I love writing cookery books. It’s not a solitary activity, like writing a memoir; it’s about working with a team, which is lots of fun Actually, there are two teams: the book one, Ebury; and the TV one, Denham Productions. I would like to thank the two people who work in both: Portia Spooner, who has put so much hard work into collating and testing all the recipes in this book, in close collaboration with everyone at Denhams, including preparing all the food for the cooking filmed at my cottage in Padstow; and Arezoo Farahazad, who has worked tirelessly to give Portia so much back-up, including writing down recipes of all the dishes being cooked while filming on location, and sending them straight back to Portia for testing.
At Ebury, I would like to thank Rebecca Smart, the MD, Lizzy Gray, Publishing Director, and Charlotte Macdonald, Editor, with whom I’ve worked on an almost daily basis recently and have enjoyed it very much. I’d also like to thank Claire Scott, my long suffering publicist at Ebury, who I note I’ve been working with great enjoyment for 16 years. The lynchpin between me and the publisher, though, has been my long-standing (eleven years) copy-editor, Mari Roberts. Thanks for the pinpoint attention to detail, making the recipes so clear and accurate.
For their vital role in making Long Weekends look so lovely, thanks to Alex and Emma Smith, who designed it, and James Murphy, who took every one of the beautiful photographs and with whom I’ve now been working for seventeen years. Also thanks to Aya Nishimura for her beautiful food preparation and Penny Markham for so expertly matching the pots, plates and pans for the food photography from so many weekend cities.
For Long Weekends, the TV programme, thanks to David Pritchard and for all we’ve done together over the last twenty-five years. It goes on being a delight to work with someone so creative and talented. Thanks, too, to my TV family: Chris Topliss, a great cameraman, and Pete Underwood, our sound recordist, who’s a bit like a bass guitarist – very good, and essential, but not often recognized as such. Then there’s Martin Willcocks, on second camera; Adam de Wan, Suki Hughs and Richard Atkinson, our editors; Tom Edwards, dubbing mixer; Grace Kitto, who runs Denhams, and Chris Denham, aka the Major, whose company it is.
Not forgetting a few occasional helpers: Henry Morris and my stepson Zach Burns, both tripod carrying in the hot Greek sun; Paul Ashton, who rigged the cottage; and Rob Jones, who put in time testing recipes in Padstow. Also the programme researchers at Denhams: Fiona Pritchard, Dave’s wife, and Jemma Woodman, Elizabeth Stone, Charlotte Barton and Claudia Selby.
Finally, a big thank-you to Viv Taylor and Jane Reese for coordinating everything in Padstow.
All these credits would be still running as the cinema was emptying, but I always wait till it says where the film was made, so I would see this: I would like to thank my dear wife, Sas, who came with me to every city and added so much colour to the whole book. You need to go with someone who you love on a long weekend.
GREEN RICE WITH GARLIC PARSLEY, CLAMS & PRAWNS
MUSSEL PILAF WITH CINNAMON, CUMIN & SAFFRON
DANISH FISH FRIKADELLER WITH REMOULADE
SICILIAN PASTA WITH CAULIFLOWER, ANCHOVIES, CURRANTS & PINE NUTS
PRAWNS & CLAMS WITH GARLIC & CORIANDER
SIMPLE COD GRATIN WITH BÉARNAISE SAUCE TOPPING
FENNEL & SAUSAGE RAGÙ WITH TAGLIATELLE
SPAGHETTI ALLA BOLOGNESE
ICELANDIC BREADED LAMB CHOPS WITH SPICED RED CABBAGE
CHICKPEA WITH CHORIZO TAPAS
CHICKEN WITH MARSALA
KOZANI CHICKEN WITH PRUNES, SAFRON & PAPRIKA
‘Monday, I have Friday on my mind’
THE EASYBEATS
Each day of the week feels differently to all of us. Monday, maybe, there’s a little residue of a great weekend when your efficiency can be slightly impaired. Monday night’s dinner will probably be diet-conscious, with certainly no beer or wine. Tuesday is back to normal and it’s great to feel fit again. Wednesday I’m going places and the healthy diet continues except that I always need to meet my oldest friends for a pint or two at the Cornish Arms that night. Thursday a little ennui creeps in at work. Everything seems interminable and there may be a dinner somewhere that night to compensate. On Friday, however, with the prospect of the weekend, things happen at work, efficiency is incredible, work really is done in the time given. Decisions always seem to get made on a Friday afternoon.
Coming from someone who’s spent much of his life working in restaurant kitchens, it might seem odd to be writing about how the pace of life and indeed what one eats differs from day to day through the week. In a busy kitchen, surely, any day is the same? Actually, it’s not. Each corresponds to the way other people feel about the week, especially Friday night. In the early restaurant days, I’d often get in for the evening service with the excitement of a full restaurant all weekend and change the entire menu, brimming with euphoria, much to the dismay of the rest of the kitchen. Not a good idea, and nor is it a good idea to get complicated with a Friday night’s cooking at home. You could almost call these recipes thirty-minute meals after a hectic week. Just such a recipe would be the Prawns and Clams with Garlic and Coriander from Lisbon. You couldn’t want for a simpler or more exciting recipe. It was Friday night when I was filmed eating that dish in Cervejaria Ramiro, a seafood and beer place, with lots of bread to soak up the garlic and chilli oil. Switch from summer to a cold and hard winter Friday evening and think of lamb chops cut from the best end, egged and breaded and fried in butter with a slow-cooked red cabbage (Icelandic Breaded Lamb Chops), from Reykjavik. The sort of thing to warm you with comfort as you come in from an icy, cutting wind on the road home.
CADIZ
⋑ SERVES FOUR TO FIVE ⋐
This is my take on a dish I had in Cadiz at a restaurant called La Marea (The Tide), which specializes in seafood and rice. It is one for garlic lovers, particularly as I – untypically for Spain – like to serve it with alioli as well.
60ml olive oil
60g shallots, finely chopped
12 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 litre Fish stock
100g flat-leaf parsley, leaves finely chopped
1½ tsp salt
400g short-grain paella rice, such as Calasparra
30 raw clams, preferably palourdes (vongole), scrubbed
200g small raw peeled prawns
Alioli, to serve
Heat the olive oil in a 28–30cm cazuela or shallow flameproof casserole over medium heat. Add the shallot and fry gently for 5 minutes until soft. Add the garlic and fry for 40 to 60 seconds, then stir in the fish stock, parsley and salt and bring to the boil.
Sprinkle in the rice, stir once, then leave to simmer vigorously over medium-high heat for 6 minutes. Put the clams and prawns on top and shake the pan briefly so they sink into the rice a little. Lower the heat and leave to simmer gently for another 12 minutes. At the end of this time, almost all the liquid should be absorbed and the rice will be pitted with small holes. Serve with alioli.
THESSALONIKI
⋑ SERVES FOUR TO SIX ⋐
This must be the definitive seafood dish of Thessaloniki – it appears in every restaurant. I love the Greek way of cooking rice. This would have fitted well in my last book, Venice to Istanbul, where I often traced Byzantine food influences. Though this is a northern Greek dish, you could easily imagine it being available in the streets of eastern Turkey.
750g raw mussels, scrubbed
90ml olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped
1 green pepper, seeded and finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped or grated
Pinch saffron threads
½ tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp ground cumin
½ tsp chilli flakes
Good handful dill, roughly chopped
1 tsp salt
2 medium tomatoes, skinned and finely chopped
Juice ½ lemon
400g long-grain rice
Put the mussels in a pan with a splash of water, cover and steam over high heat for about 3 to 4 minutes until open, shaking the pan from time to time. Pour the mussels into a colander set over a bowl. Remove the shells from all but 25 of them and set the cooked mussels aside. Pour all but the last (gritty) tablespoonful of mussel liquor into a measuring jug and top up with water to 800ml.
In a large pan over a medium heat, warm the olive oil, then gently fry the onion, green pepper, garlic and spices for about 10 minutes. Add half the dill with the salt, chopped tomato and lemon juice and cook for a couple of minutes. Add the rice and stir through.
Pour in the mussel stock and bring to the boil. Cover with a lid and simmer for 12 to 15 minutes or until the rice is soft. Add the cooked mussels and the rest of the dill and stir through.
COPENHAGEN
⋑ SERVES FOUR ⋐
Right in the middle of the Tivoli Gardens in Copenhagen is the Grøften, a massive 600-seat restaurant which has been going since 1864. Its new chef, Jacob Elkjær, has bought his famous fish cakes from his home town of Middelfart. He says the secret is not to use too much flour or milk. I like Jacob, a very enthusiastic and successful restaurateur, and especially the fish cakes with his own remoulade sauce. Serve with new potatoes or Warm Potato Salad.
650g skinless boneless cod fillet
150ml whipping cream
Zest ½ lemon
1 egg, beaten
80g plain flour, plus extra for dusting
¾ tsp salt
12 turns black peppermill
Small handful dill, chopped
1 tbsp capers, chopped
40g butter
For the remoulade
120g Mustard mayonnaise
2 tbsp finely chopped capers
2 tbsp finely chopped pickled gherkins
1 small onion, finely grated
Squeeze lemon juice
2 tsp Dijon mustard
¼ tsp curry powder
Small handful chives, chopped
3–4 sprigs fresh tarragon, chopped
3 tbsp whipping cream, lightly whipped
Combine the fish with the whipping cream, lemon zest, egg, flour, salt and pepper in a food processor and pulse until combined. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the chopped dill and capers. The mixture will be a bit sticky. With lightly floured hands divide into 8 to 12 portions – depending on what size you like your frikadeller – and form into flat patties. Heat the butter until foaming and fry the patties for 4 to 5 minutes on each side until golden. Keep warm.
Mix together all the ingredients for the remoulade, folding in the whipped cream at the end. Serve alongside the frikadeller.
PALERMO
⋑ SERVES FOUR TO SIX ⋐
At the back of the Quattro Canti, the Baroque square in the centre of Palermo, there is a restaurant called Bisso Bistrot. It’s informal, cheap and incredibly busy. You can’t book but it’s worth the wait. I ordered this dish of pasta with a sauce of cauliflower, which they call ‘broccoli’, just to see what could be made of something apparently so bland. They were far too busy to give me the recipe so this may not be quite the same, but either way what I had was delicious, particularly the pasta, which was daringly al dente.
350g cauliflower florets
Salt, for cooking
30g pine nuts
6 tbsp olive oil
50g dried white Breadcrumbs
1 medium onion, finely chopped
6 anchovy fillets from a tin, drained and chopped
Large pinch chilli flakes
Pinch saffron threads
40g currants
½ tsp salt
5 turns black peppermill
400g dried spaghetti
Handful flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Cook the cauliflower florets in boiling salted water for 8 to 10 minutes until tender. Set aside, reserving the cooking water.
In a dry frying pan over a medium heat, toast the pine nuts for 1 to 2 minutes, shaking the pan often and taking care they don’t catch and burn. Tip into a bowl and set aside. In the same pan, heat 3 tablespoons of the olive oil, add the breadcrumbs and fry for 4 to 5 minutes until crisp and golden. Set aside.
In a wide pan over medium heat, warm 2 tablespoons of the olive oil and fry the onion gently until soft, about 5 minutes. Add the anchovies and chilli flakes and continue to cook for 3 to 5 minutes or until the anchovies have almost disintegrated. Add the cauliflower florets, about 100ml cauliflower cooking water and the saffron and cook for 6 to 8 minutes. Mash the cauliflower with a potato masher or back of a wooden spoon to break it up to create a thick but loose sauce. Add the pine nuts, currants, salt and black pepper.
Cook the pasta in plenty of salted boiling water until al dente, following packet instructions. Drain well and add to the pan along with the remaining tablespoon of olive oil. Add a little more cauliflower water if the sauce is too thick to coat the pasta. Toss in half of the breadcrumb mixture and three-quarters of the chopped parsley. Stir well to combine.
Divide between serving bowls and top with the remaining breadcrumbs and parsley.
LISBON
⋑ SERVES FOUR ⋐
Cervejaria Ramiro is a must-visit seafood restaurant in Lisbon. Most of the dishes are simply boiled crab or prawns, percebes or murex sea snails, but I was very keen to bring just one recipe from the restaurant because I liked the place so much. This is it, simple but so typical of wonderful Portuguese seafood cooking.
70ml olive oil
4 garlic cloves, crushed
1 piri-piri or bird’s eye chilli
8 large raw prawns, shell on
20 raw clams, scrubbed
Juice ½ lemon
½ tsp salt
Small handful coriander, roughly chopped
Crusty bread, to serve
Heat the olive oil in a wide pan over medium heat. Add the garlic and chilli, and fry for 1 or 2 minutes until fragrant. Add the prawns and cook for 3 minutes, turning frequently.
Increase the heat to high and add the clams, turning them over as they open. Add the lemon juice and salt. Let the liquid reduce a little, then throw in the coriander and serve immediately with lots of crusty bread.
REYKJAVIK
⋑ SERVES FOUR ⋐
This dish has Icelandic inspiration, though it’s not something I actually ate in Reykjavik. The best things about this are the chunky carrots and leeks, the generous quantity of cod, and the Béarnaise sauce, which I added because I know how much the Icelanders love it. Tarragon and fish go so well together.
40g butter
2 leeks, sliced
1 onion, chopped
2 carrots, sliced
600g cod loin, skinned, cut into 3cm chunks
2 tbsp plain flour
50ml dry white wine
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
For the Béarnaise sauce
70ml white wine vinegar
2 shallots, finely chopped
2 sprigs fresh tarragon
1 bay leaf
6 peppercorns
4 egg yolks
300g unsalted butter
1 tsp fresh tarragon, chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat and sweat the leek, onion and carrot until softened and starting to caramelise, about 5 to 10 minutes. Add the cod and the flour, and stir for 1 to 2 minutes. Add the white wine and allow to thicken for 1 minute. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Spoon into a buttered oven dish and cover.
Heat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.
For the sauce, warm the vinegar in a saucepan over medium heat, and add the shallots, tarragon, bay leaf and peppercorns. Cook until the volume of liquid has reduced by more than half. Strain and set aside until completely cooled.
Bake the cod and vegetables for 15 to 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, beat the egg yolks with a teaspoon of water. Stir into the cooled vinegar. Pour the mixture into a bain-marie (a bowl set over a pan of simmering water) over a medium heat and whisk constantly until the sauce has thickened enough to coat the back of a spoon and has increased in volume.
Melt the unsalted butter.
Remove the bowl from the heat and slowly pour in the melted butter in a steady stream, whisking continuously, until the mixture has thickened and is smooth. Fold in the chopped tarragon and season, to taste, with salt and pepper.
Heat the grill to hot. Take the cod from the oven and pour the Béarnaise sauce over it. Flash under the hot grill for 3 to 4 minutes until nicely browned, and serve.
BOLOGNA
⋑ SERVES FOUR ⋐
This is the sort of pasta dish I always seek out in Italian restaurants because I love fennel-flavoured sausages. At home, I find it’s easier to reproduce the flavour by using good-quality sausagemeat and adding fennel seeds, chilli, garlic, rosemary, salt and black pepper. What I love about this dish is that it is nurtured with plenty of cream and served with homemade egg tagliatelle. Memories for me of Mercato delle Erbe, a market space energized by a couple of brilliant restaurants, Altro and, across the other side, a seafood grill, Banco32, where they make dishes from whatever fish is available on the counter.
400g coarse pork sausagemeat
1 tbsp olive oil
1 small onion, finely chopped
1 large clove garlic, grated
2 sticks celery, chopped
¾ tsp fennel seeds, roughly ground
¼ tsp chilli flakes
Sprig fresh rosemary, leaves finely chopped
1 tsp salt
12 turns black peppermill
150ml dry white wine
150ml double cream
150ml Chicken stock
For the pasta dough
400g 00 pasta flour
4 eggs, lightly beaten
2 tsp salt
50g Parmesan cheese, freshly grated, to serve
Break up the sausagemeat into a large ovenproof pan and add half the oil to start with. If the sausagemeat is fatty, it might render quite a bit of lard and you won’t need the rest of the olive oil; if it’s quite dry, you will. Cook on medium heat for around 10 minutes, stirring from time to time, then add the onion, garlic, celery, fennel seeds, chilli, rosemary and salt and pepper, then cook for a further 15 minutes. Pour in the wine, cook for few minutes until reduced by half, then add the cream and chicken stock. Put a lid on the pan and simmer the mixture gently for half an hour.
In a food processor, combine the flour, eggs and salt, then tip on to a work surface and bring together in a ball of dough. Cover in clingfilm and rest for 20 to 30 minutes.
Roll out the pasta into a couple of sheets about 2mm thick. Run through a pasta machine, or use a knife or pizza cutter, to cut into 5mm-wide ribbons. Separate the strands and leave to dry on the back of a chair or spread out on a tray.
When ready to serve, cook the tagliatelle in plenty of boiling salted water for about 4 minutes until al dente. Drain and add to the ragù pan.
Combine the ragù with the pasta and serve in warmed bowls with freshly grated Parmesan.
BOLOGNA
⋑ SERVES FOUR ⋐
If you want to wind up the people of Bologna, talk about spaghetti bolognese. You will be firmly told that tagliatelle is to be served with ragù bolognese, never spaghetti. Tagliatelle comes from Bologna, where it is made with good eggs and 00 flour, making a soft, malleable, silky pasta. Spaghetti comes from southern Italy, where they don’t have many eggs but they can grow durum wheat, and where the pasta is made just with flour and water. However, I discovered that there is actually a spaghetti bolognese, which the locals cook of a Friday fish day, made with tomatoes, tuna and dry pasta. Monica Venturi, whose sister’s recipe for tortelloni appears here, cooked this for me in her lovely tidy flat overlooking the Mercato delle Erbe. It is astonishingly simple but I couldn’t believe how good it was, especially served with a glass of Pignoletto Frizzante.
2 tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, sliced
400g tin plum tomatoes
1 tsp sugar
1 tsp salt
400g spaghetti
160g tuna flakes (drained weight)
40g Parmesan cheese cheese, freshly grated
Freshly ground black pepper
Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over medium heat and fry the onion until soft, about 5 to 10 minutes. Add the tomatoes, sugar and salt, and reduce the sauce a little to intensify the flavour.
Cook the spaghetti in plenty of boiling, salted water, following packet instructions. Drain well. Add the tuna flakes to the tomato sauce and stir through the pasta. Serve immediately with Parmesan and black pepper.
REYKJAVIK
⋑ SERVES EIGHT ⋐
I don’t know why, but until I went to Iceland I had never considered cooking lamb chops in breadcrumbs. There it’s almost the most common way of preparing them. This dish is particularly lovely when made with tender, best end chops. The lamb is gently cooked in clarified butter in a pan, and the essential accompaniment is a special spiced red cabbage, using fresh blueberries and bramble jelly as well as apple, onion, vinegar and sugar. Serve with boiled potatoes rolled in melted butter and sprinkled with chopped parsley.
For the lamb chops
8 large best end chops
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
Plain flour, for coating
2 eggs, beaten
100g dried white Breadcrumbs
60g Clarified butter, for frying
2 tbsp vegetable/rapeseed oil
For the spiced red cabbage
1 large onion, sliced
60g butter
1 red cabbage (around 750g-1kg), finely shredded
1 large Bramley apple, peeled, cored and chopped
50ml red wine vinegar
60g fresh blueberries
2 tbsp dark brown sugar
4 tbsp bramble jelly or jam, or redcurrant jelly
3 cloves
5cm cinnamon stick
1½ tsp salt
20 turns black peppermill
125ml water
First make the spiced cabbage. In a large saucepan over medium heat, sweat the onion in the butter for 5 to 10 minutes. Add the shredded cabbage, cook for 2 minutes, then add the apple, vinegar, blueberries, brown sugar, jelly or jam, cloves, cinnamon stick, salt, pepper and water. Cover with a well-fitting lid and cook until softened, about an hour. After 45 minutes, check the liquid and, if it is drying out, add a splash more. If there is a lot of liquid in the pan, remove the lid and evaporate off the excess. Remove the cinnamon stick and cloves before serving.
Season the chops with salt and pepper. Toss in plain flour, then dip in beaten egg and finish by coating all over with breadcrumbs. Heat the butter and oil in a large frying pan until hot, then fry the chops until golden all over and cooked through, about 7 to 8 minutes per side.
CADIZ
⋑ SERVES SIX TO EIGHT AS A TAPAS ⋐
Dishes like this are the mainstay of tapas bars. When I walked into Francisco Jimenez aka Pancho’s kitchen in Ultramar & Nos, a modern tapas bar in Cadiz, he had three stews going on the stove: this one, a similar one with a different type of chorizo and pinto beans, and one of dogfish tuna and potatoes. All were his mother’s recipes, and all were very good, but I marginally preferred this one because it had more chorizo in it. Just for the record, I also ordered jamón ibérico ham, white anchovies and tuna escabeche.
75ml olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, grated or finely chopped
150g chorizo sausage, diced
1 small red pepper, seeded and chopped
1 small green pepper, seeded and chopped
2 bay leaves
90ml red wine
1½ tsp hot smoked paprika (pimentón picante)
2 × 400g tins chickpeas, drained (480g drained weight)
¾ tsp salt
8 turns black peppermill
Small handful flat-leaf parsley, chopped
In a medium saucepan over a low heat, warm 50ml of the olive oil and sweat the onion and garlic for 3 to 5 minutes until starting to soften. Add the chorizo, peppers and bay leaves, and cook for a further 5 minutes until the orange fat starts to run from the sausage.
Add the red wine and paprika, increase the heat and reduce the liquid until it is just a loose coating sauce, 1 to 2 minutes.
Add the chickpeas, cover the pan, reduce the heat a little and cook for 3 to 4 minutes to warm them through. Season with the salt and pepper. Serve drizzled with the remaining olive oil and sprinkled with the parsley.
PALERMO
⋑ SERVES FOUR ⋐
Chicken Marsala was ubiquitous in the 1960s and 1970s. After that it lost its appeal but now, just as with the prawn cocktail, it is time for a revival. It’s a beautiful dish, made more often in Sicily with veal but also found with chicken. What I particularly like about Italian meals is that by the time you get to the terzo course, all you want is a small piece of protein, such as chicken, fish or steak, and maybe a salad and a couple of sauté potatoes. Recipe photograph below
4 skinless, boneless chicken breasts
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
40g plain flour
50g butter
2 tbsp olive oil
2 shallots, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
160g chestnut mushrooms, sliced
250ml dry Marsala
150ml Chicken stock
Sauté potatoes, to serve
Small handful flat-leaf parsley, chopped
Place the chicken breasts between sheets of clingfilm and beat, using a meat mallet or rolling pin, until about 5mm thick. Season with salt and pepper on both sides, then dip in the plain flour to coat lightly, shaking off any excess. Melt half the butter with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a frying pan over medium-high heat and fry the chicken for 2 to 3 minutes per side until golden. Set aside.
Wipe out the pan with kitchen paper. Heat the remaining butter and olive oil over medium heat and gently fry the shallot and garlic for about 5 minutes until softened. Add the mushrooms and cook for 2 minutes, then add the Marsala and turn the heat up to high. Reduce the liquid by about half. Turn the heat back down, add the chicken stock and chicken, and cook the chicken in the sauce for about 10 minutes. Serve with sauté potatoes sprinkled with parsley.
THESSALONIKI
⋑ SERVES FOUR TO SIX ⋐
Kozani is a town in Greek Macedonia, about an hour west of Thessaloniki, famous for its saffron. This chicken dish is popular in Thessaloniki too. It seems Byzantine in its influences: prunes, saffron, paprika. Serve with pilaf rice.
8 skinless chicken thighs
1 litre water
Pinch of Kozani or Spanish saffron
4 tbsp olive oil
3 red onions, finely sliced
1½ tbsp sweet paprika
20 pitted prunes
1 tsp salt
6 turns black peppermill
Put the chicken thighs in a large saucepan with the water and the saffron. Bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and allow to poach for 10 to 15 minutes. Drain, reserving the cooking liquid.
Heat the olive oil in a large saucepan over medium-low heat and sweat the onion gently until very soft, about 10 minutes. Add the paprika, cook for 2 minutes, then add the chicken thighs, about 700ml of the cooking liquid and the prunes. Season with the salt and pepper and simmer for about 20 minutes, until heated through.
Check the pan with the chicken, and if it is very watery, remove the chicken, prunes and onions with a slotted spoon and keep warm while you reduce down the sauce, so that you have a small amount to spoon over each portion.
A FRENCH HAMBURGER WITH CAMEMBERT OF COURSE
ICELANDIC LANGOUSTINE SOUP
WAFFLES & RHUBARB JAM
SOLLA’S VEGAN LASAGNE
CRISP PORK & BEEF PIE WITH ONIONS, RED PEPPER & OREGANO
MEATBALLS IN TOMATO SAUCE WITH CINNAMON & CUMIN
OEUFS EN COCOTTE WITH HAM & MUSHROOMS
SALT COD & CHIPS
A GRUYÈRE GRATIN OF CHICKEN, TOMATO & BLACK OLIVES
CONSTANTINOPLE-STYLE ARTICHOKE STEW
CHICKEN PIRI-PIRI
MACKEREL WITH PIRIÑACA SALAD
PORK & CLAMS ALENTEJO STYLE
FLAMENCO EGGS WITH TOMATO & SERRANO HAM
ROCKET SALAD WITH FIGS, PARMA HAM, GORGONZOLA & BASIL
INVOLTINI DI PESCE SPADA
RAVIOLI WITH PORCINI MUSHROOMS, SUN-DRIED TOMATOES & HAZELNUTS
PORTUGUESE BREAD STEW WITH PRAWNS
METEOR SHOWER
ARANCINI SALSICCIA
In the 1970s and 1980s my first wife, Jill, and I used to close the restaurant at the end of September and not reopen again until late March, just before Easter. During those winter months we lived rather an idyllic life. We travelled a lot, first on our own and then with our young family, to places like Thailand, India and Australia, and we used to invite our friends down for long weekend house parties. In those days I used my friends as testers for my recipes and I would make things like puff pastry and croissants early on Saturday morning for their late breakfast, which became more of a brunch. I even had a try at making baguettes from Julia Child and Simone Beck’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, whose many pages of instructions didn’t emphasize the fact that it’s not possible to make them successfully without a) French bread flour and b) a steam-injection soleplate baker’s oven. Everyone was always very complimentary, notably my sister Henrietta and my brother-in-law Philip Davis, and our friends Richard and Pattie Barber. The house, a large Victorian one on Trevose Head near Padstow, had a lovely big kitchen warmed by an Aga and, something I have always missed since, a larder/pantry. On those weekends, nobody made it downstairs until about ten o’clock in the morning so, in addition to the not-quite-perfect croissants and bread, I’d knock up a corned beef hash or baked egg dish, like the Huevos a la Flamenca here, or something sweet like the Waffles and Rhubarb Jam.