When I’m walking around Borough Market, I enter this sort of dream-like state. It’s as if I’m floating around, too stunned and excited by what I see to utter even the most basic pleasantries. It was fortunate then, that my most recent visit to Borough was with my oldest and best friend, after our planned visit to the design museum. For that is one of the best things about knowing someone for so long isn’t it? You don’t need to say anything just for the sake of it, you can just get on with enjoying yourself and each others company.

We stopped for paella with chorizo (below) before heading in, which is when I spotted people carrying Borough Market shopping bags. Not plastic bags, but ethical bags* like the ones we are all supposed to be using now, except with Borough Market stamped on the front in bold green. Being the food geek that I am, I had to have one and so we tracked them down, hastily handing over 3 quid each for the pleasure. As I admired my bag I became aware of my friend frantically rummaging and squealing with excitement. Food! There was food inside! A selection of the traders had sacrificed some of their wares by way of advertising and inside we found, organic dry cured bacon, a walnut loaf from DeGustibus, an ‘ultra’ chocolate brownie, a bag of coconut ice from the award winning Burnt Sugar, a Bramley, an orange and finally, a bag of farro.

Now strangely, I’ve never got around to cooking with farro. My first instinct was to use it in an autumnal broth but I wanted something to see Chris and I through the week for lunch and so I came up with this salad instead. I added chickpeas to enhance the nutty flavour of the grain and threw in lots of Mediterranean flavours, along with some radishes for a Turkish twist. Everything then gets a good dousing in a dressing made with Rose Harissa. If you haven’t tried this special harissa, I urge you to do it. Belazu do cute little jars of the stuff. It will set you back about 3 quid, but it’s well worth it. So much more punch than a regular (shop bought) harissa, but then balanced by the delicate perfume of rose petals. The dressing is particularly good if you use the oil that the marinated tomatoes come packed in.

There is something so satisfying about making up a batch of a salad like this; wholegrain goodness mixed with all kinds of delicious morsels – varying textures and flavours with every bite. I must admit I also feel a slight smugness when I pack up those neat little lunchboxes and hand one to Chris with a piece of fruit, flashing my, ‘aren’t I an organised domestic goddess smile’ . In reality, it’s a case of a bit of chopping (very therapeutic), a bit of mixing (couldn’t be easier) and then a lot of chucking everything into the same bowl (an idiot could do it – and it’s healthy!). Minimum effort for maximum reward.

I’ve been writing this post sat on the floor in an empty room, not because I’m masochistic, but because we are moving into a new flat this weekend. All our belongings are in storage and we are kipping in our friends’ living room for the next few days. As a consequence, I don’t expect to have the internet for a few weeks and so no posting for me. I will however, be like a whirling dervish in my new kitchen, so it’s just a case of manically posting here when I return.

Farro Salad with Rose Harissa Dressing

Farro (I used the entire bag you see pictured. The original bag was cooked and eaten too quickly), cooked according to packet instructions. I have used various brands since and found they all take 20 minutes or so.
15 kalamata olives, pitted
10-15 marinated tomatoes packed in oil, roughly chopped (I used Sainsbury’s ‘sunblush’ tomatoes marinated in oregano and garlic).
A handful each of basil, mint and parsley, roughly chopped (this is just what I had in the fridge but basil and mint are fantastic together I think).
1 standard pack of feta, crumbled
6 spring onions, chopped
1 standard tin of chickpeas packed in water, drained.

For the dressing

Rose harissa (I used Belazu)
Olive oil from the marinated tomatoes – about 4 tablespoons. (if you are using regular olive oil, add a crushed clove of garlic to the dressing).
Juice of ½-1 whole lemon.

- Cook the farro according to packet instructions.
- Meanwhile, chop everything, drain the chickpeas and add all the salad ingredients to a serving bowl.
- Make the dressing by stirring 1 ½ tablespoons of the harissa into the oil followed by a good squeeze of lemon juice.
- Allow the farro to cool slightly before mixing it with the other ingredients. It really makes a difference to add the dressing now while the farro is still warm.

* On the subject of bags, I’m so pleased that we are finally waking up to the fact that carrier bags are so unnecessary. I have been trying (not always successfully) to cut down on them for a couple of years now and it’s a relief that I no longer have to say, ‘no thanks, I don’t use them, we throw away 13 billion a year’ at the checkout. On reflection, I must have sounded like a self-righteous idiot but never mind. The advantage now is that shops are beginning to offer their own (ethical) shopping bags more readily. Forget Anya Hindmarch’s, ‘I’m not a plastic bag’, I’m talking about your local grocers, markets and the like. Of course, its symbiotic – you get a free bag and they get free advertising. Although I do try to avoid the supermarket, sometimes (quite often actually) it just isn’t possible and so I’d rather be carrying my groceries home in my trusty SMBS (health foods shop in East Dulwich) shopper than in a supermarket equivalent – aside from being bad for the environment, I don’t want to do them any favours.

The supermarkets are apparently now required to recycle their bags and as a consequence are making them thinner. I found this out first hand a few weeks back when I found myself with no option but to use a Sainsbury’s carrier. As I was leaving the store, I heard an almighty crack and felt a sharp pain in my foot. When I came to my senses I realised the bag had broken and my bottle of cider had smashed on the floor. As I was waiting for a replacement, I chatted to the lady at the customer services desk, ‘happens all the time now’ she said, ‘several times a week – they’re making them thinner’. Now of course, I can’t vouch for the truth of this, but it all seems a bit silly to me. Let’s get rid of them and be done with it. We’ll all get used to it in the end.

When a celeriac crossed my path this week I immediately thought about this bread recipe. Whatever you think about Delia, she has given us some great recipes and this is one of them. Her celeriac and Lancashire cheese bread is so easy to make and so delicious that it just doesn’t make any sense. You mix everything together in a bowl, then fashion it as roughly as you like into a sort of ‘splodge’, bake it for a while and when you open the oven something magical has happened.

We are moving house soon and baking fresh bread seems such a treat when we are so busy. An assembly job is the order of the day and we come up with this uber-ploughman’s. Chris headed off to the local deli where he picked up some Stilton, cooked ham and some Cornish Yarg, which we used in the bread in place of the Lancashire cheese that Delia suggests.

The Yarg is really beautiful to look at with the nettles encasing the rind and the taste is mild and creamy at first with a tanginess at the end. We crumbled the cheese into the bread mixture, nettles and all, and it was perfect. A word of warning though, don’t be tempted to increase the amount of celeriac even a little bit, as this makes the dough too wet and the bread will not cook properly.

We started the day with a double bacon and egg sandwich; a full day of British eating, in honour of our dreams (now shattered!) of rugby world cup victory. We even opened the first jar of fruity chutney that I made a couple of weeks back (recipe here). I made the chutney exactly as described except I needed to simmer mine for an extra hour to get the right consistency. The chutney is quite sweet but nicely so and is really improved after a couple of weeks sitting in the cupboard, becoming much richer and spicier.

We assembled everything on my virgin chopping board (from the Cheltenham Kitchener, possibly my favourite shop in my hometown) along with some oak leaf lettuce dressed in a mustard vinaigrette and some pickles (I like Garner’s).

I have made a batch of pickled onions this year (a present for my Dad) but I’m a little worried about the results as I found I needed twice as much vinegar as the guidelines called for. I’ve never made them before and I had no idea of the commitment involved. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the process (apart from the peeling), I just wasn’t expecting it. Let me warn you now, the smell of onions is very difficult to remove from your hands, even several days later! It is also important to know that the boiling vinegar not only produces an aggressive, soporific odour, it actually removes oxygen from the air and so you need to make sure the kitchen is well ventilated. Don’t get me wrong, you won’t be collapsing on the floor, clutching your throat and coughing, but you do need to open the windows.

In the excitement, we forgot to add the last of the summer tomatoes that have been ripening (very slowly) on the windowsill for the past few weeks. Some steamed or roasted beetroot would also have been perfect. I think the Ploughman’s lunch may actually be one of my favourite all time meals, an English version of an antipasti, meze or even tapas. I also have a slight obsession with food on wooden boards. It just seems more of an event. We actually managed to polish off all the food you see on that board, washing everything down with a glass or two or three of cider.

The best thing about eating seasonally is the renewed excitement for vegetables that might once have been run of the mill. Ok, so some well and truly run their course and you get a bit tired of them by the end (think courgettes and you know where I’m coming from) but remember, next year you will be excited to see them all over again. I actually let out a squeal of excitement when I opened my veg box last week and found an entirely different customer – a butternut squash nestled proudly amongst the goodies inside. This then sparked a frantic scrambling around in the fridge for other ingredients. You might think, ‘if you’re so damn excited about it, why don’t you just roast it with olive oil and seasoning?’ but I wasn’t in the mood. A quick search revealed the end of a block of stilton and some walnuts left over from my tart, which I combined with some thyme and shallots to make a delicious, creamy-sweet and comforting stuffing. Some chopped bacon would make a great addition here – some lardons of salty porkiness to cut through the rich filling.

The tough skins of winter squashes make them perfect for roasting and ideal as a vessel for other ingredients. It also means that they can be stored for long periods of time, so no need to feel guilty when you realise you’ve forgotten about yours for a couple of weeks. I find the variety so exciting – so many different shapes and colours, most of which taste remarkably different and look exotic on the kitchen work top. Chris and I resolved to make a Halloween lantern from the small one in the picture above but we succumbed to its charms and ate it roasted as a late night snack.

Butternut squash stuffed with stilton and walnuts

1 butternut squash
A handful of crumbled stilton
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
3 shallots, finely (ish) chopped
A handful of walnuts, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
Olive oil

-Cut the squash in half lengthways and scoop out the seeds and fibres. Brush with olive oil, season with salt and pepper and sprinkle over the chopped garlic.
-Roast the squash at gas 5 until the flesh is very tender when tested with a knife.
-While the squash is roasting, gently soften the shallots in olive oil until translucent.
-Scoop the flesh from the squash into a bowl and combine with the shallots, walnuts, thyme and 2/3 of the cheese.
-Pile the mixture back into the shells and sprinkle with the remaining cheese before roasting for another 15 minutes or so.

I think it would be lovely to make this recipe and serve it as a side dish by putting the roasted halves in the centre of the table and inviting guests to help themselves to spoonfuls of stuffing.

Mmmmmmmmm. It’s definitely on my last suppers list. When it comes to beef, I like mine rare, very rare and so carpaccio is obviously up there in my favourite ways to eat it. Rare = excellent, medium (and everything in between of course) = fine, but medium- well-done? No, no, no! That poor piece of meat was so full of flavour and juiciness, ready to just melt in your mouth, overwhelmingly succulent and almost buttery and you had to go and cook it?! Still, whatever floats I guess.

Anyway, this time I kept it simple; just olive oil and seasoning on the outside and then straight into a searing hot skillet for 30 seconds each side. I’m always torn with this kind of dish between keeping it ultra pure and simple or introducing the likes of herbs and spices. I know that I will love it both ways but I’m always caught in this agonising decision-hole, pulling myself this way and that until either Chris gets annoyed with me or I stumble across my final choice. I guess I don’t eat carpaccio often enough or I wouldn’t suffer form this purity-of-ingredients angst. The same happens when I buy crab.

To accompany the beef, a simple salad of sliced chicory (such a fresh flavour), dressed with a wholegrain mustard vinaigrette. I used balsamic vinegar in the dressing because I think it just goes so well with the meat. A few remaining rocket leaves and some good bread rounded everything off perfectly; pile it all in – beef followed by the salad, the dressing soaking into the bread and the tenderness of that meat. I didn’t bash the fillet out after slicing as I like it a bit more rustic and chunky. I also think it looks more attractive and obviously, you get more beef which is great in my book. Not one for your vegetarian friends.

Beef Carpaccio with Chicory

Enough beef fillet to feed 2 people (I actually bought enough for 3 and we scoffed the lot)
Salt and pepper
Olive oil

3 heads of chicory
1 clove garlic
Salt and pepper
1 heaped teaspoon wholegrain mustard
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
3 tablespoons olive oil

For the carpaccio

-Brush the fillet well with olive oil and season generously
-In a super hot, heavy bottomed pan, sear the fillet for 30 seconds on each side. Remove the fillet and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
-Slice the fillet thinly and arrange on the plate, teasing it out with your fingers a bit to think it out slightly.

For the chicory

-Slice the chicory thinly and set aside.
-To make the dressing, crush 1 garlic clove to a paste with a generous pinch of sea salt in a pestle and mortar. Add the mustard and a good grind of black pepper and work it in. Now add the vinegar and switch to one of those small whisks if you have one.
- Next, add the vinegar and whisk this in followed by the olive oil. Whisk everything together until nicely emulsified and add to the chicory to taste (I added about a tablespoon).

The carpaccio would also look lovely with the chicory scattered over it if you like that kind of thing.

I couldn’t let British Food Fortnight pass by without making something ever so British in its honour. I’ve had this recipe flying around in my head for some time and it seemed perfect for the job. What could be more fitting than tangy, creamy Stilton; only made in the three counties of Nottinghamshire, Leicestershire and Derbyshire from locally produced milk, with a couple of the conference pears that are in season right now, all combined in a creamy, thyme scented sauce. I encased everything in this foolproof pastry, which was so unbelievably simple that I was intrigued as to whether it would work. Well, it did – although the pastry was rather crumbly when still warm. It firms up beautifully when cool however. I guess it just depends on how you like your pastry really; Chris preferred it crumbly and warm, I liked it cool. I think you also get more nuttiness from it this way and the pears are much more of a prominent flavour. Still, it didn’t matter really because there was plenty to linger over and talk about.

The next day I also made a beetroot chutney to eat with the tart and that really raised the game – they were delicious together, the sharp, spicy chutney was a perfect foil for the richness of the tart. I haven’t quite perfected the recipe yet though, so I’ll post it at a later date. I’m getting beets every week in the veg box at the moment so there’s plenty of time to practice.

I must say, I was very proud of the tart in the end, so comforting and autumnal, it warmed us both inside. It made me think of leaves turning, ruddy cheeks, country walks and farmhouse kitchens. Its sort of like a hug, but in food form, the same kind of feeling you get from a stew, freshly baked bread or a hearty soup. It balloons up in the oven almost like a soufflé and then gradually sinks back down leaving ridges in the golden cheese on top.

I’m warning you now, the wait between removing it from the oven and it being cool enough to unleash from the tin and eat is excruciating -10-15 minutes passed by like an hour but you do have the pleasure of watching it change as it cools and of course fellow bloggers, this is your time for photographs.

If when I make the tart again, I will add a dash of port when I soften the shallots, just to let them absorb that rich boozy flavour which will complement everything in the tart so well and just give it that extra base flavour.

Stilton and Pear Tart with Walnut Pastry

You will need a 23cm/9inch loose bottomed tart tin.

8 oz stilton cheese, crumbled
2 conference pears, skins removed and sliced (1-2 cm thickness)
284ml single cream
2 large eggs
4 shallots, finely chopped
Olive oil
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
Salt and pepper

For the pastry

75g walnuts
150g plain flour
120g butter, chilled and diced
1 teaspoon icing sugar
Salt and pepper

Making the pastry

-Put all the ingredients for the pastry into a food processor and blend until it resembles fine crumbs.
-Tip into the flan dish and press down with the back of a metal spoon until it covers the base and sides of the tin.
-Chill in the fridge for around an hour or so. Remember to cover the tart base with cling film, as you don’t want it to absorb the flavours from the fridge.

-Preheat the oven to gas 4

-Bake the tart for 20-25 minutes until golden brown. If the pastry begins to slip down the sides of the tart tin when cooking, the original recipe advises that you push it back up with a metal spoon. This didn’t happen when I made it however.
-Remove and allow to cool slightly. Turn the heat up to gas 5.

Making the filling

-Soften the shallots in 1 tbsp olive oil until translucent then spread them over the base of the tart.
-Arrange the sliced pears on top of this in a circular pattern.
-Whisk the cream and eggs together, and then mix in the thyme, cheese and lots of salt and pepper.
-Carefully pour the cheese mixture into the tart base (I found I had a little bit left that wouldn’t fit in) and then bake at gas 5 for 30-40 minutes until just set. If you insert a skewer into the centre of the tart, it should come out clean if cooked.-Leave for 10-15 minutes before attempting to remove from the tin. No really, you must.