Tastes of 2013

Happy New Year everyone, I'm still here! The blog has gone down the pan for the last couple of months for one reason, and one reason only. Here she is:

I'll resist the temptation to start writing blog posts about my baby, this is a food blog after all, and she's a bit rubbish at eating (milk>vomit>milk>repeat being the general scheme of things), so I'll just say that I'm a very proud Dad and leave it at that.

I was going to write a review of last year in the same vein as the previous two years, but there were too few contenders in half of the categories to make it worthwhile bothering. So instead here are twenty things I ate in 2013, from January through to December.

1. Falafel wrap from Cafe Moor in Leeds market. Nice guys, breathing life into the market, and most importantly serving exemplary middle eastern snack food, the best I've eaten outside that region.

2. The cheeseburger toastie at Home Sweet Home in Manchester. Twee place, gimmicky food was what I suspected. I couldn't have been more wrong. Great place, very good coffee, and that toastie is a work of genius (it's the gherkins that make it).

3. The Iskender kebab at Zeugma in Sheffield. A divine mix of tender, charred lamb, spicy tomato sauce, buttery bread and thick, sharp super-creamy yoghurt. Everything else is excellent too at this proper Turkish grill house.

4. The perfect pint, at the Stag's Head in Sheffield. More unusual and exciting styles have their place but for ultimate beery satisfaction I keep returning to a pint of cask bitter (or did months ago the last time I spent any time in the pub). Maybe I'm getting old or maybe this sort of beer is criminally underrated by beery trendsetters. My favourite examples: Ilkley Brewery Best, Marble Pint, Thornbridge Lord Marples.

5. The Crich Square, from the Loaf Bakery (branches in Crich and Matlock). Like a denser, yeastier toasted teacake. Toasted buttery heaven.

6. 2013 brought two Red Chill feasts, both at the Leeds branch. Excellent food and excellent value as always. The highlight: the shallow fried pork dumplings. The aftermath of one of those feasts is pictured.

7. A Sunday roast with a difference, rather than serve up the usual dessicated topside in gravy or whatever, the Wig and Pen in Sheffield came up with this beef cheek offering. Dense moist strands of cowface, cooked for an eternity, reformed into a cricket ball sized lump of joy and served with the darkest most marmitey gravy known to man. Ace.

8. Our tapas crawl in Malaga back in April wasn't a gourmet affair, but these pintxos were simple perfection.

9. The only curry of any real interest that I ate all year was this chicken chettinad at a South Indian caff in Reading. Dark, roasted spice rich and very more-ish.

10. I can't think of a city that conforms to stereotype more than Munich. The locals really do love the whole giant beers, sausages and singing thing. Skip the overtouristed Hofbrauhaus and head to the Augustiner Keller where the beer is better and whopping great plates of bratwurst and sauerkraut mit senf go down a treat.

11. The flat white at Bold Street Coffee in Liverpool. Faultless.

12. Fools, lovely fools. Cold, smooth whipped cream and tart English fruit. Easy peasy puddings for a genuinely warm summer (at least the first half of it). Gooseberry was my favourite, closely followed by rhubarb.

13. Another summer addiction, bread salad. I'd never realised how good panzanella and the like could be. They know what they're doing those Italians.

14. The final of my home made summer successes: watermelon, mint and feta salad. Served chilled on the hottest day of the year.

15. Iberico presa at Bar 44 in South Wales. The high point of an excellent tapas dinner. Pig of dreams.

16. Roast belly pork in soup noodles at Noodle Inn in Sheffield. Decent broth and bouncy noodles in support of beautiful roast meat; tender flesh, rendered melting fat, snappy crackling.

17. Rillettes, cornichons, bread, a glass of local plonk. I loved it in France.

18. Sticky toffee baked apples. A successful alternative to mincemeat, I stuffed these apples with dates and a quick butter and demerara sugar caramel. They were lovely.

19. The most memorable thing I ate in Amsterdam? The Flemish style chips. Best eaten from a cone bigger than your head, after a few ales, with a ridiculous combination of sauces (cheese and chilli pictured).

20. Christmas dinner sandwich. Christmas dinner itself was really the memorable occasion, eaten at home with my new family, just the three of us.

Food-wise I'll opt for the leftovers sarnie though, as I really cracked that this year. Use crusty white bread (I used ciabatta), butttered, then heat up your fillings and add them in this order: Sliced turkey, crispy bacon, bubble and squeak made from all the leftover veg (ideally roast spuds, cabbage, sprouts and carrots), bread sauce and gravy.

Six of the best salads of summer

It's petered out somewhat over the last fortnight, but at least we can't moan that there's been no summer at all this year. July was a corker, and although August has been cooler and damper so far it's hardly been a monsoon style washout like some of those in recent years, and for that we should be thankful.

The return of prolonged warmth for the first time in a while has given me a new found interest in all things salad-y. If it's cold (or possibly warm, but definitely not hot) and you can mix it up and bung it on a plate with the minimum of fuss, that's the dish for me.

Easy, colourful, refreshing, no hot ovens necessary, only grilled meat needed by way of accompaniment, these are my six favourite salads of the summer.

Pickled carrots and beets, mozzarella. A Nigel Slater idea this, and a very good one. Give strips of root veg a light pickling in lemon juice and wine vinegar, then serve with mozzarella and dress with olive oil and the pickling juices. Quite subtle this, mild and tangy with a great contrast in textures.

Peas, cucumber, feta, mint, spring onion. Lovely mix of gently sweet and sharp in this one. Any fresh, lactic cheese would do the job. Fresh peas are essential, don't use frozen.

Bread Salad. Read about it here. Still my favourite discovery of the summer.

Watermelon, feta and mint. Make sure you chill the melon before making it and you'll end up with the sweetest, juiciest salad imaginable. Save this for a genuinely hot day.

Peaches and Parma ham. Discounting the black pepper and olive oil this only has two ingredients so I'm not sure it really counts as a salad. Is it just a meal? An assemblage? Who cares when it tastes this good. The contrasts here are the thing, so make sure your fruit is chilled and your meat isn't. Cold, sweet peach flesh and warm, salty pig flesh is a match made in heaven.

Grilled onions and pomegranate. More of a relish than a full blown salad, but an excellent accompaniment to any sort of barbecued lamb. Toss a thinly sliced red onion in a teaspoon of sugar and the same of sunflower oil, then sweat down under a hot grill until you get some lovely caramelised bits. Throw in the pips and any juices from half a pomegranate. Sweet, sharp and slightly bitter, it cuts through fatty meat beautifully.

Bread salad and fools

I haven't gone mad, honest. There is reason to the title of this post; it's simply the name of the two best things I've made to eat so far this summer.

Pair a bread salad with some barbecued meat, then make a fool for pudding. You'll end up with a perfect summer's evening meal that's delicious, good for you, frugal, and ridiculously easy to make.

These are the things to eat outdoors on one of those rare, balmy summer nights that only seem to crop up a few times a year, those you can't waste for fear of never getting another, those that make you accidentally neck a bottle of wine on a Tuesday for no reason other than that it's sunny and warm and that must be celebrated. You know the sort.

I'm sure I've eaten a bread salad before and enjoyed it, but I can't remember ever making one. What an oversight. This is one of those dishes where a seemingly run-of-the mill set of ingredients combine to make something unexpectedly marvellous.

A few fridge and store cupboard staples, half a loaf of stale bread, mix it all up, leave it for a bit and.... ooh that's good. Remarkably good. Sweet tomatoes, the fresh crunch of cucumber, oil soaked chewy bread, peppery basil. It's more-ish, very more-ish.

I've made two this week, the first a proper panzanella (give or take a couple of ingredients), the classic Tuscan version with basil. The second was a more makeshift affair with olives and parsley in place of the basil. Both were great.

Panzanella (Tuscan bread salad), enough for 2 as a side or 1 as a main dish

Half a loaf of crusty bread, a day or two old
about 6 small ripe tomatoes
about a third of a large cucumber
3 spring onions or half a red onion
a handful of basil leaves
extra virgin olive oil
red wine vinegar
salt and pepper

Makeshift bread salad

Exactly the same as above, but substitute the basil for parsley, the red wine vinegar for white wine vinegar, and add 7 or 8 fat green olives.

Both versions are made in exactly the same way: Cut the bread into 2cm chunks and chop up the vegetables into slightly smaller pieces. Throw the lot in a large bowl and pour in a good splash of oil and vinegar. I'd say about 2-3 tablespoons of olive oil and one of vinegar. Season with a good grind of pepper and a quick grind of salt. Mix the whole lot up and leave it for a few minutes. Tear the basil leaves up a bit then add them to the bowl. Mix again then taste to check the seasoning. Add more oil/vinegar/salt/pepper as necessary. Leave for another 10 minutes or so then serve.

On to pudding. I'm in love with our native British fruits, which I think are the finest in the world. I'm absolutely sure about this and have waffled on about why on here before. All you lovers of sweaty tasting tropical specimens are wrong.

At this time of year the obvious choice is a ripe, in season berry served unadorned with cream, but that's not really an option when you have a glut of sour, tougher fruit that needs heat to make it palatable. What you need for gooseberries or rhubarb is a fool. In cooler weather a crumble would be the thing, but in the heat it has to be a fool. A bloody lovely great fool of nothing but fruit, cream and sugar.

Gooseberry or rhubarb fool, enough for four

About 250g gooseberries or rhubarb
2 tablespoons or so of sugar
250ml double cream, or creme fraiche also works well

Stew down the fruit in a pan with some sugar. You don't want any bite left to the fruit but you don't want a puree either. Stop when it's half mush and half still discernable berries or pieces. Taste it and add more sugar if you think it needs it. Leave to cool down until it's no warmer than room temperature. Whip the cream until it stands in soft peaks, then stir in the fruit. Spoon into ramekins, glasses or whatever you want to serve it in then put them in the fridge for twenty minutes or so. Serve cold straight from the fridge.

Pizza

It was time to put my locally windmilled flour to the test with a batch of pizza dough, the first I've made in ages. I was impressed, it made a good strong dough with plenty of elasticity and a crust with a noticeably more pronounced bready flavour than you get with a mainstream commercial flour.

Margherita

The tricky thing with home made pizza is how best to bake it. I've had the most success with a pizza stone heated in an oven on the highest setting for a good half hour, but I've mislaid the bloody thing so had to make do with a thick baking sheet.

English summer pizza bianco - Jersey Royals, asparagus, Lincolnshire Poacher

The results weren't half bad, a few nice bubbles in the crusts and even a hint of charring in parts. Crunchy edges but a little bit soft and chewy inside. Perfect pizza is pretty much impossible with a domestic oven, but these were still far better than a bought in supermarket effort.

Spicy pork (leftover meatball mix), peppers, chillies

Photos of my topping choices are scattered through this post. I usually keep it simple with pizza but don't mind getting slightly experimental on occasion, as long as I don't break the three golden rules:

1. Don't overdo it.There is such thing as too much cheese. Soggy pizza is not a good thing.
2. Don't go Asian. Duck and hoi sin sauce is not a pizza topping.
3. No pineapple.

This is a fairly standard pizza dough recipe, essentially basic white bread plus a little olive oil and sugar.

For the dough
500g strong white bread flour
1 x 7g sachet of fast action yeast
1 scant teaspoon salt
2 level tablespoons olive oil
1 dessertspoon sugar
a pint of lukewarm water

Thyme butter flatbread

What to do
Mix the yeast, olive oil and sugar in a jug with the water and leave it for a few minutes. Sieve the flour and salt into a large mixing bowl and make a well in the middle. Pour the wet stuff into the flour well then steadily mix it all together with a fork or spoon to form a dough. You might need more water or more flour depending on whether it's too wet or too dry.

Turn the dough out onto a floured surface then knead it for at least ten minutes. Put the dough into a bowl, cover it with cling film or a clean tea towel and leave somewhere warm for at least an hour. After an hour it should have doubled in size.

Pull off chunks of dough and roll or stretch out into thin pizza-ish shapes, about 2 or 3 millimetres thick. Top with whatever tickles your fancy and bake in your super-hot oven. They were taking around 7 minutes in mine.

This much dough should make around 5-7 pizzas depending on how big they are. It will keep in the fridge for a day or two if you don't use it all at once.

Two easy Asian ways with pork

As is often the case the best things I've cooked recently have been a happy accident; one a meal involving creative use of leftovers and another a last minute change of heart.

What was left of a slow roasted leg of pork was going to be sliced thinly and flash fried with garlic and ginger, but the joint wasn't as fatty as I'd anticipated and so the remaining meat was overdone. Moisture was needed. 

The cooked pork was suffused with a fairly strong whack of fennel, so I thought the anise notes would work well with a sticky soy marinade. Something sort of Thai in style, which of course led me to thoughts of Thai Aroy Dee and the little chewy nuggets of caramel pork that make up one of the accompaniments on their shrimp paste fried rice.

Turns it out it couldn't be simpler to make your own caramel pork. This has that addictive blend of sugar, salt and meat that's impossible not to enjoy. Mixed up with a big pile of vegetable fried rice and a generous squirt of Sriracha it was about ten times better than the original roast pork dinner. 

Here's what I used and how to do it:

Caramel pork

Enough for 2 or 3 people, served with veggie fried rice and hot sauce

300g cooked pork, cut into small chunks (mine were a bit big, no more than 1cm cubed is the way to go)

1 fat clove garlic

2 tablespoons dark soy sauce

1 dessertspoon palm sugar

2 dessertspoons white sugar

2-3 spring onions

Crush the garlic then put it in a bowl with the pork pieces and the soy sauce, then mix everything up well. Finely chop the green ends of the spring onions and set aside.

Heat some neutral oil in a wok until it's hot then throw in the pork, soy and garlic mix. Stir-fry for a minute or so then turn the heat down to medium and add the sugar. 

Keep stir-frying until the sugar dissolves to form a syrup (if it's too dry add a splash of water), then keep frying and stirring until your syrup starts to reduce and coats the pork. It's done when the sauce clings to the pork, almost like a sticky glaze. 

Turn out into a serving bowl and garnish with the spring onion tops. Serve immediately.

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The last minute change of heart was meatball-related. The plan was Italian style, like this, but I just wasn't feeling it. I wanted something soupy and spicy, a lighter feeling way of using more or less the same ingredients.

The result: fragrant pork balls with noodles in broth. At least eighty percent the same meal (especially since I didn't have any actual noodles in the house so had to use linguine, but the Italians just copied off the Chinese so it's all the same really right?) but somehow completely different.

The meatball pan stickings lent a lovely deep brown colour to the stock, which in turn kept the noodles (linguine) all lovely and slippery and full of bite. The balls themselves were gently spiced and didn't dry out as they'd finished cooking in the broth. 

Fragrant pork balls with noodles in broth

Serves two

200-250g pork mince

small thumb of ginger

1 large clove garlic

1 heaped teaspoon sugar 

zest of half a lime (or a lemon if that's all you've got)

a good splash of fish sauce

a good squeeze of Sriracha (or other chilli sauce)

a tablespoon of finely chopped herbs (I used mint and basil, but coriander and Thai basil would probably have been better in place of regular basil)

Two blocks/strips of noodles (your choice, or use pasta if you're really desperate) 

400ml light chicken stock

more herbs and/or spring onions to garnish

Mix all of the meatball ingredients together in a bowl (that's everything except for the noodles, stock and extra herbs in case you were wondering), then put the mix in the fridge for at least half an hour to firm up.

Remove the mix from the fridge and form into little meatballs, aim to make around twelve in total. Heat a little oil in a deep pan (deep enough to hold the stock) over a moderate heat, then add the meatballs. Leave them to colour a bit before turning. While the meatballs are cooking prepare your noodles (or pasta) as per the packet instructions.

Cook the balls for a few minutes on each side then pour in the stock, it should immediately turn a darker colour from the gooeyness at the bottom of the pot. Cook for a few minutes more to finish cooking the balls and heat the stock to a simmer then throw in the noodles. 

Stir to heat through the noodles then serve immediately with extra herbs as a garnish and any other condiments you fancy. Note: it's much easier to eat this with chopsticks and a spoon rather than a fork and a spoon!

Meat free breakfast of champions

In homage to my favourite breakfast of 2012 I've experimented with several variations on the french toast and syrupy fruit theme. Today was the best of the lot: a seasonal special of french toasted hot cross buns and caramelised apples served with yoghurt.

It really was bloody lush, although probably closer to pudding than anything anyone might realistically call breakfast. With a few minor alterations and a dollop of cream you'd have hot cross bread and butter pudding.

No matter, after a working week of weetabix or granary toast Saturday breakfasts are the right time for a little luxury. I can't think of many better options than this that don't involve pork, and just once in a while it's time to give the pig a rest. Honest. I won't be having bacon sandwiches tomorrow. At all.

This recipe makes enough for two.

What you'll need

3 hot cross buns
3 eggs
2 apples
butter
oil
milk
sugar (caster or granulated and icing)
salt
greek yoghurt

What to do

Core the apples then slice them thinly. Put a small frying pan over a medium heat and add a knob of butter. Add the apples to the pan and fry them until golden brown, turning them as necessary.

While the apples are frying crack the eggs into a jug or bowl, add a generous splash of milk, a small grind of salt and a heaped teaspoon of sugar, then whisk up with a fork. Slice the hot cross buns in half.

Set a large frying pan over a high heat and add a splash of neutral cooking oil. Pour the egg mixture into a shallow bowl or deep plate, then dip the hot cross buns into the mixture. Leave them in there for thirty seconds or so to soak up some egg before turning and repeating with the other side.

Remove the cooked apples from the other pan, turn the heat down a bit then add two heaped dessertspoons of sugar (granulated or caster) and a generous splash of water. Give it a stir.

Add the eggy hot cross buns to the hot frying pan and fry until brown and lovely before turning and repeating on the other side. While the buns are frying keep stirring the syrup pan until the sugar has dissolved and a syrup has formed. You want it to be quite runny but not watery. Either turn up the heat to reduce or add more water to loosen as necessary.

When the buns are ready turn them out onto a piece of kitchen paper, then throw the apples back in the other pan and stir them round to coat in the syrup.

Plate up the buns then pour over the apples in syrup. Add a big dollop of thick greek yoghurt then dust over some icing sugar.

Eat immediately, accompanied by a caffeinated beverage (tea or coffee, not coca-cola). Revel in its deliciousness. Enjoy the sugar rush. Get up and do something energetic before it wears off. Or go back to sleep.

Kimchi Spam Fried Rice

Question: what's the best way to cure what ails you, especially if what ails you is a hangover?

Answer: kimchi spam fried rice.

With only four ingredients one can conjure up the most sordidly delicious, feculent plate of food imaginable. It's a sort of English breakfast in turbo Korean form, all earthy pig, fat, carbs, sweat and tears. Or something. With added spice.

It's also far easier to cook than the complex plating and timing nightmare of a full English, a roast or any more traditional Sunday fayre. One pan. Four ingredients (and some oil). A gentle proposition for the fractured brain.

Chop half a tin of spam (just the contents, not the tin) into strips. Heat up a wok and fry the spam strips until starting to crisp at the edges. Throw in a big handful of roughly chopped kimchi and its juices and a bigger handful of cooked rice. Stir-fry for a couple of minutes, then spoon the whole lot into a warm bowl. Put the wok back on the heat with a good glug of oil, wait until it's really hot then crack the egg in. Fry the egg until it has crispy edges, cooked white and a runny yolk.

Put the egg on top of the fried rice and eat immediately, mashing the crispy yolky egg into the rice. Serve with beer, or regret, or sriracha for extra spice.

Cochinita Pibil

Last week I finally got round to cooking some proper Mexican food, something I'd planning for ages. Cochinita pibil was a great place to start, because it's ridiculously easy to make and really rather delicious.

It's a dish of pork, slow roasted in a citrus and achiote marinade until the meat falls apart under the slightest pressure of a fork. The acidity of the marinade slices through the fatty meat like a dream, and the achiote lends gentle, earthy warmth.

In case you were wondering achiote is the Mexican word for annatto which gives the marinade its red colour. You can buy achiote paste, made from annatto seeds with garlic, cumin, allspice and oregano, online from the excellent Cool Chile Co. I also bought corn tortillas, chipotle chillies and Mexican hot chocolate from them, all of which are top quality stuff.

By rights this should be made with a whole suckling pig or at the least a bone in pork shoulder. I went for the quicker and cheaper trial version using a pack of pork shoulder steaks.

You can serve the finished product with rice, beans and salad, or use it, like we did, as a taco meat. I made chipotle salsa (just tomatoes, onion and chipotles), and with bowls of coriander, sour cream, guacamole and lime wedges the self assembly line was ready to go. If I did this again I'd probably ditch the sour cream and guac (unless it was home made) and opt for a crumbly, lactic cheese like Feta or maybe Wensleydale instead. You'll also need cold beer, I drank Meantime London pale ale with this which went down a treat.

There are loads of cochinita pibil recipes online, but it's so simple you don't really need to follow one properly. Here's what I did.

What you'll need

800g pork shoulder steaks
2 large oranges
1 lime
50g achiote paste
1/2 teaspoon salt

What to do

Set the oven to 150 degrees centigrade. Put the pork in a casserole with a tight fitting lid (if you haven't got a lid then covering it with foil will do). Juice the oranges and lime then pour the juice over the pork and add the achiote paste and salt. Give everything a good stir then put the lid on or cover with foil. Bake in the oven for three hours (check it after two and a half).

The pork is done when you can easily shred the meat with a fork. To serve shred the meat and pour over the juices from the pot. When you've done you should end up with a big bowlful of loveliness like the one above.

A Gammon Joint

For various reasons I need to be more frugal this January than most. Never the most extravagant time of year anyway, this is always the month for making a little go a long way.

Cooking a huge joint of meat is hardly the first thing that springs to mind then, roasting a ham being much more associated with the festivities that have long since concluded. But downgrade a little, from a whole ham to a boned and rolled gammon joint, and you'll get a huge quantity of meat for very little money.

I bought a joint weighing around 1.4 kgs for just eleven quid (on special offer at M & S), and so far it's been at the centre of three main meals, formed a vital component of another, and turned up in at least six rounds of sandwiches. It's longevity is such that, whisper it, I might be getting a bit sick of the stuff. There's still some in the fridge that I can't seem to shift.

The original plan was to boil it and nothing more, but we couldn't resist giving it a roasting to add a bit of caramelised flavour to the fat. I'm not sure it was necessary, but I also gave it a good rinse under the tap before boiling as I'd rather the finished meat be under-salted than over. Here's what to do:

Rinse your gammon under the tap to remove any excess salt, then put it in a big pot full of water with an onion cut in half (you can leave the skin on), two celery sticks, two bay leaves, two cloves and about 8-10 black peppercorns. Bring to the boil then simmer for about 70 minutes.

Remove the gammon from the pot and leave it to cool for ten minutes. Set the oven at about 170 deg C. When the meat has cooled a bit score the fat in a cross hatch pattern, then place it in a roasting tin. Make a marinade from two tablespoons of runny honey mixed with one tablespoon of mustard (any type you fancy) then smear it all over your meat and bake it in the oven for 30 minutes.

Easy peasy. The end result was a fridge full of lovely, versatile, savoury but not salty meat, with a good porky flavour to play with. Here's what I made with mine, bear in mind that these aren't so much proper recipes as descriptions.

Gammon, parsley sauce, mash and peas

What you'll need: potatoes, butter, milk, flour, peas, fresh parsley, fat slices of gammon, salt and pepper

Serve thick slices of gammon with parsley sauce, mash and peas. This meal was why I bought it in the first place, I've never cooked it before and having been meaning to for ages. I was really pleased with it, it's a gentle soothing sort of a meal but very satisfying on a cold night.

For the parsley sauce you need to make a roux with flour and butter, then keep stirring in milk until you have a thick-ish sauce, and finally stir in plenty of seasoning and a big handful of finely chopped parsley. The rest is self explanatory, just make sure you make the soft, fluffy, only moderately buttery sort of mash as the restaurateurs super-rich butterbomb variety would be too much here.


Plaice with gammon and parsley

What you'll need: fillets of white fish, gammon, fresh parsley, a lemon, butter, salt and pepper, bread to serve

This one was a very quick supper, I did have to buy fresh fish so it wasn't quite so frugal but I did make use of both leftover gammon and parsley.

Chop some gammon up into one centimetre chunks and chop a small handful of parsley. Season two small fillets of plaice (or any other comparable white fish) then fry them, skin side down first in a little bit of oil.  Throw the gammon pieces in the pan while the fish is still skin side down. Turn the fillets and cook on the other side until they're just about cooked through, then turn them back over again. Throw in the parsley and a big knob of butter. Shake the pan to mix and melt the butter with the parsley and the pan juices then slide the lot out onto a plate. Squeeze over some lemon juice, then serve immediately with bread, salad, or both.


Ham sandwiches

What you'll need: err..bread, ham, mustard, salad. And butter of course.

Sandwiches had to get a look in didn't they. Very thinly sliced gammon with cream cheese on soft white rolls were pretty good, but thicker slices with a generous smear of mustard with salad on crusty bread had to be the winner.


Gammon and cabbage fry

What you'll need: potatoes, cabbage, oil, salt, pepper, sauce, more GAMMON

Another one pan tea, this one takes a little longer to cook but is really no effort. Cut 4 or 5 medium sized potatoes into small (about one centimetre) cubes then fry them in oil until they're brown and almost tender (mine took around twenty minutes). While the potatoes are frying slice up a couple of handfuls of savoy cabbage and tear a big handful of sliced gammon into smaller pieces. When the potatoes are almost ready stir in the cabbage and fry for another five minutes or so, then add the gammon and fry for five minutes more.

The potatoes should have a good exterior crunch balanced by the soft ham and cabbage, though I still like a bit of bite left in the cabbage, you don't want it mushy. Serve very hot, with a table sauce of some sort (I had Heinz chilli tomato ketchup).


Ham and beans 

What you'll need: loads of gammon, assorted beans (2 or 3 tins), a tin of tomatoes, garlic, an onion, a celery stick, paprika, chilli powder, bay leaves, tomato puree, black treacle. Bread and slaw to serve.

Last but not least, the real store cupboard contender. This is the one to make when you're snowed in. Which is a shame, because that's looking possible over the weekend and I've just eaten it all. For best results you should cook dried beans from scratch, but tins will do if that's what you've got. That's what I had: in went one tin of kidney beans, one tin of tomatoes and a small tin each of borlotti and canellini beans.

Slice the onion and fry it in oil in a heavy based pot (that has a lid) over a medium heat. In the meantime crush 3 or 4 cloves of garlic and cut a good quantity of gammon (100g per person is plenty) into 1-2 inch chunks. Open your tins and drain and rinse the beans. Cut the celery stick in half and add it to the pot with the garlic, and fry for another minute or two. Add the tomatoes, two teaspoons of paprika, one teaspoon of chilli powder, two bay leaves, a dessertspoon of tomato puree and a tablespoon of black treacle. Stir and bring to a simmer, adding a good splash of water to loosen it. Add the drained beans and gammon chunks to the pot, stir then put the lid on and reduce the heat so it gently putters away.

This should be cooked until the meat and beans are just on the verge of disintegrating into the sauce. Not so long that you end up with a single textured sludge, but just long enough to let the meat fall apart in moist, fibrous strands, all the fatty tissue having leached out to enrich your sauce that's already been thickened by the starchy beans. If that's what you end up with it should be a treat. Mine took almost an hour and a half to reach the point of optimum goodness.

Serve with bread and homemade slaw. I made pitta bread using a basic bread recipe with a knob of butter added (always butter, always). When your dough has risen just roll it out into oval shapes and bake them in a hot oven for about 8 minutes. For the slaw slice celeriac and cabbage (I used savoy but white would have been better) very finely and toss it with greek yoghurt, grain mustard and lemon juice. The bite, heat and freshness is a fantastic contrast to the earthy warmth of the beans.