Three kinds of garlic in a meltingly gorgeous risotto

Cooking time: around 25 mins depending on your rice
Serves: 2-3 as a main course, 4 as a side

1 knob butter
1 tbsp olive oil
3 bulbs wet garlic, sliced thinly
2 cloves garlic, peeled and finely chopped
1 small onion, peeled and finely chopped
250g risotto rice (arborio)
Salt and pepper
A splash of white wine or vermouth
1 litre hot vegetable or chicken stock
1 large handful wild garlic leaves, washed and roughly chopped
30g butter
50g Parmesan, finely grated, plus extra for serving
Wild garlic flowers, to garnish (optional)

Gently heat a large cooking pot, add the knob of butter and oil, and gently sweat the wet garlic, normal garlic and the onion for about 10 minutes without letting it colour. Add the rice, turn up the heat and cook, stirring, until the rice is coated with the garlicky onion mix. Season, add the wine and stir until it has been absorbed.

Add enough stock just to cover the rice, stir and turn down the heat. Maintain the rice at a gentle simmer and stir until the stock has been absorbed. Repeat, adding stock and stirring, for 10 minutes. Add the wild garlic leaves, stir into the rice and continue adding more stock as before.

After five minutes more, when the rice is just cooked but still has some bite, remove from the heat and stir in the butter and cheese. Season, and serve topped with a sprinkling of extra cheese and some wild garlic flowers, if the fancy takes you.

• Jane Baxter is head chef of the award-winning Riverford Field Kitchen in Devon

guardian.co.uk food-and-drink

The cuts are coming, the recession’s not gone – it’s time for simple, tasty suppers that won’t blow a huge hole in your budget

No matter how much I enjoy a morning in the kitchen purely for the pleasure of cooking, the most useful recipes to me are the cheap and cheerful, everyday suppers I can knock up when I finish work. The sort of food that can be on the table not just quickly but without breaking the bank.

Sometimes this is as straightforward as a bowl of hot and spicy noodles, other times it is something that requires a little more of my time such as a stew of butternut squash or chicken wings that have been cooked with tomatoes and coconut.

Either way, this is the sort of cooking that makes the most of the ingredients I can grab on the way home – be it a packet of bulgur wheat and some rashers of bacon or some minced lamb and a packet of soft flatbreads. The main ingredients are used with mostly store cupboard seasonings that I have in the house.

These are recipes that I adapt to whatever I have around at the time and am happy to swap and substitute ingredients in whatever direction my mood and supplies take me. This is not finely honed cooking but just quick, easy meals made from reasonably priced, accessible ingredients.

BULGUR AND BACON

I sometimes spoon a little seasoned yoghurt – salt, pepper, paprika – over this at the table, stirring it into the grains. But mostly, I leave the pilaf as it is, enjoying the warm, homely grains and juicy nuggets of mushroom.

SERVES 4

smoked streaky bacon 200g
onions 2, medium
olive oil
garlic 2 cloves
small mushrooms 250g
bulgur wheat, medium fine 250g
boiling water from the kettle 400ml
sprigs of parsley 3 or 4
dill 6 sprigs
butter 60g

Cut the bacon rashers into short thick pieces. Peel the onions and slice them thinly. Warm a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in a large, shallow pan over a low heat, add the sliced bacon and stir occasionally till the fat has turned pale gold. Peel and finely chop the garlic. Add the onions and garlic to the pan and leave till soft, golden and translucent, stirring from time to time.

Quarter the mushrooms and add them to the softening onions. Leave them to cook for 5 minutes or so with the occasional stir. Add the bulgur with a pinch of salt, then pour in the boiling water, cover tightly, switch off the heat, and leave for 15 minutes.

Roughly chop the parsley leaves and the dill. Lift the lid from the pan, stir in the butter, herbs and a little salt and pepper. Stir till the grains are glossy with butter, and serve.

NOODLES AND GREENS

Preparing the ingredients first is pretty much essential in this recipe. Once started, there is no time to chop as you cook.

SERVES 2

spring onions 6
garlic 3 cloves
spring greens 175g
groundnut oil 2 tbsp
fresh egg noodles 150g
mild chilli sauce 1 tbsp
dark soy sauce 3 tsp
fresh coriander leaves from 4 or 5 sprigs

Chop the spring onions (white and the lower part of the green stalk) into thin rounds. Peel and finely chop the garlic. Snap off the leaves of the spring greens, pile them on top of one another, roll them up, then shred them into finger-width ribbons.

Heat a wok over a high heat. Pour in the oil, swirl it round the pan, then, as it shimmers and starts to smoke, add the chopped spring onions and garlic. Move them quickly round the pan for a minute or two till they start to soften and colour then add the noodles. As the noodles cook, drop in the shredded greens and stir or toss them around the pan as they cook for 2 minutes.

Stir in the chilli sauce and soy, add the coriander leaves and continue cooking for a minute or so till all is soft, glossy and sizzling.

A QUICK SQUASH STEW

At this time of year, the thick-skinned onion squash are still in good condition, as well as the large blue varieties such as Crown Prince. The ever-present butternut is good here, too.

SERVES 4 WITH RICE

pumpkin, butternut or winter squash 1 kg
groundnut oil 3 tbsp
onions 2
tomato purée 2 tsp
chopped tomatoes a 400g can
dried oregano a generous tsp
parsley a few sprigs
steamed brown rice to serve

Peel the squash, halve it and scoop out and set aside the seeds. You should have about 800g flesh. Cut into large dice, about 1-2cm square.

Warm the oil in a wide, deep pan, add the pieces of squash (you may have to cook it in two batches so as not to crowd the pan) and leave them to fry till golden brown on their edges. Move them round the pan as they cook, adding more oil if necessary, then remove them from the pan with a draining spoon. (If you wish, wash a handful of the discarded pumpkin seeds, dry them and toast in a non-stick pan till golden brown. Set aside. You can scatter them over the stew later.)

Peel and slice the onions, then add them to the empty pan over a low to moderate heat. Stirring occasionally, leave them for 10 minutes or until pale amber in colour and tender enough to crush between your thumb and finger.

Stir in the tomato purée, scraping away at the tasty, sticky residue in the pan with a wooden spoon. Fry briefly, then add the tomatoes, oregano and a little salt and ground black pepper. Fill the empty tomato can with water and pour into the pan, stirring thoroughly, and bring to the boil.

Return the squash to the pan and leave to simmer, with the occasional, gentle stir, for 25 minutes or until everything is soft when pressed gently with a fork.

Chop the parsley and stir in. Check the seasoning and serve with the brown rice.

LAMB AND MUSHROOM FLATBREADS

Deliciously messy flatbreads to roll up or eat on a plate.

SERVES 2

groundnut oil 3 tbsp
small mushrooms 100g
garlic 2 cloves
red chillies 2, small and hot
minced lamb 300g
mint leaves a small palmful
yoghurt 4 heaped tbsp
pine kernels 2 tbsp
flatbreads 2 large
salad leaves 2 handfuls
pomegranate seeds 2 tbsp
green olives, stoned 12

Warm the oil in a wide, shallow pan over a moderate heat. Cut the mushrooms in half and add them to the pan, occasionally stirring them till they colour. Peel and finely chop the garlic then stir it into the mushrooms, leaving it to brown nicely for a few minutes.

Halve each chilli lengthways, removing the seeds and finely chopping the flesh before adding to the pan and leaving to cook for a minute. Tip in the minced lamb, stir into the mushrooms and allow to colour for 5 minutes or so with only the occasional stir so that it browns nicely.

Chop the mint leaves and stir into the yoghurt with salt and pepper.

Chop the pine kernels and stir them into the lamb with a generous grinding of salt and pepper.

Warm the flatbreads and lay them on a chopping board or work surface. Divide the salad leaves between the warm flatbreads and tip over the hot lamb and mushrooms.

Scatter the pomegranate seeds and stoned olives over the lamb, then trickle over the yoghurt. Roll loosely and eat.

CHICKEN WINGS WITH COCONUT CREAM

You could serve this with plenty of the brick red, coconut-scented sauce and some rice, but I prefer to reduce the sauce over a high heat, stirring almost continuously, till it is thick enough to coat the chicken wings.

SERVES 4

groundnut oil 2 tbsp
chicken wings 16, or 12 large ones
ginger a 60g knob
garlic 2 large cloves
ground chilli ½ tsp
ground turmeric ½ tsp
ground coriander 1 tsp
small “new” potatoes 250g
chopped tomatoes a 400g can
coconut cream up to 320ml
coriander leaves a small handful

Warm the oil in a deep frying pan, add the chicken wings, seasoned with salt and pepper, and leave them to colour on both sides. Remove to a plate once they are golden brown on both sides.

Peel the ginger and garlic and blitz them to a rough pulp in a food processor. Blend in the ground chilli, turmeric and coriander. Cut the potatoes into thin “coins”.

Return the empty chicken pan to a moderate heat and add the spice mix from the processor. Once it starts to sizzle and its fragrance rises add the potatoes and 200ml water, continue cooking, with the occasional stir, for 10 minutes or until they are approaching tenderness. Stir in the tomatoes, bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes.

Pour in the coconut cream (start with 160ml, then add more as you wish). Season with salt, stir well, return the chicken and any juices on the plate to the pan and leave to simmer for 15-20 minutes, allowing time for the liquid to reduce a little.

Turn up the heat, and stirring almost continuously, let the sauce bubble till it has thickened considerably. Scrape away the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon as you go to stop the sauce sticking. The sauce should be thick and should easily coat the chicken. Stir in a little chopped coriander if you wish.

Serve in shallow bowls or deep plates and, as it’s best eaten somewhat messily with the hands, provide something for everyone to wipe their fingers with.

nigel.slater@observer.co.uk

guardian.co.uk food-and-drink

Is kedgeree the breakfast of kings or is eating fish before lunchtime a bit too 19th century?

The noble breakfast dish of kedgeree is a prime example of an Anglo-Indian culinary mash up, with its roots in khichri, a dish of spiced pulses mixed with rice which was already on the menu by the time the Moroccan explorer Ibn Batuta made it to Delhi in the mid-14th century.

The fish was a British introduction, as were the hard-boiled eggs. (Presumably we would have stuck some black pudding in there as well if Cook had happened across one in the cantonment stores.) Lizzie Collingham points out in Curry: a biography that fresh fish was already a staple of the Raj breakfast table, as, she quotes an early 19th century handbook as saying, “in the hot season, fish caught early in the morning would be much deteriorated before the dinner hour.” It wasn’t until the dish travelled back to the country homes of Britain that smoked haddock put in an appearance.

Madhur Jaffrey points out that the wetter end of the kedgeree spectrum is rather like a rice porridge, so it seems unsurprising that this, amongst all local dishes, became popular amongst the colonists. Not only would it have been vaguely familiar, but presumably, “like the local people, they found it … good for invalids or those with hangovers”, as Sri Owen puts it in The Rice Book. Hear, hear – there’s nothing better after a night on the sauce than a steaming bowl of comforting, lightly spiced rice, silky with butter and strewn with salty, smoky fish and fresh-flavoured herbs; it wakes up your palate and soothes the stomach.

It didn’t take the Victorians long to adapt the dish to suit their own tastes. The 1885 edition of Culinary Jottings for Madras, a (recently reprinted) collection of cookery articles from the Madras Athenaeum and Daily News by an Indian Army colonel, gives a rather unappetising sounding recipe for kegeree (sic) of “the English type”, “composed of boiled rice, chopped hard-boiled egg, cold minced fish, and a lump of fresh butter … tossed together in the frying-pan, flavoured with pepper, salt, and any minced garden herb such as cress, parsley, or marjoram, and served smoking hot.” Not a spice in sight.

Plain

Interestingly enough, The Complete Indian Housekeeper and Cook, an 1888 publication quoted in The Road to Vindaloo, an utterly fascinating study of the British love affair with curry, includes a plainer recipe, rather like a spiced paella, in its chapter on “Native Dishes” – but then its author, the redoubtable Flora Annie Steele, wasn’t your average memsahib.

I fry sliced onions in a generous amount of “boiling ghee” then remove these from the pan and put in 4 tbsp “well-washed” rice and 4 tbsp dal (I used some surplus ready-cooked moong dal, but dry lentils should work just as well). Once these have absorbed the remaining butter, I add ginger, peppercorns, cardamom, cloves and a cinnamon stick, cover the lot with water, and leave it to simmer until almost dry. The dish is served with the fried onion scattered over the top – delicious (and quite a revelation for anyone who thinks themselves daringly modern for liking a bit of spice at the breakfast table), but definitely “kidgeree”, as Mrs Steele has it, rather than kedgeree.

Wet kedgeree

I find a recipe for “wet kedgeree” in The Prawn Cocktail Years, which Lindsay Bareham and Simon Hopkinson claim is “slightly controversial”, possibly because it marries rice with a distinctly European white sauce.

While the rice cooks, I poach smoked haddock in milk, and then use this liquid to make a sauce thickened with flour and flavoured with cream, lemon juice, curry powder and sautéed onion. This is folded into the cooked rice and smoked fish, along with a small bunch of chopped chives, and the whole thing is topped with parsley and sliced boiled egg. It’s undeniably comforting, but I think the cream dulls the spice and makes it into a fishy porridge, which, however authentic it may be, seems a shame. I like my kedgeree to have a bit more of a kick.

Thrifty kedgeree

Despite saying one should be “generous with the butter and cream” in the preamble to her kedgeree recipe, Jane Grigson doesn’t use any dairy products to actually make it – after poaching the smoked haddock in water, she uses the same liquid to cook the rice, flavoured with sautéed onion and curry powder. The two are then mixed together, with a knob of butter, and topped with lemon slices, egg, parsley and prawns.

It’s a clever and economical technique, but again, the flavours of the finished dish are not as vivid as I would like. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and Nick Fisher use a similar method in their River Cottage Fish Book (while suggesting smoked pollack instead of the more popular haddock), poaching the fish in milk instead, but again, I find this slightly bland.

Fish fried rice

The Leiths Fish Bible version is very different, and more in the spirit of the original Raj dish, designed to use up leftover rice, than the others. After poaching the haddock, I fry a chopped onion in an impressive amount of butter until soft, add turmeric, green chilli, curry powder and chopped fresh ginger, sauté them briefly, and then stir through the cooked rice fish and eggs. The flavours are striking, and the generous amount of butter makes the rice rich and moist.

Flavours

Sautéing pre-cooked rice in butter and spices keeps the flavours fresh, and the texture fluffy, rather than mushy. Leiths add fresh ginger, which I don’t like with smoked fish, but their fresh green chilli adds a nice touch of freshness to the dish, as does a garnish of finely chopped coriander, rather than the more usual parsley. The chives used by Simon Hopkinson and Lindsay Bareham contribute a savoury, tangy quality that works particularly well with the eggs. On that subject, it’s very modish to substitute soft-boiled or poached eggs, but I prefer a distinctly Victorian solidity on this occasion.

Despite what many modern chefs seem to believe, old-fashioned curry powder is an absolute must here – a couple of separate spices, as used by Nigella, just doesn’t create the same effect. Salmon, scallops, mackerel – even prawns, all seem wrong to me: the fish should be white, smoked, and sustainable. This is a breakfast that leaves you in no doubt you’re alive and well: silver chafing dish optional.

Perfect kedgeree

Serves 4

450g basmati rice
500g smoked haddock
120g butter
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 green chilli, deseeded and cut into thin rings
2 crushed cardamom pods
1 tbsp curry powder
2 hard-boiled eggs, peeled and cut in half
Small handful chives, chopped
½ lemon, cut into 4 wedges
Small bunch of coriander, chopped

1. Toss the rice briefly under running water and then put it in a large pan and cover with cold water. Leave for at least half an hour.

2. Drain the rice and discard the soaking water. Put it in a large pan on a medium heat with 585ml fresh water.

3. Bring to the boil, and give it a good stir. Cover tightly and turn the heat down very low. Cook for 25 minutes then take off the heat – don’t take the lid off! – and place on a wet tea towel. Leave for five minutes then fork through to fluff up.

4. Meanwhile, put the fish, skin-side up, in a shallow pan over a low heat, and cover with boiling water. Allow to sit for 10 minutes, then take out of the water and, when cool enough to handle, pull the skin off and break into large flakes.

5. Melt the butter in a large frying pan over a lowish heat, and add the onion. Fry gently until softened, then stir in the chilli, cardamom pods and curry powder. Cook for a couple of minutes, then tip in the rice and stir to coat. Add the fish flakes and heat through. Taste and season.

6. Put the eggs on top, scatter with chives and coriander, and serve with slices of lemon to squeeze over.

Is kedgeree the breakfast of kings, or an aptly malodorous reminder of colonialism? Are there any other Anglo-Indian favourites which deserve to be better known – and can it really be true that kedgeree has its origins in Scotland rather than Shimla?

guardian.co.uk food-and-drink

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The differences between organic and conventionally farmed pork are about a whole lot more than just taste

If there’s one thing I find almost as tiresome as climate change deniers, it’s organic bashers. “It’s cruel, it is. They’re not allowed to treat animals even when they’re sick, except with herbs and that. And the animals are forced to stay outside, even when it’s snowing. My mate’s friend lives near an organic pig farm, and he says it’s a scandal the way they treat their animals ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì they’re wandering about outside, covered in mud and everything?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶”

It’s all bollocks, of course. And in case you’re ever on the receiving end of this kind of ignorant rant, allow me to clarify. Almost all the same veterinary interventions are available to organic farmers as to conventional ones. What doesn’t happen often ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì because it isn’t usually necessary in the natural, extensively outdoor environment of organic farming ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì is the automatic dosing of whole flocks and herds with strong prophylactic antibiotics and other drugs. Rather, the animals are treated according to their needs and symptoms. Having said that, if an organic farmer has a persistent worm problem in his sheep, say, he may decide to treat the entire flock, but they will then not be allowed to go to slaughter for three times longer than in conventional farming. This is an extra precaution to ensure that the medicines involved do not enter the human food chain.

Given concerns about the possible long-term effects of agricultural antibiotics in our meat (not to mention chemical pesticide residues in fruit and veg), it’s hardly surprising so many of us buy organic these days, though the argument over whether organic ingredients “taste better” or “are healthier” is so often poorly expressed (on both sides, to be fair). The issues for me are animal welfare (organic standards are the highest we have), chemical residues (almost nonexistent in organic produce) and the protection of our environment (land under organic, chemical-free cultivation is the only insurance we have against the polluting, soil-degrading effects of industrially produced agrochemicals).

Of course, farming organically doesn’t make you a good farmer or a good stockman any more than farming conventionally makes you a bad one. You can be incompetent within either system. But what’s vital about organic farming ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì and especially the Soil Association certification system that upholds it ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì is that it gives us one of the very few food labels that actually mean anything. And that’s why I’m proud to support Organic Fortnight, which began yesterday. For me, now’s a good time to restate my commitment to this massively important approach to growing our food, and to acknowledge and applaud the fantastic work done over the last 15 years by the Soil Association’s director Patrick Holden, who steps down later this year.

I’d urge you to go to one of the events (especially the Organic Food Festival in Bristol next weekend), visit an organic farm or just enjoy a spectacularly tasty organic lunch.

I’m cooking pork this week, because pigs (along with chickens, about which I’ve said plenty) are the most intensively farmed ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì and, I’d say, most abused ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì of all our farm animals. In the intensive system, these intelligent, complex creatures are routinely treated with such an indifferent disregard for their natural behaviour that it can only be described as cruel. (If you’ve seen Tracy Worcester’s remarkable film, Pig Business, you’ll know just how bad it can be.) Organic pigs, by contrast, flourish in conditions that allow them to express a full range of natural behaviours. They are kept in family groups, have access to soil and vegetation, they can root in the earth and wallow in the mud.

So this week, if you’re buying pork, I really hope you’ll choose organic. And that you’ll enjoy every morsel.

Pork and Puy lentil salad

Vary the vegetables depending on what you have to hand. Fennel, roast baby carrots or beetroot, broad beans or peas all work well. Serves four.

150g puy lentils
2 unpeeled garlic cloves, bashed
1 bouquet garni, made from 2 sprigs thyme and 2 parsley stalks tied together with a bay leaf
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? small onion
4 free-range eggs
150g french beans, topped
200g leftover roast pork, roughly shredded
250-300g cherry tomatoes, halved
Handful of rocket (optional)
1 small handful chopped parsley
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the vinaigrette
1 garlic clove, peeled and minced
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1 tbsp red-wine vinegar
3 tbsp olive oil

Rinse the lentils and put them in a pan with the garlic, bouquet garni, onion and enough cold water to cover by about 5cm. Bring to a boil and simmer for 25 minutes until the lentils are just tender, or according to the package instructions.

Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette. Whisk together the garlic, mustard and vinegar with a pinch of salt, then whisk in the oil until emulsified. Drain the lentils and toss them, while still warm, in the dressing.

Place the eggs in a pan of hand-hot water, bring to a boil and simmer for six minutes. Drain and plunge into iced water. Cook the beans until just tender in boiling, salted water, then drain and refresh under the cold tap.

When the lentils are room temperature, toss with the pork, beans, tomatoes, rocket and parsley. Adjust the seasoning. Peel the eggs, halve them and arrange over the salad.

Slow-cooked aromatic shoulder of pork

I call this deliciously tender, succulent slow-roast pork “Donnie Brasco” because you put it in the oven and “fugeddaboutit”. Leftovers are great in all manner of salads, pasta sauces and sandwiches. Serves six-plus.

1 boned, rolled shoulder of pork (aka a spare rib joint), about 2.5-3kg
5 large garlic cloves, peeled
5cm piece fresh ginger, peeled
2 tsp chilli flakes
2 tsp ground ginger
1 tbsp brown sugar
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tbsp flaky sea salt
1 tbsp sunflower or groundnut oil
1 tbsp soy sauce
For the five-spice mix
2 star anise
2 tsp fennel seeds
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? cinnamon stick
4 cloves
1 tsp black peppercorns
1 glass white or red wine

Heat the oven to 230C/450F/gas mark 8. With a craft knife, score the pork rind in parallel lines about 1cm apart and to a depth of 0.5-1cm (or get the butcher to do it for you).

Grate the garlic and fresh ginger into a small bowl, and mix to a paste with the chilli, ground ginger, sugar, salt, oil and soy sauce. Pound the five spices in a mortar (or grind in a clean coffee grinder) and mix a tablespoon into the paste (the rest will keep in an airtight jar in a cool, dark place for a month or so).

Put the joint skin-side up on a rack over a large roasting tin. Using your fingertips, rub just over half the spice rub into the scored rind. Roast the joint for 30 minutes, then remove from the oven and, using oven gloves or a thick, dry, cloth, carefully turn it over to expose the underside. Using a knife or wooden spoon (the meat will be very hot), smear the remaining spice rub over the underside of the meat, which should now be facing up. Pour the glass of wine and a glass of water into the roasting tin, cover with foil (you won’t get any crackling, but you will get “chewling” ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì tender, chewable skin with a lovely, spicy flavour) and turn down the heat to 120C/250F/ gas mark ?É‚Äö?Ǭº and return to the oven for five to six hours, turning it skin-side up and basting with the fat and juices in the tin about halfway through.

To serve, don’t so much carve the joint as scoop the tender, melting, aromatic meat on to warmed plates.

Pork tonnato

An unconventional take on the classic veal tonnato ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì it turns leftover roast pork into a quick and delicious lunch or supper. Serves four.

120g tinned tuna in oil, drained (I use Fish-4-Ever)
50g tinned anchovies, drained and chopped (again, I use Fish-4-Ever)
2-3 tbsp good mayonnaise
1 lemon
1-2 tbsp capers, rinsed
1-2 tbsp finely chopped parsley (optional)
2 thick slices leftover roast pork per person

Flake the tuna into a bowl and mix with the anchovies, mayo, a good squeeze of lemon juice and a few gratings of the zest. Smear this over the pork, then sprinkle with capers and parsley, if using, and serve.

Go to rivercottage.net for the latest news from River Cottage HQ.

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Don’t save barbecues for parties and special occasions ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì they’re far more suited to when you’ve got friends or family over for lunch

As I write, three solid weeks of outstanding barbecue weather have just been broken by a night-long downpour. Has that put me off writing about barbecues? Not at all. I’m sure there’s a load more sunshine on the way. And you know what, even if there isn’t, it really doesn’t matter. Here’s the thing about barbecuing ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì a liberating secret I’d like to share, and one that keen barbecuers should never forget ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì it doesn’t have to be a scorching, sunny day to cook outside over smouldering charcoal or wood. It just has to be not pouring with rain. The rest of the summer may be rubbish, but we’re not actually expecting a biblical 40 days and nights of ceaseless rain? Are we?

It surprises me that we often save barbecues for special occasions or parties when, frankly, it can be quite stressful catering for such numbers over fire. Really, the barbecue is just another agreeable weapon in the thinking cook’s arsenal, more appropriate for a family lunch or friends over for supper than for feeding the whole village/street/cricket team.

Here are a few pointers for making it all go swimmingly (but not in the Noah’s flood sense). Most important of all, you need to light the fire well in advance so the coals are glowing red and covered in a layer of white ash. This will take at least 30 minutes with charcoal, longer with gathered wood. By far the best charcoal, incidentally, is that made from sustainably coppiced British woodland. It’s easy to light, and burns fast and even. And if the heat starts to fade, a quick top-up will have it back in business within 10 minutes.

You need to get the bars really hot to stop food from sticking to them. Better lightly to oil the food and lay it on searing hot bars than attempt to oil the bars themselves. And don’t be tempted to move things about too quickly or too often. You need the food to build up a burned edge at the point of contact with the bars, so it won’t break up or tear when you flip them.

Then you can really give your imagination free rein, cooking everything from whole birds and large pieces of meat (see today’s spatchcocked chicken) to sweet and delicate fruit. I’ve experimented with whole fish wrapped in layers of wet newspaper; oysters and mussels in their shells, which open up miraculously as they cook; and practically the entire contents of the vegetable garden ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì grilled lettuce hearts and spring onions with olive oil and shaved goat’s cheese are a great favourite. But you don’t have to be obsessively experimental. I hear weird tales of people attempting brownies and all sorts of cakey stuff on barbecues, but that seems a bit bonkers to me. They’re never going to be as good as ones made in the oven, are they?

You want your ingredients to be enhanced by barbecuing, not merely to survive it. For me, when it comes to pudding, fruit wins every time, whether in the form of kebabs or halved stone fruit, slices of pineapple or, that barbecue stalwart, the banana. Just add a few scoops of ice-cream for summery perfection. But not until you’ve taken the fruit off the barbecue, obviously?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶

Five barbecue inspirations

My favourite griller thrillers?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶

Tomatoes Cut in half lengthways, brush with olive oil and grill, cut side down, for about three minutes.

Garlic Trickle whole garlic bulbs with olive or rapeseed oil, wrap in foil and grill until tender, about 20 minutes. Cool slightly, then squeeze cooked cloves on to steak or toasted bread, or use them to make a?É?í?ǬØoli.

Sardines Rub gutted sardines with a little olive oil and season with chopped garlic, thyme, salt and pepper. Ideally, put them into a barbecue fish basket to make it easier to turn them, and cook for two to three minutes a side.

Fruit kebabs Thread cubes of apple, pear, banana, mango, pineapple, halved figs or plums on to skewers. Brush with honey thinned with a little apple or orange juice and grill over a low, fading barbecue, turning very frequently, until lightly caramelised, about five minutes.

Peaches or nectarines Halve, then brush the cut sides with a little melted butter, sprinkle lightly with brown sugar and grill, cut side down, for three to four minutes. Serve with ricotta, ice-cream or mascarpone and a sprinkling of toasted flaked almonds or chopped hazelnuts.

Roasted artichokes and lemons

These grilled lemons go wonder-fully well with artichokes, but they’re great with barbecued fish, chicken and lamb as well. Serves six as a starter.

6 small to medium-sized artichokes
4 tbsp olive oil
2 large lemons, quartered lengthways
Flaky sea salt

Simmer or steam the artichokes whole until just tender, about 15-25 minutes ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì you can tell they’re done by tugging at one of the lower leaves: it should pull away easily. (Incidentally, if you grow your own, they’ll take less time to cook, so reduce the cooking time to around seven or eight minutes.) Lift the artichokes from the pan and leave for a few minutes to steam and lose some of their moisture, then cut in half lengthways and use a teaspoon to scrape out the hairy choke. Brush the cut sides with olive oil. Brush olive oil over the lemon quarters, place on the grill and cook until just charred on one side, about three minutes, then turn and cook on the other side for two to three minutes. Now grill the artichokes cut side down, until the leaves just begin to char ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì about three minutes. Serve with a trickle of olive oil, a sprinkling of sea salt and the grilled lemons to squeeze over the top.

Yoghurty spatchcocked chicken

Even though you have to be careful about controlling the temperature, cooking a whole chicken on the grill is less trouble than fiddling with lots of drumsticks. This really needs to be done on a relatively low barbecue, to avoid burnt-on-the-outside-but-raw-in-the-middle syndrome. If you are not sure how to spatchcock a bird, ask the butcher to do it for you. Serves six.

1 spatchcocked free-range chicken
Salt
For the marinade
8 tbsp whole milk yoghurt
2 garlic cloves, crushed
Juice of ?É‚Äö?Ǭ? lemon
1 tsp ground cumin
1 tsp ground coriander
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp chilli flakes
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp freshly ground black pepper

Mix together all the ingredients for the marinade. Put the chicken in a non-reactive bowl and pour on the marinade. Turn the chicken over with your hands, making sure the marinade gets into every nook and cranny, cover, refrigerate and leave to marinate for at least two hours. Make sure it is at room temperature before grilling. Sprinkle with salt.

Place the bird breast side up towards the edge of the grill where it’s slightly cooler, and cook for 20-25 minutes, then turn over and cook for a further 15-20 minutes, spraying from time to time with a little water if it’s browning too fast. Deploy the lid, if your barbecue has one, or simply use an upturned roasting tin, to reflect the heat back down and semi-roast your barbecuing chicken.

The bird is done when the juices run clear when pierced between the thigh and breast bone (or when it reads 80C on a meat thermometer). Remove from the heat and leave to rest for 10-15 minutes before carving.

Roasted courgette and spring onion tabboule

Courgettes and spring onions are delicious barbecued, but you can also make this salad with other grilled vegetables such as peppers, red onions or aubergines. If you like, toss in some toasted sunflower or pumpkin seeds for crunch and some chopped, dried apricots for sweetness. Serves four to six.

5 courgettes, cut lengthways into 1cm slices
10 spring onions, trimmed
2-3 tbsp olive oil
250g bulgur wheat or couscous
1 lemon, zested and juiced
1 handful fresh mint, tough stalks removed and chopped
1 handful fresh parsley, tough stalks removed and chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Brush the courgettes and onions with oil and grill, turning from time to time, for about five minutes, until lightly charred and tender.

Cook the bulgur wheat or couscous according to the packet instructions, toss with the zest of half the lemon, a good squeeze of lemon juice, a trickle of oil and the herbs, season and serve with the grilled vegetables.

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Vinegar: it’s one of the most useful ingredients in the whole store cupboard

Wherever there has been wine, there has been vinegar, its sharp-tongued twin. I don’t mean this disparagingly. I wouldn’t be without its puckery, palate-bracing charms. From the mildest rice wine vinegar to potent, syrupy, complex balsamic, vinegars perk up my cooking every day.

Vinegar is one of history’s happiest culinary accidents. Who would have thought that sour wine (literally, “vin aigre”) would play such an important role in all the world’s great cuisines, from Tokyo to Burgundy? And, indeed, here in the West Country, where cider vinegar is my reach-for default for dressings and sauces.

The first batch of vinegar was no doubt a great surprise to its owner, a disappointment ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì amusing now, when you think that the finest Italian balsamics command a price to rival the world’s greatest wines. But when air seeped into that first cask, along with a few yeasty spores, allowing the vinegar mother to thrive and grow like some all-consuming alien, it must have been something of a blow. What a credit to whomever then took this throat-rasping liquor and said to themselves, “There must be something useful I can do with this. Now where’s the olive oil?”

There are records of vinegar going back thousands of years. Hippocrates mentions its medicinal properties in the fifth century BC. The Greeks used it to preserve food ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì very important in the days before refrigeration. Caesar’s armies fortified themselves with it. Pliny the Elder wrote that Cleopatra dissolved her pearls in it to impress Mark Antony that she could throw the most expensive banquet in history. Wags, take note?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶

I have quite the collection at home, from white-wine vinegars with tarragon (perfect for a b?É?í?Ǭ©arnaise sauce), to brown rice vinegar and homemade red-wine vinegar, made from our (scant) leftovers, which is slowly gathering age and complexity in its special jar. But my beloved cider vinegar comes out more often than the rest put together. I use it not only for most of my dressings, but for most of my pickling, too, where its genuine fruitiness lends far more character than white distilled vinegar or even malt vinegar (save that for the chips).

Recently, I’ve been using quite a bit of apple balsamic vinegar, too ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì the Suffolk company Aspall, still family-run, makes a stunner ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì adding it to recipes or simply mixing it with olive oil to dip bread into, or trickling it over ripe, sliced tomatoes with a sprinkling of salt.

From time to time, I very purposefully reach for rice vinegar, made ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì as its name suggests ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì through the fermentation of sugars derived from rice. Used in Japanese and Chinese cooking, it has a light, sweet flavour with a nice hint of sake about it. It’s great for dressing ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì or the very light pickling of ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì delicate vegetables, such as cucumbers, courgettes, peas and beans, or for using in marinades and sauces for fish or shellfish.

Many vinegars have a great affinity with sweet things, too. Add a spoonful of white-wine or cider vinegar to meringues as you whip them. Some swear a spoonful added to the dough makes pastry especially flaky, so try it next time you make a tart. And vinegar is astonishingly good with fruit. Who didn’t, during the 1990s, trickle a little balsamic over strawberries to create one of the laziest, tastiest puds ever? Try it again, with strawberries, blueberries, cherries, even ripe peaches. It really is delicious.

So let’s hear it for one of the kitchen’s hardest working ingredients. So often, when I think a dish is missing a little something, it turns out to be a vinegar-shaped hole. If forced to choose, by some evil demon, would I pick wine over vinegar? I’m not sure I would. As long as I could have cider, that is?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶

Sticky apple balsamic spare ribs

These sticky ribs are near-addictively good, and incredibly easy to make. Serves four to six.

1.5kg free-range pork ribs (2 racks)
For the marinade
4 tbsp redcurrant, plum, crab apple or other fruit jelly
3 tbsp apple balsamic vinegar
2 tbsp light muscovado sugar
3 garlic cloves, crushed to a paste
1 tbsp finely grated fresh ginger
?É‚Äö?Ǭ?-1 medium-hot red chilli, finely chopped, or ?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp dried chilli flakes
2 tbsp soy sauce
Steamed rice and wilted greens, to serve

Whisk together all the marinade ingredients. Put the ribs in a large, ovenproof dish, pour the marinade over and, using your hands, turn the ribs around in it so they’re all well coated. Cover and leave to marinate in a cool place for at least an hour, several hours if possible, turning them from time to time.

Heat the oven to 170C/335F/gas mark 3. Turn the ribs in their marinade one final time, cover the dish with foil and bake for 45 minutes. Raise the temperature to 190C/375F/gas mark 5.

Remove the foil and turn the ribs again, basting them with the sauce. Return the uncovered dish to the oven and cook for 35-45 minutes longer, turning and basting the ribs two or three more times, until they are glossy and dark and coated in the caramelised sauce.

Lift the ribs on to a serving plate and spoon any remaining sauce over them. Leave until they are cool enough to pick up with your fingers, then tuck in. Serve with steamed rice and wilted greens.

Chilli dipping sauce

This easy sauce is delicious with deep-fried squid, tempura vegetables and Thai fish or crab cakes. It will keep, sealed in a jar, for a week, and is the perfect thing to perk up all manner of dressings and marinades. Before serving, when the sauce is cool, add some chopped coriander if you like, too.

3 tbsp redcurrant or crab apple jelly
1 tbsp cider vinegar
1 tsp soy sauce
1 red chilli, deseeded and very finely chopped
1 small garlic clove, very finely chopped
A few twists black pepper

Tip all of the ingredients into a small saucepan and stir over a very low heat until the fruit jelly has dissolved and you are left with a silky syrup.

Bring up to a simmer and allow to bubble gently for a few minutes ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì this will mellow the harshness of the garlic. Set aside to cool and serve at room temperature. If the sauce re-sets to a jelly when it’s cool, simply whisk in a splash of warm water.

Tarragon vinegar

Use this vinegar in mayonnaise to dress egg or chicken salads, or in a light vinaigrette to dress still-warm potatoes, French beans or leeks. Makes about 500ml.

500ml white-wine or cider vinegar
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp pink peppercorns (optional)
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp black peppercorns (optional)
6 large sprigs French tarragon

Pour the vinegar into a Kilner-type jar and add the peppercorns and tarragon. Seal and refrigerate for a couple of weeks. Strain, discard the herbs, and seal in sterilised bottles.

Strawberry vinegar

This works equally well with raspberries, blackcurrants or blackberries, too. It’s a recipe from the queen of all things bottled and jarred, Pam Corbin, who wrote River Cottage Handbook 2: Preserves (Bloomsbury, ?É‚Äö?Ǭ£12.99). Use in salad dressing, trickled over goat’s cheese or ice cream, or as a cordial to make refreshing summer drinks. Makes 1.5 litres.

1kg strawberries
600ml cider vinegar or white-wine vinegar
Granulated sugar

Put the fruit in a bowl and crush lightly with a wooden spoon. Add the vinegar, cover and leave to steep for four to five days, stirring occasionally. Pour the fruit and vinegar into a scalded jelly bag or piece of muslin suspended over a bowl, and leave to drain overnight. You can squeeze it a bit if you like.

Measure the liquid, pour into a saucepan and add 450g of sugar for every 600ml of fruit vinegar. Over a low heat, bring gently to a boil, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Boil for eight to 10 minutes, removing any scum as it rises. Take off the heat and set aside to cool. When cold, bottle and seal. Use within 12 months.

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