It’s time to take advantage of one of our great native harvests – and, best of all, it’s free, too. But get your skates on before the squirrels take the lot

If you go down to the woods today, I can’t guarantee a big surprise, but there’s a very good chance of a delicious little snack. For it’s about this time of year that I rev up my efforts to gather hazelnuts and cobnuts before the squirrels get their mercilessly efficient little paws and jaws on them.

Hazelnuts can be found all over our ancient woodlands and hedgerows, and down the centuries they’ve supplied so much more than sustenance. They have long been associated with wisdom, even druidic magic, and everything from witches’ wands, royal sceptres and water dowsing rods were made from their precious and pliable wood.

The common wild hazel grows in abundance all over Britain, and seeking out its nuts is perhaps one of the easiest foraging jobs going, (alongside blackberrying, which you can often do at the same time). Fresh, green hazelnuts are quite different from the crunchy dried nuts you buy in the shop. Their flesh is crisp, slightly sweet, and I can run through a stash of them with a brisk and squirrel-like efficiency myself.

If you don’t have time to gather your own, at this time of year some greengrocers and farmers’ markets sell cobnuts, as commercially cultivated hazelnuts are known. Cobnuts are bigger than wild hazels, and just as delicious when very fresh – check the frilly casing is still sprightly and not too dried out.

Cobnuts were first cultivated around Maidstone in Kent probably as far back as the 16th century. Plantations, as growers called their nut farms, spread out as far as Sussex, Devon and Worcestershire, and by the time of the first world war there were 7,000 acres of hazelnut orchards, or “plats”, in Britain. By 1990, this had declined to 250 acres and today most of our hazelnuts come from Turkey.

All the more reason to keep alive the tradition of our seasonal cobnut harvest. If you’d like to track some down, kentishcobnutsassociation.org.uk gives details of pick-your-own places, farm-gate and mail-order sales, as well as advice on growing your own trees, should you have the space and inclination.

As well as cobnuts, there are also filberts about. If you want to make a distinction, cobnuts (Corylus avellana) are round with short, frilly husks that expose the end of the nut (their Latin name comes from the Greek for helmet, korys, because of the shape of the husk), while filberts (C. maxima) are longer, thinner and covered by their husks – they take their name from St Philibert’s Day on 22 August, the date by which hazelnuts are meant to start ripening. And just to keep you confused, one of the most widely available “cobnuts” is C. maxima ‘Kentish Cob’, which is actually a filbert.

Once you’ve had your fill of fresh hazels, dry any you have left over. Store in a dry, airy room or shed in shallow layers in slatted boxes, or hang them up in mesh bags. Turn them regularly, or give the bag a shake, to ensure they’re drying evenly and, once dry, remove the husks and store in a cool, dry place. And then you’ll have hazelnuts!

Dried hazelnuts are a great addition to all kinds of savoury and sweet dishes – toasting brings out their complex flavours. Whole or roughly chopped, they add crunch to autumn salads and stuffings; ground, they’re very good in biscuits and cakes, particularly when paired with chocolate (see today’s recipe). Look out for hazelnut oil, too – its distinctive flavour is good in dressings and baking, though it turns rancid quickly, so refrigerate after opening and devour swiftly and greedily.

Chocolate and hazelnut cake

This rather splendid-looking cake is really quite easy, and demonstrates perfectly the seductive combination of hazels and chocolate. Serves eight.

For the cake
400g shelled dried hazelnuts
1 tsp cocoa powder
250g dark chocolate, about 70%, broken into pieces
200g butter, plus a little more for greasing the tin, softened
200g caster sugar
5 egg yolks
Pinch of salt
1 tbsp brandy (optional)

For the chocolate glaze
100g caster sugar
50g dark chocolate (about 70%)
20g butter

Heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Put the hazelnuts on a baking tray and roast until browned, checking regularly they aren’t burning – about five minutes.

Turn down the heat to 150C/300F/gas mark 2. Tip the hazelnuts into a clean tea towel, wrap them up and leave for a minute, then rub vigorously with the tea towel to loosen and remove their papery skins. When cool, reserve about 30g of the nuts to garnish the cake at the end and pulse the rest in a food processor until fine.

Grease the bottom and sides of a 23cm springform tin, then dust the insides with cocoa powder. Line the base with baking parchment and butter the parchment.

Put the chocolate in a heatproof bowl and place over a pan of barely simmering water – the water should not touch the bottom of the bowl. Melt the chocolate, remove the bowl from the pan and leave to cool.

With a stand mixer or hand mixer, beat together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add the egg yolks one at a time, beating well after each addition and adding a pinch of salt with the last yolk. With a rubber spatula, fold in first the hazelnuts and then the chocolate and alcohol, if using. Spoon into the tin, smooth over the top and bake for about 45 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out with just a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Place the tin on a wire rack and leave for 20 minutes before releasing the sides of the cake tin and leaving to cool completely. Invert the cake on to a plate, and remove the base and the paper.

To make the glaze, tip the sugar into a small pan with 100ml water and warm over a low heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Bring to a boil and boil hard for three minutes. Remove from the heat and cool until it’s very warm, rather than volcanically hot (you can put the base of the pan into the sink filled with a couple of centimetres of cold water to speed this up). Stir in the chocolate and butter until it’s melted, blended and glossy. Pour over the cake and finish with the remaining nuts.

Pear and hazelnut salad

Sweet, ripe pears and hazelnuts are a classic and delicious combination. Serves two as a starter.

30g dried hazelnuts or cobnuts (prepared weight)
1 pear
5 tbsp ricotta
2 tsp hazelnut oil
2 tsp runny honey
1 tsp sherry vinegar
Freshly ground black pepper

If using dried hazelnuts, toast them (see the preceding cake recipe); fresh hazels or cobnuts can be used as they are or fried lightly in a little olive oil with a sprinkling of flaky sea salt. Chop the nuts roughly.

Core the pear and slice thinly. Divide the slices between two plates. Scatter on the hazelnuts and then dot with ricotta. Trickle the oil, honey and vinegar on top, and finish with a few grinds of black pepper.

Honeyed hazels

This recipe is from my friend Pam Corbin, who runs our preserving courses at River Cottage, and is one of my great autumnal favourites. It’s a great way to squirrel away fresh cobnuts, for spooning on yoghurt for breakfast or ice-cream after dinner. Makes two 225g jars.

500g hazelnuts or cobnuts
340g runny honey

Crack all the nuts and remove the kernels. Heat a frying pan over low heat, and toast the shelled nuts in batches for four to five minutes, jiggling and shaking the pan to make sure they don’t burn. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.

Pack the nuts into sterilised jars, adding a tablespoon of honey every third or fourth layer. Continue until the jars are tightly packed with nuts and completely covered with honey. Seal securely with a lid and store in a cool, dry, dark place. Use within a year.

Hazelnut meringues

Hazelnuts are a great addition to a meringue, making a chewier, more substantial pud than the usual light-as-air concoction. Serves six.

5 egg whites
200g caster sugar
75g light muscovado sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon (optional)
100g toasted hazelnuts (see preceding cake recipe), half finely ground and half roughly chopped
220ml double cream
2 tbsp icing sugar

Heat the oven to 110C/225F/gas mark ½. Line two baking sheets with parchment.

In a scrupulously clean bowl, whisk the egg whites to stiff peaks. In a separate bowl, whisk the sugars and cinnamon. Add the sugar to the egg whites a couple of tablespoons at a time, whisking as you go; once you’ve added half the sugar, you can begin to add the rest more swiftly. Keep beating until the meringues are stiff and glossy. Use a metal spoon or spatula to fold in the ground and chopped nuts.

Drop large tablespoonfuls of the mixture on to the parchment, leaving some space between them so they can spread out. Bake for about an hour and a half, until the meringues peel easily away from the paper and sound hollow when tapped. Turn off the oven and leave to dry out in the cooling oven for a couple of hours.

Whip the cream with the icing sugar until thickened, and use generous dollops to sandwich the meringues together in pairs.

guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle

A squash paste that’s incredibly moreish, plus a classic Lebanese and Syrian take on roast potatoes

Butternut squash and tahini spread (V)

Tara Wigley, who assists me in my recipe testing, emailed me about this one with “I could eat this by the bucket” in the subject field. And she’s right – once you start eating it, it is hard to put aside. Once made, and assuming you can keep your mitts off it that long, it will keep in a jar in the fridge for a few days, in which case allow it to come back to room temperature before piling over pitta or fresh bread, just like hummus.

Date syrup is a natural sweetener that has wonderful richness and treacly depth; I drizzle it over semolina porridge. It is available from many healthfood shops, but it’s not the end of the world if you can’t get hold of it – this spread is perfectly fine without it. Serves six to eight.

1 very large butternut squash, peeled and cut into chunks (net weight 970g)
3 tbsp olive oil
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp salt
70g tahini paste
120g Greek yoghurt
2 small garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 tsp mixed black and white sesame seeds (or just white, if you don’t have black)
1½ tsp date syrup
2 tbsp chopped coriander

Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Spread the squash out on a medium-sized baking tray, pour over the olive oil and sprinkle on the cinnamon and salt. Mix well, cover the tray tightly with tinfoil and roast for 70 minutes, stirring once during the cooking. Remove from the oven and leave to cool.

Transfer the cooled squash to the bowl of a food processor, along with the tahini, yoghurt and garlic. Roughly pulse so that everything is combined into a coarse paste – you don’t want it too smooth (you can also do this by hand using a fork or masher).

To serve, spread the butternut in a wavy pattern over a flat plate and sprinkle with sesame seeds, a drizzle of syrup and finish with chopped coriander.

Batata harra (V)

This Lebanese and Syrian dish is probably my favourite way with potatoes. It is spicy and soothing at the same time, and is wonderful served on its own or as a side dish; I particularly love it with grilled fish. You can adjust the degree of heat to suit your threshold; just remember, it’s meant to be pretty spicy. Talking about heat, chilli flakes vary widely, so test how hot yours are before adding the full amount. Serves four.

1 kg charlotte potatoes, peeled and cut into 2cm dice
2 tbsp olive oil
2 tbsp sunflower oil
7 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
1 tsp pul biber (Turkish flaked chilli) or ½ tsp another flaked chilli
2 red peppers, cut into 2cm dice
30g chopped coriander
Grated zest of 1 lemon, plus 1 tbsp lemon juice
Maldon sea salt and black pepper

Heat the oven to 240C/465F/gas mark 9. Bring a saucepan of salted water to a boil, throw in the potatoes and cook for three minutes. Drain and leave in a colander until completely dry.

Mix the potatoes with the oils, two teaspoons of salt and some black pepper, and spread on a medium roasting tray lined with tin foil; the potatoes should fit in snugly in one layer. Put them in the oven to roast and, after 10 minutes, stir in the garlic, pul biber, red pepper and half of the coriander. Return to the oven and roast for a further 25-30 minutes, until the potatoes are nicely coloured and completely tender. Stir once halfway through the cooking.

Remove the potatoes from the oven and transfer to a large bowl. Stir in the lemon zest and juice, taste and add salt and pepper if needed.

Serve warm or at room temperature, stirring in the remaining coriander at the last minute.

• Yotam Ottolenghi is chef/patron of Ottolenghi and Nopi in London.

guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle

A light starter to kick off a summer’s meal

Yes, our asparagus season is over (sob!), but even with imported stuff, this is a lovely starter. Serves four.

2 bunches asparagus
Sea salt and black pepper
100ml olive oil, plus a bit extra
25ml red-wine vinegar
½ tsp Dijon mustard
100g goat’s cheese, crumbled
100g fresh peas, blanched
Fresh mint (chop it at the last minute, otherwise it’ll go black)
Grated zest of ½ lemon
1 handful mixed salad leaves
1 tsp pine nuts, toasted

Cut the woody ends off the asparagus spears, season and rub with a little olive oil. Heat a ridged griddle pan (a normal cast-iron frying pan will do, if need be) and griddle the asparagus for three minutes. Transfer to a bowl, add the oil, vinegar and mustard, and mix. Add the remaining ingredients and mix gently, so as not to bruise the leaves. Serve on a large plate, so everyone can help themselves.

Angela Hartnett is chef/patron of Murano, London W1. Her new book, A Taste Of Home, is published by Ebury at £25. To order a copy for £18.49, go to guardian.co.uk/ bookshop, or call 0330 333 6846.

Fiona Beckett’s drink match This dish is a shoo-in for sauvignon blanc, but try a lightly oaked one for a change, such as the gentle, aromatic Domaine Rives-Blanques Sauvageon 2009 Pays d’Oc (£12.25, Leon Stolarski; £12.99, Cambridge Wine Merchants; 13.5% abv).

guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle

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

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Pep up your cooking in these last days of winter with a scattering of dried fruit here and there. And please, try to buy Fairtrade

As primates, I reckon we’re pretty much hard-wired to yearn for fruit whatever the season. Call me demanding, but I need more than apples and pears to keep me going until the first gooseberry of summer, which is why I grab the year’s earliest sticks of forced rhubarb (the vegetable that thinks it’s a fruit) like a man possessed. Even so, I long for greater variety.

And that’s when I reach for dried fruit. Fat raisins, plump apricots and perfumed mangoes add a fruity lift to compotes, tea breads, cakes and muesli. And in savoury dishes, too – apricots add a juicy tang to tagines, stuffings and pilafs; raisins are delicious sautéed with radicchio in a winter salad or in a piquant pasta sauce with capers and pine nuts; and dried mango makes a great chutney.

Of course, all these ingredients are “exotic”, the very opposite of local, so are hardly stand-bys of the River Cottage repertoire, which is why we give a little thought to their sourcing. Fairtrade Fortnight starts a week on Monday, and provides a good opportunity to reflect on where our food comes from, how it’s produced and by whom. The power of the shopping basket is mighty – in 1999 we spent £21m on Fairtrade products; in 2009 it was £799m. This is a growing movement that makes a real difference to some of the world’s poorest farming communities. In all, around 7.5 million people from 58 developing countries – farmers, their families and communities – benefit from the Fairtrade system.

I know there are some who criticise Fairtrade, and I’ve heard all the arguments about protectionism ad nauseam, but the fact is, traditional trading arrangements push some of the poorest communities on our planet to the brink of destitution. And that is an irrefutable argument for change, for a fairer deal and for trading structures that encourage and foster sustainable development.

So I hope you choose Fairtrade dried fruit when shopping for today’s recipes. There’s a hearteningly wide range available, but if you have trouble tracking them down, tropicalwholefoods.com does a great range by mail order.

Dried fruit compote

This makes a great breakfast with thick, Greek-style yoghurt. It keeps well in an airtight container in the fridge for up to a week. This makes enough for eight to 10 servings.

200g dried apricots
200g dried mangoes
100g raisins
150ml freshly squeezed orange juice
80g honey
Zest of 1 lemon, pared with vegetable peeler
Zest of ½ orange, pared with vegetable peeler
1 cinnamon stick
3 cloves
1 star anise (optional)
Thick yoghurt, to serve

Pour 500ml warm water into a large bowl, tip in the dried fruit and leave to soak for an hour.

Pour 500ml water into a large saucepan along with the orange juice, honey, lemon and orange zest, cinnamon, cloves and star anise (if using). Bring to a boil, then add the fruit and its soaking liquid. Bring back to the boil, reduce the heat and simmer for 30-40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the fruit has softened and the liquid has thickened slightly. Serve warm or cold, with a big dollop of thick yoghurt.

Raisin pie

You can give this homely, delicious pie a decadent kick by soaking the raisins in a slug of rum or brandy, draining and adding them to the filling. Serves six to eight.

For the pastry
225g plain flour
A pinch of salt
150g chilled butter, cut into cubes
2 tbsp caster sugar
1 egg yolk

For the filling
4 eggs, slightly beaten
380ml sour cream
200g caster sugar, plus a little extra
Juice of 1 lemon
Finely grated zest of 1 lemon
Finely grated zest of ½ orange
1 tsp vanilla extract
Pinch of salt
200g raisins

Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl and rub in the butter with your fingertips until the mix resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Stir in the sugar. Whisk the egg yolk with three tablespoons of chilled water, sprinkle over the flour and mix in with a knife. Knead very gently into a dough. Wrap in clingfilm and chill for 30 minutes.

Heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. On a lightly floured surface, roll out two-thirds of the dough and use it to line a 22cm x 4cm pie dish. Chill for 15 minutes. Keep the remaining dough in clingfilm.

In a large bowl, beat together the eggs. (Set aside a tablespoon’s worth for glazing the top of the pie.) Now whisk them with sour cream, sugar, lemon juice and zest, orange zest, vanilla and salt. Stir in the raisins. Roll out the remaining dough into a circle large enough to cover the pie. Pour the filling into the pie, cover with the lid, seal the edges and trim with a sharp knife.

Beat together the reserved egg and a tablespoon of water, and brush this over the top of the pie. Sprinkle with sugar and bake for 20 minutes. Reduce the heat to 180C/350F/gas mark 4 and bake for a further 10-15 minutes – the middle will still wobble a bit as the custardy filling thickens up as it cools. Serve just warm or cold.

Amaretti biscuits

Crisp on the outside and chewy in the centre, these are addictively good and very easy. Makes about 16.

180g apricot kernels (or use ground almonds)
100g caster sugar
Grated zest of 1 lemon
1 tsp almond extract
1 pinch salt
2 egg whites
1 tbsp runny honey
50g flaked almonds
Icing sugar

Heat the oven to 160C/325F/gas mark 3. Line a large baking sheet with baking parchment.

Grind the apricot kernels to a fine meal in a food processor or clean coffee mill, then mix with the caster sugar, lemon zest, almond extract and salt in a bowl, ensuring the zest and extract are evenly distributed.

Whisk the egg whites until firm peaks form, then whisk in the honey. With a large metal spoon, gently fold the meringue into the kernel mixture until you have a soft dough. Roll the dough into balls the size of large walnuts, flatten each ball a little, then roll in flaked almonds. Finally, roll them in icing sugar.

Place the biscuits on the baking tray and bake for 14-18 minutes – they should turn a very light golden colour and remain soft and chewy in the centre. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely, then store in a sealed jar or tin.

Dried mango chutney

Dried fruit makes a delicious chutney and is a terrific stand-by when fresh fruit is in short supply. Makes five 240ml jars.

500g dried mango slices (roughly chopped, if on the large side)
4 onions, peeled and finely diced
3 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
250g raisins
350g light muscovado sugar
1 tbsp mustard seeds
2 small red chillies, halved, membranes removed, finely diced
500ml cider vinegar
Finely grated zest of 1 orange
Juice of 1 small orange
1 tbsp ground ginger
1 tsp salt
1 tsp freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp ground cumin

Put the mango slices in a bowl, pour over 1.5 litres of water, cover and leave to soak overnight.

Tip the mangoes and their soaking water into a large, stainless-steel saucepan or preserving pan. Add all the other ingredients and, over a low heat, stir until the sugar dissolves. Bring up to a boil and simmer, uncovered, for about an hour and a half. You should stir the mixture frequently, particularly towards the end of the cooking time, to ensure it doesn’t stick – it’s done when a spoon drawn through the centre of the chutney leaves a clear line for a second or two before the chutney comes back together.

Pour into hot, sterilised jars and seal with vinegar-proof lids. Store in a cool, dry place and leave to mature for eight weeks before using. Use within two years.

• Learn new skills on River Cottage’s four-day cookery courses; go to rivercottage.net for details.

guardian.co.uk

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It’s amazing what even quite young children can achieve in the kitchen, and the summer holidays are the perfect time to let them find their culinary feet

As a kid, the long summer holiday represented seemingly endless possibilities for aimlessly messing about. What bliss. Often, the fractionally more purposeful messing about took place in the kitchen. Mum was remarkably relaxed in giving me access to her armoury of pans, bowls and knives ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì though usually all I required was the rotary whisk, to knock up yet another soft mountain of Angel Delight.

I did get a little beyond that. In fact, I became quite the junior pastry chef. Under Mum’s guidance, I learned to knock out very respectable black forest gateaux, profiteroles, lemon mousse ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì classic 1970s sweets to follow her avocado mousse with prawns and beef wellington. We were a dinner party double act ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì except I never saw my creations being consumed, because I was in bed by then.

Cooking is still our rainy-day activity of choice in the summer hols, only now I’m the one dishing out ingredients, finding the right size bowl and wondering if I’ll have to do all the washing up. When Mum’s here, of course, she’ll take over supervision, so I can sneak off and do a bit of real nothing. And I’m reminded that I used to cook with her mum, my granny, too. Eggs, flour, sugar, butter, etc?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶ Is there any better glue for holding together the fabric of family down the generations?

My kids are not so resolutely sweet-toothed as I was at their age, so with the right kind of cajoling and suggestions, I have an outside chance of getting a remarkably well-balanced meal cooked for me. Chloe, 14, likes making huge vats of beans ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì from scratch, soaking dried beans, boiling them, and making a lovely sauce from onions, tomatoes and a bit of spice. They last for days. Oscar, 11, likes knives (understatement), and his skills and enthusiasm can be happily channelled into veg prep. Freddie, seven, does nothing by the book and is averse to taking instructions, but has taken to the blender (supervised) and is surprisingly adept at transforming fruit from our garden into pur?É?í?Ǭ©es that can be drunk as smoothies, served with ice-cream or pancakes, or frozen into lollies.

It’s impressive what even quite young children can achieve ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì small hands do very well at rolling today’s falafel or picking herbs from their stems. For kids who like to follow instructions, all this week’s recipes deliver, while for the more independent-minded, they’re starting points for experiments. The falafel, for instance, make terrific mini veggie burgers. Mix in cooked beans or peas, and spice it up with curry powder, too. And toss cooked or tinned beans, or cubed avocado, in with the salad, or chop its ingredients smaller to create a lively salsa.

All these dishes together, customised or not, make a lovely summer holiday family meal. And even if not all the kids are entirely enamoured of all the savoury items (are they ever?), the sundaes will surely leave no one disappointed.

Three quick dips

Serve one or more of these instead of hummus with the falafel, and or with a pile of fresh raw veg crudit?É?í?Ǭ©s: ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Pur?É?í?Ǭ©e or mash cooked cannellini beans with a little minced garlic, a slug of olive oil, a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkling of cumin. Add some finely chopped parsley, if you like.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Drain cooked spinach and squeeze out the excess moisture. Chop finely or pulse in a blender, and mix with cream cheese, grated parmesan, black pepper and a grate of nutmeg.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Mix thick yoghurt with a tiny amount of crushed garlic, a little salt and pepper, and plenty of chopped herbs ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì chives, plus either dill, coriander or mint work well.

Falafel

Delicious warm, but also great cold. Serve in flatbreads or pitta with salad for a main course or with a yoghurt dip for a snack. Makes about 14.

200g dried chickpeas
1 small onion, chopped or grated
2 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
1 small bunch parsley, stalks removed, leaves finely chopped
1 small bunch coriander, stalks removed, leaves finely chopped
1 tsp ground cumin
?É‚Äö?Ǭº tsp chilli flakes (optional)
Salt
2-3 tbsp plain flourGroundnut oil (if frying them)
To serve
Pitta or flatbreads
Lettuce, shredded
Spring onion, finely chopped
Red peppers, finely sliced
Hummus or tahini (or one of my quick dips above)

Put the chickpeas in a large bowl, add cold water to cover by at least 6cm and soak overnight. Next day, drain, tip into a food processor and pulse the uncooked chickpeas, onion and garlic until roughly combined. Add the herbs, cumin, chilli (if using) and some salt, and pulse to a coarse paste. Sprinkle the flour over the mix and pulse until it comes together roughly into a ball. Put into a bowl, cover and refrigerate for a couple of hours.

Roll the mix into balls about the size of walnuts (slightly damp hands will make this job a bit easier). To bake the falafel, heat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Line a baking sheet with lightly oiled baking parchment, put the balls on the tray so they’re not touching and bake for 20-25 minutes, rattling the tin halfway through. To fry them, pour 8cm of oil into a deep, heavy-bottomed pan (it shouldn’t come more than a third of the way up the pan) and heat to 180C (that’s the temperature at which a cube of white bread turns golden in less than a minute). Fry in batches until golden, about four minutes, remove with a slotted spoon and drain on kitchen paper.

Roll up in flatbread or stuff pitta with some falafel and salad, and serve trickled with tahini thinned with hot water, spoonfuls of hummus or any of the dips above.

Tomato and sweetcorn salad

This easy, quick salad is colourful and tasty. If you like, tumble some rocket through it, to add a little fiery bite. Serves four as a side dish.

2 sweetcorn
3 large, ripe tomatoes, cut into 1cm cubes
1 shallot, chopped
1 handful coriander or basil leaves
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 tsp red-wine vinegar (or the juice of ?É‚Äö?Ǭ? lime)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

There are three ways of preparing the corn. If you grow your own and it’s very fresh, add it raw. Slightly older corn is best lightly simmered or barbecued ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì to simmer it, remove the husks and silk, plunge the corn into boiling water and simmer until tender, about five to 10 minutes, depending on how freshly picked it is; drain, refresh under cold water, then stand upright on a board and run a knife down the sides to remove the kernels. To barbecue it, peel back the husk, pull off the silk, wrap the husk back around the cob and tie at the top with cotton string. Soak in cold water for 15 minutes, then grill over the coals, turning frequently, for 12 minutes. Leave to cool, then cut off the kernels as for boiled corn.

In a bowl, mix the corn kernels with the tomatoes, shallot and herbs. Trickle over the oil and vinegar, toss gently, taste and season.

Berry sundaes with chocolate sauce

An indulgent treat. It’s fun, if messy, to assemble a bowl of berries, whipped cream and nuts, pots of ice-cream and a jug of sauce, and let everyone put together their own pud. Serves six.

200g strawberries, hulled
200g raspberries
3 tbsp caster sugar
For the sauce
200g dark chocolate, broken in pieces
150ml double cream
2 tbsp Golden Syrup
To serve
Vanilla, strawberry or chocolate ice-cream
100ml double cream, lightly whipped
1 small handful toasted almonds or pecans, chopped (optional)

Halve large strawberries lengthways and leave small ones whole. Mix in a bowl with the raspberries and sugar, and macerate for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the sauce. Put the chocolate, cream and syrup in a heatproof bowl, place over a pan of barely simmering water (the water shouldn’t touch the base of the bowl) and stir gently from time to time, until everything is melted into a smooth, rich sauce. Keep warm over the pan until you’re ready to use it.

Layer berries, ice-cream and cream in sundae glasses, and finish with a trickle of sauce. Add a sprinkling of nuts, if you like.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Visiting the south-west over the summer holidays? Join us for A Taste Of River Cottage, where children under 12 get in free; rivercottage.net for details.

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When it’s hot, hot, hot outside, sometimes you need to refresh the parts straight-from-the-bottle snifters cannot reach

Last week’s barbecue feature got me thinking?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶ about drinking. Being master of the barbecue tongs is thirsty work, after all. Of course, I like a very chilly glass of cider or beer, moisture condensing pleasingly down the side of the glass, as much as the next parched person. And certainly, when the mercury’s rising, I’ll happily reach for an icy glass of white or ros?É?í?Ǭ©, or even a fruity tumbler of Pimm’s (must have loads of mint in it, though ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì a justly recurring theme in so many of my favourite summer drinks).

But sometimes I hanker after something more festive, a bit more celebratory and exuberant. And when the garden’s full of herbs and fruit, it’s a bit of a shame not to commandeer some of that produce for concoctions a little more wicked than a fruit salad.

Today, I’m refreshing the parts straight-from-the-bottle snifters cannot reach, mixing and muddling with a happy abandon that a hot high summer cannot fail to induce. I’m not going to intrude on this cheerful mood by the painstaking measuring required for elaborate cocktails ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì I’ll leave all that careful “building” and flashy shaker-juggling to Tom Cruise. I’m after something I can sling together at the end of the day to enjoy before dinner, or generous punches I can serve to friends without playing bartender all night (see today’s recipe for erdbeerbowle).

When I’m putting together a lovely livener, I don’t want it to be let down by poor-quality mixers filled with preservatives and cheap, artificial sweeteners. At River Cottage and at home, we’re big fans of the delicious crushes, cordials, ginger beers and lemonades produced by Luscombe in Buckfastleigh, Devon. For tonics and lemonades, Fever Tree and Fentimans also make drinks fizzing with flavour rather than synthetic ingredients.

But it’s not all about the booze. Sometimes when I want to quench my thirst with something a little more thrilling than water, I might pour a glass of lemonade or tonic perked up with a dash of the fruity vinegar I described here a couple of weeks ago. Alternatively, I might pour a glass of my own perky ginger lemonade or an iced tea flavoured with lemon verbena or mint, both of which add a certain charm to the important business of keeping hydrated. Until next week, cheers.

Three quick snifters

A few of my favourite summer coolers?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ One part elderflower cordial, three parts apple cider brandy, topped up with good fizzy lemonade (see sources above), all over loads of ice.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ A slug of white rum or vodka, a dash of lime cordial, topped up with ginger beer and served with lime wedges.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ A good handful of strawberries or raspberries whizzed in a blender with the juice of an orange and half a lemon, a few ice cubes and two teaspoons of sugar, or to taste. Add light rum if you want to call it a strawberry or raspberry daiquiri.

Erbeerbowle

This pretty punch is a German summer favourite and just the thing if you’re entertaining a crowd on a hot summer evening. Serves about 16.

1kg strawberries, hulled and halved
80g caster sugar
1 lemon, unwaxed if possible
1 bottle crisp white wine, chilled
1 bottle sparkling wine, chilled
Lemon balm or lemon verbena, to garnish

Put the strawberries in a bowl and sprinkle on the sugar. If you don’t have an unwaxed lemon, wash the lemon well in warm water. Peel off thin strips of the zest with a sharp knife or vegetable peeler. Finely chop one peeled lemon zest strip and add the lemon juice and chopped zest to the strawberry bowl. Refrigerate for a couple of hours.

Pour off the strawberry juice into a bowl and put to one side. Tip the strawberries into a large jug, pour over enough of the wine to cover and refrigerate again for another two hours.

Shortly before serving, add the strawberry juice, the remaining wine and the sparkling wine. Serve either in a punch bowl decorated with the remaining strips of lemon, or pour into glasses and serve with lemon zest strips and sprigs of lemon balm or verbena.

Ginger lemonade

A perky, refreshing drink that’s just the thing to quench the thirst after a long morning in the garden. The infused syrup will keep, sealed, in the fridge for a few days ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì add the lemon or lime juice and sparkling water just before serving. Serves about six.

1 big handful fresh mint leaves, stems removed, chopped, plus a few sprigs for serving
1 piece fresh root ginger, about the size of a large thumb, peeled and finely chopped
4 tbsp floral honey
90ml fresh lemon or lime juice
Still or sparkling mineral water
Ice cubes
Slices of lemon or lime, to serve

Combine the chopped mint, ginger, and honey in a medium bowl. Add 450ml of boiling water and leave to steep for 30 minutes. Strain into a measuring jug, pressing down on the solids with the back of a ladle or spoon to get out as much of the infused liquid as possible. Add the lemon or lime juice and enough cold still or sparkling water to make the liquid up to one litre.

Fill glasses with ice cubes and pour over the lemon/limeade. Garnish with mint leaves and lemon or lime slices, and serve.

Watermelon daiquiris

While it might look rather sophisticated, this lovely drink is simplicity itself to throw together, though you do need to freeze the watermelon for a few hours before you want to make it. Serves two to four.

Cubed, deseeded watermelon, enough to come up to about the 500ml mark in a measuring jug
Juice of 1 lime
120ml white rum
2 tbsp triple sec or Cointreau
1 tbsp icing sugar
Wedges of lime and/or little wedges of watermelon, to serve

A few hours before you’d like the drinks, put the cubed watermelon in the freezer. Then, when you’re ready to mix the drinks, squeeze the lime juice into a blender, add the frozen watermelon cubes, rum, triple sec and icing sugar, and blend until smooth.

Pour into two glasses and serve with wedges or slices of lime and/ or watermelon (rind on).

Lemon verbena iced tea

If you don’t have any fresh lemon verbena leaves, use half the quantity of dried leaves, or grab some mint instead. Once it’s infused, you can remove the “tea bag” and keep the tea in the fridge for a day or so. Makes one litre.

2 tbsp loose-leaf black tea (orange pekoe works well), or green tea
4 tbsp fresh lemon verbena leaves, plus more for serving
Honey to taste
Lemon slices (optional)

Wrap the tea and lemon verbena leaves in a small square of muslin and tie it closed with string. Place this “tea bag” in a large one-litre-capacity Kilner-type jar, fill with water and leave in a sunny spot to infuse for a couple of hours (test after the first hour, to check the strength), shaking the jar from time to time to help the infusion along. Remove and discard the “tea bag”, and transfer the jar to the fridge to chill. Sweeten with honey to taste and serve over plenty of ice with more verbena sprigs and slices of lemon, if you like.

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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.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Want to join us for one of our Build And Bake courses? Weekend readers get 10% off the usual price. For details, call Alex on 01297 630302 and mention the Guardian, or go to rivercottage.net.

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There’s not much that heralds the onset of summer as much as a new-season carrot ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì so get grating, chopping, roasting, even baking now

The carrot is the banana of the vegetable world; that is to say, iconic. No doubt Bugs Bunny, and the fact that we’d all rather have a carrot than a stick, has played a role in that, but the real reason is that it is so central to our cooking culture ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì and most of the world’s, come to that. After the potato, what’s the first thing on the veg shopping list? The carrot.

As well as boiling them to oblivion in institutional kitchens up and down the land, we also do some very agreeable things with carrots: crunch them raw, grate them into salads, toss them into stews, roast them and even bake them in cakes. There’s something fundamentally comforting about carrots, their sweetness, their cheerful colour, so it’s surprising to note that they’re a relatively recent addition to our table. True, they’re listed in the record of plants grown in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon in the 8th century BC, but they were probably grown for their foliage and seeds. They were certainly grown in Afghanistan as far back as the 7th century, but those examples were purple and rather bitter. Jane Grigson, in her excellent Vegetable Book, described how ladies in the Stuart court wore its leafy foliage like plumes in their hats and hair.

But it took the breathtakingly energetic Dutch gardeners of the 17th and 18th centuries to breed a carrot that we, and Bugs Bunny, might recognise today. And thank goodness they did.

I am particularly grateful to them at this time of year when I begin to pull up the first exquisite specimens, no bigger than my little finger and with a sweetness that would rival any confectionary. At River Cottage and at home, I grow nantes and chantenay for nibbling on throughout summer. They’re best sown directly into the soil, which I’ve worked to a decent depth of fine tilth to allow them to grow long and straight without any comical, Esther Rantzen-worthy malformations. They need plenty of water and protection from carrot fly ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì companion planting with onions, chives or spring onions helps a lot. But, all in all, they’re one of the least demanding and most rewarding veg in the plot.

When you get them into the kitchen, don’t peel the youngest carrots because there’s so much flavour in their tender skins. Just give them a decent wash and tuck in. With new-season carrots ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì as opposed to those winter workhorses, the large, donkey-friendly roots that simmer their sweetness into thick, comforting stews ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì I eat them raw with dips, sliced into long, thin batons for salads dressed lightly in lemon juice and olive oil, perhaps with a scattering of toasted nuts; I cut them into batons and stir-fry them, or gently steam them whole, dress with a little butter and parsley, and serve alone or with a handful of broad beans and/or peas. Once they get half an inch or more thick at the base, I leave them whole and lightly roast them, as in today’s recipe.

It’s a family affair, too. Carrots are part of the umbelliferae clan, along with dill, caraway, chervil, parsley and cumin, with all of which they have a wonderful culinary affinity, the earthy or sprightly nature of the rest adding depth to the carrot’s addictive sweetness.

So enjoy your carrots this week, either using these recipes for inspiration or whipping up carroty concoctions of your own. For now, as Bugs would say, that’s all folks.

Roast carrots with butter and cumin

A fantastic side dish for roast meats, and a great way to serve small to medium (as opposed to baby) new-season carrots. If you have only larger ones, cut into batons, before tossing in butter. Serves four to six.

1 tbsp rapeseed or olive oil
1 large knob of unsalted butter
750g carrots ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì small ones scrubbed and halved lengthways, large ones peeled and cut into thick batons
2 tsp cumin seeds
Finely grated zest of 1 orange, plus some juice
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Put the oil and butter into a large roasting dish and leave in an oven preheated to 180C/350F/gas mark 4 for a couple of minutes, until the butter melts. Remove from the oven and add the carrots, cumin and plenty of seasoning. Toss together, cover with foil and return to the oven or 30-40 minutes, until the carrots are tender.

Remove from the oven, take off the foil and give everything a good stir. Return to the oven, uncovered, for about 20-30 minutes, so the carrots start to caramelise.

Take the dish out of the oven, stir in the orange zest and a good squeeze or two of the juice, and serve at once.

Carrot, orange and chervil salad

A light, bright and refreshing salad that’s a great combination of sweet, tart, soft and crunch. I particularly like to serve it alongside smoked fish ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì I sometimes even toss flakes of warm kipper or smoked mackerel fillet into the salad, too. Serves two to three.

2 oranges
2 small carrots (or 1 large one)
50-60g mixed pumpkin and sunflower (or other seeds)
A few sprigs of chervil or tender parsley
For the dressing
1 tbsp lemon juice or cider vinegar
1 tbsp sunflower oil
2 tbsp rapeseed or extra-virgin olive oil
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Cut the top and bottom off one of the oranges, so that you can stand it on a chopping board. Using a small, sharp knife, work your way around the orange, cutting off the peel and pith in strips so the juicy flesh is exposed. Then, holding the peeled orange in the palm of your hand and working over a bowl to catch the juice, slice down as close as you can to the sides of each membrane, and release the fruit segments. Drop these into the bowl as you go. Repeat with the other orange.

Peel the carrots and, using a sharp knife or a mandolin, cut into matchsticks. Add these and the seeds to the orange segments, and toss to mix.

To make the dressing, whisk together all the ingredients, along with any juice you’ve collected from peeling the oranges. Add the chervil or parsley to the salad along with the dressing, toss and serve at once.

Carrot dip

Tinker with this dip to get just the balance of creaminess or fire that suits you. Add more cr?É?í?Ǭ®me fra?É?í?ǬÆche or yoghurt if you prefer it on the creamy side, more chilli if you like the heat. Makes enough for four people as a nibble to go with drinks.

About 750g carrots, peeled
2 tsp cumin seeds
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp coriander seeds
1 tbsp freshly squeezed orange juice
4 tsp freshly squeezed lemon juice
?É‚Äö?Ǭº-?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp chilli powder (or use a spicy paste such as harissa)
2 tbsp cr?É?í?Ǭ®me fra?É?í?ǬÆche or Greek-style yogurt
2 tbsp chopped parsley (optional)
1 tsp rapeseed oil
Salt and pepper
Crudit?É?í?Ǭ©s, tempura vegetables and/or warm flatbreads to serve

Cut the carrots into small batons and steam until very soft, then mash them or pass them through a mouli. Warm three-quarters of the cumin seeds and all the coriander seeds in a dry frying pan until just fragrant ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì 30 to 60 seconds ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì then grind to a fine powder in a pestle and mortar (or crush in a small bowl with the end of a rolling pin).

When the carrots are cold, add the ground spices, citrus juices, chilli, yoghurt and parsley, if using. Adjust the quantities to suit you, and season to taste. When ready to serve, warm the oil in a frying pan over a medium heat, add the remaining cumin seeds and fry for a few seconds until just fragrant. Trickle over the carrot dip and serve with crudit?É?í?Ǭ©s, tempura vegetables and/or flatbread.

Want to join us on for a day of meat curing and smoking (next course on 28 June)? We have an exclusive 10% off offer to Guardian readers. For details, call Alex on 01297 630302 and mention the Guardian;rivercottage.net for more details.

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Thyme is so ubiquitous in my cooking, but it’s rarely the star of the show. Let’s set the record straight?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¶

Alas, poor thyme: always the bridesmaid, never the bride. It’s perhaps the herb I reach for most often ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì I rely on it to add flavour to stews, stocks, stuffings, p?É?í?Ǭ¢t?É?í?Ǭ©s and terrines, the bellies of baking fish ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì yet we seldom give it the starring role. It’s destined to work tirelessly in the kitchen, a culinary Cinderella, seldom given top billing like those flashy “finishing” herbs, parsley, basil, mint and coriander. But today it shall go to the ball. It’s thyme (sorry) for a change. I’m celebrating its clean, bracing pungency and putting it centre stage.

There are many different types of thyme, but the ones we use most often are common thyme, Thymus vulgaris, and lemon thyme, T. citrodius. I have a particular affection for the latter and use it almost as much as T. vulgaris; in fact, I’d maybe use it more if it wasn’t such a slow grower. It’s very good with fish, shellfish, lamb, chicken and veal, and even works well in breads and biscuits (see today’s recipe). It has a gentler flavour than old vulgaris, so I often add it at the end, in a final, finishing flourish, as well as at the beginning.

Thyme’s special charm is the extraordinary concentration of scent in those tiny but fleshy leaves which are ready to eke out a living in the meagrest of soils. Thyme grows wild all over the Mediterranean, pushing itself through the rocky earth and perfuming the air with its pungent aroma.

So when you grow it at home, try to replicate these conditions as closely as you can. Plant it in well-drained, poorish soil in the sunniest spot you can find to ensure the best flavour. It grows brilliantly in pots and will put up with all kinds of harsh treatment, apart from overwatering, for which it will not thank you. Pillage your pots often ?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?¢‚Ǩ?ì the more you cut, the more it will throw up those fresh, fragrant young leaves that really are the most delicious. Without frequent cutting, it can become woody, so don’t hold back. The dainty flowers are a delicious addition to drinks and fruit salads, and look wonderful scattered over cakes. Once it has flowered, though, give it a good haircut to encourage new growth.

Thyme has found its way into kitchens all over the world, from the Med to Mexico, and into dishes as diverse as casseroles, chillies and chowders. Of course, it is an essential component of bouquet garni because it stands up to long, slow cooking, giving up its mellow flavour without overpowering the finished dish.

But it’s not all about stews and stocks. Rub some thyme leaves on the crackling of your pork joint. Add a sprig or two next time you’re frying onions into creamy softness. Scatter it into the roasting tin with the potatoes, other root veg, and squashes and pumpkins, too. When you’re frying mushrooms, add a few bruised thyme leaves along with the garlic, and finish with a tiny squeeze of lemon for perfect mushrooms on toast. You can sprinkle it, very finely chopped, into bread dough (especially pizza and focaccia) and even, lightly, into yorkshire pudding batter. Next time you make a tomato salad, use young and tender thyme leaves (and flowers, too) in place of the ubiquitous basil. And use today’s gremolata by beating some into softened butter to add a final, melting element of deliciousness to a juicy steak or lamb chop.

If you’re cooking this weekend and want something extra-special, then please, take your thyme.

Lamb cutlets with thyme gremolata

These are delicious served just with boiled new potatoes and a green salad. You can grill them on the barbecue, if you like. Serves four.

2 small garlic cloves, peeled and very finely chopped
1 small lemon, zest finely grated
1?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tbsp lemon thyme leaves, finely chopped
3 tbsp olive oil
12 lamb cutlets
Flaky sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

First, make the gremolata. Combine the garlic, lemon zest and thyme, and put half the mixture in a bowl large enough to hold all of the cutlets. Whisk in the oil and a squeeze of lemon juice. Turn the cutlets over in the mixture until well coated and leave to marinate for 15 minutes.

Heat a large griddle pan or frying pan until hot. Lift the cutlets from the marinade, season with salt and pepper, and cook for two to three minutes on each side, depending on thickness. Transfer the cutlets to a warm plate, leave to rest, then sprinkle with the remaining gremolata and serve.

Za’atar

Different versions of this classic spice blend (pictured left) appear all over the Arab world (some contain oregano, cumin, fennel and coriander seeds). Experiment to find a mix you like, though I think this one is rather good. In Lebanon, parents think that za’atar for breakfast sharpens concentration, so they encourage their children to eat some before an exam.

3 tbsp sesame seeds, toasted
2 tbsp minced fresh thyme leaves
2 tsp ground sumac
?É‚Äö?Ǭ? tsp flaky sea salt

Mix everything together in a bowl.

Five things to do with za’atar

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Fill a small bowl with extra-virgin olive oil and another with za’atar. Dip chunks of flatbread or good, country-style bread first in the oil and then in the za’atar.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Cook asparagus on a barbecue or griddle until just tender, trickle over some extra-virgin olive or rapeseed oil, and sprinkle with za’atar.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Sprinkle it over hummus.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Scatter over labneh. Alternatively, strain labneh or Greek yogurt through muslin until it is very thick, roll into balls the size of small walnuts and leave to dry for a few hours. Roll these in za’atar to make a tasty nibble to go with drinks.

?ɬ¢?¢‚Äö¬¨?Ǭ¢ Mix some za’atar with a little honey and olive oil to make a delicious glaze to brush over chicken or lamb before roasting

Lemon thyme shortbread

The thyme adds charm to these simple biscuits. Makes 24-40, depending on the size of the cutter.

55g caster sugar
2 tsp lemon thyme leaves, finely chopped
115g butter, softened
Finely grated zest of 2 lemons
170g plain flour
Extra caster sugar, for dusting (or 2 tbsp caster sugar mixed with 1 tsp finely chopped lemon thyme, for an extra hit)

Preheat the oven to 150C/300F/gas mark 2 and set aside a buttered nonstick baking sheet. Beat the sugar, thyme, butter and lemon zest until pale and creamy (this can be done in a food processor), then scrape into a large bowl and beat in the flour until it forms a stiff dough.

Place the dough on a sheet of greaseproof paper and lay another sheet of greaseproof paper on top. Gently press down with a rolling pin and roll out thinly. Lift off the top sheet and stamp out the biscuits with a floured 4cm- or 6cm-diameter round cutter (or use any size or shape you like). With a palette knife dipped in flour, carefully lift the rounds off the bottom sheet of paper and gently transfer to the baking sheet. Lightly squidge together the dough offcuts, and repeat until all the dough is used up.

Bake in the centre of the oven for eight to 12 minutes, or until tinged a very pale brown around the edges. Transfer the biscuits to a cooling rack (take care: they will still be soft) and immediately sprinkle with extra caster sugar (or the sugar/thyme mix). Serve once cool and crisp..

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