This is the third of three recipes developed in partnership with Parmigiano Reggiano

I had no idea how prominently pizza would feature in my lockdown experience. I used to frequent my local pizzeria (Theo’s in Camberwell) at least once a week for a bubble-crusted beauty topped with scotch bonnet ‘nduja, or anchovies, olives and capers. Occasionally, I’d go classic and order a Margherita, but I’d always have a plate of mortadella and pickled chillies to start and finish by swiping the last piece of dough through a pool of their famous chilli sauce.

When the pizzeria closed I was left pining along with so many others, missing their own regular haunts. Photos of homemade attempts (good and bad) appeared on Instagram as we all tried to recreate a slice or eight of our favourite carbohydrate.

Then one day, Theo’s reopened for delivery! Even better, my boyfriend, recently unemployed thanks to the virus, began delivering pizzas to the local hospital for them, as part of a public donation scheme. Soon, we had a steady supply not only of pizza but of *free* pizza. We found our happy place amid the Corona-chaos.

One evening my boyfriend called me during his shift; he’d come off the bike thanks to a nasty pothole, flown over the handlebars and broken his collarbone (and three ribs for good measure). His pizza delivering days were over, but at least he’d been right outside the hospital when it happened.

Someone else delivers the pizzas now, and although we still order them, I’ve also started making some at home, as a kind of make-peace-with-pizza activity. They’re great cooked on the barbecue where temperatures are high, but I wanted to crack an indoor version, just because.

 

 

It’s cooked in a cast-iron frying pan, which can get suitably hot before it’s popped under the grill to brown the top. It has a bubbly crust, crisp bottom and soft insides and I’m very happy with it. It’s topped with creme fraiche, spiked with a generous amount of garlic, which is creamy yet fresh, and somehow lighter than cheese but with a comparable mouthfeel. Almost like a pizza that learnt to self dip.

The lack of mozzarella also makes way for plenty of Parmigiano Reggiano to finish, which is grated over at the end so it stays fluffy. Interestingly, any Parmigiano Reggiano which is sold pre-grated must take place in the area of origin, which is admirable dedication to protecting PDO status. I promise I’m only grating mine for personal use, officer. I’d love to visit the region one day and see the cheese being made; it’s produced in only a small area of Northern Italy including the provinces of Parma, Reggio Emilia, Modena, Mantua to the right of the river Po and Bologna to the left of the river Reno, over a surface area of approximately 10,000km. Specific enough for ya? Thankfully, there are no restrictions on area of consumption.

Garlic Creme Fraiche, Mushroom and Parmigiano Reggiano Pizza Recipe

Makes 2 pizzas

250g ‘00’ flour
1 teaspoon dried yeast
½ teaspoon salt
Large pinch sugar
160ml water
500ml creme fraiche
3 cloves garlic, grated or crushed
250g mushrooms, thickly sliced
Big knob of butter
A couple of tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
Plenty of Parmigiano Reggiano

Mix the flour, yeast, sugar and salt, then add the water and mix until you have a dough. Knead very briefly until just smooth, then cover and allow to rest overnight at room temp.

The next day, tip the dough onto a lightly floured surface, divide into two balls, cover loosely and leave for about an hour.

Combine the garlic, creme fraiche and a couple of teaspoons of thyme leaves in a bowl, seasoning with salt and pepper.

Melt the butter in a frying pan over medium heat and add the mushrooms. Cook, with minimal stirring for 5-10 minutes, or until there’s no liquid left and the mushrooms have started to colour. Stir the mushrooms, season, then set aside.

Heat a cast-iron frying pan/skillet over medium-high heat for 5 minutes. Preheat your grill to medium.

Use your hands to stretch one ball of dough into a pizza shape, leaving it a bit thicker at the crust.

Place the dough into the frying pan and cook for a minute or so until the top begins to dry out. Add your creme fraiche and mushrooms. Cook for a couple of minutes more, then add a little more thyme, a good grating of Parmigiano Reggiano and pop under the grill under starting to turn golden in places.

Garnish with plenty more Parmigiano Reggiano and serve.

This is the second of three recipes produced in partnership with Parmigiano Reggiano

Lockdown has got me thinking about the cumulative power of small things; the way that all the behaviours we perform on a day to day basis stack up to equal our wellbeing. Something as small as smoothing on moisturiser after a shower; getting a haircut; buying an ice cream; shopping for ingredients without a list; taking the first sip of a cold pint; hugging a mate; wearing new shoes.

Quality of life is notoriously hard to measure, primarily because it’s subjective. We will likely agree on many measures of this fuzzy metric but many are specific to the individual. We all have different vulnerabilities, take pleasure in different activities and feel the holes left by people and places in different ways. Right now I feel a bit like I’m rushing to plug an emotional leak only for another one to spring up in its place.

This is related to minestrone, I promise. The Italian classic is itself an accumulation of small parts, adding up to a comforting whole. It’s also quite variable, although as far as I understand it the ingredients Italians argue about most are the beans and pasta. I’m sure most would also be horrified at my changing the veg and serving the soup with what basically equates to garlic bread but as I said, it’s each to their own right now. I’m going with what makes me happy and so should you.

Parmigiano Reggiano is, of course, non-negotiable. I’ve always kept old rinds in the freezer ready for soup-making because there’s tons of flavour there for the taking. The rind simmers, softens and leaks its umami into the broth. Recently, I saw Rosie Mackean frying hers to caramelise it before simmering and I thought it was genius, so that’s what I’ve done with this recipe. I’d recommend – as she does – keeping the rind back as a chef’s treat.

The distinctive, dotted rind of Parmigiano Reggiano can be eaten as there’s no wax used to cover it; the outside is hard purely due to its reaction with the air. As a PDO product there are many regulations governing its manufacture, of course; strict feeding regulations for the cattle which produce the milk; a minimum period of maturation and a regional restriction which denotes that all stages of production must occur in Parmigiano Reggiano’s area of origin in northern Italy.

Will I emerge from this strange period matured like a fine cheese, or with a touch of rot around the edges? It’s the little things that are likely to preserve my whole.

Minestrone Soup with Parmigiano Reggiano Recipe

Serves 4

1 large onion, diced
2 ribs celery, diced
5 cloves garlic, peeled and crushed or grated
1 medium potato, diced the same size as the onion
1 tin cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
120g (or thereabouts) spring greens or sweetheart cabbage (ribs removed and finely sliced)
1 bunch asparagus (around 16 spears, trimmed and cut into 1 inch lengths)
75g small pasta shapes
600ml good chicken or vegetable stock
1 rind of Parmigiano Reggiano
100g pancetta, diced and fried until crisp
Olive oil, for frying

For the garlic butter toast

I don’t think you need a recipe to tell you how to mash garlic and parsley into butter and spread it onto toast, so I’ll leave that one with you.

Add a glug of oil to a nice large saucepan and gently cook the onion and celery until soft but not coloured, around 5-10 minutes. Add your rind of Parmigiano Reggiano, dotted side up and let it caramelise on the bottom of the pan for a few minutes.

Add your garlic and cook gently, stirring, for a few minutes more. Add your potato and cook for a few minutes longer, then add the beans and stock along with 400ml water.

Bring to the boil then taste and season with salt and pepper. Let all this bubble away for 15 minutes or so, to let that cheese rind infuse.

Add your pasta shapes and the stalk ends of the asparagus and cook for 2 minutes before adding the asparagus tips and cabbage.

Garnish with crispy pancetta and the garlic toast.

This recipe is the first of three produced as part of a paid partnership with Parmigiano Reggiano.

Turns out lying around on the sofa isn’t all that great for your mental health, then. Who knew? People need purpose, which is usually what employment brings. It’s the same with cleaning your living space or doing some exercise – those tasks we put off generally make us happier in the long run.

Creating something is nourishing – be it a painting or a plate of food – and keeping things simple maximises the chances of positive reward. Even the most straightforward cooking, like mashing potatoes or boiling an egg to plomp on top of instant noodles can be the difference between a good day and a forgettable one.

I know there are lots of you who enjoy cooking but aren’t interested in spending hours over it, or queueing outside a specialist shop on the off chance they’ll have the right ingredient. I wanted to come up with some simple recipes that still have big flavour, as you know I don’t do timid when it comes to cooking.

This brings me to Parmigiano Reggiano, who I’m working with again because I love their product but also because it’s a particularly useful cheese to have around right now – it keeps for ages and adds lots of umami, even in small amounts. The intensity comes from the minimum maturation period of 12 months (fun fact: it has the longest ageing period of any PDO cheese) and it can mature for up to 48 months, by which time it has a strong, spiced flavour. It’s incredible to think that something so flavourful is made from just three ingredients: raw, unpasteurised milk, rennet and salt.

I’ve used it here in scones, which as we all know are so simple a child can make them. In fact, the success of scones really lies in not getting involved with them too much at all, barely handling the mix before cutting. I’ve kept the flavour simple by adding chives to the cheese and topping with chilli butter, but you could add nigella seeds or dried herbs maybe, depending on what you have in the cupboard. They’re light, crumbly and properly comforting with a big, deeply-brewed mug of tea.

Parmigiano Reggiano and Chive Scones with Chilli Butter Recipe

Makes 12-14, depending on size

450g plain flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
120g cold butter
1 teaspoon salt
200g Parmigiano Reggiano, finely grated
300ml milk
3 tablespoons chopped chives
1 teaspoon English mustard powder
1 egg, beaten, for glazing

For the chilli butter

Butter
Chilli flakes

Preheat the oven to 220C (fan) and grease two baking trays.

Combine the flour, baking powder, salt and mustard powder in a mixing bowl.

Grate the butter into the mixture (this is easiest if you hold it using a piece of the packet, so it doesn’t melt in your hand), then rub it in using your fingertips until the mixture resembles crumbs.

Add the chives and grated Parmesan and mix well.

Make a well in the centre and pour in the milk, bringing the dough together until just combined – it should still look shaggy. Don’t handle it any more than necessary.

Tip the dough onto a very lightly floured work surface and gently pat it into a rectangle around 2cm thick.

Use either a circular cutter or something round such as a glass to cut circles (or use a knife to make squares if you prefer).

Place on the baking trays and brush with the beaten egg. Bake for 12-15 minutes, until golden. Place on a wire rack to cool a little – they’re good when they’re still slightly warm.

Make the chilli butter by mashing the two ingredients together, to taste. Spread on the still warm scones!

There’s only so many times a woman can see kale pasta on Instagram before she is compelled to make it. I think this recipe trend has come to us from the US, like avocado toast and using Brussels sprouts in literally everything. I predict the broccoli ‘grilled cheese’ will soon take over. You wait.

Part of kale pasta’s appeal is the wacky colour but it also reflects the fact that we’ve swung from despising and mistreating cruciferous veg to appreciating their bold, iron-rich flavour. I’m also desperate for greens at this time of year when so much focus has been on sweet gnarly roots like carrots and parsnips.

Spring is coming and this is the kind of cheerful bowl that bridges a seasonal gap. I wanted to garnish it with salted ricotta but that’s quite hard to find around these parts so I subbed in grated halloumi which did a pretty fine job. You’re likely to want about 50% more of it than you see in this photo. At least, I did.

Rigatoni with Kale, Walnuts and Halloumi Recipe

(makes enough for 500g pasta)

250g kale, ribs removed
3 cloves garlic
75g Parmesan, grated
70g walnuts
4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
4 tablespoons lemon juice
Black pepper
Halloumi, to garnish

Bring a large pan of water to a boil and put the kale in it. Bring back to the boil, cook for 30 seconds, then drain.

Toast the walnuts in a dry pan, moving them around over medium heat until they smell delicious. Take care not to burn them.

Add the kale to a blender with the garlic, Parmesan, walnuts, olive oil and lemon juice. Add lots of black pepper and check for seasoning – you might want a bit of salt but bear in mind the halloumi will be salty.

Serve stirred through hot pasta with a splash of the pasta water for silkiness and top with grated halloumi.

Sorry about the basic recipe title but ‘conchiglioni rigati stuffed with sprouts, greens and ricotta in a three-cheese sauce’ just seemed ridiculous, and my brain is on holiday until January 2nd.

I made this with the aim of using up all the Christmas cheese. Just when I thought we were finished I found a whole wedge of Colston Bassett, a substantial nub of Cheddar and a hefty slice of Mrs Kirkham’s lurking, so I’ve combined them with two more types of cheese to make this gigantic pasta bake. Believe it or not, we still have cheese leftover.

I had to use some finely sliced Brussels sprouts because this has been the year of #sproutcontent, particularly on my Instagram feed, and I’m chuffed that so many of you have made my sprout kimchi recipe. I combined them with cavolo nero, spinach and ricotta and stuffed the mixture into shells which were baked in the sauce, with more cheese on top for luck.

This was impossible to resist hot and bubbling from the oven, despite the fact that rich food fatigue is definitely setting in. To that end, make sure to eat it with a sharply dressed salad which will counterpoint some of the richness.*

*help you eat more pasta bake.

Super Cheesy Stuffed Pasta Shells Recipe

Approx 30 large pasta shells (conchiglioni rigati)
150g sprouts, finely sliced
7 large cloves garlic, crushed
200g spinach
200g cavolo nero, leaves stripped from stalks
500g ricotta
Butter, for cooking
A few pieces of blue cheese, such as Colston Bassett or Stichelton
Parmesan, for grating on top

For the bechamel

1 litre milk (I used semi-skimmed)
1 onion, peeled and quartered
2 bay leaves
10 peppercorns
70g plain flour
100g butter
100g blue cheese such as Colston Basset or Stichelton, crumbled
100g cheddar, grated

Heat the milk gently with the onion, bay leaves and peppercorns – stirring – until it begins to simmer, then turn off, cover and set aside for 20 minutes or so.

In the meantime, wash the spinach and cavolo nero and place in a saucepan. Put a lid on and gently heat until wilted. Drain, then run under cold water until cool. Place in a clean tea towel and squeeze out as much water as possible. Chop finely.

Heat a knob of butter in a pan and gently cook the sprouts and garlic until softened and smelling great. Combine with the spinach and cavolo nero. Add the ricotta and mix well. Season with salt and set aside.

Cook the pasta shells in boiling salted water until just half cooked (they will continue cooking in the oven later). Run under cold water to cool them down. Stuff each with some of the greens and ricotta mixture. Set aside in a bowl.

To finish the bechamel, strain the milk and add back to the pan. Add the flour and butter and heat on a medium heat, whisking all the time until nice and thick. Melt in the cheese and taste – add salt if necessary. Cover and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 180C.

Cover the base of a large ovenproof dish with the bechamel. Arrange the pasta shapes on top, stuffing side up. Crumble the remaining blue cheese on top and cover with grated Parmesan. Bake for 20-25 minutes until bubbling and beginning to golden. Finish under the grill for 5 minutes to brown the top (watch carefully!).

Serve with a sharp green salad.

This is a recipe I’ve developed as part of a paid partnership with Parmigiano Reggiano.

It’s only in recent years I’ve begun to throw myself into seasonal cookery as part of my plan to reclaim Christmas as something more my own, rather than focusing on all the aspects I don’t enjoy (see: the whole religious festival thing, the stress, tinsel). Obviously, the social side is fun, and it’s nice to have a break – even if I didn’t bloody choose to have one thankyouverymuch – but for me, it’s about trying to enjoy myself in non-traditional ways and not get annoyed with gaudy lights and forced participation.

I’ve chosen to buy a non-traditional tree, for example. I was always whining that I didn’t like the green pointy variety, so why did I ever consider buying one? Mine’s a willowy silver number covered with food-themed baubles and a crab on top instead of an angel. So there.

Please don’t for a moment think I am judgemental about the ways in which others enjoy Christmas because nothing could be further from the truth. I think there is a lot of pressure at this time of year to do things a certain way, and what I’m trying to say is that it’s helped me a lot to find my own path.

Food can become oddly competitive too, which is a shame because it’s arguably the best thing about Christmas {insert caveat about family time here}. Over the years I’ve developed some recipes which have become firm favourites (these sausage rolls with whisky caramelised onions for example) and some which are popular newcomers (looking at you, Brussels sprout kimchi).

I think one thing we can all agree on is that it’s necessary to ensure a steady stream of snackage, and these croquettes are a perfect little bite. They’re just mashed potato, bacon, Brussels and plenty of Parmigiano Reggiano made into balls and deep-fried, and you could easily swap in some leftover ham or other greens if you felt like it.

The Parmigiano Reggiano brings moreish savouriness and depth of flavour, plus it’s very handy to have around at this time of year – try grating it onto puff pastry and twisting into straws before baking for the easiest last-minute party snack for example, or use as a filling for palmiers with anchovy. It would be great in some miniature tartlets with crab as a smart starter, or try adding to stuffing for a savoury note that will keep people guessing.

The most important thing is not to stress, and I think one of the nicest ways of hosting at Christmas is to invite people round, tell them to bring their own bottles, make a big pile of literally just one snack and have them dig in. These are cute and filling enough to keep everyone satisfied and you don’t have to faff about with multiple tasks. They work nicely with a quick n’ dirty dip made with mayonnaise, a touch of yoghurt, chives, garlic and more Parmigiano Reggiano. Dive in, kick back and try not to worry about what on earth you’re going to buy that cranky old uncle you don’t particularly care for.

Parmigiano Reggiano, Bacon and Brussels Sprout Croquettes Recipe

Makes 25-30 croquettes, depending on size

700g potatoes for mashing such as Maris Piper
2 egg yolks, plus 2 whole eggs for coating
100g grated Parmigiano Reggiano
120g Brussels sprouts, stalks removed and finely shredded
240g bacon (8 thin rashers), large pieces of fat removed and finely diced
Flour, for coating
Breadcrumbs, for coating
Oil, for frying

Cook the potatoes in salted water, then mash them until very smooth.

Add the bacon to a hot, dry frying pan and cook until just beginning to crisp, then add the sprouts and stir well. Cook, stirring, just until the sprouts have softened.

Mix mashed potatoes, Parmigiano Reggiano, sprouts, bacon and some salt and pepper. Taste for seasoning, then add the yolks and mix well.

Roll into walnut-sized balls and chill for at least 2 hours.

When you’re ready to cook the croquettes, cover one plate with flour, another with beaten egg and another with breadcrumbs. Using one hand for dry ingredients and one for wet, coat each ball in flour, then egg, then crumb.

Heat oil for deep frying to 180C. Turn an oven on low (50C or thereabouts).

Cook the croquettes in batches of 4 or 5, turning often, until golden brown all over (2-3 minutes should do it).

Drain on kitchen paper and transfer to the oven to keep warm while you cook the rest.

For the dip, I just mixed few tablespoons of mayo with a couple of yoghurt, a squeeze of lemon, a clove of garlic and plenty of grated cheese. Garnish with a few chives and you’re all set.

Yup. I’m here to tell you how to bake some potatoes. They’re a little bit fancy though – perfect for someone who’s celebrating the end of a cooking slump but also needs straight-up comfort food because she’s bored of watching everyone else have a good time on Instagram.

Social media has really done my head in recently, which is a weird thing to say because I know that’s where you’ve probably just come from. I posted a link to Instagram and you followed it? Thank you for doing that. But social media (be it Twitter, Instagram or Facebook) is a place that buoys you up when you’re up and kicks you hard when you’re down and that’s something I only tangentially understood until recently.

As I said, I’ve been in something of a rut, culinarily speaking. Coming out of it has been a little like watching a sunrise: at first, there’s a barely detectable change, incrementally increasing until a familiar warmth spreads through everything. Being creative on demand is tough until you get good at it and then suddenly there can be a period of weeks or months where you can’t grasp hold of the ideas anymore.

These potatoes may not be the most revolutionary idea I’ve ever come up with but they hit the spot. The confit garlic and pickled mushrooms are both very easy – it just takes an hour or so to make them both. This is perfect if you’re emerging from a cooking coma and want to potter in the kitchen of an afternoon but if you can’t be bothered then why not just roast the potatoes with some garlic? And perhaps garnish them with some shop-bought cornichons? At the end of the day, it’s just a plate of cheesy potatoes. Don’t stress.

I’ve been contacted by a few food writers over the past few weeks who’ve let me know they often experience a similar phenomenon: a malaise that starts to become a vicious circle of not cooking + feeling rubbish. I’m beginning to think it’s part and parcel of being creative, something akin to sleeping where ideas and experience assimilate into something more foundational. I hope so at least.

Today shall be spent cooking an incredible Fosse Meadows chicken we found at the market in Herne Hill, along with a beer and sourdough bolstered celeriac gratin – both of them on the barbecue. I’m back in business and I’m loving it. However, my message to any cooks out there who feel like they can only manage a Deliveroo while lying on the sofa is this: please don’t feel guilty. The love will return because it’s too deep-seated to go away for very long.

Fancy Baked Potatoes Recipe (with Gorgonzola, pickled chanterelles and confit garlic)

Serves 4

1 kg new potatoes
Gorgonzola (a few chunks per serving)
Tarragon, leaves picked
Chives, finely chopped
Olive oil
Confit garlic (see method below or alternatively, chuck some in the oven with the potatoes)
Pickled chanterelles (see method below or serve with shop-bought pickles such as cornichons)

Preheat the oven to 190C/170fan/Gas 5

Put the potatoes in a roasting dish, add a couple of tablespoons of olive oil and some coarse salt (be generous) and roast for an hour, or until tender on the inside and crisp and wrinkled on the outside.

To assemble the dish, preheat a grill.

Place some potatoes onto plates and crush lightly, then top with chunks of Gorgonzola and pop under the grill under the cheese has melted. Garnish with pickled chanterelles, confit garlic cloves, chopped chives and tarragon leaves. Extra garlic oil and salt might be a good idea.

For the confit garlic

4 bulbs garlic
Olive oil (enough to cover the garlic in the pan)

Peel all the garlic cloves and add them to a saucepan. Cover with olive oil so they are totally submerged.

Bring to a very light simmer then reduce to the lowest heat possible and cook for 40 minutes. The idea is to very gently poach the garlic, so the oil should not be bubbling. I find a heat diffuser (of the type you use for a tagine) is very handy here but it’s not necessary.

Once cooked, transfer to a clean jar and cover with the oil. IMPORTANT: It’s very important that you store confit garlic and garlic oil properly because it can breed botulism. As soon as the garlic and oil are cool, store in the fridge. Do not keep either at room temperature.

For the pickled chanterelles

150g chanterelles
150ml white wine vinegar
30ml water
3 teaspoons honey
1 teaspoon salt
Few black peppercorns
Pinch chilli flakes

In a jug, combine the vinegar, water, honey, half a teaspoon of the salt, peppercorns and chilli flakes. Stir to combine.

Put a frying pan or saucepan over medium heat and add the chanterelles (no need to add butter or oil). Cook, stirring until the mushrooms begin to release their water.

Add half a teaspoon of the salt and continue to cook, stirring, for a minute or so. Add the vinegar mixture and bring to a boil then reduce and simmer for 5 minutes then transfer to a clean jar.

This the second of two recipes I’ve developed for a paid partnership with Parmigiano Reggiano. 

‘Have you ever made gnudi before?’ D dared to joke when I suggested this recipe. He’s referring to the time I made hundreds of them for a supper club and by the time I’d done a couple of practice runs and the actual event (220 required) I’d really had enough. The upshot is that I’m really good at making gnudi though, so you can now reap the benefits.

I served them with crab and pickled wild garlic buds but this time kept things more classic in an effort to show off the Parmigiano Reggiano. Now, let me tell you what I have learnt about gnudi. Firstly, there’s a lot of talk on the internet about how difficult they are to make. They are not. Second, you don’t need to leave them for days in the fridge to form a skin around the outside – a few hours will do just fine; basically, you can leave them in the fridge for anything between three hours and three days. After that, they tend to go a bit tough. Finally, it’s true that using expensive ricotta will save you time and taste better but it’s rubbish that the gnudi simply won’t work with supermarket ricotta (but you will need to strain it overnight). I made these gnudi with supermarket ricotta and frankly it makes a nice blank canvas at which to throw huge flavours.

One of those is the Parmigiano Reggiano, which you know is going to be excellent because its manufacture is governed by a strict set of rules, right down to the diet of the cows whose milk it’s made from. The rules specify that 50% of the cows’ diet must consist of ‘forage’ grown on the dairy farm and 75% of it must be local. It’s the forage that determines the positive bacterial flora, establishing a link with the land and therefore the cheese’s PDO status. The milk is raw when it’s used to make the cheese, and it’s combined with just natural calf rennet and salt. Rules like this please me greatly. See also: Neapolitan pizza and Parma ham.

What doesn’t please me is ‘rules’ people post on the internet which are simply incorrect. I urge you to try making gnudi then, particularly if you’ve been intimidated by them, as I once was! They’re incredible: fluffy cheese balls which are served with a sauce made entirely from butter. If that doesn’t get you excited then you’re on the wrong website.

Parmigiano Reggiano, Ricotta and Spinach Gnudi with Anchovy-Garlic Butter Recipe

Makes approx 28

300g ricotta
300g spinach
100g Parmigiano Reggiano, grated finely
3 egg yolks
40g plain flour
Coarse semolina, for coating and storing

8 anchovy fillets
4 cloves garlic (or more! Up to you)
100g butter
A squeeze of lemon juice

For the crumbs

200g stale sourdough (a day or two old, not rock hard)
3 tablespoons oil from a jar of anchovies

Place the ricotta into a brand new jay cloth or piece of muslin and tie it up at the top with string. Suspend this over a bowl in the fridge and leave overnight.

The next day, wash the spinach and put it in a saucepan with water still on the leaves. Gently wilt over medium heat with the lid on, stirring halfway through. Spread out to cool and then squeeze out as much water as possible. I find this is easiest using a clean cloth to squeeze it.

Chop the spinach finely and mix it with the strained ricotta, Parmigiano Reggiano, egg yolks, flour, and some salt. Roll into balls a bit smaller than a ping pong ball.

Make a bed of semolina on a plate and roll each ball in it. When all the gnudi are coated, pour more semolina on top and put them in the fridge, uncovered for at least 3 hours and up to 3 days.

Make the crumbs by blitzing the sourdough in a blender and frying in the anchovy oil until crisp. Drain on kitchen paper.

Make the sauce by melting the butter and gently melting the garlic and anchovies into it. Squeeze in some lemon juice to taste.

To cook the gnudi bring a pan of water to the boil and gently lower them in. They’ll take just a couple of minutes to cook and are ready when they float to the top. Pop them into the pan with the butter to take on a little colour and serve, scattered with the crumbs.

We went foraging for wild garlic in London last weekend, stuffing two big bags with pungent green sprays. After sifting through for buds (now pickled), we found ourselves left with an entire binbag-full. It triggered flashbacks to the time we ended up with 34kg of spring onions.

So it’s wild garlic in everything. I’ve put it into my easy everyday flatbread recipe, smearing them with extra wild garlic butter while still warm from the skillet. D has made batches of wild garlic kimchi and wild garlic pesto, and we had wild garlic buttered soldiers with our eggs this morning (recommend). Yesterday I made the wild garlic and cheese börek recipe below, and I’m still staring down a half-full bag.

Here are the recipes for the wild garlic flatbreads and the börek – enjoy! You, too, could stink of garlic 24/7. Oh, and before you ask: I got the stuff in Mile End, not Camberwell. Sorry! I believe Dulwich Woods is full of it, though.

Wild Garlic Flatbread Recipe

Makes 8-12 depending on how large you want them.

500g strong white flour plus a little extra for dusting and mixing
2 teaspoons salt
30ml olive oil
300ml warm water
1 packet of instant yeast
150g wild garlic leaves, washed and chopped
Extra wild garlic chopped and mashed into butter is recommended for serving!

Mix everything together in a bowl and give it a knead on a lightly floured surface for a few minutes, until smooth and springy. You may need to add a little more than 500g flour (just a dusting), as the wild garlic adds moisture but just mix it together and see how you go. You want a nice, smooth, springy dough.

Leave the dough in a warm place for an hour or so until it has roughly doubled in size.

Knock back the dough and divide into 8 balls for larger breads or 12 for small.

Roll the dough balls flat and cook for 2-3 minutes in a properly hot, dry pan (I use a cast iron griddle) until a little charred on each side. They will start to puff up when ready. Keep them warm inside a clean tea towel while you cook the rest.

Wild Garlic and Cheese Börek Recipe

150g wild garlic leaves washed and chopped (don’t worry about them being *too* finely chopped as they will wilt and it’s nice to have some slightly larger bits I think)
200g white Turkish cheese (I bought ‘beyaz peynir’ which literally means ‘white cheese’ in the Turkish Food Centre but you could use feta if you don’t have a similar shop nearby)
1 packet yufka pastry (again I buy this in the Turkish Food Centre – you could use filo if you like but it will be a much crisper result as filo is thicker)
Around 100g butter, melted
1 egg, beaten
A sprinkle of za’atar and chilli to serve (optional)

Preheat the oven to 180C.

Mix the chopped wild garlic leaves well with the crumbled white cheese.

Have your melted butter ready, then lay out a double sheet of yufka on a work surface. Brush all over with butter. Lay another two sheets overlapping the edge on the right-hand side of the first sheets. Brush with butter. Repeat this four or 5 times (depends how much surface space you have, to be honest.

On the bottom edge of the sheets, make a long strip of the wild garlic and cheese mixture, as if you are making the largest spicy cigarette of your life. Carefully roll it up into a long sausage, brushing the edge at the top with a final layer of butter before sealing. Curl it around into a snail shape, then add to a cake tin, brushing again with butter (bit of a theme, the butter thing). Finally, give it a quick wash with the egg – this makes it nice and golden.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until golden brown. It tastes best when still slightly warm from the oven.

I first came across hasselback potatoes on American food blogs, years ago now. Thing is, it’s actually a Scandinavian recipe named after the restaurant Hasselbacken in Stockholm where they were invented (I’d always thought it was something to do with their backs being all ‘hassled’ by cuts*). The keys to their success are firstly the cutting and roasting technique and secondly, the application of a serious amount of butter.

With creamy innards and lots of crisp edges on top, this recipe delivers pretty much everything you want from potatoes in one package. Like many cooks, I season mine heavily and slip garlic in between the slices but it’s fun to go a step further occasionally – here I’ve topped them with crumbled Stilton, bacon and chives.

It occurred to me that these would make fantastic party food so I’m sharing the recipe. It’s simple, almost impossibly delicious and looks festive to boot. Job done mate.

*Not really LOL.

Hasselback Potatoes with Garlic, Stilton and Bacon Recipe

12 King Edward potatoes
7 cloves garlic
50g butter
3 tablespoons olive oil
5 rashers back bacon
Chives
Stilton

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Cut slices 2mm apart 3/4 of the way through each potato.

Melt the butter with the olive oil. Place the potatoes in a roasting dish and push slices of garlic into the slits, making sure they are pushed right in, or they will burn. Pour the butter and oil mixture over the potatoes and add 100ml water to the dish. Turn the potatoes over to make sure they’re well coated. Season heavily with salt and pepper.

Bake for 1 hour 30 minutes, basting with butter every 10 to 15 minutes, or until they’re tender inside and golden and crisp on top. Don’t skip the basting.

During this time, grill or fry the bacon until very crisp, then chop finely. I then re-crisped mine in a pan.

Once cooked, serve sprinkled with the bacon bits, crumbles of blue cheese and snipped chives. You can also serve drizzled with more butter from the pan. Why not?

The origin of börek is uncertain but here’s an undisputed fact: I am unable to walk past the Turkish food centre in Camberwell without going inside, buying a dirty little spinach and cheese börek and stuffing it into my face so fast all that can be seen to the keenest of peepers is my greasy hands and lots of little flakes of pastry, gently floating to the ground.

I call those börek dirty because they really are the scrag end of the spectrum. You can taste the margarine. I mean, I’m still going to eat them but you get what I’m saying. They are made in a factory (I’m guessing) with less than excellent ingredients and I’m ok with that.

When I was asked to write a börek recipe for Great British Chefs, however, I saw it as my chance to make amends with the world of Turkish pastries and I think I’ve done that rather nicely. Say so myself. Cavolo nero is a brilliant substitute for spinach with its iron-rich flavour and in fact, I think it’s a better choice, particularly now it’s cold and ‘orrible and we need fortifying in every way possible. A woman cannot live on Chocolate Orange alone.

Cavolo Nero and Feta Cheese Börek Recipe

This recipe first appeared on Great British Chefs

300g cavolo nero, (weight with stalks, which yielded 150g without stalks)
8 sheets yufka pastry, or filo pastry
200g feta, or Sütdiyarı Picnic Börek Cheese if you can find it (or another white Turkish cheese)
100g butter, melted
1 egg, and 1 egg yolk, beaten lightly with a fork

Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas mark 4

Strip the cavolo nero leaves from the stalks (the stalks can be saved for other dishes, and are particularly good finely chopped and added to fried rice), blanch them for 1 minute in boiling water, then drain.

Dry the leaves thoroughly by pressing them between two clean tea towels and placing something heavy (like a wooden chopping board) on top for a few minutes. Chop the leaves finely and mix with the cheese and a small pinch of salt (if using feta, skip the salt).

Take a sheet of yufka, place on a clean work surface and brush with melted butter. Lay another on top. Then, on one side of the pastry, brush a little more melted butter and lay a fresh sheet of yufka on top, so that it overlaps slightly with the two sheets already there (the idea is to make one long strip of yufka). In the end you will have four pieces of double layered yufka, overlapping in a line.

On the bottom edge of the yufka, begin to lay out your filling in a long snake, continuing right to the other end of the pastry.

Then, carefully roll the pastry up and around the filling until you have one long snake of pastry filled with the cavolo nero and cheese. The snake can then be curled around and placed on a baking tray. Don’t worry if your tin isn’t the right size or shape.

Brush the borek with the egg and cook for 25–30 minutes or until golden brown.

I have a lot of love for unfashionable foods. There’s a Delia Smith rice salad recipe from the ’90’s, for example, that I adore; it includes tinned tuna, diced red peppers and an actual vinaigrette dressing on the rice. I know. Prawn cocktail is another excellent example, as are steak slice, cod in parsley sauce or corned beef and pickle sandwiches.

I feel like gigantic stuffed pasta is going the way of rice salad. These pasta shells are something I remember seeing often on US blogs around 10 years ago, and this recipe does feel very American somehow. The fact that it’s slightly dated just makes me love it more.

I wrote recently that spinach is one of my favourite vegetables and my mate texted me all like, ‘f*cking SPINACH?!’ and I said yeah.. before I realised that it’s only one of my favourite vegetables when it’s mixed with either white cheese in a pie/borek or with copious amounts of ricotta for pasta. And here we are.

The stuffed shells are sitting in a rich and sweet but actually quite basic bitch tomato sauce that’s really easy to make, and I ramped up the excitement a little bit by adding an anchovy crumb on top. More carbs = more fun.

Conchiglioni Rigati Stuffed with Spinach and Ricotta Recipe

200g conchiglioni rigati (you’ll need around 20 shells but cook a few extra in case they break)
600g spinach, washed
250g ricotta (get the best quality you can find)
225g sourdough breadcrumbs
50g tin anchovies in oil
Zest of 1 unwaxed lemon
1 onion, finely chopped
8 cloves garlic, crushed or finely chopped
1 large glass red wine
3 tins chopped tomatoes (again, quality matters here)

Heat a couple of tablespoons of oil in a saucepan and soften the onion gently without colouring for around 10 minutes. Add the wine and let it be absorbed, stirring it to prevent sticking. Add the garlic and let it cook, stirring, for a minute or so.

Pour in the tomatoes, add some salt and pepper then put the lid on and cook for 45 minutes covered. Take the lid off and reduce by 1/4.

Make the anchovy crumb by melting the anchovies in their oil in a frying pan. Add the crumbs and fry, stirring, until crisp but not too golden (they will carry on toasting in the oven).

Cook the pasta shells until they are halfway cooked – they still need to be quite hard as they’re going to carry on cooking in the oven. Drain and run them under cold water to cool them down.

Put the washed spinach into a pan over a low heat with a lid on and let it wilt down (you’ll probably need to do this in two batches). Run it under cold water to cool it down, then squeeze out as much of the liquid as you can, using your hands. Roughly chop the spinach then mix it with the ricotta and lemon zest, plus some salt and pepper.

Preheat the oven to 180C.

When the tomato sauce is ready, add it to a large dish or roasting tray. Stuff the spinach mixture into the pasta shells and place them on top. Top with the crumb. Bake for 20 minutes, or until golden.