I saw this recipe by Stevie Parle in The Telegraph back in July and fell in love with the idea of combining figs, hazelnuts and pomegranate molasses. It’s just beautiful, in case you haven’t tried it. I’ve ramped up the sweet/sharp thing already going on with the pom syrup and figs by adding a little feta and some pomegranate seeds, for fleshy pops of juice. I also did away with the edible flowers because, unsurprisingly, they’re not that easy to find at 7pm on a Wednesday evening.

This took a few minutes to assemble and although it’s not filling enough on its own as a main meal, it is one of the most perfectly delicious ways to begin; a total triumph in the contrasts department.

Figs, Feta and Hazelnuts with Pomegranate Molasses (serves 1) (adapted from Stevie Parle’s recipe for The Telegraph)

3 ripe figs
1/2 a pomegranate
A little feta
Small handful blanched hazelnuts
A few leaves of lambs lettuce
1 scant teaspoon pomegranate molasses
1 tablespoon light olive oil

Mix the pom molasses and oil together in a small bowl. Arrange the lambs lettuce on a plate. Halve the figs and add them also. Break the hazelnuts slightly in a pestle and mortar and scatter over the figs, along with the feta. Hold the pomegranate half over a bowl and bash the skin with a wooden spoon until all the seeds fall out (remove any white bits that fall in). Sprinkle a few seeds over the salad and eat the rest. Spoon over the dressing. Serve.

That’s 3 different types of mango, not 3 individual fruits. I’m into combining different varieties of the same ingredient to maximise flavour, such as 2-garlic soup and this cheese and onion tart which uses 3 types of onion. While browsing around in Peckham the other day I noticed the variety of different mangoes available. I usually stick to Alphonsos when making sorbet but these other types were so cheap I couldn’t resist; basically because they were so ripe they were on the edge of going off. Perfect for making sorbet.

I wondered if the 3 varieties (help in identifying them please; there are thousands out there, I got confused) would combine to make one super-intense mango flavoured sorbet. The answer to this question is a whopping great yes. My boyfriend and I ate half the tub the first time we opened it which only leaves the other half for tonight. I am uncomfortable with the thought of being without the sorbet.

There’s something about mangoes which make them better than other fruit for sorbet-ing; they give a very silky-smooth texture which is more like ice cream than sorbet. Extremely satisfying. It’s relatively healthy too, using only 100g sugar. The rest is pure fruit and lime juice.

I should say that I made this in my shiny new Cuisinart ICE30BCU ice cream maker, which Cuisinart kindly sent me to try out (I’m a total whore when it comes to accepting kitchen kit for review). My old ice cream maker was a Magimix Le Glacier 1.1, which did my head in, not least because it had a tiny yet essential part which I (and loads of other people) lost on a regular basis. The Cuisinart model is large in comparison, but with a welcome sturdyness. It also has only 4 parts, large parts, which are easy to fit together. The bottom bowl still goes in the freezer but when it’s on, the bowl turns, not the paddle. This makes it much less likely to break. It takes no time to churn. In short, I love it. And that’s not just because it was free. If you don’t believe that last bit, you can see what I said about the free breadmaker.

So there.

3 Mango Sorbet

Er, 7 mangoes like the ones above. Sorry I didn’t weigh the flesh. The mangoes in the middle are the ones you would easily find in supermarkets, to give you an idea of size. Quantities won’t matter too much though, just get yourself a variety of mangoes.
3 limes
100g icing sugar

Scoop the flesh from the mangoes into a blender. Add the sugar and lime juice and blend. You could then pass the mixture through a sieve to remove any fibrous bits but I didn’t bother. Tip into an ice cream machine and churn until frozen.

If you don’t have an ice cream maker, tip the mixture into a freezer-proof container and freeze. After a couple of hours, remove from the freezer and blend again. Freeze again. If you have time, repeat the process once more.

The only ‘hard work’ involved in making sloe gin is foraging those sloes. Most recipes also advise you to painstakingly prick each sloe with a pin to allow the juices to leach out in the bottle. Forget this. I recently ran into Sipsmith’s master distiller, Jared Brown who gave me an absolute blinder of a tip – put the sloes in the freezer before bottling. This way, their structure breaks down through the freezing process, eliminating the need to prick.

Now it is really just a case of chucking everything in a bottle.

Sloe gin (makes a 1 litre bottle)

Sloes are the fruit of the blackthorn bush and are best picked after the first frost, when they should be ripe.

500g sloes
Gin (I used Beefeater – not too simple or complex in flavour)
100g-150g caster sugar (I used 100g as I don’t like it too sweet but most recipes use 150g)

Once you’ve foraged your sloes, pick over and wash them thoroughly. You can be diligent and remove all little stalky bits if you like but as you can see I didn’t even bother doing that. Once frozen, sling the sloes into a clean 1 litre bottle. Funnel in the sugar and then cover with gin.

Turn the bottle daily for a week or two, then just turn it (upside down and back again) every week or so. You can drink it after about 2 months but 6 would be better (no-one ever waits that long). When ready to drink, strain the gin through muslin and re-bottle.

A truly ripe peach is a juice bomb. It requires a special, forward-leaning eating position, or else the juice will collide with either your t-shirt, your laptop, or the one important paper on your desk amongst all the other miscellaneous crap. Despite this trickery, a snatched and frenzied slurp-fest can be a real pleasure; un-fussed and fuzzed.

If you find yourself up against a batch that are a bit under-ripe though, this is the recipe for you; they’ll be capable of holding their own in the pan. Grilling also works.

If there’s anything a heap of honeyed peaches is crying out for, it’s a little salty somethin’ somethin’. Two courses of action that will never let you down: pig route, cheese route. Grilled bacon slots in effortlessly like the cool kid at school. A sharp cheese like a feta or goat’s will seem more restrained but delivers similarly satisfying results. S’ up to you.

Pan fried peaches with walnuts and feta

6 slightly under-ripe peaches
Olive oil, for brushing

For the dressing

1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 generous teaspoon honey
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 tablespoon chopped mint
1 teaspoon chilli flakes

Garnish

150g feta cheese
1 large handful of walnuts

Preheat a heavy based frying pan or skillet over a medium heat. Meanwhile, cut the peaches in half and remove the stones. Brush each one generously with olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Place each peach cut side down in the pan and leave until slightly golden. Turn them over carefully and give them a minute or so on the skin side then remove and allow to cool slightly. Once cool enough to handle, cut each half into 4 wedges.

Toast the walnuts by putting them in a dry pan over a fairly low heat and leaving them for a few minutes, moving them around regularly to stop them burning. Remove and set aside.

Make the dressing by mixing all the ingredients together well and seasoning with pepper and just a little salt as the feta is salty. Combine in a bowl with the peaches – gently, to stop them breaking up. Arrange on a plate and garnish with the feta and walnuts. Serve immediately.

I rarely come across fresh anchovies, so when I spotted some in a local fishmonger (Moxon’s in East Dulwich), I greedily snapped up three big handfuls, cheap as chips at £2.something for the lot. Being an anchovy obsessive, the thought of eating them in a new way was almost a bit much for me; I couldn’t get home fast enough. “You can cook them just like whitebait” the fishmonger advised. “Really?” I countered, “their heads look a bit big to eat.” I think we must have had our wires crossed somewhere because every recipe I looked at told me to remove the heads and gut them. In the end, I turned to that fount of all food knowledge, The Larousse Gastronomique and it didn’t let me down, providing  clear instructions on how to clean and fry my most favourite of fishes. We were off.

The obvious accompaniment to the anchovies would be tartare sauce, but I’d picked up a jar of preserved limes recently at one of my best-loved local stores – Khan’s in Peckham. The sign above the shop never fails to make me smile: “walk in and see the variety”. Thing is, Khan really ain’t kidding. If he sells beans then he sells every kind of bean you can think of. Same with oils, halloumi style cheeses and, to my sheer delight, pickles. So many different kinds of pickles. I had to check myself and make a pact to buy only one pickle a month, otherwise things could get very out of hand. As you move towards the back of the store though, aside from meeting with every kind of dried pulse imaginable, things start to get a bit weird. I’ve never been right back there and I’m not sure if I might get swallowed up, into some kind of Peckham Narnia. One day, one day.

Anyway, the limes. They basically taste like the lime pickle you would eat with a curry, but milder and without the heavy spicing, so I decided to use them in place of lemon juice or other acidity in my mayo. I also chucked in a birds-eye chilli from the garden, a good fat clove of garlic and some parsley found lying around looking a bit sorry for itself. A bit of elbow grease and light chopping later, and a fine dipping sauce was created.

The anchovies were beheaded and gutted before being gently wiped clean. The Larousse instructs not to wash the anchovies, as their flesh is very delicate; I found this to be very sound advice. They were then dipped in milk followed by seasoned flour and fried until golden brown. We piled them high on plates, squeezed a generous amount of lemon on top and dunked and dipped into the spicy lime mayo. They didn’t last long. Crispy yet large enough to retain a bit of soft flesh inside, they were like whitebait but ten times better, what with being anchovies and all. We devoured the lot in minutes and I’m actively seeking out my next fix.

I now have a large jar of limes of course which I’ve been steadily working my way through. I’ve had success with a piquant dressing for halloumi mixed with some chilli and mint and I’ve plans for a stuffed mackerel this weekend which will incorporate them also. After all, I need to get through the jar just so I can justify buying my next pickle.

Deep Fried Anchovies

First, prepare your anchovies by cutting off their heads and removing the guts. It is easiest to remove the guts with your fingers. Do not try to do this under the tap as the flesh of the anchovy is very delicate, and will break. Chris also had some success twisting the head off, in which case the guts tend to come out at the same time. Just get in there and give it a go I say. If they need further cleaning, give them a little wipe.

Begin heating some oil for deep frying. Tip some plain flour onto a plate and season generously with salt and pepper (fresh anchovies are not as salty as the canned ones) and also have a bowl of milk to hand. Dip each anchovy first into the milk then roll in the seasoned flour. Deep fry, in small batches and drain on kitchen paper. Pile high and serve with the spicy mayo.

Spicy, Preserved Lime Mayo

Take two egg yolks and a fat garlic clove crushed with a pinch of salt. Mix these together in a bowl. Next take about 250-300ml oil of your choice (I often use light olive oil (it needs to be light) but I sometimes also use groundnut, as it is flavourless) and begin adding this to the yolk mixture, a few drops at a time, whisking each few drops in until they are fully incorporated before adding the next. Then, once the mayonnaise starts to get a bit thicker, start adding the oil a little bit faster, whisking all the time. Keep adding oil to the desired thickness (if you think my mayo looks a bit thin in the above picture then you are right, I ran out of oil).

If the mayonnaise splits, take a fresh egg yolk (in a fresh bowl) and begin adding the split mixture to it, a little at a time, as you did with the oil. This should bring it back.

Stir in some chopped parsley, chilli, 1 finely diced pickled lime and black pepper and add more salt if necessary. You could just use some lime or lemon juice or something like white wine vinegar if you do not have the pickled lime.

Well, not totally – it almost worked. I’ve enjoyed rhubarb sauce with pork and mackerel before and I wanted to see if I could branch out a bit into other meats. The quail seemed a bit of a stretch but I figured if I could spice it up right then it might just be magic – the idea being I would use ground ginger to tie the meat and rhubarb together.

Sadly, the results were disappointing. The whole time I was eating all I could think was, ‘this would be great with pork’, which says it all really. Still, you don’t know if you don’t try, eh? Otherwise life is boring. I picked every last piece of flesh from the crispy, spiced, succulent little quails and ate the rhubarb sauce atop fruit and yoghurt the next day instead. Very nice it was too.

Rhubarb Sauce (for mackerel or pork but if you make it work with quail, do let me know)

400g rhubarb, cut into 1″ lengths
3-4 tbsp caster sugar (start with 2-3 tablespoons then keep tasting and adding as necessary)
Zest and juice of 1 orange
Pinch of ground ginger (optional)

- Whack everything in a pan and let it bubble up to the boil, then reduce the heat and simmer until the rhubarb is falling apart.
- Blitz in a processor if you want a smooth sauce. Season to taste with salt.

I am addicted to eating fruit in savoury dishes at the moment so when Chris brought home some baby bass he had spotted going cheap at the end of the day, I immediately looked for a fruity accompaniment. I had a pineapple patiently waiting to meet its fate and decided to give it a good grilling on the BBQ and then use it in a tropical, chilli spiked salsa.

I rarely cook by any method other than BBQ in the ‘summer’ and so needed a way of protecting the bass on the grill. The huge bunches of banana leaves decorating many of the shops in Peckham Rye seemed just the ticket – a bit more exciting than foil anyway.

When I went down to buy some they were nearly all gone and it dawned on me how these shops work; they receive huge gluts of produce, which can sometimes be sold out the same day and not seen again for weeks. When the fresh callaloo comes in, which is exactly what had happened on banana leaf day, bunches are stacked into towering piles on every corner of every stall, around which throngs of people are jostling, rifling and grabbing for the best bunch. It’s usually all gone in the space of a day.

I snagged my banana leaves unscathed and looked to ingredients for the salsa – finely chopped red onion, chilli, coriander and mint to mix with the grilled pineapple. It’s my favourite fruit to BBQ by a mile – either brushed with chilli-lime syrup or ginger or straight up savoury like this, I just love slapping fat slices on the grill. Juicy, sweet, charred and fragrant.

The banana leaves worked a treat too – the bass steamed perfectly inside, stuffed with lime, slivers of scotch bonnet, ginger and herbs, releasing a poof of fragrant steam when unwrapped. Only thing is, now I have a load of leftover banana leaves – those things are pretty massive and I’ve about eight of them – any ideas for other uses?

BBQ Bass in Banana Leaves with Grilled Pineapple Salsa

2 sea bass or other white fish suitable for stuffing and steaming
2 banana leaves
Skewers or cocktail sticks to seal the leaves (soaked for 20 minutes in cold water)
4 slices lime + extra juice of 1 lime
4 slices ginger
Handful coriander
Handful mint
4 slivers scotch bonnet or other chilli (use more or less depending on the heat of the chilli)
Oil
Salt and pepper

For the salsa

1 pineapple, cut into thick slices
Small handful coriander leaves picked and roughly chopped
Small handful mint leaves finely shredded
1 small red chilli, de-seeded and finely chopped
Juice of 1 lime
1/2 medium red onion, finely chopped
Black pepper

- Light the BBQ. When hot add the pineapple slices until charred in places on both sides.
- Open out a banana leaf and oil the part which will come into contact with the fish. Stuff the belly of the fish with 2 ginger slices, 2 lime slices and half the herbs and chilli. Squeeze a bit of lime juice in and season all over. Wrap the leaf up as best you can to contain the fish and secure with skewers or sticks. Repeat with the second fish and put on the BBQ, lid on. The cooking time will depend on the size of your fish. I cooked mine for about 20 minutes.
- While the fish is cooking, dice the pineapple and mix with the other ingredients.
- Serve fish with salsa and enjoy!

So here’s the final offering from the Go Go Gin Girls (did I mention, purleeeeze vote for us!) and the dish that was actually the starting point for our fruit themed menu. Cherries are smack bang wallop in season and we thought it would be plain criminal not to include them – a woefully under-used fruit in our opinion.

We slightly under-estimated just how labour intensive the stoning of the cherries might be but with plenty of prep time just settled down into a good rhythm, gin and tonics within easy reach. The resulting splattering of juices on aprons was impressive and would have looked mildly disturbing out of context if it were not for the words ‘cookery school’ printed on our aprons.

The cherries are flambéed, then cooked down until gooey and confected. The mixture is then cooled before being dolloped onto filo pastry, folded into samosas and brushed with lots of melted butter – sweet, jammy cherry mixture encased within hot, crisp filo all ready for a good dippy dippy into cooling, apple kissed mascarpone.

Just be careful to let them cool down a bit before eating or you could end up with a pop tart/Maccy D’s apple pie situation, and don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about, we’ve all done it.

Cherry Samosas with Apple Mascarpone

Serves 4

1 box of filo pastry
300gr cherries
A small handful of mint
A pack of unsalted butter
1 tbsp sugar (to taste)
A good glug of brandy (I guestimate at 100mls)
A tub of mascarpone
Half an eating apple
Icing sugar

Pit and halve the cherries, reserving a few for garnish. In a non stick frying pan, melt a knob of butter until foaming, and then add the cherries. Add the tablespoon of sugar and cook on a low heat until the juices are released. Pour over the brandy and carefully bring a lit match towards it – it should catch fire and flambé the mixture. Simmer on a low heat until thickened and syrupy. Taste it and if needed, add more sugar. Take off the heat, throw in the mint, chopped finely, reserving one leaf. Leave the mixture to cool.

To fold the samosa, take out the filo and slice into three lengthways. Melt the pack of butter and pour off the clarified butter, discarding the white bits. Using a pastry brush, brush one lengthways layer of filo with the butter, then lay another on top. Brush again with butter and lay another one on so that it’s 3 sheets thick. Spoon a tablespoon’s worth of the cherry mixture onto the bottom corner of the sheet, then fold the sheet carefully into a triangle, pressing down the seams. Butter the rest of the sheet and carry on folding until you’ve run out of pastry, sealing the seams as you go along. Repeat until you have 8 samosas (2 per person). When you come to baking them, brush both sides with butter (no one said it was a healthy recipe…) and bake in a hot oven, around 200 degrees C, for 10 – 15 minutes or until browned. Meanwhile, grate the apple into a clean tea towel and squeeze a little of the juice out. Mix with the mascarpone.

To serve, dust the samosas with icing sugar and place two on the plate with a quenelle of the mascarpone. Garnish with a mint leaf and a couple of cherries.

For Lizzie’s post about our yumsome samosas go here.

If you’re in a generous mood, Action Against Hunger have teamed up with Nom Nom Nom and are holding a charity raffle; prizes include a meal at Le Gavroche… Click here to donate.

And so on to our main course for Nom Nom Nom – duck with gooseberry sauce, fondant potatoes and rainbow chard. This is where we nearly ran into trouble when shopping for ingredients. Lizzie had spotted some duck breasts in Marylebone farmers market, but at £10 for two, they were going to send us seriously over budget (we needed to make 4 portions of each dish). A mad dash around Waitrose turned up nowt as we just stood there, staring blankly at the space where duck breasts should be…”Sorry” said the sales assistant. I think he thought we might be about to cry. We hot footed it back to the market and decided to buy three for £15 – they were proper beasts and once sliced served 4 easily.

We rendered the fat from the duck and used it to fry our potatoes – be rude not to, really. Mmm, duck fat. We then gave them a good sprinkling of chopped rosemary, slung in some bashed garlic, filled the pan with stock and a generous wadge of butter, then covered and let them simmer away on the hob until silky, buttery and aromatic on the inside – the tops still crispy from the duck fat frying.

To continue our fruity theme we chose a gooseberry sauce to go with the duck. They are bang in season and the tart fruit cuts through the richness of the duck perfectly. So, think rare slices of meat, crispy fat on top, tangy gooseberry sauce (lightly spiced with cloves) on the side, dreamy fondant potatoes and a little bed of rainbow chard, wilted in the fondant potato juices at the last minute. I’m actually in danger of dribbling a little bit just thinking about it. If you are too then please vote for The Go Go Gin Girls HERE!

Duck with Gooseberry Sauce

Serves 1

1 duck breast
100gr gooseberries
4 shallots
A knob of butter
2 medium sized floury potatoes
A glug of white wine
A pinch of ground cloves
Sugar, to taste
Half a bulb of garlic
1 sprig of rosemary
Chicken stock
Some greenery (in our case, Swiss chard but spinach or savoy cabbage also works)

Score the duck breast and salt heavily. Meanwhile, peel the potatoes and cut in half lengthways. Top and tail the gooseberries. Pat the duck breasts dry, and fry them on a low heat, skin side down to slowly render the fat out. This needs about 15 minutes, to really get the fat out and crisp up the skin. When this is done, turn the duck breast and fry on a medium heat for a minute or two to give it some colour. Remove and leave on a baking tray. Preheat the oven to 180 degrees celcius.

Next, fry the potatoes in the rendered duck fat until they are browned. Remove them and place in a frying pan with a lid, with the browned sides facing up. Smash the garlic cloves with the side of a knife, scatter them around the potatoes with the sprig of rosemary, chopped finely. Add the chicken stock until it comes partway up the side of the potatoes, but doesn’t cover the previously fried part. Put the lid on and simmer gently for about 15 – 20 mins, or until the potatoes are tender.

Meanwhile, heat the knob of butter in a pan and add the shallots, sliced. Fry until softened and then add the glug of wine. Simmer until reduced, then add the gooseberries and the cloves. Fry on a low heat until the gooseberries have collapsed, and mash them down with a fork. Add sugar to taste and leave to simmer gently.

Depending on how thick your duck breasts are, we put ours in the oven for 8 – 10 minutes. Remove and leave them to rest for 10 minutes, to coincide with the potatoes being finished. To serve, plate the potatoes on a warmed plate. Strain the stock into a saucepan and add the greens to be cooked in the garlicky rosemary stock until al dente, and then drain and use them as a bed to serve the duck breast, sliced on top. Spoon some of the stock onto the meat, and serve the gooseberry sauce on the side.

Sometimes, somehow, I manage to forget to eat a whole cuisine for months on end. Then a moment of realisation and craving comes on, like today, when I saw the pineapple sat splendidly spiky and proud next to the fruit bowl and thought, I want to eat that with prawns…in a curry…and make it Thai.

I resolved to mission it down to Peckham’s Asian supermarket after work no matter what, although I wasn’t quite prepared for the apocalyptic weather conditions that I would find myself braving. At first, the rain was fairly heavy, but I just pushed on through with soaked trousers, wet and grimy London-flip-flop-feet and the hair do of a drowned rat. And then…whoa! We have the most incredible thunderstorm. It was completely exhilarating. At first. And then, well, I had to seek shelter. The thunder was spectacular, deafening, so loud it sounded like something had struck the ground – it raised screams from ladies in the street (myself included).

I scurried under the nearest shop awning and once I’d shaken myself off and got my bearings I became aware of the sick beats pumping from the shop behind me and turned to see people dancing within. Talk about a feel good moment. This is why I love Peckham – it’s so alive. The longer I live here, the more proud I am to call it my home.

When the rain eased off I dashed for the supermarket and made it, just in time. Little did I know I would be stranded again for the next half an hour, huddling into a pile of durian for shelter and cursing my Iphone camera for not capturing the awesomeness of the plummeting hail. I got soaked to the skin for this curry so I’m pleased to say it was worth it. I used this recipe (link to the curry paste is included), which is perfectly balanced – spicy, salty, sweet and sour with deep and complex flavours. It is perfumed and fragrant and Chris rather eloquently remarked he thought he might ‘drown in his own saliva’. That was a compliment. The rain eased off just long enough for me to nip outside and take these pictures and then we curled up on the sofa, windows thrown open for dramatic effect, slurping at our two big bowls of sunshine.