Hitting the comfort zone

As I think I might have mentioned in my last posting, my honeymoon in Sicily was blighted by a bad attack of gastroenteritis. For the first time in living memory, I lost my appetite. No, actually, to tell the truth, the reality was far more cruel – I didn't lose my appetite, but my stomach griped and gripped and complained in all kinds of unpleasant ways if I ate anything for the best (or should that be worst?) part of eight days.

The only thing, over the course of the entire week, that I managed to eat with equanimity was a bean soup, so when I came back I had a go at recreating what I came to think of as the ultimate comfort food. Truth to tell, I couldn't resist embellishing the basic recipe, but this is just the kind of dish I find myself craving when I'm feeling a tad below par – especially as autumn draws on.

Italian bean soup for at least eight

500g dried cannellini beans, soaked overnight with a sprinkling of bicarbonate of soda (this helps prevent the skins from splitting as you cook the beans, or so I've been told)
250g dried chickpeas, also soaked overnight with some bicarb
olive oil
200g pancetta (or thick-cut bacon if you can't find pancetta), cut into lardons
2 medium onions, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
5-6 medium carrots, cut into half-moon slices
5 sticks celery, sliced
300ml chicken stock
2 bay leaves
250ml tomato passata
1/2 savoy cabbage or a good bunch of cavollo nero, sliced
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Cook the cannellini beans and chickpeas (separately) according to the instructions on the packet (I brought the beans to the boil, then drained them, then simmered them in fresh water for about an hour and a half, while the chickpeas only needed simmering for 45 minutes until tender after the initial boiling and draining). Don't forget to skim away any mucky-looking scum that rises to the surface.

Meanwhile, heat a dribble of olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan and fry the lardons until lightly browned. Remove with a slotted spoon, lower the heat and fry the onions gently until soft and translucent.

Add the garlic and stir for a further half a minute or so, then tip in the carrots and celery and cook until just beginning to soften. At this point, add the chicken stock and turn the heat up.

While the chicken stock is coming to the boil, take half the beans and half the chickpeas and process in a blender with a little bit of the cooking water until a thick paste is formed. Stir this into the saucepan – you have to stir fairly thoroughly, preferably with a fork or a stiff whisk, in order to get the lumps of bean puree to break up.

Add the remaining beans, the bay leaves and the passata and cook for a further half hour or so, until all the flavours are melded together. If necessary, add a bit more chicken stock or water to thin the soup out. About ten minutes before serving, stir in the cabbage and season to taste.

Those who aren't dieting might appreciate a dribble of olive oil in their soup bowl, as well as a hunk of crusty bread to dip in the soup.

A tale of two Sundays

This picture, on the right, is of Mark and Laszlo basking in the afterglow of a very pleasant picnic last weekend. When we woke up that morning, it was clear that it was going to be another beautifully sunny day – much the same as the rest of the week. Because so much of this summer has been patchy, we hadn't yet had a picnic – and picnics have become a regular fixture on our annual calendar. There's something a bit lacking, I feel, if we haven't picnicked by August – se we cut it fairly fine this year.

The first year Mark and I were together, he was co-opted onto a jury at the Old Bailey. It was absolute hell (he was involved in a murder trial, and I don't think it can have been very pleasant listening to the gory details day in and day out) – but the silver lining to the cloud was that he occasionally got an afternoon off. We'd head out for Hampstead Heath (often with my sister's dog, Baloo, in tow), having stopped off at Ottolenghi on the way to buy the food. (I don't know if you've ever been to Ottolenghi, but I can't recommend it highly enough – there are now four branches in London, selling the best ready-prepared salads, cold dishes, breads and patisserie I've found since I left Sydney. It ain't cheap, but it's worth it as a once-in-a-blue-moon treat. The recently published cookbook is pretty ace, too.)

I had to check the latest branch of Ottolenghi out for the foodie guide I'm working on, so it seemed clear that the fates wanted us to have our first (possibly only, if the weather doesn't get any better) picnic of the year. Once we had our food, we headed for Battersea Park, spread out a sheet under the shady branches of a tree, and tucked in. I was fairly good – I avoided the temptations of the patisserie and stuck to salads, including aubergine dressed in yoghurt and pomegranate seeds; chickpeas and fregola pasta; grilled aubergine with a herby dressing and a mixture of crunchy radishes, celery and cucumber. Yum. We washed it all down with a bottle of fizzy water, which I'd infused with some green tea leaves, fresh mint leaves and a squeeze of lime – really refreshing.

Once we'd enjoyed our meal – and Laszlo had run himself ragged playing with a small black dog – we sat and read the Sunday papers for another hour or so. I can hardly imagine a more perfect Sunday afternoon.

This Sunday could hardly have been more different. We awoke to overcast skies, which threatened rain – but held off until I'd been for a run (I'm very thankful for small mercies).

Mark has been feeling rather poorly for much of the week, so I thought the best thing for it would be a bowl of soup – another variation on the Asian chicken soup theme. Even though the rain began falling shortly before we tucked in, it did make the day feel a little bit happier – and I like to think it made Mark feel a little bit better.

Another Asian chicken soup for two

800 mls Asian chicken stock
a small thumb of galangal, peeled and sliced into discs
2 stalks of lemongrass, trimmed and bashed about a bit with the flat of a knife
a few dried kaffir lime leaves
1 small red chilli, sliced thinly
juice of 1 lime
2 tbsp fish sauce
50g wide rice noodles
150g shitake mushrooms, bottom end of the stalk trimmed, then slice the caps and remaining bit of stalk
a bunch of asparagus, sliced into 5-cm lengths (discard the tough, fibrous bit at the bottom)
2 chicken breasts, skinned and sliced thinly
4 spring onions, sliced
lots of chopped fresh coriander, with rather less mint and basil (if you can get Thai basil, so much the better)

Put the stock in a saucepan over a medium heat and stir in the galangal, lemongrass, kaffir lime leaves, chilli, lime and fish sauce. Bring to the boil, then allow it to simmer gently for 10 minutes, in order to allow the flavours to infuse into the stock.

Meanwhile, prepare the rice noodles according to the instructions on the packet (I had to pour boiling water over mine and allow it to stand for a few minutes before draining).

Stir the mushrooms into the stock. After a couple of minutes, stir in the asparagus. Once the asparagus is starting to get tender, stir in the chicken and cook until opaque.

Spoon into large bowls, then stir in the spring onions and herbs.

Thai soup for two

My family is Jewish, so I've grown up believing in the almost mystical powers of chicken soup. My earliest experiences of chicken soup involved classic clear broth with golden slices of carrot, shreds of chicken and matzoh balls (dumplings made of matzoh meal and a mixture of flavourings). These days, I'm much more likely to tuck into a bowlful of my version of a Thai soup called Tom Khar Gai, which I love for its sharp citrus flavours, its chilli heat and the soothing sweetness of the coconut milk.

I realise the photo, left, doesn't do my Tom Khar Gai soup much justice, but believe me when I tell you that it tastes far better than it looks.

You start off the day before you need the soup by making an Asian chicken stock. Although it sounds like a lot of faff, all you need to do is tip the ingredients into a stockpot and let them simmer for a few hours. It's worth doing because it makes all the difference – this is one instance when shop-bought stock, even if it's fresh stock, just won't do.

Chicken stock

chicken carcasses (or chicken wings if you can't get hold of whole carcasses)
a brown onion, halved and peeled
lemongrass stems, bruised with the back of a knife
a thumb of galangal, peeled and cut into chunks (if you can't find galangal, fresh ginger will do)
kaffir lime leaves (although it's difficult to find these fresh, you can now find them dried and sold in the spice section of many supermarkets)
small red chillies (the hot ones), sliced
star anise (go easy on the quantities, this spice has a very pervasive flavour)
fish sauce (again, you can find this in most supermarkets - if you can't, light soy sauce will do)

I've deliberately left the quantities for this recipe vague as you can make as much or as little chicken stock as you need (and your stockpot will allow). If you end up with more than you need, stock freezes very well once it has been thoroughly cooled.

Cover the chicken carcasses or wings with water, then add the remaining ingredients.

Bring to the boil, skimming the brownish scum that forms on the liquid. Reduce to a simmer – it's important to get the heat as low as you possibly can, so that only the occasional bubble breaks the surface. That way the stock should remain fairly clear once you're finished.

Carry on simmering for at least a couple of hours (I sometimes leave my stockpot on the stove for up to four hours).

Strain the chicken bones and spices, reserving the liquid. Now's the time to taste the stock. If it still needs to be more concentrated, put it back on the stove and boil until it's reduced to the appropriate concentration.

Allow to cool and (preferably) place the stock in the fridge overnight. You should find that any fat will float to the surface and harden to a solid, which will allow you to remove it easily. Your stock is now ready to use or freeze.

Once you have your stock ready, you can move on to making the Tom Khar Gai, which is a) an absolute doddle to make and b) one of those recipes that takes you from go to whoa (as the Aussies say) in a very short space of time, making this a handy dish for a mid-week meal.

Tom Khar Gai soup for two

700mls Asian chicken stock
2 stems lemongrass, bruised with the back of a knife and cut into 10-cm lengths
a thumb of galangal (or ginger, see above), peeled and cut into discs
1-2 small red chillies, sliced
kaffir lime leaves
3 tbsp fish sauce (or soy sauce, see above)
150-200g shitake mushrooms, sliced
2 chicken breasts, skinned and sliced thinly
400ml can reduced-fat coconut milk
1 lime
4 spring onions, trimmed and sliced
2-3 tbsp chopped fresh coriander

Tip the stock into a saucepan and add the flavourings, from lemongrass to fish sauce. Bring to boiling point, then reduce the heat and simmer for 15 minutes or so in order to let the flavours infuse. (I'd start off by using one chilli – you can always add more later on, but you can't remove chilli heat if you add too much at the start, a lesson I've learned from bitter experience.)

Add the mushrooms and cook until tender (a matter of five minutes or so, depending on how thick you've sliced them).

Stir in the chicken and cook through.

Stir in the coconut milk. It's important not to let the soup boil from this point on, otherwise the coconut milk sometimes separates out.

Squeeze the lime's juice into the soup.

Ladle the soup into bowls and garnish with the spring onions and the coriander.

Taste for seasoning and adjust if necessary.

Summer soups

People always say that shopping at Borough Market is expensive, and it can be – especially if you go crazy in one of the cheese or charcuterie shops. But I find that there are benefits, apart from getting my hands on some of the best produce in London. If you get to know the stallholders, you'll often get the price of your purchase rounded down or something extra chucked into your bag. You also get a heads up on the best produce and inspiration on new ways to cook it.

I love gazpacho with a passion, so when Harry at the Wild Mushroom company told me last Saturday that he had some nice ripe tomatoes in, I knew just what I wanted to do with them. It's true that I did make the stuff in rather vast quantities, but I'm happy to have bowl after bowl of it – and a glassful makes a nice mid-afternoon snack.

Vast quantities of gazpacho

a dozen ripe mid-sized plum tomatoes (or the equivalent if you find other kinds of tomatoes in the right stage of ripeness – around a kilo and a half is my best guess)
1 slightly stale ciabatta or other open-textured loaf, cut into chunks
1 cucumber, de-seeded and cut into chunks
1 Spanish onion, peeled and cut into chunks
3 peppers, cored, de-seeded and cut into chunks
1-2 chillies
2-3 cloves garlic
1.5 litres tomato juice (preferably not from concentrate)
2 tsp ground cumin
2-3 tbsp sherry vinegar
good-quality olive oil
1 tray of ice cubes
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Peel the tomatoes by cutting a cross in their bases and allowing them to lie in a bowl of just-boiled water until the skin starts to split (anywhere between a few seconds and a minute or so, depending on how ripe the tomatoes are). It should then be easy to peel off the skin.

Once they're peeled, remove the hard core near the stem and rinse out the seeds under a running tap.

Tear the bread into chunks and place in a bowl to soak in cold water.

Put the tomatoes, the cucumber, the onion and the peppers into your food processor and blitz. You probably won't get everything into the bowl of your food processor all together, but it doesn't much matter as you can mix everything up in a large bowl.

Squeeze the excess water out of the bread and add that to the contents of the processor, along with the chilli, the garlic and some of the tomato juice.

Tip everything into a large bowl and stir together with the remaining tomato juice, the cumin and vinegar (which should give the soup a zesty lift without making it taste at all vinegary). Sprinkle with olive oil, season and then drop the ice cubes in.

Leave in the fridge for at least an hour or two for the flavours to meld together before serving.

I sometimes garnish mine with fried croutons, but as those are currently out of the question, a quarter of a ripe avocado, sliced, makes a pleasant addition.

More strong flavours

I've always loved hot and sour soup, even the really naff versions you get in cheap Chinese restaurants - it's something to do with the hit of peppery heat allied to the refreshingly sharp twang of vinegar, which I find a very appealing combination. It's exactly the kind of dish I like to come home to on a cold, snowy April day (how unseasonal is this snow?) So I was thrilled to discover a recipe for the stuff in Fuchsia Dunlop's wonderful book, Sichuan Cookery. Over the years, I've adapted her recipe to suit my own tastes, so the version below is mine, not hers – including all the inaccuracies and inauthentic touches. You'll find some of the more exotic ingredients in your local Asian supermarket.

Enough Hot and Sour Soup for five main-meal portions

a good handful of dried wood-ear fungus
350-400g pork loin, cut into matchstick strips (marinaded with 2 tsp Shaoxing wine, 1/2 tsp salt, 3 tsp potato starch and 2 tbsp water)
250g tinned bamboo shoots, cut into thin strips
1 tbsp groundnut or vegetable oil
a thumb of fresh ginger, peeled and cut into matchstick strips
1 small green or red chilli, sliced finely
200g shitake mushrooms, sliced
2 litres chicken stock
400g fresh beancurd, cubed
150g peas (frozen will do fine)
2 tbsp Shaoxing wine
2 tsp light soy sauce
2 tsp dark soy sauce
6 tbsp potato flour mixed with 100 ml water
salt and lots of freshly ground black pepper
150g prawns (I use small frozen prawns, which I defrost before I use them – it's certainly not worth going to the expense of buying fresh prawns, or large ones)

To serve:
8 spring onions, sliced
2 eggs, whisked up with 2 tsp sesame oil
6-8 tbsp black Chinese vinegar

Soak the wood-ear fungus in enough boiling water to cover. Leave for half an hour or so, then cut into strips.

Stir the marinade ingredients together, then mix thoroughly with the pork strips.

Blanch the bamboo shoots in boiling water, then refresh under a cold tap.

Heat the groundnut oil, then stir fry the ginger and chilli together for a few seconds. Add the shitake mushrooms and fry over a lowish heat for a few minutes, until the mushrooms start to cook.

Add the chicken stock and bring to the boil. Reduce to a simmer, then stir in the beancurd, pork and peas. Add the Shaoxing wine, soy sauces and seasonings – use lots of black pepper to give the soup that peppery bite. Simmer for a few minutes, to let the flavours meld together.

Stir a spoonful of hot soup into the potato flour and water mixture, then tip the whole lot into the pot and stir. The soup should become thick and glossy, without becoming gluey.

Stir the prawns into the soup to heat them through (don't cook them too long, though, or they become rubbery and unappetising).

Meanwhile, divide the spring onions between the serving bowls.

At the last minute, use a fork to trace 'threads' of the egg and sesame oil mixture across the surface of the simmering soup (these will cook in the hot liquid).

Stir in just enough vinegar to give the soup the required twang, without making it overly sharp. Pour straight into the bowls without allowing the vinegar to cook (it seems to lose its sharpness if you do that) and serve.

Soup, glorious soup

I've been feeling a tad guilty for not having put enough recipes on the blog recently, so over the next few days I plan to post a number of dishes that have helped to keep me going over the recent chilly weeks.

The first recipe I want to post is this gorgeous, tasty bowlful on the left. I love soup with a passion, and in my single days would sometimes cook a vat of the stuff and live on it from one end of the week to the next. This particular soup is fairly simple to make, yet I find it incredibly satisfying. Oh – and it's pretty healthy, too. But you do need one key ingredient to make it work, and that's home-cooked chicken stock. Store-bought stuff will do at a pinch, but you can forget about stock cubes. I've included a recipe for chicken stock below, just in case you've never made any at home – but don't worry, it's simplicity itself to make.

Soup with spicy pork balls and cabbage for two

300g minced pork
4 spring onions, trimmed and sliced
bunch of flat-leaf parsley, chopped
bunch of mint leaves, chopped
1 tbsp soy sauce
1 small fiery chilli, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 tbsp olive oil
600 mls chicken stock (see recipe below)
1/2 savoy cabbage, cored and shredded
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Mix the pork, spring onions, herbs, soy sauce, chilli and garlic together in a bowl, then form into walnut-sized balls.

Heat the oil in a frying pan, then fry the pork balls, a few at a time, until they're nicely browned on all sides. Put the cooked meat to one side until everything's ready.

While you're frying the pork, bring the stock to a boil in a saucepan, then lower heat until it's simmering.

Heat the pork balls in the soup for a few minutes, until they're thoroughly cooked through.

Add the cabbage and cook for another minute or two. Season to taste and serve.


Chicken stock

chicken carcasses (or chicken wings if you can't get hold of whole carcasses)
olive oil
a brown onion, halved and peeled
3-4 celery sticks
a couple of carrots
tsp peppercorns
2-3 bayleaves
bunch parsley
salt

I've deliberately left the quantities for this recipe vague as you can make as much or as little chicken stock as you need (and your stockpot will allow). If you end up with more than you need, stock freezes very well once it has been thoroughly cooled.

Brown the chicken carcasses or wings with the oil in a saucepan. Cover with water, then add the remaining ingredients, apart from the salt.

Bring to the boil, skimming the brownish scum that forms on the liquid. Reduce to a simmer – it's important to get the heat as low as you possibly can, so that only the occasional bubble breaks the surface. That way the stock should remain fairly clear once you're finished.

Carry on simmering for at least a couple of hours (I sometimes leave my stockpot on the stove for up to four hours).

Strain the chicken bones and vegetables, reserving the liquid. Now's the time to taste the stock. If it still needs to be more concentrated, put it back on the stove and boil until it's reduced to the appropriate concentration. Then – and only then – should you add salt (it can get very salty if you add your salt before concentrating the stock).

Allow to cool and (preferably) place the stock in the fridge overnight. You should find that any fat will float to the surface and harden to a solid, which will allow you to remove it easily. Your stock is now ready to use or freeze.

Life is a minestrone...

According to 10cc (a 70s pop group for those of you not old enough to remember them), life is a minestrone, topped off with Parmesan cheese. I'm not entirely sure that my own life is a minestrone (whatever that means), but I've certainly been eating enough of the stuff over the past few days. It's the kind of recipe you need to cook in large quantities, and you can either do what I did, and have a bowlful a day for a few days, or you can freeze some and save it for later.

I spent a happy 40 minutes or so in the kitchen on Saturday cooking a large vat of soup (see recipe below) and it's done sterling duty over the course of four meals (three of which have been shared with Mark). The combination of cannelini beans, loads of veg and a thick tomatoey broth makes it the ideal dieter's lunch on a cold winter's day. I found that a bowlful of the stuff kept my appetite at bay for most of the afternoon – just what the nutritionist ordered (or what the nutritionist would have ordered if I was going to see one).

The first time round I sprinkled about a tablespoon full of Parmesan on the top, but to be honest it was a waste of time. The cheese just vanished into the soup and was pretty much undetectable. Far better, I think, if you're craving that hit of cheese, to cut off a small lump – about the amount that, grated, would give you a tablespoon's worth – and nibble it in between mouthfuls of soup. If you get bored with basic minestrone, you can jazz it up by adding a teaspoonful of pesto to the soup as you're reheating it – the basil flavour works really well in the tomatoey soup.

Pesto was also a key component in our Monday-night dinner of pesto-marinated chicken and ratatouille ( see recipe below). The chicken is one of the world's simplest dishes to prepare: all you do is take a breast fillet of chicken (without skin, alas) and make three or four deep slashes into the flesh. Mix a heaped teaspoon of shop-bought pesto (or home-made, even better, yum) with a couple of tablespoons of 0% fat yoghurt. Rub the marinade into the chicken and leave, covered, in the fridge for a minimum of four hours. When you're ready to cook the chook, wipe some of the pesto yoghurt off the chicken (leaving a thin coating) and place under a hot grill. Cook on both sides and serve with ratatouille or a green salad.

Ratatouille for four

1 medium aubergine, cut into thick slices
1 medium onion, chopped
2-3 tbsp olive oil
1-2 cloves of garlic, minced
2 courgettes, cut in half lengthways then cut into half circles
2 peppers (preferably one yellow, one red), quartered, deseeded and cut into thick slices
200g chopped canned tomatoes
a handful of basil leaves, torn
salt and feshly ground black pepper

Salt the aubergine slices and place them in a colander with a heavy plate or bowl on top to weigh them down. Leave for at least half an hour, until the salt has leached the bitter juices from the aubergines. Rinse, pat dry and cut into chunks.

Fry the onion with a scant tablespoon of the oil in a saucepan over a low heat (I've found that using a bare minimum of oil means that the onion burns easier than it usually would. A low flame and taking your time helps avoid the problem, but stir frequently) until it is soft and translucent.

While the onion is softening, fry the aubergine in a tablespoon of oil (only use the remaining oil if you really, really have to; aubergine soaks up oil like a sponge, especially at lower temperatures, so get the oil good and hot before adding the veg). If the aubergine looks like it's starting to burn before it's cooked through, remove it and place it in a bowl covered with a saucepan lid or plate. The steam will help finish off the cooking.

When the onion has softened, add the garlic and cook for a further minute or so. Add the courgettes and fry for a few more minutes, until they start to soften. Finally, stir in the pepper strips and fry for a further couple of minutes.

Pour the tomates into the saucepan and stir. Bring to the boil, then turn heat down to a simmer, stir in the aubergines and season with salt and pepper. Cook, covered, on a low heat for about half an hour. Garnish with torn basil leaves and serve warm or at room temperature.


Minestrone for at least eight (this is a pretty free-form recipe, so feel free to adjust it to include other appropriate veggies)

2 tbsp olive oil
1 large or 2 medium onions, chopped
2-3 cloves of garlic, minced
2-3 leeks (depending on size), sliced finely
2 carrots, peeled and cut into medium dice
1 bulb of fennel, chopped
3 stalks of celery, sliced
2 litres chicken or vegetable stock
600g chopped canned tomatoes
3-4 sprigs of thyme, chopped
2 bayleaves
2 x 400g cans of cannelini beans
2 courgettes, cut lengthways into quarters, then sliced into chunks
torn basil leaves, to garnish
salt and freshly ground black pepper

Heat the oil over a low heat in a large saucepan, then cook the onion gently until soft and translucent. Add the garlic and fry for a further minute.

Stir in the leeks and cook until they start to soften, then add the carrots. After another 3-4 minutes, tip the fennel and celery into the saucepan and continue to fry gently.

Pour in the stock, turn up the heat and bring to the boil. Reduce heat to a simmer, then add the chopped tomatoes, thyme and bayleaves. Simmer for half an hour or so, uncovered.

Add the the beans and the courgettes and season to taste. Once the courgettes are tender, you can serve the soup, garnished with a handful of torn basil leaves.