It's not autumn yet

Towards the end of august, there’s a strange thing that happens that happens in my mind.  There’s a fear that every sunny day will be the last sunny day, so all of a sudden I have to do all the summer things I can think of.  Sitting on the grass in the sun, picnicking, barbequing, Pimm’s.  I’ve been doing these wholeheartedly for the past couple of weeks, and every time, thinking, perhaps this is the last time I’ll be able to for a whole year.  And they have been really good, because the threat of imminent autumn makes them all the more special.  I do love autumn, and I definitely can’t wait for a bit of a chill on the breeze, but that doesn’t mean I want to let summer slip by without one last barbeque.

So at home in Bristol, there was some sun.  Of course, that sun was often mingled with showers, but there was definitely sun, and so the fire pit was fuelled, the paella pan dusted off, and supper was cooked, and eaten, outside.  We ignored the occasional raindrops, and the fact that it was so cold we’d also lit a fire inside. We ate, as if it were a Mediterranean sun that shone, rather than the feeble, end of summer glow that there really was.

I’ve always enjoyed a paella, but this was my first time cooking it.  I was nervous, but towards the end of an hour or so perusing the Moro cookbooks, the guardian website, and some Simone and Ines Ortega cookbooks, I think I got the main idea: just chose the things you like and make sure everything is cooked.  So we had monkfish and chicken and prawns and squid, with a few chunks of chorizo thrown in.  I still wasn’t feeling hugely confident with it all, so I cooked a starter of clams with ham and sherry, just to get the cooking underway, and to placate my hungry family, because I wasn’t sure how long it would take to cook on the fire.

Al in all, it wasn’t perfect.  It cooked very very slowly, and by the time I impatiently took it off, it was still just a tiny bit wet.  Everything was cooked though, which is always nice, and the rice was pretty good.  There was only the merest hint of the socarrat that, I am told, is the sign of a great paella, but it was really tasty.  For a first attempt, I was proud of how it all turned out.  Sure, there were some things that could’ve been better, but, looking at the rain today, it looks like we won’t be eating another paella till next year.

Clams with ham and sherry

for four

700g clams

3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped

2 shallots, finely chopped

500g serrano ham, diced

a big glass of fino

handful of chopped parsley

In a big pan, one that has a lid, over a medium heat, cook the onion in a little olive oil for around three minutes, before adding the garlic.

After another three minutes, toss in the ham and leave, stirring occasionally, until the onion is cooked.

Turn the heat up, and when the pan is hot, throw in the sherry followed by the clams.

Put the lid on, give the pan a shake, and leave for two to three minutes until the clams open.  Apparently Banging the pan with a wooden spoon makes the clams open quicker to ensure they're not overcooked.  I tried it, and I don't know if it made a difference, apart from some strange looks from my family.

Sprinkle over a big handful of chopped parsley and serve with some bread for dunking.

Paella

for four - six, depending on hunger

300g boned chicken thighs, cubed into about 2cm cubes

one fillet of monkfish, cubed into about 2cm cubes

one squid tube, sliced into rings

200g chorizo, in chunks

eight raw prawns, in their shells (or some shells you might have reserved for such an occasion)

250g paella rice, I used Bomba

one litre chicken stock

a big glass of white wine

four cloves of garlic

one and a half big spanish onions

one green pepper, cubed

pinch of saffron

parsley

two lemons, cut into wedges

Bring the stock to the boil, add prawns and leave them to cook in the stock (or just throw in the shells).  When they're cooked, throw in the saffron and leave to infuse whilst you get on with the chopping.

In a big pan with some olive oil, saute the chicken, until very nearly cooked, then take it out.  Do the same with the monkfish, and then the chorizo.

In the same pan, gently cook the onion and garlic until very soft.  Add the cubed green pepper.

Turn up the heat, and add the rice.  Fry for a minute, stirring to coat with oil, before adding the wine.  After the wine has bubbled down a bit, Take the prawns out of the stock and pour it over.

Leave to cook until there's only a little bit of liquid covering the rice, then bury all of the almost cooked chicken, monkfish, chorizo and the raw squid in the rice.  Then lay the prawns on top. It should take about seven to ten minutes to finish off.  

Take it off the heat when everything looks as you imagine a paella should look, and leave to stand for about five minutes.

Sprinkle over lots of chopped parsley and arrange the lemon wedges around the edge in the manner of a 70s cookbook.  Serve.

The House Guest

There are many things I am not good at.  I cannot ride a bicycle, or drive a car.  I’m not very good at remembering faces, or names, or my keys.  My hearing is awful, as are my eyes.  I’m awful at packing, I’m not very good at planning things, thinking ahead, gardening.  I am in no shape or form funny, I cannot tell a joke. And, of course, I’m not very good at roasting meat. These are things I have mostly accepted, and resolved to try harder to improve on.  There’s one thing that I do find very tricky, and I don’t mean to portray myself as a social outcast, but I’m not very good at talking to people.  In general, I’m a pretty awkward person; this obviously isn’t helped by my bad hearing, poor eyesight, and inability to make someone laugh.  I’d like to be charming and charismatic, but in reality, well, it just doesn’t turn out like that.  I’m always nervous, not often relaxed, and I’m scared of most things.  This is something I do try and work on, but it’s not something that changes easily.

We had a houseguest staying for a few days.  He was a friend of my brother, and after the second night he had been staying with us, I realised I hadn’t had a proper conversation with him.  This wasn’t entirely due to my conversational inabilities.  We were both at work all day, and I’d been out both of the evenings he had been staying.  The only words we’d shared were goodnight, as I wandered into the sitting room where he was sleeping one night, forgetting that he would be in there (did I mention my awful memory?).

So on the third day of his stay, I could think of no reason not to cook dinner for us all, sit down and finally talk.  Because although I’m no socialite, something happens when I’m sat at a table laden with food I have cooked that makes me relaxed.  Perhaps it’s the fact that I’m more worried about a person liking my food than liking me, it takes the pressure off me socially.  Plus, if it’s a dinner party, there are people around who aren’t me.  So I invited one of my friends.

All in all, it was a success, aided in part by the bottles of wine and cider littering the table, but also by the kind of table laden with homely, unpretentious food.  I say that like I could cook a dinner that would seem pretentious. Maybe I could.  But when I’m cooking for someone who I’d like to know better, a simple tart and a vegetable stew is, in my mind, the perfect way to strike up a conversation.

Tomato Tart

For six (it’s good for lunch the next day too)

1kg tomatoes

200g mascarpone

75g Gruyere, grated

100g Parmesan, grated

1 garlic clove, finely chopped

two big handfuls of basil

salt and pepper

500g puff pastry

Preheat the oven to 200°c

Roll out the pastry, place on a floured baking sheet, and put in the fridge until you’re ready to layer it.

In a bowl, mash the mascarpone with the garlic, add the grated cheeses and the basil leaves, and stir until all mixed together.  Season with salt and pepper.

Slice the tomatoes.

Spread the mascarpone mixture onto the pastry leaving a finger space around the edge.

Layer the tomatoes on top, they will overlap, and it might not look beautiful, but you want as many slices as you can possible fit on.

Sprinkle over a bit of salt and pepper.  Some thyme leaves wouldn’t go amiss if you fancied.

Put in the oven for 30 minutes.

Turn the oven down to 150°c and leave the tart for another 35 minutes.

 Summer Vegetable Stew

For four

500g charlotte potatoes, or other small waxy potatoes, halved lengthways

Four or five shallots cut into wedges

3 leeks cut into chunks

5 garlic cloves, finely chopped

2 bulbs of fennel cut into wedges

6 big tomatoes, chopped

700ml vegetable stock

pinch of saffron

3 thyme sprigs

4tsp tomato puree

pinch of cayenne pepper

salt and pepper

lemon juice

grated gruyere (optional)

Sauté the potatoes, leeks and onions with the garlic for about 15 minutes.

Add the stock, the saffron, thyme, cayenne and tomato puree.  Season with salt and pepper, then bring to the boil and simmer until the potatoes are just becoming tender.

Add the fennel and the tomatoes.  Cook for another 10 minutes, until all the vegetables are cooked.

Add the lemon juice and cook for one more minute before serving with some crusty bread.  If you want some grated cheese on top, it is good, but we only had it because there was some left over from the tart.

Chutney

I smashed my phone just over a week ago, and it started something within me that I am finding hard to overcome.  True, when I first sent it away to get fixed, I was nervous about how I was going to cope without it.  I’ve had an iPhone for years now, and I’d begun to be accustomed to the immediate access it gives me to everything I thought I needed.  But by the end of the weekend, I felt an overwhelming sense of freedom.  After a few more days I realised I hadn’t checked my email in over two days and that my blog was neglected. I bought a real newspaper, instead of checking the new online.  I spent my mornings with a cup of coffee and a book, I spent my lunch breaks doing the crossword, and my evenings knitting, with nothing but the radio in the background and a cup of fresh mint tea. I went back to Bristol for a few nights, left my laptop in London, and didn’t miss it one bit.

Which brings me to now, and my current predicament, which is best summed up by the fact that I am going to buy a typewriter tomorrow.

I want to make some bread.  I want to smoke my own bacon, cure some ham, some salmon.  I want to make cheese, yoghurt.  I want to get a couple of dogs and a goat.  Perhaps a cow. I want to climb a mountain and go swimming in the sea.  I want to see some cliffs.  Some real cliffs.  I want to eat fish and chips with my legs dangling off a harbour wall, with one eye peeled for greedy seagulls.

Is this a natural reaction to living in London for a while?  Perhaps I’m just tired.  I’ve been spending a lot of time doing London things, the kind of things I usually try to avoid.  Like Soho on a Friday night.  Or Oxford Street on a Saturday morning, and the central line at five o'clock.  It's enough to make anyone want to run away.

So that's exactly what I did: I ran away to Bristol, and more specifically, my parents’ kitchen.  I picked some tomatoes in the garden.  I walked the dogs in the woods and came so close to a cow I could’ve touched it.  I went to the farmers market in St. Nicks, bought some more wool and knitting needles.  I walked the dogs in the woods again, in the heaviest rainstorm I've seen for a long time.  And then I settled down with the radio playing, and made some chutney.

Making chutney is something I have never done before.  I have trouble with the idea of making something that I cannot eat immediately.  Plus I rarely have enough of anything to make chutney, or jam, or anything traditionally used for preserving those lovely gluts of delicious things. I'm developing a real chip on my shoulder about not having space to grow anything edible, which is only heightened by the fact that as I write this from my flat, I can see my neighbours picking cherries off their tree and debating when the apples will be ready.  Salt in the wound, I tell you.  But anyway, I love chutney.  When there's some in the flat, I eat it on most things, but a jar never lasts more than a couple of days around here.  There are some really good chutneys around, which is another reason why I've never really made any.  Duchy Originals tomato is one of my favourites, but the Toast rhubarb chutney is something very special indeed (from a company called Toast, how could you expect anything less?). I didn't have a recipe to hand, so I raided the fridge, ate a lot of cheese and chutney as research, put some things in a big pan and hoped for the best.  No one's going to eat it until next year, so I can't tell you whether it's nice or not.  But it was so worth making, just for that delicious sense of calm.

Tomato Chutney

makes three big jars or four little ones

750g tomatoes

four onions, chopped

four cloves of garlic, finely chopped

two carrots, finely chopped

two sticks of celery, finely chopped

100g raisins, roughly chopped

300ml of white wine vinegar

300g light brown muscavado sugar

2 teaspoons yellow mustard seeds

Cook the onion, garlic, carrots and celery over a low to medium heat

Add the mustard seeds

Add the chopped tomatoes, raisins, sugar and vinegar

Cook for an hour, maybe more, until it is chutney-ish

Spoon into sterilised jars and leave to cool before storing for a few months.

Cooking for my Folks

These recipes are from a while ago, when it was still somewhat warm and sunny in the Bristol area. They don't seem really relevant looking at the rain outside, but they do make me think of those days, when it was warm.  Remember those?  Hopefully the idea of cooking these and eating them outside, without a cardigan, or umbrella, will jog the memory.

I hadn’t been home to see my parents in far too long, so, knowing they would be out all day, I offered to cook dinner for them.  It was an offer that they took me up on, and I instantly regretted.  I had to walk home, which takes around an hour on a good day, with all my bags.  I’m an awful packer, and usually choose bags for style rather than practicality.  This means they dug into my shoulders, hit my thigh in such a way that when I got home there was a purple bruise the size of a fist and, oddly, the shape of a pigs head, and generally made for a hideously uncomfortable hours walk.  Except now, I had to stop at the greengrocers, butchers, deli and bakers on my way home, to buy the ingredients for the Spanish feast I had in mind.  I had thought to myself how nice it would be to wander round Clifton village, steadily filling up a bag with delicious ingredients.  My train, however, didn’t get in until half four.  So if I had walked home and back, all the shops would have closed, and we’d be eating cheese and biscuits for dinner.

And so, my already overflowing bags were stuffed further with chicken thighs, three different kinds of chorizo, mushrooms, tomatoes, carrots.  By the time I got home I ached all over, and was far too hot.

But the best thing about tapas, is they really don’t take long to cook, and all I really needed to do was some chopping, and there’s nothing I like more than some good chopping to calm me down.  So I started my chicken, put my stew in the simmering oven, prepped all my dishes, and still had some time to run round the woods with the dogs.

The dinner that followed was eaten slowly while we caught up, before we all collapsed, well fed and relaxed, in front of a bad film.

Chorizo and Tomato Salad

For four

five large tomatoes

four spring onions

oilive oil

sherry vinegar

100g fresh chorizo, chopped into chunks.

Fry chorizo in some olive oil, you can add a tsp of smoked paprika to it if you like it a bit spicier.

Leave chorizo to cool in a bowl with the cooking oil.

Slice tomatoes and arrange in a bowl, or individual bowls.

Chop spring onions and scatter over the tomatoes, followed by the chorizo.

Mix the cooking oil with the sherry vinegar until you have a vinagrette you’re happy with. You might want to add more olive oil.

Dress the salad and serve.

Chicken Thighs with Lemon and Parsley

For four

Eight chicken thighs

Juice of three lemons

Four to five cloves of garlic, finely chopped

A big handful of parsley

Salt

Preheat the oven to 180°c

Salt the chicken thighs before browning them in a hot pan.  This is best to do in batches.

Place in an ovenproof dish with the garlic and cook fro 30-40 minutes, till the juice runs clear.

Remove thighs and leave to rest.  Drain most of the oil, reserving two or three tablespoons as as much of the garlic as you can

Over a medium heat, warm the oil, add the lemon juice and parsley, warm for a minute, and spoon over the chicken.

Serve.

Lettuce Salad

For four

Two or three lettuce hearts

4 tablespoons of single cream

1 tablespoon of wholegrain mustard

pecans, roughly chopped

white wine vinegar

olive oil

salt

Marinade the lettuce hearts in the oil and vinegar for up to an hour.

Mix the cream with the mustard.

Pour over the hearts, scatter the pecans, season with salt and serve

Garlic Mushrooms

For four

1kg white mushrooms

three to four garlic cloves, finely chopped

parsley

nine tablespoons olive oil

salt

Preheat the oven to 180°c

Season mushrooms with salt, add garlic and oil

Bake for five minutes

Turn oven up to 220°c and leave for another 5-10 minutes.

Sprinkle with parsley and serve.

Chickpea and Chorizo Stew

For Four

A glass of red or white wine (red is nice in winter, white is good for a warmer day)

400g can of chickpeas, drained

three garlic cloves, finely chopped

one onion, finely chopped

two carrots, chopped

400g chorizo

250g smoked back bacon

five tomatoes

parsley

Preheat the oven to 180°c

Sweat the onion for around five minutes, before adding the garlic and then the carrots.  Give it all a good stir and leave to soften.

Add the bacon and chorizo, followed by the glass of wine.  Leave to bubble for a bit, before adding the chopped tomatoes, and perhaps a glug of water.

Add the chickpeas and put in the oven for forty-five minutes.

This, as with all stews, is better the day after.  You’d think with all the other things we ate, there would be some left over for the next day to test that theory.  But greed is a trait that runs in my family, so we managed to polish this particular feast off very well indeed.

A Perfect Picnic

The picnic I went to on Saturday was, I think, the perfect picnic. Usually, my favourite kind of picnic is the one that starts with a couple of beers in the park on a sunny afternoon.  In my experience the best picnics are the impromptu ones, that start with a few people and a few drinks, and end up with a whole array of hastily put together snacks and invitations given to everyone we know within a three mile radius.  But yesterday’s picnic was different.  It was a birthday picnic, and planning had taken place.  It was a very different affair, but it was perfect.

I arrived late, after a lot of hapless wandering around Battersea Park, but as I approached the assembled party I was lucky to get the full affect of a very pretty picnic.  We were all dressed up, there were floating dresses and some very elegant tailoring.  There was a beautiful rug, a straw mat, tin plates, mugs, there was a collection of champagne-filled jam jars, and a crystal jug full of gin and tonic with pink grapefruit.  The sun was filtering through the trees, we had plates of meat, cheese and olives, a delicious spinach tart, strawberries and chocolate.  The picnic rug was near-overflowing with an array of beautifully presented, and tasting, food.

Word is spreading among my friends that I like to cook, so when asked to bring some food, I was a little nervous. It is hard when people know you like to cook, and yet they’ve never tasted your food.  That first time is always nerve-racking, so I made a dish that has never got a bad review, and, I think, is the perfect picnic salad.  Lentils are a really good picnic dish, anyway you cook them.  They travel well, and they enjoy a little time soaking in the dressing.  My only tip for lentils that have to travel is don't overcook them.  Left with a little bite, when they are finally unveiled, they have a firm texture that is hard to beat.  Plus, when they're served in a big bowl,  all you need is a spoon. 

The tomato dish is an odd one.  Not quite a salad, and leaning towards a dip.  I was going to make a panazella, but, although I do love a really good panazella, there was something about soggy bread at an English picnic that didn’t seem quite right.  So I simply made the base in a big bowl, and served it with a beautiful loaf of sourdough, which we broke into chunks and used to scoop the tomatoes and their juice in to our mouths, and quite often, down our fronts.  It would’ve been nice spooned over some garlic toasts in a bruchetta style affair, but it did taste delicious, and im looking forward to making again the very next picnic I attend.

Lentil and Bacon Salad

for six

a cup of green lentils

one large onion, studded with six to eight cloves

two or three carrots, peeled and cubed

200g smoked bacon, cubed

two sticks of celery

a handful of coriander leaves

a handful of chives, chopped

two shallots

olive oil

balsamic vinegar

Fry half of the bacon until it has crisp edges, and add one of the shallots, peeled and finely chopped.

When the shallots are cooked, transfer the whole lot into a bowl.

Cook the lentils, carrots and the rest of the bacon in boiling water with the clove-studded onion for 15-20 minutes.

Drain and rinse, removing the onion, and place in the bowl with the fried bacon and shallot.

Chop the celery, and add to the lentils.

Finely slice the shallot and add to the bowl.

Scatter the herbs and dress with olive oil, balsamic vinegar and some salt and pepper.

Tomatoes with lots of juice

for six

six big tomatoes

a handful of cherry tomatoes

a big handful of basil

two garlic cloves

white wine vinegar

olive oil

salt

a pinch of sugar

crusty bread to serve

Roughly chop all the tomatoes and put them in a big bowl, trying not to leave too much juice on the chopping board.

Tear off the leaves of the basil and throw them in.

Crush the garlic cloves into the bowl.

Add a sprinkling of sea salt, a drizzle of olive oil and a little white wine vinegar.

I'm not a huge fan of raw garlic, so if it tastes too harsh, a pinch of sugar in the juices should balance it out.

Eat with plenty of bread and lots of napkins.

An Interlude

Before I get posting on my recipes from the weekend, I just wanted to share these photos from the most incredible market stall in Majorca.  Growing up in cities I've always found markets a little...I don't think frightening is the right word, but maybe untrustworthy.  It's just hard for me to forgo the pre-packaged, ready to eat vegetables and meat that I am so familiar with.  I know as someone who is interested in food I should be exploring all the great London markets, but, it's hard.  I think I have trust issues when it comes to food.


Markets in Europe, however, are a different matter altogether. For some reason, when it's warm and busy and noisy, I am more tempted to buy things.  Plus, I feel like more like a continental European, and less like and English person abroad, although when I'm ordering by pointing at thinks with an apologetic grin, I'm sure I look even more English.  The food market in Venice was probably my favorite place in the city,  I could've gone every day I was there.  In fact, I wish I had.


But on a trip to Majorca, I was older and wiser and strode into each market with a more focused agenda: buy what looks delicious and see whether I can get it home.  Usually it was eaten in the car on the way back.  Especially those little flour covered sausages.  I am sure my vegetarian brother looked on in disgust as we ripped them from the bag and demolished them in the manner of, well, I think the only way that can adequately describe us, is by comparing us to the apes in the first part of 2001: Space Odyssey.

I don't know why those kind of lunches are only limited to holiday.  The lunches where you just buy a loaf of soft bread, make a big salad, get some cheese, some cured meats and sit around for hours.  Perhaps it's to do with the amount of time they take, and the crisp white wine that is an essential accompaniment.  If I have one resolution for this summer though, it is to have more of those lunches.  They are so utterly simple, and never fail to be delicious.  Plus, it's a reason for me to hunt down some more good markets. The Brindisa Shop in Borough Market is definitely top of the list at the moment. 

Another thing I feel I've been missing out on this summer, is the barbeque.  I've only got a tiny patio, and I don't have a barbeque, although I am lusting after one of those big fire pits. Anyway, my sister and her fiance were on holiday with us in Majorca, and they lived in Chile for over a year which, in my mind, makes them the king and queen of barbeque.  We had the best barbeque I've ever eaten.  Nothing was burnt, nothing was tough, everything was cooked.  I know that's not a particularly high criteria to judge a barbeque on, but in my experience, that's what makes one good.  This barbeque, however, was spectacular.  Tiny spicy sausages in bread, pork fillets and steak, all slathered in the most delicious pebre, something I'd never heard of before, but I am told is the chilean answer to chimichurri, and really is delicious.  All washed down with beer and rose made for a really great barbeque.

There are thousands of different recipes for pebre out there, and it is one of those things you make to your own taste.  This is the combination we used.  As for amounts, I think it's really up to whoever is making it.

Pebre

a few hot chilies

a handful of coriander

1 onion

olive oil

lemon juice from one lemon

white wine vinegar

two big tomatoes

two cloves of garlic

Chop the tomatoes, chilies, onion and coriander finely and put in a bowl.

Crush the garlic into the bowl

Generously dress with olive oil, white wine vinegar and lemon juice

Eat with barbecued meat.

A Glut

After my little rant about spring, I’m fully embracing summer in London. It’s warm, I’ve got a patio, and I’m getting used to the taste of cheap white wine. I’m not sure whether that’s something I should admit to. Anyway, here are the recipes from the first dinner in my garden in a while.

Of course, even in the sunny weather, I still find something to complain about. Whenever people start talking about a glut of something, I get jealous. It’s an obviously misguided jealousy, as I doubt anyone really wants a glut of anything. But the very word ‘glut’ makes me think of tomatoes. In the summer, everyone seems to be talking about a glut of tomatoes from their garden or allotment. They’re talking, and I’m thinking that I want a glut of tomatoes. I want to go out into the garden and think ‘well, what am I going to do with all these tomatoes?’

I cooked dinner for a good friend of mine who had just returned from a few months in Italy. If anyone should know about a glut of tomatoes, it’s him. He was probably fed up of the things, but my jealousy got the better of me, and I went out and found myself a glut of tomatoes. True, they came from a market, and true, I got overexcited and didn’t manage to use them all, but I can tell you it felt very good indeed.

So we had them in three dishes. I don’t know how often before I’ve made three separate dishes for a dinner for two, but I did, and they were all delicious. And red.

The tart is a variation on a Tarte Provençal. My picky friend doesn’t like olives though, and I thought, since I was forcing so many tomatoes on him, I could probably substitute them for the gooey saltiness of grana padano, but obviously, only as a favour to him. As you may be able to tell from the pictures, my tart is very rustic looking. I didn’t mean it to be. In fact, I was thinking about making it circular, but by that time I was feeling a bit rushed. The second dish was chicken legs cooked with tomatoes, basil and garlic, and we had a tomato-heavy simple salad as an accompaniment. We probably could have done with a simple green salad, but I had a glut of tomatoes to use up.

A (kind of) Tarte Provençal

For four

250g puff pastry

1 courgette, cubed

1 small aubergine, cubed

1 onion, peeled and chopped

8 sundried tomatoes

8 cherry tomatoes (or as many as you can fit on)

40g shaved parmesan or grana padano

a handful of basil leaves

a sprinkling of thyme

Preheat the oven to 180˚c

Saute the courgette, aubergine and onion in a little olive oil for ten to fifteen minutes. You want them to still be firm.

Roll out the pastry into any shape you fancy and prick all over with a fork.

Dress the basil leaves in a touch of olive oil.

Spread the cooked vegetables on the pastry, then season them with a little salt and pepper.

Follow with the cheese, tomatoes, sundried tomatoes and basil. Sprinkle with the thyme and bake for 30mins.

Chicken Legs with Tomatoes, Basil and Garlic

For four

Four chicken legs

10-15 cherry tomatoes

a bulb of garlic, sepertated into cloves, but not peeled

a big handful of basil

a glass of white wine

Preheat the oven to 180˚c

Rub the chicken legs with salt and pepper before squeezing them into a pan. It’s good if they’re snug, but you don’t want to layer them.

Toss the tomatoes, garlic and basil into the pan, followed by a drizzle of olive oil, and the white wine.

Put in the oven for an hour and a half. I covered mine for the first fourty five minutes, took it out to check everything was doing alright, and left it uncovered for the rest of the time to get a crispy skin.

These would be really nice served with some potatoes too, or some haricot beans thrown in the pan to cook in the juices.