The Kitchen Diaries

day

Crisp, clear, and the sky looks like Sweden. One of those days when you get tricked by the bright, crystal sky and go out with one layer too few, then come home freezing cold. I had every intention of bringing back something for supper but, after eating Turkish mezze at lunch, come home empty handed and end up scouring the fridge and cupboards for something to eat.

I never throw away Parmesan rinds. No matter how dry and cracked they get, the craggy ends are full of intense, cheesy flavour. A more organised cook would freeze theirs; mine tend to collect in one of the little plastic drawers in the fridge door, the one you are supposed to keep eggs in. To get the full, soothingly velvet texture of this soup, you will need a couple of large hunks of rind, about 5-6cm long. If the fridge is bare, then ask at your local deli. They may let you have them for little or nothing.

good-sized leeks – 3

butter – a thick slice, about 40g

potatoes – 3 medium-sized

Parmesan rinds

light stock or water – 1.5 litres

parsley – a handful

grated Parmesan – 6 tablespoons

Trim the leeks, slice them into thick rings, then wash thoroughly under cold running water. Melt the butter in a heavy-based pan (I use a cast-iron casserole), then tip in the washed leeks and let them soften slowly, covered with a lid, over a low to moderate heat. After about twenty minutes and with some occasional stirring they should be silkily tender.

While they are softening, peel the potatoes and cut them into chunks. Add them to the leeks when they are soft and let them cook for five minutes or so, before dropping in the cheese rinds and pouring in the stock or water. Season with salt and black pepper, then partially cover and leave to simmer for a good forty minutes.

Remove and discard the undissolved cheese rinds, scraping back into the soup any cheesy goo from them as you go. Add the leaves of the parsley and blitz the soup in a blender. Check the seasoning – it may need a surprisingly generous amount of salt and pepper – then bring briefly to the boil. Serve piping hot, with the grated Parmesan.

Enough for 6

January 15

I buy oysters today, fines de claire from the fish shop on Marylebone High Street, six apiece. They smell clean and slightly salty. The heavy-gauge oyster opener I bought five years ago has proved a sound investment, firmer and safer than its predecessor, which was, with hindsight, too flimsy to do the job. Opening oysters requires a no-messing attitude. Not exactly gung-ho, but with a certain amount of (mock) confidence. Even then I have to fish out bits of broken shell from the tender flesh and not-to-be-wasted juices. The shellfish was quite expensive, so I strike a balance with a cheap cupboard recipe to follow.

Bulghur wheat with aubergines and mint

Bulghur is one of those mild, warming grains that soothes and satisfies. I value it for its knubbly texture and nutty flavour. This, to me, is supper, but others may like to use it beside something else, such as grilled chicken or a gravy-rich stew.

olive oil – 6 tablespoons

a small onion

a bay leaf

aubergines – 2 small ones

garlic – 2 large cloves, chopped

bulghur wheat – 225g

vegetable stock – 500ml

tomatoes – 4

pine kernels – 3 tablespoons, toasted

mint – 15-20 leaves, chopped

lemon juice to taste

Warm the olive oil in a shallow pan, peel and finely slice the onion and let it cook slowly in the oil with the bay leaf. When the onion is soft and pale gold, add the aubergines, cut into 3cm pieces, and the chopped garlic. Let the aubergines cook, adding more oil if necessary, until they are golden and soft.

Pour in the bulghur wheat and the vegetable stock. Bring to the boil, then leave to simmer gently for fifteen to twenty minutes, till the wheat is tender and almost dry. Half way through cooking, roughly chop the tomatoes and add them. Once the wheat is cooked (it should still be nutty and have some bite), stir in the toasted pine kernels and chopped mint leaves. Check the seasoning; it will need lemon juice, salt and pepper.

Enough for 2, with seconds

January 17

A bench-

mark

Bolognese

No sooner is lunch over (supermarket sushi brought to life with enough wasabi to make my sinuses sting) than it starts to rain. The butcher has fresh mince, which looks straight from the mincer, the sight of which is enough to stir me into making a proper Bolognese. By which I mean one that has been left to blip and putter slowly on the stove, so that the flavours have a chance to mellow and deepen.

A really good spaghetti Bolognese

butter – 50g

cubed pancetta – 70g

a medium onion

garlic – 2 fat cloves

a carrot

celery – 2 stalks

flat mushrooms – 2 large, about 100g

bay leaves – 2

minced beef or lamb – 400g

crushed tomatoes or passata – 200ml

red wine – 200ml

stock – 200ml