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.

Northern Food on tour: Self-catering in Spain again

I wouldn't normally choose to holiday twice in the same place in a matter of months, but thanks to the kindness and generosity of others we found ourselves heading off to Malaga once more for a repeat of last September's festivities.

I'm exceedingly grateful that we did because we had just as much fun this time around, but with the added bonus of a) not having all of our documents and stuff stolen, and b) my making a marriage proposal (accepted, thankfully). Good times.

On the eating and drinking front it was largely another self-catering affair, save for a pizza lunch in Nerja, a very average, touristy menu del dia in Granada, and a mini tapas crawl around Malaga (of which more later). We ate the same sort of thing as last time;- plenty of fresh fruit and salads to balance out the inevitable ham, bread and booze.

I'll not bore you with all the details, but here are a few things that were new discoveries or particularly good in spring rather than autumn.

The seasonal goods were all a month or two ahead of Britain, asparagus and strawberries being in particularly fine nick. We bought both in the supermarket, but later spotted strawberries growing locally and being sold at just three euros for an enormous box full.

As an aside it's interesting to note the lack of variety in the Spanish supermarkets, or at least what I perceived to be so. The number of fresh produce lines must be barely a quarter of what you'd find in the average British supermarket, but things are evidently much more seasonal. Asparagus and strawberries were in abundance in April, but were nowhere to be seen in September. Do we really need to be eating such things year round, expensive and air-freighted from Peru, or should we do as the Spanish seem to and gorge on them for pennies, but only when the right time arrives? On the other hand the lack of variety is definitely just that where some things are concerned. Good luck trying to get fresh herbs in a Spanish supermarket.

What is always readily available, and in wondrous, inexplicable variety in even the crappiest stores, is seafood. Especially shellfish. Bigging up Spain for eating seasonally and locally falls down completely when it comes to seafood, as they'll import the stuff from anywhere on the planet so long as it's good.

A bag of plump raw prawns were outstanding dunked in pungent alioli after flash-frying in olive oil with a good grind of salt and pepper. Beautifully sweet and perky, they were even good enough to make me eat a few Chinese-style;- sucking the juice from the heads. The cost of these little beauties? Seven euros something a kilo, which would be plenty for about six people.

My final and most exciting new discovery, and the one most fittingly Spanish given its use of delicious Andalusian booze, is Pedro Ximenez sherry as dessert ingredient. This is hardly a new idea, but the first time I'd got round to trying it.

Pedro Ximenez, or PX as it's commonly known, is the sweetest of all the sherry wines. It's thick, almost treacly with a complex, raisiny flavour. First attempt was PX poured straight over vanilla ice cream. Very good, but there was better to come.

A few recalcitrant plums were the only rubbish fruit we bought, with dry mealy flesh making it a waste of time eating them raw. Cooking a plum often works wonders though, so I quartered them and baked them slowly (they were in a medium oven for over an hour) with a generous pour of the PX. The result, served with more of the same ice cream, was divine. Tender fruit oozing syrupy, umber juice that was rich in dark, tannic flavour. Writing this is making me crave it now. If you see a strange man in Tesco late at night buying sherry, fruit and ice cream that'll probably be me.

This time around we did a little bit more sightseeing, visiting Granada and Malaga. The former really needs no introduction, the Alhambra is one major destination that absolutely lives up to its billing. It's stunning, just go.

Malaga on the other hand is a little hard done by, it doesn't always get the best press but is really rather lovely, especially on a Friday evening when what seems like the entire population is out on the streets enjoying themselves: talking, strolling and eating and drinking rather well. I'm going to write about that tomorrow.

Good things to eat [Volume 11]

A few more things I've been enjoying recently but haven't written about elsewhere.

Plum puddings

Not plum puddings in the Christmassy sense, plum puddings meaning any dessert made from plums. After last years magnificent damsons I'm on the look out for anything vaguely plummy. Damsons themselves are yet to appear but I've made a couple of lovely puddings with some Victoria plums and some cheap and cheerful purple supermarket plums of unknown variety.

The secret is in the cooking. Neither variety of plum was that exciting to eat alone, not juicy or sweet enough to give much pleasure. But slowly baked under a thin, crisp topping the juices ran and the flavours came alive.

It's far too early for a full-on crumble and custard is out of the question, so I just make enough topping to barely cover the fruit. A large knob of butter rubbed into a tablespoon each of oats and flour and a dessertspoon of sugar.

Think of it as a late summer plum crisp, and serve it warm rather than hot with a dollop of thick, cold cream or vanilla ice cream (or even better, both). Heaven.

Lamb from Rivelin Valley farm shop

As with the plum puddings a slow roast shoulder of lamb smacks of autumn, conjuring up images of pillowy piles of mash and jugs of gravy. It doesn't have to be that way, have it with roast new potatoes and minty summer veg and you've got a splendid Sunday dinner for August.

The lamb on this occasion was from the farm shop in the Rivelin Valley, and I'd thoroughly recommend it. There was real depth of flavour to the meat, quite strong and very slightly gamey. The farm shop is one of the more basic survivors, there's no plush barn conversion tea room or any other frippery, just fine produce.

Proper jerk

Jerk how I love thee. Proper jerk is one of the finest foods known to man. It really is. Sadly there's a lot of crap out there sold in the name of jerk, so you might have been given the false impression that it's just another chilli sauce and grilled meat combo, caribbean Nando's if you like.

Jerk chicken, or whatever other meat you choose to jerk, is so much more than this, it has real complexity of flavour from the marinade, allspice and scotch bonnet chillies being the dominant forces. It's a hot, smokey, fruity, spicy, lip-tingling thing of wonder.

The jerk in the photo was just such a thing, marvellous it was. I bought it at the Bristol balloon fiesta, a huge event with dozens of food stalls, of which this jerk stall was the least professional looking by a country mile. Mis-spelled menu scrawled by hand in felt tip, a makeshift counter made from an assortment of camping furniture and a great big fuck-off kettle drum barbecue.

These are always the best places for jerk, it's usually better to shun anywhere that looks vaguely professional (especially any upmarket caribbean restaurants, which are all expensive and boring) and make a beeline for the most ramshackle stall or a takeaway carved out of the front room of a terraced house.

Custard tarts from Ho's bakery, Leeds

I'm not always sure what to make of Chinese baked goods. If I'm in the mood I quite enjoy the sweet, doughy buns stuffed with all manner of bits and bobs, roast pork being a particular favourite. I do have to be in the mood though, sometimes they just seem a bit weird to my British palate. I always bite into them half expecting jam or that fake cream stuff they love at Gregg's or anything other than pork.

I do love the custard tarts though, especially when they're done as well as those at Ho's bakery in Leeds. They're really delicate with a wobbly, barely sweet filling and light, flakey pastry. I could eat half a dozen.

Good things to eat (volume 7): in praise of British fruit

I've been thinking a lot about fruit recently. I've been thinking about all of the wonderful fruits that we grow in Britain, and have come to the conclusion that they're the best in the world.

I think British fruit is often under-rated, playing second fiddle to Mediterranean and tropical imports. Melons, bananas, grapes, pineapples and mangoes to name a few. I love all of these, but I'd be happy for them never to darken these shores again as long as we can keep whatever will grow in our fickle climate.

Photo credit: Wikipedia

We have the finest apples. I'm in no doubt whatsoever about this. Fantastic baked alone or in a pie or crumble, or perhaps with cheese, but I like apples best of all on their own. A Cox's orange pippin in good condition cannot be beaten. Crisp, tart and juicy with a complex flavour, I absolutely love them. Why we import so many dull, one note apples from all corners of the globe is beyond me. I like to take them on walks. Eating a good English apple on a brisk, bright autumn day on open moorland it feels wonderful to be alive. Try the same combination with a guava. It won't work.

We have all of the best berries. Blackberries, strawberries, elderberries, gooseberries, bilberries and my favourite of all, raspberries. Blackberries, elderberries and bilberries grow wild all over the place, so have the added bonus of being completely free.

Photo credit

Bilberries are rather obscure (I've never seen them in the supermarket), but also rather wonderful. They grow on small, scrubby bushes on moorland all over the Pennines. My grandparents used to pick them with the assistance of a special rake-like device for scooping them off the bush, then my Grandma would bake them in pies. The pie would have a very short, sweet pastry crust (probably about 2 parts each butter and sugar to 1 part flour) and an oozing, dark purple filling, the bilberries reduced to a rich fruit mush. This would be served with pouring cream, which mingled with the juices and formed colours from violet through crimson to pink on the plate. Not that I ever paid much attention to the colours, too busy was I shovelling the delicious stuff into my mouth. One of my best and most vivid childhood food memories.

The raspberry, for me, is the finest berry of the lot. I've already featured raspberries on the blog here, so I won't waffle on about them any longer.

Elderberries are good too, and best made into jams or jellies. My Mum has made plenty of these over the years, and they always go down a treat spread on hot buttered toast or stirred through rice pudding.

Photo credit: Blacklands Plants

Blackberries and gooseberries I would lump together with rhubarb in a special category that I'm going to call 'the crumble fruits'. Either alone or alongside apples, each of these is best eaten cooked with a buttery, sugary crumb topping. I can't even decide which is my favourite, although I may be leaning towards the greater acidity of rhubarb or the gooseberry. Any fruit that is borderline inedible due to its mouth-puckering acidity makes a great crumble. Rhubarb deserves a special mention on this blog, because I live right in the Rhubarb Triangle, and also because I love it for being more the stalk of a weed than a fruit in the traditional sense. What tastier weeds are there?

Having said all that, one of the things that got me thinking about fruit was the discovery of a pretender to the throne for 'King of the crumble fruits'. The damson. I found them on Otley farmers market last month, so bought a bag full. The whole lot went in a crumble and wow was it good. As good as anything else I've cooked this year. I guessed how much sugar to use and got lucky. The damsons have a wonderful hint of bitterness to them, with quite a dark, tannin-y fruit flavour. This was offset by just the right amount of sweetness resulting in a taste that sort of reminded me of good quality chocolate, bittersweet yet fruity. The photo doesn't do it justice, it was fantastic.

Photo credit: PearRecipes.co.uk

Pears. I always think of pears as a sort of sister fruit to apples, but you have a much smaller window of opportunity with a pear. They don't keep for half as long, progressing from rock solid to mealy and horrid before you know it. Catch one at the peak of ripeness though, and they are up there with the best. Almost bursting with sweet, fragrant juice the best way to eat them is also on their own, with a ready supply of tissues.

Photo credit: BBC Good Food

I haven't even mentioned currants yet. Probably because I forgot about them when thinking of berries, which is probably the heading they should come under. Blackcurrants and redcurrants and whitecurrants. Two things spring to mind when thinking of these. Ribena and summer pudding. Summer pudding proves that British fruits other than strawberries are for hot weather too, it's not all crumbles and Autumnal hiking. What better end could you have to a meal eaten outdoors on a warm afternoon than a fat wedge of tart summer pudding leaking crimson juice and a huge dollop of thick cream.

So it tastes good, but some of those exciting tropical upstart fruits taste pretty good too, so what else makes British fruit best? A sense of time and place certainly comes into this. Native foodstuffs just feel right eaten in the landscape and climate in which they grew. To varying degrees this applies to any food, but especially so to fruit. Tomatoes and aubergines are always going to taste better in a Mediterranean country, but I wouldn't want to cook without them in Britain. A good steak suits any climate, it's how you serve it that might differ. Salad and a squeeze of lemon somewhere hot, frites and a peppercorn sauce somewhere cooler. But with fruit local is always better. If I lived on a tropical beach I'm sure coconuts and papayas and pineapples would be my favourite, but I don't so I'm sticking with apples and pears and berries.

Having re-read what I've just written so far it seems there is a third important factor: a tendency to work well in recipes containing lots of butter. There was me thinking I'm writing an unusually healthy post about beautiful, healthy, life-giving fruit, when all along I'm subconsciously thinking of ways to eat more butter. Oh well.

So British fruit is best because it tastes great, because it's the perfect match to our weather and landscapes, and because there are loads of recipes in which it marries perfectly with butter.

What do you think? Is British fruit best? Which is your favourite British fruit? And finally, and of course most importantly, which is the 'King of the crumble fruits'?