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1 medium free-range egg
80g buckwheat flour
100ml full-fat milk
a pinch of salt
1 tablespoon golden caster sugar
4 bananas that are just about to turn
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
4 dessertspoons runny honey
Separate the egg, placing the yolk in a lipped jug or bowl, and the white in a really clean metal mixing bowl. Add the buckwheat flour, milk, salt and sugar to the egg yolk, and whisk thoroughly to integrate into a smooth thick paste. There shouldn’t be a single lump. Set this aside for an hour and then vigorously whisk the egg white so that it forms quite firm peaks. Fold this into the thick batter mix, being careful not to lose the air you have laboriously made.
Peel the bananas and set aside, ready to be rolled in the pancakes. Heat a little oil in a good hard-bottomed frying pan. Get it consistently hot before pouring in about a cup or ladle of batter. You should have to really work it around the pan to cover it, as the foamy batter is not loose like a regular batter. By working it, though, it will be a light and crisp affair (rather than a stodgy mattress of a pancake). When the first side is cooked, the pancake will begin to brown at the edges. At this point quickly flip it (or turn with a flat bendy knife, carefully releasing it from the edges) and quickly cook the other side by merely sealing it. The pancake should look slightly decorated with golden spots. Now place a banana off centre on the pancake and fold the pancake around it, pressing down a little to seal. After a few minutes, remove from the pan to a waiting plate and hungry face before starting the whole process again with a little more oil if necessary. Pour over a little runny honey before serving.
The Ultimate Sausage Sandwich (#ulink_aaedae07-b215-58fe-aca8-3c76b3f84d40)
Makes 2 sandwiches
I’m so lucky that there’s a great butcher round the corner from my shop. They make their own sausages in all the colours of the rainbow…with herbs, lamb, leek, even chicken. If you can build up a relationship with your butcher, meat-buying will be a rewarding and pleasurable part of the shop, so give it a go. And you’ll be supporting your local community, which will make it a better place for you to live.
The ultimate sausage sandwich is subtle in perfection. Sometimes the simple things are the most challenging to get right, like a roast or a fry-up. Here, it’s all about the scrumptious balance of husky sausage, tart mustard, sweet tomato, peppery rocket and buttery warm bread. These are fast catching up with scrambled eggs and chilli jam as the Saturday morning favourite at Rosie’s.
3 good pork sausages
1 small ciabatta loaf or 2 ciabattini
2 large tomatoes
unsalted butter (French, if you can find it)
2 teaspoons smooth Dijon mustard
2 handfuls of fresh rocket
freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 200°C/Gas 6. Divide the sausages, but do not prick them (that way you will keep hostage all the wetness and flavour that is waiting inside for you). Line a baking tray with greased paper and lay the sausages on top. Place in the oven on the top shelf for 20 minutes, turning once. Remove the sausages from the oven but leave the oven on. Cut the ciabatta into 2 square hunks, and slice each again in half. Place these back on the top shelf of the oven, dough side up, to warm and crisp and colour.
Meanwhile, slice the tomatoes into roundels, and the sausages in half. These will be divided between the two sandwiches, giving each one 1
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sausages. When the bread is beginning to colour, which will take 3 or 4 minutes, remove from the oven, generously butter, and add a teaspoon of Dijon mustard to 2 of the slices. Add 3 sausage slabs to the Dijon-decorated sides and split the tomatoes between each sandwich. Finally grab a handful of rocket, shower with freshly ground pepper and seal with the singularly buttered top layer of ciabatta. Tuck in.
Economical Oeufs en Cocotte (#ulink_b1cc468f-f6e9-50f3-8b6d-fff10e8cfa4b)
For 2
This is a great way of using up a leftover tomato pasta sauce. It is basically an egg poached and baked at the same time, in a tomato nest. Many countries have a version of it. I recently found a Turkish variation called menemen. This nestles in a vegetable ragout and is on offer as a quick snack in train stations and ports, which goes to show that it’s another one of these breakfast recipes that’s just as good, any time of day.
Anyway, Alice and I first ordered eggs en cocotte without really knowing what we were getting, in a brilliant little café in Camden Passage, giggling our morning heads off. Needless to say, I ate both hers and mine, as she had, as always, lost her hangover appetite, and because I thought it so tasty and clever. I wanted it over and over.
They will be most successful if you have those lovely shallow terracotta ramekins, but a small oven dish will do. If you just fancy this for breakfast, but don’t have the necessary leftovers, you can quickly rustle up a simple sauce for the eggs’ bed. I eat it for a light supper when it looks like there’s nothing in my very occasionally unloved cupboards.
The Sauce
450ml leftover tomato sauce, or
1 tablespoon olive oil
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medium onion
1 garlic clove
5 large tomatoes
1 teaspoon tomato purée
1 teaspoon sugar
Maldon sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
Preheat the oven to 160°C/Gas 2. If you are making the tomato sauce from scratch, first warm the olive oil in a frying pan on a medium heat. Peel and finely dice the onion and add to the hot oil. Sweat for a minute, then peel and crush the garlic and add this to the pan. Chop the tomatoes into about 12 pieces each, and add these too. Simmer for 15 minutes, or until the sauce is reduced and quite smooth. Finally dissolve the tomato purée in the sauce, with some sugar and seasoning.
The Eggs
2 large free-range eggs smoked paprika
Decant the sauce into either two big ramekins or one smaller oven dish. Make two deep holes in the bed of sauce for the eggs, and crack them in, pinching a little paprika over each yolk. Place in the oven for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the egg is just firm on the top and the sauce is sizzling with a deep redness at the sides. Serve with some good buttered bread. One of my favourites is sourdough.
LOVESOME TONIGHT (#ulink_38760256-873a-54af-bc74-990b3b38b11e)
Food and love are hopelessly entangled in my mind. I for one have a hungry heart. Feeling giddy with excitement, eating oysters at Borough Market, while my boy held my hand. Slipping out of bed on a Sunday morning, to the Portuguese for café con leche and pastéis de nata. Preparing a big winter hotpot together for our friends, listening to Radio 4. And the simple stuff, like shelling beans, while the heart goes boom. It’s all to do with the senses.
Here is a gathering of recipes, all successfully tried and tested, for seduction in the kitchen. Whether it’s an emergency date, or one of those evenings planned long in advance, full of anticipation and palpitation, my advice is to crank up the music, and let the juices flow. It’s one of the finest things to do for the one you love. You should really enjoy working your magic, and casting some culinary spells.
Generally I like to eat quite simple foods when I’m in for seduction. Simple but really impressive, like for instance duck breasts, or really good steak. Your meal should be full of impact and thought, without appearing fussy or over-zealous. And don’t forget, if you are cooking for men, the demands are altogether different: Raf’s face frequently falls when I realise I’ve not incorporated massive potatoes, pans of rice and wedges of plantain into every meal!
I once shared a Bramley sorbet with verbena jelly in a dark and seducing booth in Black’s. It’s in the depths of sultry Soho and is one of my favourite places to go for simple food and uncomplicated dining. It was subtle, refreshing and lip-tinglingly good. Inspired by this, I have kept these puddings simple but suggestive, because hopefully you’ll be too enthralled by your date to want to be clattering around in the kitchen blow-torching a brûlée.
Risotto Milanese with Morcilla & Rocket & Asparagus Salad (#ulink_8d3494a2-5237-5e9e-9ea0-6c3adfe43616)
For 2
I first made this for a clandestine, last-minute dinner date. Alice and I had been drinking rosé in Brixton when he called (‘Oh God, Al, what am I to wear? Crap, the flat’s a tip!’). I rushed round the corner, a little tipsy, to get express advice from Manuel in the Portuguese deli and butcher, O Talho. He recommended this simple risotto, with the rich addition of morcilla (Spanish black pudding). The greenery and risotto are a perfect contrast of crunchy and fresh with wet and warm, and the Parmesan brings all the flavours together. So there is a happy relationship on the table already. It turned into a whole weekend of delirious fun together. Eureka.
Rocket & Asparagus Salad
This is a simple salad but rather depends on the seasons. Asparagus is in season from April through to June. When shopping for vegetables I try and bear this in mind, especially on the rare occasions that I’m in a supermarket. In these larger shops there always tends to be a choice – you just need to look closely at the label. As everything tastes much better if rightly in season, it’s in your interests to make that little extra effort.
a bundle of asparagus lots of olive oil
3 generous handfuls of fresh rocket
juice of 1 lemon
freshly ground black pepper
Maldon sea salt
50g Parmesan shavings
To make the salad, bend the asparagus spears until they snap. This will have them breaking at just the point of tenderness, and eliminate any woody stumps. Heat some olive oil in a griddle pan, and when it is really hot, and just beginning to smoke, add the spears. Sear until they are tattooed with black lines, then remove from the heat and allow to cool a little. This will only take a few minutes. On a flat serving plate, lay out the rocket leaves and scatter the asparagus over them. Simply season with the lemon juice, the oil from the griddle pan, and lots of pepper and salt, before piling on the shavings of Parmesan.
Risotto Milanese with Morcilla
Although risotto is easy to cook, it is a challenge getting perfect results. This dish should not be a sloppy rice pudding, neither should it look like an oily paella. It is somewhere in the middle. Sophisticated but soothing.
Regarding the stock, it’s preferable to have made a good chicken one. However, few have the time to labour over bones. I mostly use a good European powdered stock. If you are feeling lavish, however, you could buy a fresh jarred stock. These are available in some delis and better supermarkets. The John Lusty brand is pretty trusty.
a big knob of butter
1 large onion
150g Arborio rice
500ml hot Marigold Swiss vegetable bouillon powder stock
1 large glass of wine (about 200ml)
1 tablespoon olive oil
6 roundels of morcilla or black pudding
lots of freshly grated Parmesan
When it comes to cooking the risotto, remember that all the additions to a risotto are salty, so beware of seasoning until the end. While half the butter is melting in a wide flat pan on a very low heat, peel and very finely dice the onion and add to the pan. The onion will gradually appear soft and translucent, but not browned (about 5 minutes or so). Add the rice and mix in, then cook for about a minute, to seal it. When it is just beginning to brown, add a ladleful of hot stock and stir until the rice has absorbed it. Keep adding stock, bit by bit, stirring all the time and giving it lots of love and affection. Add the wine, again gradually, allowing the alcohol to bubble off and evaporate.
Once the rice has absorbed most of the stock, and tastes almost cooked, heat some oil in another frying pan, so that it is really hot. Add the roundels of morcilla and crisp them up. This will take a minute or so on each side. The risotto takes about 20 minutes of nurturing before it is nutty but cooked. Like al dente pasta. When you feel that the texture is both shiny and creamy, turn the heat off and melt in the final bit of butter, and the Parmesan, almost beating it. This, according to Locatelli’s bible, is the mantecatura, where it all comes together. Place the lid on the risotto pan and let it sit for a few moments. Heap the risotto on to a plate, with the morcilla pieces balancing on top.
Tomato & Pont I’Evêque Proposal Tart (#ulink_338e763d-0891-5f7c-b86e-fddfaeb3f676)
For 2 with leftovers
The quick rubbing and drawing together. The rolling, chilling, blind baking and goldening of pastry. It’s a tactile thing. And finally, filling the case and seeing the results prosper. As a child I couldn’t bear the feeling of melting butter between my fingers, rather like sand between my toes. I’m a little more worldly now, and love getting my hands stuck in. Nothing beats homemade pastry (though I have been known to cheat and buy shop-bought, if really short of time). This tart prompted a proposal from an old boyfriend of mine, Pat, so it must be good, surely?
Once you have mastered the basics, your tart options are endless. Broccoli and Saint-Agur; Mrs Kirkham’s Lancashire and apple; fennel and Pecorino; pea, mint and feta; spinach, black olive and anchovy; wild porcini and Gruyère and so on. All you need to know is what marries well, which comes with practice and confidence.
Serve this tart with a well-dressed green salad, and homemade soda bread (or a good shop-bought one, if you haven’t the time). A simple but perfectly sating meal for two, which would be especially ideal if you’ve got a vegetarian on board too. The tart is a generous one: I use a 25cm diameter fluted flan tin that feeds four. That way you’ll have something tasty for leftovers.
The Pastry
200g plain flour, plus a little more for rolling
110g unsalted butter
Maldon sea salt
You can make the pastry separately from the tart, even a day before. Fill a generous mixing bowl with the flour, diced butter and a pinch of salt. With cold hands quickly rub it between your fingers. The lighter your touch, the more delicate your pastry will be. If done with finesse you will have superb results. When the butter is consistently combined with the flour, drizzle small amounts of cold water over it, bit by bit, and with a knife draw the breadcrumb-like mound together into a moist ball. On a floured surface, roll out the pastry to fit your tin. Push it in all directions, so that it makes a circle a little bigger than the tin. Roll this up on to the rolling pin, and then unravel it gently over the tin, tucking the pastry into the edges and pressing firmly into the crinkles. Finally roll the rolling pin over the top of the tin to perfectly trim the sides to the correct height. Turn the oven to 250°C/Gas 9 or as high as it will go, but put the pastry-filled flan tin into the freezer. After 20 minutes, remove the flan tin, line it with greaseproof paper, and fill with baking beans, or dried chickpeas. Blind bake for 10 minutes. For the best pastry, remove the paper and beans and return to the oven for a further few minutes to dry out the base of the case. No one likes soggy pastry.
The Tomato & Pont I’Evêque Filling
750g cherry tomatoes
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar
1 teaspoon caster sugar
a little olive oil
4 medium free-range eggs
284ml double cream
freshly ground black pepper
Maldon sea salt
1 x Petit Pont I’Evêque or 250g Pont I’Evêque
2 teaspoons dried or fresh thyme
To make the tart, preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas 4. Slice the cherry tomatoes in half and place cut side upwards in a roasting tin lined with greaseproof paper. Drizzle over the balsamic vinegar and sprinkle with sugar and a little olive oil too. Place them in the oven and allow them to dry out – they’ll take on a rich, sweet flavour. They should take about an hour. Meanwhile, whisk up the eggs and cream in a measuring jug, with seasoning. Turn the tomatoes out into the baked pastry case and pat them down to make a dense rich red layer. Pour the eggy custard on top of the tomato and place in the oven for 10 minutes. Take out of the oven. Slice the Pont l’Evêque into strips and place on top of the nearly set and firming custard. Shred over the thyme, and return to the oven. Bake for a further half an hour, or until the cheese is blistering and turning golden and the tart is entirely set.
Garlic Fried King Prawns, Hot Spanish Squid & Balsamic Onion Tortilla (#ulink_c05637eb-b53d-5627-9213-d142605d2896)
For 2
Sometimes a girl’s got to give. A few years ago I was forced to go to extreme lengths to steal an evening with my then boyfriend. It was near impossible to find time when he wasn’t DJ-ing, going to a gig, or sorting out his sock drawer. So I lovingly took this whole meal on the P4 bus, with each individual bit prepared in little pots so that I could create it in situ. That’s love, or is it dementia?
