. Put them in a big bowl. Take a big green fresh chilli (the contrast -not too much contrast, though.-is very pretty). Cut the chilli, seeds and all. into fine pieces, add it to the rinds with a big pinch of sea salt, lots of freshly ground black pepper and, say, a hazlenut-sized piece of ginger root which you have grated finely. Mix it all up with your hands, then add the juice of a lemon, its finely grated peel and two teaspoons -but taste and taste again to see if you'd like to add more -- of  chaat (or chat) powder, one specifically marketed for fruit chaat which, like anything else with chat/chaat in its name, is a snack food. Chat is usually  spiced with aromatic flavourings, such as black cumin and pomegranate and green mango powder.  Might be a fresh peach salad (which you need tio eat straight away because it wilts fast!)or perhaps a potato salad. More on which soon. You can find chat powder easily enough in Asian supermarkets and shops; I tend to get mine here www.spicesofindia.com I like the 'shaan' brand best!

Mix everything in with your hand and pile into jars. The pickle is ready to eat after two days but will keep for a week. To make it longer lasting you'd need more preserving liquid, but that's jot quite what I'm after here. Keep it in the fridge. I will be serving this pickle with lots of South Indian snacks next weekend.

The photos you see are all mine: of the pickle itself, but also a few images from my kitchen showing some balti dishes hanging up, the plate of chilli and ginger which is invariably sitting on top of my big salt jar, plus one of my piles of thali dishes. I like the colours of my watermelon pickle against the vintage 'Ball' preserving jars. I collect these and you can still get them for just a few dollars at flea markets in the U.S. I've bought mine in Virginia and Georgia. Ball is still is business, the jars are still great but not, alas, in the same lovely colour.Clear these days.

New Book will be out at the end of August

Hi everyone. Been a bit busy with, among other, things, my fund raising writeathon athttp://www.rainbowoverbengal.blogspot.com/ but just a message to say that..

1. An ever so slightly different version of My Mother's Kitchen, my Father's Garden Volume One (that's Spring and Summer) will be out in August. Priced at £6.50

AND

2.  Volume two of this text (Autumn and Winter) will be available at the same time. There will be two different versions of the text. One, a black and white text copy at £6.50; the other is a full colour text with some lovely photographs, the price of which I will let you know soon. Texts are available from me and from local independent booksellers in England and Wales -- plus a range of shops, at www. blurb.com - and I am waiting to hear from Amazon and other online sellers. Will advise of ISBNs and stockists in more detail when I get a moment. xx

Re new media section

An update

If you want to see a sample of my freelance journalism pieces, plus the odd piece on me, I've put a selection in the new media section of this blog. Also, book number one is being edited for re-release at the moment and I  have just finished book number two. Volumes one (Spring and Summer) and two (Autumn and Winter), then, of My Mother's Kitchen, my Father's Garden, based on this blog with additional text. Perhaps a publisher would like to take on one or both -- in two volumes or one big fat one? The first book sold well with just yours truly as its publisher and promoter! Don't forget, if you are a business and reading this, that I also handle press releases and publicity!

Photo by Giles Turnbull of jugs on my kitchen window ledge: most of them from skips. Treasure.

Gleanings: a chapter from A handful of Broken Biscuits

Again, this is a chapter from my late father's book, which I have latterly been editing. If you buy my next book (out at the beginning of May -- I will pass on info about stockists for this and my previous book, which is curently being reprinted, nearer the time), you will find this extract where it should be -- with Autumn! But enjoy it here, now. 

The sections of the book which intercut my writing are all about the getting, giving and making of food -- memories of a childhood in the 1930s, which my father felt abrupted by the beginning of war. The text is set in and around Burrington Combe and Langford, in Somerset on the edge of the Mendips. My father is characterised as 'John'; my grandmother as Beth and grandfather as Ed. Here we have walnuts, blackberries, hazelnuts and mushrooms.

There was always someone ready to collect whatever bounty the countryside offered and there were particular places where each windfall fell thickest. In early September walnuts bounced and split open under the big tree on Havyatt Green or the one leaning across the hedge that bounded Hillier's orchard. Since the throwing of sticks was vital in bringing down a shower of the finer, more elusive nuts, the boys of the village were always happy to be of help.

Blackberries ripened in every hedgerow, on waste ground or around the ponds, but they grew in greatest profusion in the wild, tangled triangle of open scrubland immediately below Mendip Lodge and alongside the old driveway. The bushes rambled freely, and the big, glistening, darkening fruit gave off a sweet, distinctive perfume after the smell of late summer. The gleaners, wearing their oldest clothes, moved methodically  from patch to patch, rolling the sweet luscious fruit into their baskets, fingers staining ever-deeper-red-purple as they picked. They reached with crooked stick, drawing the furthermost branches to them: picking or rejecting with smooth, deft and unhurried movements. An afternoon's basket of six or eight pounds would provide pies and blackberry and apple jam in plenty.

As the Autumn days became misty and the leaves began to change colour, the long tall hazel hedges in the deep lane at Bourne clustered thickly with nuts. It was essential for the timing to be right. Go a few days too early and the nuts were not ripe enough; shaking or whacking the bushes with sticks would not bring many down. Go a few days too late and many would have fallen into the undergrowth to be nibbled or gobbled by mice and squirrels. But arrive on those few crucial days and the nuts came down like hail -- a harvest that meant a hoard of nuts to be put aside for Christmas.

Pearly-necklaces, low-slung cobwebs, a thin mist on the field, and a warm humid morning were the sings that mushroom picking time had arrived: the feel of the air was just right. Up with the first light of dawn, on with the wellingtons, a two pound basket on the arm. Then a steady, methodical travrsing of the field, moving the sheep along as you went. Folding sheep on the land encouraged the growth and spread of mushrooms, it was said, but John didn't know the truth or otherwise of that lore. yet he was prepared to believe it as he walked in a line gfive yards parallel to his father. The darker grass circles and crescents were the give-away signs of mushroom presence and suddenly he would find a patch of three or four, of fresh grey-white with a  scattering of small buttons.

Each time he found and picked he was conscious of the beauty of the early morning. There was a hush, a newly-washed innocence all around. The wild creatures that crawled, scampered or flew were up and doing, but doing it quietly. They wanted time and the world to themselves and had no wish to rouse the lie-abeds. John smelt the pleasant,  faint fungoid smell and touched the beautiful pink-brown suffusion of the newly opening gills. It required an effort of will to be up so early to join Ed in these forays, but it was worth the quiet, calm sensuous pleasure he enjoyed. By half past seven Ed and John were back in the house and soon the delicious smells of frying mushrooms and streaky bacon signified a satisfying early morning journey.

A Handful of Broken Biscuits

Intercutting the prose of my last book are excerpts from the book my father wrote when he was dying. My mother helped with the editing; his devoted former school secretary typed up the entire text. I am continuing with this work now and hope to have it published by the autumn of this year, with beautiful woodcut illustrations by a local artist. Watch this space.

Now, the title of the book refers to early memories of my father, growing up first in Burrington Combe and then in Langford in Somerset, on the edge og the Mendip hills. His mother, so careful about housekeeping, would always order broken biscuits from the grocer. My father felt it was a way of life that was vanishing in this place. Of course, those excerpts I included in my own text were about food memories: they play an important part in the book, whether it be a description of a sweet shop, my paternal grandmother's exemplary food stores, or, as here, Christmas and the whortleberry harvest. Read on over the next few posts for these extracts. Should you read my next book, you will find that Christmas and harvest are, seasonably, in the right months of the text!

A Handful of Broken Biscuits

Chapter 13: Christmases gone.

The smell of hot cloth and spice,a seven year old face i, or a few well-sung bars of any of those old traditional carols have a strange and moving power. Again, Beth is boiling her cloth-capped basins of pudding in the scullery copper. Again, Ed is plucking the big savage , spurred cockerel that will be Christmas dinner. Again, Miss Constance, Elsie and Sally are standing by the tree, lapped in the lemon glow of the fairy lights. Back come visions of the once a year exotica, the dates and the coconut ice, the Brazil nuts and the figs, and for the adults the bottle of sherry which will last from Christmas to Christmas.

For Chris the butcher: steak and kidney pie.

Chris is a local butcher -- one of very few. So here is a recipe made with things I have just bought from him, with his recommended amounts -- judged by eye, you understand. I bought stewing steak and -- the proper stuff, as he says--  ox kidney for this. I may sound as though I eat a lot meat. I probably eat red meat at most once a week and usually chicken once or twice a week. When I do eat red meat, it needs to pack a punch. This pie does because it's solid and speaks of home and, when it's in the oven, the house smells wonderful. I must confess that my young children were not overly keen on the ox kidney, but did justice to the rest of the pie. And here it is, still warm.

A note of pastry. I think the stuff you can buy ready made is pretty good, but what I generally do is buy puff and filo pastry and make everything else.

Steak and kidney pie. Four 4 with possibly a few seconds. To serve with potatoes -- which could be new ones, now-- and some greens. This time of year, make it a British brassica.

500 g puff pastry, defrosted if frozen and rolled out to about 1cm thickness
1 egg for glazing the pie before it goes in the oven
3 large carrots, roughly chopped. Not traditional, but I like them
1 large onion, chopped into rings
1 wineglass of red wine. I happened to have some recently opened Cabernet Sauvignon
1 bay leaf, if you like
plain flour to hand
500g stewing steak
250g ox kidney, sliced or cut into cubes: generous ones; not dolly mixture size


First sweat the onion in a little sunflower oil in a large pan until the onion  is golden. Take it out and put it to one side. Now, brown all the meat. You may want to do this in a couple of batches, because you want it to seal and brown, not steam. Just brown it and let it catch here and there. Then add the onion to the pan, mixing well, plus the carrots cut into smallish chunks. Sprinkle on a tablespoon of plain flour and mix well. Then, pour on the wine plus enough water --or beef stock or vegetable stock if you have it-- and raise the heat until the liquid thickens. Cook gently for five minutes, then into your dish it goes. The choice of dish is up to you, of course. Today, I cooked this in a oven dish 15cm by 30cm. It might look jollier in a big round dish, perhaps?

Put your pastry on the top, allowing for shrinkage, so draping it over the edge and crimping it firmly against the dish. Neatness is not the name of the game here. I think it should look quite roughly done. Now, if you wanted, you could raise the centre with a little pie funnel or maybe an egg cup, but I don't mind if it sinks a bit, so I didn't bother, just cut a couple of slits in the middle of the pie, as was my mother's wont, and brushed it with beaten egg. Cook it it a hot oven --at 200, then, for 40-45 minutes, by which time, the meat should be tender and the pastry golden. If you want your stewing steak so soft that you could cut it with a spoon, cook it for longer before it goes into the pie dish, but add the kidneys just for the last few minutes because you don't want to overdo them.

And here are some tins I mentioned in some of my much earlier blog posts and in my book. These are tins from my paternal grandmother's kitchen. She might have added the contents of either to the gravy for such a pie. Later, they came to house shoe tacks and small nails. Now, they sit -- still full of shoe tacks: in his spare time, my grandfather used to mend people's shoes in his Mendip village-- in an alcove on our stairs.

As a postscript: I should say that my grandmother would have baulked at the use of puff pastry and not suet and as for the wine. Well...

Chicken for Kate.

K. is a little unsure about cooking chicken, so here is what I am going to show her in a little workshop a deux that her husband Giles has organised for her.

The ingredients that I have asked Kate to have ready:

1 large free range chicken

2 packs of chicken thighs, bone in -- assuming six in a pack.

The Roast chicken

There is plenty about this in my writing already, isn't there? Some further tips.

1. Make it a big free range chicken, organic if you choose but you'll have to pay the price. Note that freedom food isn't quite the same, so I urge you to do a little reaserch on labels and what these things actually mean. Your only guarantee, really, is that it explicitly says free range on the label. Or, of  course, if you saw the chicken. Now, I know I said big free range, but it doesn't necessarily have to be a fat one: a little scrawny chap may be very tasty and with plenty of flavour. Chickens may have slightly different builds or appetites, after all!

To begin cooking, bring the chicken to room temperature first and then cook it in a hot oven -- that's 200-- allowing 20 minutes for every 500g and then about 20 minutes more. In practice, you will probably cook most chicken for 1 and half hours. Your chicken is done when the juices run clear: test by inserting a skewer or sharp knife where the thickest part is -- where the side of the leg meets the breast. If you are in doubt, just use a meat thermometer and stick it in here and there -- including this thickest part.

It isn't essential, I suppose, but I cook my chickens upside down first. Which is to say, breast down. Turn it over after about 40 minutes. This is simply to allow the fat deposits, which are most plentiful in the back, to percolate down through the drier breast. So no stringy meat for you. Having said that, I don't mind a chicken I can get my teeth into. Never got the hots for capon for this reason. Don't get very excited about eating young lamb: rather chew on a hogget.

One last point. When the chicken comes out of the oven let it rest for ten minutes or so before carving it. That's to allow the meat to settle. If you go to straight away, lots of precious juices will escape: those would otherwise have been reabsorbed by the meat.

Variations:

1. For extra succour, put lots of garlic cloves, peeled or unpeeled, inside the cavity. Shove lots in the tin, too. I just pick them and eat them whole, skin and all. But you could squish that beautiful caramel-coloured garlic puree ont to your plate as you eat. You could also put half a lemon up the bottom of the chicken.

2.It can be nice to rub the chicken all over, inside and out, with olive oil (or a bland flavourless oil), sea salt and black pepper.

3. You might like to try making a spice paste and rubbing it into the chicken. Go Middle Eastern by trying this with sumac powder, salt and pepper; go Indian by doing the same with a mixture of cumin, coriander and, if yoiu like it, fennel. All of these ground or as powder. Or what about a mix of chilli flakes and Chinese five spice powder? Skin the chicken or not, as you please.

The chicken thighs: two suggestions.

1. Just chuck them in a roasting dish with thumbnail-sized pieces of peeled ginger root and lots of unpeeled garlic cloves. Add a few glugs of Kikoman soy sauce and a big fat pinch of red chilli flakes. Toss this around and put it in a hot oven for about 45 minutes.

OR

2. Do the same, but do not add the soy sauce, adding instead tablespoons of cumin and coriander powder, a fat pinch of asafoetida and a tablespon of nigella (otherwise known as kalonji and sometimes onion seed: both this and the asafoetida are easy to get in Asian markets or try the online supplier www.spicesofindia.com

3. Finally, using more South East Asian spices, keep the garlic and the ginger but tuck in four or five lime leaves,  a bashed and chopped up stalk of lemon grass, the juice of half a lemon and a good couple of glugs of Thai fish sauce. A teaspoon of sugar would be good to balance that addictive Thai mixture of sweet, sour, hot and salty.

The leftovers

1. That roast chicken would do a roast chicken dinner --all the trimmings or just roast potatoes and the juices! keep using the meat for a couple of days in a pilaf, a salad, soup, sandwiches.....Then make a rich stock by covering the carcass with water, add a few peppercorns, a stick of celery and a little onion, bring to the boil ann the simmer for slowly for about 1and a half hours. Season, strain and eat as a lovely broth with some tiny pasta, or freeze it and use in umpteen recipes or for soup.

2. Any leftover chicken thighs would make superlative sandwiches, if you pull the meat from the bones.

And for all these recipes, keep the juices and fat and use to roast some potatoes or winter root vegetables later in the week.

Feeling mnore confident?

xxx