“It’s not a salad if you put bread in it” someone once told me. What a load of tosh. Have you ever heard of croutons? Hmmm? Although regular croutons depress me; rock hard squares that shatter to dust once bitten. I like to make bread more of the main event by getting some really good quality sourdough or a similar sturdy loaf, charring it and and tearing it into rough chunks (an idea I fell in love with after making this). It sponges up the dressing, leaving you with half juicy, half crisp pieces which really bulk out a salad in the most obscenely delicious manner.

Last night I wasn’t in the mood for meat, so I roasted some fennel and cherry tomatoes, added some fat kalamata olives and coated everything in an anchovy rich dressing – 10 really large, plump fillets which pumped things up a notch or twenty. Chilli, garlic, parsley, olive oil…you can imagine it all soaking into the bread. Go on, imagine it.

Deep-fried croutons, be gone.

Roast Fennel and Bread Salad with Anchovy Dressing (serves 2)

2 bulbs fennel
10 cherry tomatoes
3 cloves garlic
About 8 kalamata olives
2 slices sourdough bread

For the dressing:

1 red chilli, finely chopped
Small handful parsley, finely chopped
10 plump anchovy fillets, chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
Olive oil

Preheat the oven to 200C.

Remove the tough outer later of the fennel and trim any stalky bits at the top. Cut each bulb into quarters and then cut each quarter in half again. Arrange in a roasting dish and sling in the garlic (unpeeled) too. Drizzle with oil then give everything a good mix around to make sure it’s coated well. Season with salt and pepper and cook for 20 minutes.

Arrange the tomatoes in a separate dish, coat with oil and season as you did with the fennel. Once the fennel has been roasting for 20 minutes, put the tomatoes in the oven too. Cook for a further 15 minutes.

To make the dressing, put the chilli, parsley and anchovies in a pestle and mortar and pound to a paste. Add the lemon juice, a good slug of oil to loosen it and season with black pepper. Give everything a really good mix to emulsify the dressing. Once the vegetables are ready, remove the garlic and squeeze that into the dressing also. Mix well again.

Toast the bread, tear it into chunks and put into a large bowl. Add the fennel and tomatoes followed by the dressing. Give it a really good mix. Arrange on plates with the olives scattered over.

My friend Lizzie and I recently went to check out the new menu at Polpetto and fell head over heels for a blob of salt cod whippy fun called Baccalà Mantecato. The cod had been transformed into a very light, mousse-like paste and we enjoyed trying and failing to guess how it had been made. The revelation was that it had been beaten with oil, in the same way as one would make mayonnaise. “It’s very labour intensive” we were warned but on holiday in Spain with so much salt cod at our fingertips we just couldn’t resist having a go.

We bought pre-prepped fish to skip the soaking/water-changing faff part then pounded it up in a pestle and mortar with garlic and parsley. Oil was added in a steady stream while the other person emulsified furiously then, when we had a good thick mixture, a couple of tablespoons of milk was used to loosen.

It was a lot more rugged than the Polpetto version but the taste was definitely there; smeared on bread it was the perfect sunshine snack.

Baccalà Mantecato 

250gr salt cod, rehydrated. I think this involves a lot of soaking and changing of water over several days – we bought ours already soaked.
A pinch of salt – the salt cod once soaked isn’t super salty
1 fat clove of garlic
A handful of parsley
2 tbsp milk
A squeeze of lemon juice

Oil, for emulsifying (we used vegetable as that’s what we had to hand; groundnut would also work but don’t, whatever you do, use extra virgin olive oil as it will overwhelm the cod)

Simmer the cod in water for 5 minutes, then leave to cool. While warm, break into pieces as small as possible.

In a mortar and pestle, pound the garlic and parsley into a paste. Add the cod and mix vigorously. Roll back your sleeves and get pounding and smooshing as someone else dribbles the oil in, until you get a thick, smooth paste. It needs quite a bit of oil. Add just a squeeze of lemon juice, then loosen with the milk – add on tbsp at a time until it is incorporated – if you feel it’s necessary. Serve with toasted bread.

I’ve been enjoying the luxury of a few days off, taking full advantage of the fact that I can wander up to the fishmonger whenever I damn well feel like it. Yesterday, I craved something light but still a bit special; salmon tartare seemed to fit the bill.

I’ve long been of the opinion that salmon is best eaten raw. It has such a firm, silky texture and a clean flavour. When heat is applied, there is a very fine line between perfectly semi-translucent flakes and minging mush. This recipe is of course a fishy variation on beef tartare. The flavours are pretty much the same; tangy ingredients like capers and gherkins, herbs, onion and Tabasco all go as well with salmon as they do with beef, although you’ll want to skip the standard raw egg yolk. With fish, I think it’s nicer to cut chunks rather than mincing it quite small as you would with meat.

This is a lovely way to eat salmon in the summer when you want something cool and refreshing or can’t bear the thought of heat from a grill. Just make sure to buy your fish from a good fishmonger and let them know you’ll be eating it raw; although the citrus juice will partly cook the fish, you want the freshest piece possible.

I sometimes do an Asian twist on this, swapping lemon for lime juice and using shallot, chilli, coriander, soy and sesame oil. If you try this variation, mackerel works really well in place of salmon.

Salmon Tartare (feeds 1 greedy person)

200g salmon fillet, skinned (make sure to check with the fishmonger that it can be eaten raw)
1/2-1 teaspoon red onion or shallot, very finely chopped
1/2 – 1 teaspoon capers, very finely chopped
1/2 – 1 teaspoon parsley, very finely chopped
1 small gherkin, very finely chopped
A squeeze of lemon juice
A few shakes of Worcestershire sauce
A few shakes of Tabasco
Salt and pepper

Chop the salmon into small chunks. Mix in all the other ingredients then cover and let sit for about 10 minutes. Stir again and serve with toasted rye or other bread. You may want to add more condiments after tasting.

Baby rainbow chard is cropping up at farmers markets now; young and tender enough to use as salad leaves, with a pleasing bitterness which contrasts well with something rich, like oily mackerel. Potatoes beef this salad out, while dill brings a tickle of aniseed. To make this more interesting than a regular salad, the pickled cukes are essential, adding an addictive, tartar-like piquancy.

Perhaps not one to take to work though; the combination of fish, pickles and spring onions sealed together in a box then suddenly, hungrily released could clear an office in minutes.

Smoked Mackerel, Potato and Baby Chard Salad with Pickled Cucumbers (serves 4)

200g smoked mackerel
600g potatoes
100g baby rainbow chard, finely shredded (make sure to shred the stalks more finely than the leaves as they are tougher)
2 tablespoons dill, finely chopped
Juice of 1 lemon
4 tablespoons olive oil
4-6 small pickled cucumbers, finely chopped
4 spring onions, finely sliced

Cut the potatoes into bite size chunks and cook in boiling salted water. Drain and set aside.

Whisk the lemon juice and olive oil together. Season with black pepper and a little salt, whisk again. Remove the skin from the mackerel and break it into large flakes.

Mix the potato, mackerel, chard, dill and spring onions in a large bowl. Add the dressing and mix well. Add the pickled cucumbers and mix again. Serve.

Meat-free January has been well and truly scuppered by the opening of the #MEATEASY. I’m still trying to plug the gaps though, what few of them there are, with fish and vegetables. In the absence of mackerel in the fishmonger on Saturday, I was looking around for something else to souse; the monger advised me to try these pretty rainbow trout – a good price at £7 for three, yielding 6 healthy-sized fillets.

Although by sousing you are effectively cooking the fish by pickling it, I’d heard that different types of fish can carry parasites, which are usually killed by heat. Tales of tapeworms started to freak me out. I called the fishmonger. He told me that with wild trout it would be a concern but as these were farmed and fairly small, they wouldn’t have had a chance to catch any parasites; I didn’t have to worry about breaking my meat-fast too early. If you’re still worried or you’re using wild trout though, freezing the fish first will kill off any unwanted extra protein.

For the sousing liquid: pink peppercorns, coriander seed, lemon zest and spring onion. I used to think pink peppercorns were just wanky show-boating, until I bought a bag and realised that the flavour is really unique; perfumed, almost rosy. Less heat than their black relatives but way more aromatic.

The trout ends up with a delicious sweet and sour flavour, like a posh roll mop and the flesh firms during sousing yet keeps that wonderful silken feel of raw fish. We ate it with a sweet cucumber salad and I’d love to try it with some roasted cherry tomatoes. I can see myself doing a lot of sousing actually, it ticks all the January boxes: healthy (tick!); cheap (tick!); easy (tick!). Win.

Soused rainbow trout

3 small rainbow trout, scaled and filleted (you can use another fish, but make sure to use an oily one)
350ml good quality white wine vinegar
50g sugar
2 bay leaves (fresh if possible; I had to use dried since my tree died in the snow)
1 tablespoon sea salt
1 tablespoon coriander seeds
2 good hefty pinches pink peppercorns
2 spring onions, cut into short lengths
Zest of 1 unwaxed lemon

Put all the marinade ingredients in a pan and bring to the boil. Leave to cool and check for tartness, you may want more sugar in which case add some and heat again.

Wash the fish fillets, pat them dry then arrange them in a shallow dish in one layer. Once the sousing liquid is completely cool, pour it over the fish making sure they are completely submerged. Cover and leave for 24 hours in the fridge.

Oh how I love to stuff a squid. Two favourite fillings are chorizo and rice or minced pork and lime leaves.

Last night I found myself once again with the urge to stuff. I buy bags of frozen baby squid either from my fishmonger or the local Asian supermarket; they’re cheap and they de-frost quickly, making them perfect for a speedy dinner.

Rather than use something soft inside like a grain I wanted to keep a bouncy texture; prawns immediately came to mind. Once minced, they bind together into a wonderful springy filling, like that of a Thai fish-cake. To increase the effect I chopped up the tentacles of the squid and added them to the mix too.

This seafood centre is studded with the extraordinary deep, salted and funky flavour of fermented black beans. I had to stop myself from eating it all pre-stuffing.

The squid would be great eaten straight from the BBQ in warmer months but last night I served them sliced over rice for a more substantial meal. A pile of steamed greens on the side is very welcome too, and adds moisture for the rice.

Baby squid stuffed with prawns and black beans

8-10 baby squid
200g cooked prawns, finely chopped
3 spring onions, finely chopped (white and green parts)
2 cloves garlic, crushed
1 inch piece ginger, peeled and finely chopped
Juice of 1/2 lime
1 tablespoon light soy
1 teaspoon dark soy
1 tablespoon fermented black beans, rinsed and roughly chopped
2 large pinches of hot chilli flakes
A few drops of sesame oil

Rice, steamed greens and extra spring onion, to serve

Remove the tentacles from the squid if still attached and chop them finely. Heat some groundnut or vegetable oil in a wok (a couple of tablespoons) then stir fry the garlic, ginger and black beans for 30 seconds until fragrant. Add the tentacles and stir fry again for 30 seconds. Add the 2 soy sauces and cook for a further 30 – 1 minute. Remove from the wok and set aside in a bowl.

Mix the tentacle mixture from the wok with the chilli flakes, spring onions, prawns and lime juice. Make sure it is very well mixed.

Stuff each squid 3/4 full with the mixture. Secure the end of each with a cocktail stick. Heat a heavy based frying pan, add a little oil and fry the squid for a couple of minutes each side. You’ll need to adjust the cooking time to the size of your squid. Test they are warm in the middle by inserting a skewer into the middle.

Serve sliced over rice with steamed greens. Add a few drops of sesame oil to serve.

I couldn’t decide what to call this. A ‘bake’, perhaps. It’s not a tart because it has no base, nor a pie, because it has no pastry. It’s not a Jansson’s temptation because it has onions and rosemary in it. In the end I just gave up and listed some ingredients.

There are layers of potato, sweet caramelised onions with garlic and rosemary and plump L’Escala anchovies, all melding together with the help of some cream. The top is burnished gold; all curled, crunchy edges and teasing chew. The inside is soft and slightly gooey; a little cream oozing out between the layers as you press with a fork.

We ate slices with a big green salad but it struck me that the dish would be a perfect accompaniment to steak. Literally perfect. As if there isn’t enough calories on the plate already. I lined the dish with butter too, by the way. No messing about. All the richness of potato with salty anchovy, rosemary and garlic – it’s screaming for a bone-in rib-eye.

Obviously you don’t need to use L’Escala anchovies for this, but do try to find the silvery fillets packed in jars, as those brown tinned ones will only disappoint.

Potato, caramelised onion and anchovy bake

You could use any size tin, as it’s just a case of layering. Mine was 22cm.

1 jar good quality anchovies packed in olive oil
6-8 large potatoes sliced as thinly as possible
2 large onions, sliced
2 cloves garlic, crushed
2 sprigs of rosemary, leaves removed and finely chopped
142ml pot single cream
Butter, for greasing the dish
Salt and pepper

Begin by caramelising your onions. Heat the oil from the anchovy jar and add the onions, then sweat them down over a very low heat for about an hour, or until completely soft and caramelised. Add the garlic and rosemary for a few minutes at the end of cooking, stirring often.

Preheat the oven to 180C and grease the dish well with butter.

To layer up the dish, begin with a layer of potatoes, overlapping them slightly. Follow this with a layer of anchovies (about 4 fillets), then a layer of onions. Spoon over a few tablespoons of cream, spreading it around as evenly as you can. Season with black pepper but be careful with salt as the anchovies are salty. If you do end up with those brown tinned fillets, don’t use any salt at all.

Repeat this until the dish is full. Bake for about 30 minutes, or until the top is golden brown and crisp.

A holiday always leaves a cook feeling inspired and a  rich squid stew in a restaurant in L’Escala set my mind racing about making my own version, with added pork. Before that experiment though, it was time to get some practice in the ways of a traditional Catalan stew.

The beginning  is a sofrito – tomato sauce cooked long and slow to develop character and sweetness. I cheated on this and used a jar I had from Brindisa because, well, I had it. In this I simmered some squid pieces until tender. For my white fish, I scored a bargain on some monkfish cheeks at Moxon’s in East Dulwich. I asked for the cheapest firm white fish in the shop and that’s what he produced – big meaty chunks at a fraction of the price of the tail (I got 300g for a few quid). On the shellfish front, I dropped in a giant prawn per person and then clack, clack, clack as I stirred in some fiercely barnacled mussels.

At the end the stew is thickened with a picada – a mixture of breadcrumbs, garlic and toasted ground almonds. Such a magical combination. The garlic remains punchy yet not raw and the ground nuts enrich the broth, the breadcrumbs swell and thicken. A final squeeze of lemon at the table and a torn hunk of bread for scooping and it’s time to slurp, shell and mop. One of the most complex and delicious dishes I’ve eaten in a very long time.

Catalan style fish stew

300g firm white fish (I used monkfish cheeks), cut into bite size chunks
200g mussels, cleaned and de-bearded
1 giant prawn per person
250g squid, slices into rings and tentacles roughly chopped
1 teaspoon sweet paprika
1 large onion, sliced
A handful flatleaf parsley, chopped
1 315g jar of sofrito or you can make your own
1 litre fish or vegetable stock

Lemon wedges, to serve
Bread, to serve

For the picada

1 clove garlic, crushed
1 slice dry white bread, made into crumbs
50g almonds, lightly toasted

Begin by sweating your onion in some groundnut or vegetable oil in a heavy based large pan. Cook it on a low heat for 20 minutes at least until the onions are very soft. Add your jar of sofrito plus the stock, paprika and squid and bring to a gentle simmer. Put a lid on and let cook gently for about an hour.

For the picada, pound all the ingredients together in a pestle and mortar until as smooth as possible.

Stir in a couple of tablespoons of the picada just before you add the remaining fish for the final few minutes of cooking. My prawns were very large so I added those for 2 minutes, plus the white fish and mussels for another 3 minutes. Garnish with the parsley and serve with lemon wedges and crusty bread.

Labneh is strained yoghurt. Now now, do bear with me, it’s delicious. You mix regular, full-fat Greek yoghurt with a scant half-teaspoon of salt then bung it in some muslin and hang it over a bowl overnight. Drip, drip, drip. In the morning all the whey has drained away and what remains is a creamy thick ‘yoghurt-cheese’. It’s magic scooped up with warmed flat breads and sprinkled with za’atar, smeared in a kebab, or rolled into balls, covered with herbs and stored in olive oil.* I’ve taken to eating it plain on walnut toast first thing too; the contrast of hot toast and cool, tangy topping really floats my breakfast boat.

Popular in the Middle East and South Asia, it pops up in mezze, sandwiches, dips and even desserts. It’s basically a flavour whore and will take whatever it can get.

When it comes to comfort snacking, I tend to top it with my salty little friends the anchovies; briny, umami-packed miniatures. First it was the boiled egg with anchovy dippers, then the baked eggs with the same. Now I can’t get enough of them slivered and draped over the labneh, prickled with chilli and sprinkled with whatever herbs are lying around, or perhaps some papery shavings of red onion.

Despite labneh’s surprising richness, I like to reason with myself that it’s fairly healthy; not that the fat content of anything has ever held me back, as I’m sure you’ve come to realise. A drizzle of olive oil is all that’s needed to counter the balance back towards gluttonsville though, so don’t worry about that.

Labneh with chilli and anchovy

500g good quality, full fat Greek yoghurt (I find Total is the best brand)
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
Anchovy fillets, sliced in half lengthways
1 small mild red chilli, finely chopped
A few leaves parsley (or other herbs), finely chopped
Black pepper
Good bread, toasted, to serve

Muslin and string to strain the yoghurt

Mix the yoghurt with the salt then line a bowl with the muslin and dollop the yoghurt in the middle. Gather up the muslin then tie the top with string and hang somewhere (preferably cool, although I’ve never had a problem in my kitchen), over a bowl, overnight. In the morning remove from the muslin, mix in the lemon juice and refrigerate until needed. It will last a few days.

Spread on hot toast and top with the anchovies, chilli and herbs. Some black pepper and a drizzle of olive oil won’t go amiss.

* I’ll dig out a jar and post a piccy and recipe up for you; it’s really beautiful.

Summer food is all about simplicity. Forgotten are the dark, damp days of investing energy in root vegetables; peeling, chopping and roasting. The plop and bubble of a simmering stew is now a faded memory. Epic, steaming bowls of pasta are not needed to provide extra insulation. That’s a lie – I’m still eating those; pasta binges are necessary all year round. It is perfectly possible for a person to go completely insane without them.

Mostly though it’s about flash-grilling, plenty of herbs, zesty salads, crisp white wines and ice cold beers. Sardines are perfect for slapping on the BBQ. Well, not so much slapping as gently lowering in a fish kettle; their flesh bruises easily and their skin will stick to the grill without protection.

My favourite garnish is a classic one – gremolata. It’s a zippy mix of parsley, garlic and lemon zest which I also use to lighten heavier, winter dishes like beef ragu. Here it contrasts well with the oily fish and really, it couldn’t be simpler.

Sardines with Gremolata

Sardines, heads removed, scaled, gutted and cleaned (3 or 4 per person)
Zest of 1 large lemon
1 handful parsley leaves
2 cloves garlic

For the gremolata, just chop everything very finely and mix together.

For the sardines, there are a few options. Either rub them with oil, season and grill on a hot BBQ (ideally using a fish rack to prevent sticking) for a few minutes each side until cooked through and slightly charred on the outside. If you don’t have a fish kettle then it is perfectly possible to cook them on the BBQ but they will probably break and stick a little.

To cook inside: either oil, season and grill, or pan fry. To do the latter, open your fillets out then smear lightly with oil and dip each one into seasoned flour (both sides) before frying in a couple of tablespoons of oil in a hot pan – skin first. They will need a few minutes each side.