The Kitchen Diaries

Iridescent, candy-striped beetroots I have only ever seen in a seed catalogue, boxes of curly, red and Russian kale, fat carrots for juicing and tight little Brussels on the stem are in A1 condition. One grower is showing a wooden crate of the perkiest celeriac I have ever seen, each root with a neat tuft of green leaves looking as if they were dug only an hour ago.

I stop at the stall selling cartons of Hurdlebrook Guernsey cream from Olive Farm in Somerset and proper untreated milk. Dairy produce doesn’t come better than this. It is not just about richness, it is about flavour. This is cream worth waiting all week for, a world away from the thin white stuff in the ‘super’markets. I buy double cream and then rhubarb for a fool. The shopping trip I almost abandoned as a bad idea has come good, and I walk home with a heavy basket.

February 2

Succulent

little patties

for four

It is the deep, salty stickiness of food that intrigues me more than any other quality. The sheer savour of it. The Marmite-like goo that adheres to the skin of anything roasted; the crust where something – usually a potato or a parsnip – has stuck to the roasting tin; the underside of a piece of meat that has been left long enough in the pan to form a gooey crust. This is partly why I cook rather than buying my supper readymade. This you will probably know, unless of course this is your first Nigel Slater book.

Meatballs, left to cook without constant prodding and poking, will form a satisfyingly savoury outer coating that presses all the right buzzers for me. In many ways they are the ultimate casual supper for friends. I say this because of their ability to wait patiently when people are late, to cook quickly so you are not away from your guests for long and, the real clincher, because of the fact that they have a down-to-earth friendliness to them. A meatball never says, ‘Look at me, aren’t I clever?’ It just says, ‘Eat me.’ No matter how fancy you get in terms of seasoning and sauces, you can’t show off with them. Best of all, they are one of the few recipes you can easily multiply for a large number without having to rejig everything. You just double or quadruple as you need. This is of particular resonance today. There are four of us for supper tonight and I know two of them will almost certainly be late. They always are.

Chicken patties with rosemary and pancetta

I put these on the table with fat wedges of lemon and a spinach salad.

a medium onion

garlic – 2 cloves

a thick slice of butter

cubed pancetta – 100g

rosemary – 3 bushy sprigs

minced chicken – 450g

a little groundnut oil for frying

chicken stock – 250ml

Peel the onion and garlic and chop them finely, then let them soften in the butter over a moderate heat (a non-stick frying pan is best for this, then you can use it to fry the patties in later) until they are lightly honey-coloured. Stir in the small cubes of pancetta. Strip the rosemary leaves from their stalks, chop them finely, then add them to the onions, letting them cook for a few minutes till coloured. Let the mixture cool a little.

Mix the minced chicken into the onion, seasoning it generously with black pepper and a little salt (the pancetta will contribute to the seasoning).

Set the oven at 190°C/Gas 5. Now, to make the simple patties, shape the mixture into six little burgers about the size of a digestive biscuit, then leave to settle for half an hour.

Wipe the onion pan clean and get it hot. Add a little groundnut oil and brown the patties on both sides – that’s a matter of three minutes per side – then transfer them to an ovenproof dish. Pour in the stock and bake for twenty-five to thirty minutes, till the patties are sizzling and the stock is bubbling. Serve two to three per person and spoon over some of the hot chicken stock.

Enough for 2–3.

Note

If you want something richer, make stuffed patties. Take a heaped tablespoon of the chicken mixture and push a hollow in it with your thumb. Take a heaped teaspoon of Gorgonzola cheese (you will need 75g for this amount of chicken) and push it into the hollow, then cover it with a second tablespoon of chicken mixture. Squash gently to form a patty and place on a baking sheet. Continue with this till you have used up the mixture – you will have about six – then refrigerate them for twenty to thirty minutes before cooking.

February 4

Broth

I try planting some late crocus bulbs in the garden, which I had forgotten about and which now appear to have started sprouting. There’s a freezing wind and my fingers are numb even through the fleece-lined luxury of leather gardening gloves. Another of those days when you feel you are going to get snow but all that appears is sleet, which has neither the romance of snow nor the refreshing quality of rain. The ice-cold needles prickle your skin, your cheeks start to lose all feeling. I battle on till I think my nose might be running, but my face is so cold I am not sure. I call it a day and make a big pot of chicken broth, as much out of defiance as anything else.

A herb and barley broth to bring you back to health

The herbs are essential and I don’t suggest goose fat just to be annoying; it contains a certain magic.

pot barley – 100g

carrots – 3 large

leeks – 3, trimmed and rinsed to remove any grit

celery – 3 medium-sized stalks

onions – 2

garlic – 4 large cloves

dripping, goose fat or olive oil – a couple of tablespoons

enough good chicken stock to cover

a few bay leaves

thyme – 3 or 4 sprigs

sage leaves – 6

potatoes – 4 small to medium

parsley – a small bunch

Simmer the rinsed barley in salted water for about twenty minutes till it feels reasonably tender, then drain it. Set the oven at 180°C/Gas 4.

Peel the carrots and cut them into large chunks, then cut the leeks and celery into short lengths. I think it is important to keep the vegetables in fat, juicy pieces for this. Peel the onions, cut them in half and then into large segments. Peel and finely slice the garlic. Warm the fat in a large, deep casserole. Turn the vegetables and garlic in the hot fat and let them soften a little, but don’t allow them to colour. Bring the stock to the boil in a separate pan.

Now add the barley to the vegetables, pouring over the hot stock and tucking in all the herbs except the parsley as you go. Slice the potatoes the thickness of pound coins and lay them over the top of the vegetables – some will inevitably sink; others will sit on top, the stock just lapping at their edges.

Cover with a lid and place in the oven for an hour and a half, by which time the vegetables will be meltingly tender. Remove the lid (the smell is part of the healing process), turn the heat up to 200°C/Gas 6 and leave for thirty minutes for the potatoes to colour here and there. Remove very carefully from the oven – the pan will be full and very hot – chop the parsley and sink it into the broth.

Spoon the vegetables, barley and plenty of broth into shallow bowls with flakes of sea salt and several firm grinds of the pepper mill.

Enough for 4

February 6