You’ve probably heard that it is really easy to make good hummus at home and that, once you’ve tried it, you’ll ‘never go back’ to the shop-bought stuff. This is rubbish. I’ve rarely met anyone in real life who hasn’t told me that their experiences of making this classic Middle Eastern chickpea slurry at home were wildly disappointing. Recipes say things like, “for a super simple, healthy supper, just whizz two tins chickpeas with 1 clove garlic, 2 tablespoons tahini, juice of 1 lemon and a glug of olive oil.” It absolutely never comes out right. It’s never smooth enough and the flavours always seem out of kilter.

I’ve been trying to make a decent version myself for years because, once I fail at something in the kitchen, I’m like a dog with a bone; Steingarten-esque in my persistence of perfection. I think I’ve cracked it but let me warn you now, you’ve got to put a little work in to get the results.

I’d been approaching the task in entirely the wrong way, viewing it as a five minute job – whack it all in the blender and hope for the best. Really good hummus though, is actually a labour of love.

It is essential to cook your own chickpeas. Tinned ones pong, their flesh weak and pallid. Soak the dried ones overnight in cold water with bicarbonate of soda then cook the next day; a 10-minute rapid boil and skimming plus an hours simmer should do it. If you think that’s a lot of effort then brace yourself for the next step. The creamiest texture comes from individually popping each chickpea from its papery skin; it is these tough coatings which make the hummus coarse. We’re talking one episode (new format) of Come Dine with Me to skin those suckers.

Another tip is to use the smallest chickpeas you can find. I’ve taken to these brown ones recently; they’re small and nutty, although the end result is never quite as smooth as with white peas. When it comes to blending, I do the tahini and lemon juice first, otherwise the tahini can clump and never distribute properly and then add the chickpeas in batches with a splash of water each time. Again, it all helps to make a smooth paste. The rest is down to personal taste although of course it’s better to add a little at a time rather than try to counteract a dominant flavour later.

Buoyed by my success with the hummus, I decided to have a go at making pitta bread. They only needed an hour to rise and puffed up really well. Unlike the hummus, very easy to get right first time and honestly, so much better than shop-bought. Really.

Hummus

This makes a big batch but let’s face it, if you’re going to faff about skinning chickpeas then you may as well make it worth your while.

325g dried chickpeas (they will double in weight once cooked)
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda
5-6 tablespoons tahini
1/2 teaspoon ground cumin
Juice of 1 lemon and possibly the juice of another (at least half)
2 fat cloves of garlic
1 heaped teaspoon fine salt
Olive oil

Parsley and paprika to garnish (optional). Toasted pine nuts or whole chickpeas are also good on top.

Begin the day before, by soaking your chickpeas in cold water with the bicarbonate of soda and leaving them overnight. The next day, rinse them, cover with cold water (no salt) and bring to a rapid boil and leave for 10 minutes, skimming off the scum that rises to the top. Drain then re-cover with water and simmer for an hour – 90 minutes, until they are soft and squish easily between your fingers.

Once cool, pop each one from its skin. It takes a while but I found plonking myself in front of the telly eased the pain.

Whizz the tahini and juice of 1 lemon together in a blender until well combined, then blend the garlic and salt into the mix before adding the chickpeas, a handful plus a splash of water each time. When all your chickpeas are blended in, add a good glug of olive oil (hold the bottle over the blender for a couple of seconds), turn the blender on and leave it for a few minutes. Adjust the flavours to your taste. I find it always needs more lemon juice.

Garnish with more olive oil, parsley and paprika.

Pitta Bread (makes eight)

I used part wholemeal flour, firstly because I had some hanging around and secondly for a bit more of a robust flavour. I think it works well but you can use entirely strong white bread flour if you prefer.

220g strong white bread flour
150g whole wheat flour
1 heaped teaspoon fine salt
1 tablespoon caster sugar
1 x 7g sachet fast action dried yeast
300ml warm (not hot) water
2 tablespoons olive oil

Add the yeast to the water and leave in a warm place for about 10 minutes until frothy. This means that the yeast is activated.

In a large bowl combine the flours, salt, sugar and oil and then add the yeasty water. If you have an electric mixer with a dough hook then simply set the lot on the lowest speed for 10 minutes, adding more water if necessary, until smooth and elastic. If you don’t have a mixer, combine the mix until it comes together into a ball of dough. Again, add a little more water if necessary to bring it together. Knead on a lightly floured surface for 10 minutes until smooth and elastic.

Rest the dough in a lightly oiled bowl (so that it doesn’t stick) and cover with clingfilm or a damp tea towel and leave in a warm place until doubled in size – mine only took an hour.

After this time, knock the dough back a little by punching it a few times then divide it up into 8 pieces. Roll each into a ball, then recover for another 15-20 minutes. Preheat the oven to 200C and preheat a baking stone or baking tray (turned upside down).

On a lightly floured surface, roll out each dough ball into a pitta shape – each should be about 0.5 cm thick. Bake them on the stone or baking tray for about 5 minutes, or until golden and puffy. They are best eaten warm from the oven and they re-heat well.

I finally got around to making Gastrogeek’s aubergine dhal after months of bleating on about it. The addition of smoky burnt aubergine flesh is simply inspired and the dish lived up to expectations even after the long build up. With a lot left over though, I wanted to try experimenting with stuffed parathas, which would also solve the problem of not having any bread left to scoop everything up with.

Most recipes instructed to make a dough first, then roll each piece out, spoon a blob of cold dhal in the centre and then pinch it around and seal as if making a dumpling. The ball is then pressed down and rolled out, thus incorporating the lentils. I suppose you could call that ‘stuffed’ – the dhal was certainly stuffed inside the dough at one point, but the rolling basically just mushed the whole lot together.

This method does not make things easy when it comes to rolling. Despite liberal flouring, it was hard not to end up in a big, sticky mess as the lentils burst forth from the dough with alarming force, taking no taming whatsoever no matter how gently I rolled and flipped and turned. There had to be an easier way.

It made sense to me to try mixing equal amounts of flour and dhal at the very beginning, so the curry becomes the water that holds the dough together. Since they are not really ‘stuffed’ anyway then what would it matter? I made another batch and it worked well; I added just a drop of water to bring it together completely and the result was a much more workable dough that rolled out to a neater, thinner paratha. I didn’t fold the dough over though, so they weren’t as flaky as a regular paratha. Next time, next time.

I cooked them in a cast iron skillet in a little oil, brushing each with an indecent amount of ghee. We scooped up mouthfuls of leftover rogan josh, pumpkin and coconut curry and one of my favourite chutneys: walnut and mint. The recipe comes from Madhur Jaffrey’s ‘Curry Bible’ and is well worth a try. You just stick walnuts, mint, garlic, chillies and lemon juice in the blender, then mix with seasoned plain yoghurt. The result is rather hot with a tangy kick from the yoghurt and it has that immensely satisfying texture of blended walnuts, just like that of muhammara.

I’m not exactly the world’s most skilful paratha maker, but I did manage to produce some buttery, toasty, curry scooper-uppers, which had a pleasing sour and smoky kick and a bit of texture variation from the lentils. A welcome addition to the leftovers repertoire and one well worth the extra couple of pounds in weight gained due to my inability to control myself around clarified butter.

Dhal ‘Stuffed’ Parathas

This isn’t the most authentic recipe you’re going to come across but it is easy, so do what you will.

Equal amounts of dhal (cold) and chapatti flour. If you can’t find chapatti flour then use a 50/50 mix of wholemeal and white flour.
A pinch of salt
Ghee, for brushing
Oil, for frying (I used groundnut)

Mix the dahl and flour together with your hands and then add a drop of water if needed to bring it together. Knead it on a lightly floured surface until the dough becomes smooth (apart from the lentils, obviously). Then cover and leave to rest for about 10 minutes.

Divide into balls roughly the size of a small lemon and roll out to 10-15cm wide circles. You basically want to get them nice and thin. You can then try folding the parathas like I forgot to do, in half and half again before re-rolling. This should give you some nice flaky layers. I imagine this might be harder with the stuffed ones however, as the lentils make the dough a bit lumpier.

Heat a heavy pan until very hot (I used a cast iron skillet), then fry each in a little oil (about 1tsp) on both sides until brown blistered patches appear. Brush liberally with ghee once cooked and set aside on a warm plate while you finish the batch.

Madhur Jaffrey’s Walnut and Mint Chutney (from The Curry Bible)

60g walnuts
30g mint leaves
1 clove garlic
1 tablespoon lemon juice
4 tablespoons plain yoghurt
4 birds eye chillies (I used 2 larger green ones)
1/2 teaspoon salt

Whizz the walnuts, garlic, mint, chillies, lemon juice, salt and 5 tablespoons water in a blender until you have a smooth paste. Using a fork, whip the yoghurt in a separate bowl until light and fluffy. Mix the paste from the blender into this. Taste and adjust the balance of seasonings as necessary.

Every so often, Chris will put in a dinner request: “I saw a Jamaican oxtail stew on Levi Roots a couple of weeks ago” he tells me, “can you make it tonight?” It sounds like a gentle question but is in fact a firm requisition. I’ve tried resisting once before and the look on his little face pulled so hard on the heart strings that I’m now conditioned to comply. Thankfully he was able to remember a few scant details, so a bit of light Googling and a recipe was formed. I marched off purposefully to pick up 1 kg oxtail pieces from a local butcher who describes his shop as, “Irish and Caribbean” – he is Irish, many of his customers Caribbean; it makes sense I suppose.

I rolled the chunks in seasoned flour then browned them on all sides, in batches (so as not to crowd the pan), and set aside. I then softened some diced onion, carrot and celery before adding back the oxtail plus 3 cloves crushed garlic; 1.5 tablespoons thyme leaves; 2 scotch bonnet chillies; 2 tablespoons allspice; 4 large tomatoes, chopped; 2 bay leaves; 1 teaspoon of sugar; 1 litre of beef stock and a can of Guinness. I let this bubble gently for 3 hours before adding 2 cans of beans (I used kidney and pinto) for another 30-45 minutes.

The rich oxtail flaked into melty mouthfuls while the marrow from the bones and high fat content gave the stew a wonderful gelatinous quality. There were still some bits of meat clinging to bone too, which satisfied the need to pick up and gnaw. The gravy was fragrant with allspice and tingling with scotch bonnet heat. I was happy with the Guinness addition too, which is a nod to the Guinness punch served in some Caribbean places; I’ve still yet to try it but have fallen rather in love with the idea. In this stew, it gives an extra depth with bite.

The stew was devoured in a frenzy of slurping, chewing and murmuring, punctuated by the odd ‘ker-ping!’ as discarded pieces of bone were slung into an empty bowl. I’m pretty sure this means I delivered the goods. It’s going into the repertoire for future tweaking and handily, fits into the frugal category, which is the name of the game in this house right now. In my hunt for bargain ingredients, I’ve been exploring the depths of Peckham Rye to an even greater extent than before and finding all sorts of weird and wonderful treats hiding away. Watch this space.

I am obsessed with anchovies. I know that some people can’t stand the intense salty, fishy flavour but that it precisely the reason I love them so. I can do a whole tin in one sitting spread onto hot buttered toast – often I’ll do a soft boiled egg to dip the salty soldiers into. This is possibly my favourite snack and one which I’m very tempted to bust out at our next Guilty Pleasures Dinner Party.

The dinner is supposed to be a place to share culinary creations you shouldn’t really enjoy but you do and I pondered the eligibility of my egg and soldier offering. I mean, many people already love anchovies, right? Think Rowley Leigh’s parmesan custard with anchovy toasts, think lamb studded with rosemary and anchovies, think Worcestershire Sauce, Gentleman’s Relish, Caesar salad, fish sauce, bagna cauda…I could go on.

And then I realised, anchovies are a very guilty pleasure indeed, because we shouldn’t really be eating them at all. Stocks of the salty suckers are dwindling and I for one am gutted. I’m probably single handedly responsible for tipping the balance into the red. Well, me and Rowley Leigh who quite rightly laments that there is no substitute.

So, I’m trying to cut down (a little bit) – I’m taking things one week at a time. Can’t people just start breeding them or something? Crikey, I’m tempted to set up some sort of operation on my balcony just to keep a personal supply going. I thought I might have made the whole thing worse by using tuna in this dish too but that’s OK as long as it’s not Bigeye, Northern Bluefin, Pacific Bluefin or Southern Bluefin, apparently. Phew.

I’d like to say I’ll be able to stop eating anchovies but I’m not quite sure I can make that promise. I mean, I have an addiction, I can’t just go cold turkey – I’ll need professional help.

Grilled Radicchio, Fennel and Tuna with Spicy Anchovy Dressing (serves 2, generously)

1/2 head radicchio
1 bulb fennel
1 tuna steak
1 tin cannellini beans, drained and rinsed (or soak your own)

For the dressing

1 large red chilli, de-seeded or not (up to you) and chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
1 handful mint leaves, chopped
Juice of 1/2 large lemon plus an extra squeeze to finish
6 anchovy fillets (more or less depending on taste)
Black pepper
Pinch of sugar
Oil (I used rapeseed)

- To make the dressing either whack the garlic, chilli, mint, anchovies, sugar and black pepper in a blender or pound in a pestle and mortar (my preference) until you have a mushy paste. Add the lemon juice and about 4 tablespoons of oil and mix thoroughly to emulsify. Adjust the quantities as necessary. If your dressing is too tart or you feel like it is punching you in the mouth, add another pinch of sugar.
- Remove any tired outer leaves from the radicchio then cut lengthways through the core and then do the same again so that you have four wedges. Cut the fennel lengthways through the core into slices, taking care to remove any tough bits of core but leaving enough so that it stays together in slices.
- Brush the wedges of radicchio and fennel with some of the dressing, reserving a teaspoon for the beans and some for drizzling at the end. Then grill them either on a hot griddle or the BBQ.
- Rub the tuna steak with oil and season. Grill for 1 minute each side then set aside on a warm plate while you assemble the salad.
- Arrange the fennel and radicchio slices on plates. Mix 1 teaspoon of the dressing with the beans and scatter over. Slice the tuna across the grain and arrange on the plate before drizzling over some of the remaining dressing and adding a final squeeze of lemon juice.

I orginally intended to post these spiced pumpkin patties for Halloween but the first time I made them, the ratio of pumpkin to chickpea was off and they were too mushy. I wanted a bit more texture and nutty flavour from the chickpeas and so had to hold off until I made them again. This time I cracked it by upping the chickpea content and leaving some of them whole which gave the burgers a lot more bite.

Since making the switch from canned chickpeas to dried, I literally cannot get enough of them. The difference in flavour and texture is staggering. I always thought the humble chickpea was a bit bland and boring, having absolutely no idea what I was missing out on. And really, it’s not that much hassle. OK, so it is (mainly the cooking time), but I think the rewards are well worth it.

You could use any orange-fleshed squash for this recipe – you can see that I didn’t use a ‘traditional’ pumpkin this time around, basically because I couldn’t find one – and I have no idea whether the squash I used was even grown in this country to be quite honest – I know, I know, my bad. I was desperate, desperate I tell you!

I’ve subtly spiced the burgers with a touch of cumin, coriander and a scant teaspoon of smoked paprika, which is great with the sweet pumpkin flavour. Be careful though, not to overdo it with this spice, it’s very easy to sprinkle too far and end up with a smokyness that completely overwhelms everything. For herbage, I tried using coriander the first time around and then basil and parsley the second, both were delicious. Some onion and garlic and they’re good to go, couldn’t be simpler. Chuck everything in a blender then shape as desired. Healthy, easy (pumpin carving aside, I really need new knives) and so satisfying.

To serve, I topped them with tzatziki (yes, I categorised this post as ‘vegan’ so just skip this or use an alternative) and a quick salsa made from tomatoes, red onion and lime juice. A nice bit of tang and crunch to contrast the soft and sweet burger. One small bit of advice though – despite using a beautifully crafted and truly delicious baguette for the bun, I actually wanted something a bit more wholesome and, ideally, seeded – alas, I could not find anything. I recommend this option if it’s your thing as I think it would complement the burgers much better.

So, there we have it. A Halloween recipe that is 9 days late. Good job these burgers are far too good to eat just once a year anyway.

Pumpkin and Chickpea Burgers
(makes 6 burgers)

500g cooked chickpeas
300g roasted orange fleshed squash (I like it roasted, which you can do while getting the other ingredients ready. Just splash with oil, season with salt and pepper and stick in the oven until tender – mine only took about 20 minutes)
1/2 teaspoon cumin seeds, crushed
1/2 teaspoon coriander seeds, crushed
1/2 teaspoon smoked paprika
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, crushed
A good handful herbs of your choice (basil, parsley and coriander all work well), roughly chopped
Salt and pepper

- Add everything to a blender, apart from 150g of the chickpeas. Blend everything together until well mixed, then stir in the whole chickpeas. Adjust the seasoning then shape into burgers.
- Fry the burgers in a non-stick pan in a small amount of oil until golden on both sides.