croissants with scrambled egg and pancetta

Pure Boxing Day indulgence - flaky, moist croissants stuffed with crispy pancetta and baveuse scrambled eggs. Slightly sickly but wonderful.

cheese straws

Something of a Christmas tradition for these, me. I used to pore over Mum's "Cooking for the Freezer" book and most years on Christmas Eve produce a batch of cheese straws. I'm sure the process would take about three hours and there would be that dreadful Dudley Moore Christmas film on in the background.

One year, after preheating the oven I set to sifting, pressing and grating. About 30 mins later I smell burning plastic. Upon opening the oven, I find a turkey stuffed in a plastic bag attempting to defrost and instead getting shrink-wrapped. The bird skin carried a tattoo from that point on, emblazoned with the legend "TESCO". Tasted fine though.

I did the exact same thing next year.

Not this year though, I fizzed up the recipe for 2008. I rubbed butter (lots) and flour together with a smack of mustard, then piled the cheese in: lots of parmesan and cheddar. Rolled out, cut into fingers and sprinkled with yet more cheese, one bake later they were bubbling and oozing pure cheesomity. They lasted about four minutes.

And not a tattoo in sight.

christmas pudini bonbons

The glorious Nigella strikes with these utterly sublime treats. So much fun, and must've constituted at least three gifts!

So easy too: cooked Christmas pudding (Sainsbury's cheapest), mixed with booze and melted chocolate. Add melted white chocolate and top with cut glacé cherries (fiddlesome), and ther eyou have it. Cute!

revenge of ham

The ham was ready. Now for smoking.

I took the idea from various recipes to put it on to the BBQ and cover it over, providing a crude smoker. I was able to use some Apple Wood Chips from Colorado thanks to my good friend Dominic.

I was continually prodding it with my probe thermometer, waiting for the magic 76C to appear. This took about two and a bit hours with my small piece of meat. The window cleaner looked at me very strangely, playing with the BBQ in late December.

This piece was actually too strong, too briny. I tasted a piece and stamped the floor like a Tex Avery cartoon. I soaked it a little but it went too far. However I prepared a second joint the same way and that was very tasty indeed.

The photos make it look more pink than it did in real life - I didn't add saltpetre (nitrite) to the mix, which encourages that rosiness.

sausage casserole

There must be a million of these types of recipes. And this one's pretty straightforward: pork sausages fried quickly until browned, then a splash of Marsala for fun. A tin of tomatoes, cannelini beans and a jar of bacony pasta sauce, and after some bubbling away, that's it.

Ladies and gentlemen, winter has arrived.

(PS. the ham wasn't ready yet - another two days here I think)

stroganoff

A handsome, rich and satisfying meal. I'll admit that's one of the worst photos of food in the world, sorry. Tastes good though, promise.

I start by dusting strips of steak in flour and paprika, then frying quickly and leaving to one side. Then I fry an onion, garlic, thyme and sliced mushrooms until softened. Then a nice bit of flambé with brandy (although I used whisky tonight), some scary flames, and then the meat goes back in to warm, accompanied by some sliced gherkin. Some creme fraiche now, and after a touch of seasoning it's there. Perfect with rice.

I must have made this with eight or nine different recipes, and it tastes the same every single time.

ham

Wow, how exciting is that title?! You're desperate to read on, aren't you.

I wanted to make my own ham. I think all these home preserving techniques are getting lost, and the results you get are so unique and personal compared to vacuum-wrapped plasticky salt logs.

I've started here with pork leg, very inexpensive. I then made an 85% brine solution and added juniper berries, peppercorns, bay leaves and a couple of cloves. But these could be any number of aromatic things. Now I'm leaving the pork submerged in this liquid for a day and a half per pound (that's four and a half days for me). See you on Saturday for the results!

asparagus and potato tart

I made this a while back but just found pictures of it so thought I'd share. I bloody love asparagus, but optimistically I'll leave it til the season to wax then.

This is a Jamie recipe, and deserves heaps of praise for making the most of it's wonderful homely ingredients. It's boiled new pots mashed together with cream, eggs and cheshire cheese (that lovely crumbly one), poured into a filo pastry-lain dish. This is then topped with charred asparagus and baked in the oven til set. Mega-filling and handsome with some salad leaves.

devils on horseback and cheese & pineapple

Summoned to a classy 70s party, I was asked to provide some canapés and I do love a challenge. The host was some mean foodie himself, so I can't just roll up with a tube of Pringles and Iced Gems. My mind starts grinding back to the old clichés: prawn cocktail, melon and ham, glacé cherries... a little browsing and I've got it. Abigail's flashback Devils on Horseback. The idea sounds disgusting, wrapping stodgy prunes in bacon. But I hope with a few touches I can elevate them a bit. I marinate the tinned prunes overnight in whisky, then stone them. In the cavity I spoon mango chutney. Then they're wrapped in bacon.

That can't be it, need something else too. I'm sure there's something I can do with cheese and pineapple but I can't quite place it and I want a replacement for the pineapple. I decide to caramelise the pineapple based on an old Gary Rhodes recipe that I'd looked at often but never done. Taking inspiration from that I fry the pineapple in some port until ruby red, and then a little brown sugar to up the ooze. So that's the pineapple done, what else? And then it's obvious, a different cheese other than cheddar. I pick salty, waxy halloumi as a counterpoint to the sharp and sweet pineapple. Impale with cocktail sticks on to half a melon, and we're away. I'm very pleased with the results. They certainly disappeared quick amongst the flares - congratulations to Jenny for getting the last one.

(I'd love pictures but foolishly they were eaten before I could snap!)

autumnal stirfry

Seasonal is the name of the game here; everything's bursting with readiness. Using my stirfry principles as per Yaki Soba, I add strips of beef, then put to one side. Then I fry carrots and red cabbage until tender, then add beansprouts. Now come fruits: blackberries and a sliced plum. Then the beef goes back in and it's all pulled together with a slosh of honey and balsamic. It's interesting and colourful - very Autumnal.

ham and leek macaroni

A homestyle "Pasta 'n' Sauce": fry some leeks, gammon, add macaroni and then keep covering with chicken stock until tender. Simple and brill. Next time I'd add a slosh of white wine for a sweet kick, but this was great winter stuff.

spanish goulash

I was extremely pleased with this. I knew a cold evening was coming up and that we had guests round, so I wanted something big, hearty and packed with warming flavours. I knew I had to look to tomatoey-based stews to heat the cockles. I also really wanted something paprika-y. Here's what I came up with.

I griddled some thickly-sliced chorizo first, to get those attractive black bar-marks, as well as to get an interesting charred flavour on them. Then in a big-ass Creuset pan I fried a red and white onion, and a fair whack of garlic. Then some diced pork chop went in, and when browned some lovely sweet paprika. It never fails to amaze me how it's flavour permeates the whole dish and resonates for such a long time. Then a tin of tomatoes, and my chorizo chums join the party. To this I add a jar of drained peppers and leave to simmer for about two hours. I served it with sour cream and homebaked bread for a true winter warmer.

roast pork belly

Pork belly, how I love thee so. Economical, tasty, and so absorbent for flavour. In this case it's salt and fennel, roasted with onions and celery until juicy and crisp. Served with roast potatoes and broccoli it's meal for a king.

chilli

Chilli (chilli con carne) is a sentimental dish for me; it's the first thing I properly made. Now it's Liam's favourite, so it's often on the menu. I also love the ways you can serve it: flour tortillas, corn tortillas, or with plain rice. In this case we served it with tacos and fried onions & peppers.

It's very simple, and a great dish for learning a lot of fundamentals that you can then transplant into other dishes. It's also adaptable, you can turn it into bolognese, shepherd's pie and a dozen other meals with a twist on the herbs and spices.

This one is made by frying an onion with garlic, then browning mince. At this point I've two directions to go in, if I'm rushed for time and can't let the dish bubble for a couple of hours I add an Oxo cube for seasoning. Then I add a tin of tomatoes, then powdered chilli and cumin. After half an hour of simmering it needs seasoning and then we're good to go. Personally I don't like it too spicy, more savoury, so often a splash of soy ends up in there for depth of flavour.

Another thing I like about this is the sharing aspect. You're all sat round a table, grabbing a taco shell, spooning in some chilli, dollop of creme fraiche, sprinkle of cheese, hands bumping over the food... great communal stuff. I love it.

broccoli, chicken and pasta bake

Using the chicken in white sauce from Sunday makes this dead easy. Get some pasta on the boil along with some broc, meanwhile heating up some frozen chicken sauce and adding a little cream to loosen it up. When all is ready tumble into the same dish and bake. DONE.

chicken a la king

I've never been quite sure what's kingly about peppers, but it's tasty so that'll do me. Yet again using the ever-bounteous frozen chicken, I warm this up with some ham from the deli. Then I add a drained jar of peppers in oil and end up with a very yummy dish that makes me grin all over.

an interesting gnocchi recipe

The title's ironic, OK? I posted on Facebook that I was "looking for an interesting gnocchi recipe", and that a couple of days later I had "found an interesting gnocchi recipe". Three separate people asked me about - it's easy to forget the reach that Facebook has.

Anywho, it's dead easy. First I fry some spinach with a little sliced garlic until all straggly, then season and add nutmeg before removing to one side to cool. Once it's cooled I squeeze the juice out and chop finely. Meanwhile I've some gnocchi on the boil (note: I made gnocchi myself once - it so wasn't worth the effort, nor the washing up). Then I fry some pancetta in the same pan, and once crispy I throw the boiled gnocchi in the pan to absorb some hammy flavours. Then the spinach is back in to warm through, finally some creme fraiche, s&0, a touch of parmesan (I added too much the first time) and it's done. Creamy and extremely filling.

chicken and ham pies

Not my finest photogrpahy ever. Thankfully it ate a lot better than it snapped.

I fried some pancetta, and added Sunday's frozen chicken. Then some peas in there. Sticking it in an individual pot and topping with frozen puff pastry was the hardest part. Sometimes I just get a craving for a pie, with a crispy brown top, that slightly soggy undercarriage, followed by a warm and gooey filling. This satisfies those cravings and then some.

chicken in white sauce

An exercise in time-economy this one: make a meal base good for three dinners on a lazy Sunday, reap the rewards x3 during the pressured week.

I diced 6 chicken breasts and fried in batches till coloured and then left to one side. Meanwhile I fried an onion and deglazed with white wine. Once done I started getting my roux on; butter and flour coming together to make a paste, before adding chicken stock to make an unctuous gloop of savouriness. Then a little cream to thin it out, and we're done.

It doesn't sound like much written like that, but the process takes the best part of an hour. Now three potential meals are within arms reach. I divide this mixture into three and freeze once cooled in freezer bags, one of my favourite ever inventions.

hot pot

Not mucking about now - this is proper winter food.

It's very simple and fills like few other dishes. I use lamb neck fillet, which I've espoused the glory of before. It's diced and layered here with onion rings, sliced potatoes (sod peeling), and diced carrot. Each layer is seasoned and dashed with chopped rosemary. Finally lamb stock is poured over and allowed to mingle between the bits. Then I leave it in the oven for about three hours,  so everything gets a chance to soften and develop.

It comes out of the oven as pure wholesome warming comfort food. As a total flavour contrast I pair it with pickled cabbage out of jar, which gives you a real mouth-puckering tang against the savoury meatiness.

turkey, broccoli & stilton pie

I bloody love filo pastry. Crispy, buttery and melt-in-the-mouth, can't get enough of it. I've pressed it into service here (ready-rolled stuff -blow making it from scratch!) atop an unctuous savoury pie.

The filling is dead easy. Turkey is fried to browning, then a few chopped broccoli florets are added. After a few minutes a can of Baxter's Ham, Broccoli & Stilton soup is added, and once warm put into a dish and topped with pastry. Lovely.

potato salad with sausage

Those Matheson's sausages in a vacuum bag - great aren't they? Of dubious provenance but undoubted flavour. Great in a sandwich with mustard, yum.

Or here, where they are pressed into service into a potato salad to convert it into a main meal. There's boiled new potatoes in there (really!), cooked green beans, fried onions and sausage, tumbled with a mix of creme fraiche and wholegrain mustard, slacked down with a little milk. Dead easy and so enjoyable.

chicken schnitzel with sauerkraut

Crunchy chicken... the Colonel is on to something there. Chicken breasts, battered thin, washed in milk are then rolled in leftover breadcrumbs that have been whizzed up with S&P and a little paprika. These are then fried until irresistibly brown.

On the side is a little sauerkraut, which is red cabbage cooked down for a long time with an apple and some seasoning.

Very simple - very teutonic - very tasty.

gordon's pasta

Crappy name, sorry about that. But we've never settled on a better name for this heavenly and wholesome dish, that not only celebrates the ingredients in it, but is an absolute triumph of speed and economy. I found it via Gordon Ramsay, hence the name.

Five ingredients - that's all you need - pancetta, leeks, chestnut mushrooms, creme fraiche, conchiglie or shell pasta (I've tried all shapes and shells are the best).

Get some pasta going in boiling water. Two tips here: make sure the water is at "the rolling boil" and going great guns. Secondly, always salt the water. How much? The best advice I heard was "twice as much as you think you need" which never fails me. The pancetta starts off in a medium-heat big saucepan, and once slightly crispy, leeks go in. When tender, mushrooms, then a couple of minutes later a small tub of creme fraiche is added while the heat goes down. Season up now and have a taste. As there's not a lot of cooking going on it's going to need good seasoning to bring the flavours out. By now the pasta should be done (al dente please) so drain that and add a splash of cooking water and the shells to the mix and toss together.

That's it. Honestly. For perfection I add a dash of chopped parsley, but it's such a celebration of each of its parts it's really difficult to get wrong. Salty pancetta, tangy leeks, meaty mushrooms and a tart creamy finish, all cupped in a little pasta shell. Brilliant.

burger

I had the most sublime fast-food experience in New York: it was a burger.

As a devotee of Heston Blumenthal, I owed to myself to check out a bizarre little place where he had the best burger in the world. Nestled in an upmarket hotel was a greasy little burger shack without a name.

I entered the hotel and immediately felt out of place: opulence, grandeur and marvel. Marble floors, leather chaises longues, martinis served on platters by penguin waiters. But I knew the burger was here - I could smell it!

I darted through the lobby following my nose. Then to one side, between two innocent curtains, I glimpsed a neon outline of a burger. Down this corridor was a boxy little greasehouse, wood-panelled walls, red PVC banquettes, and loud rock music. What struck me was the chaos. Cardboard, hand-written signs were plastered around the serving area-cum-grill, urging that you get your order ready or face queuing up a second time.

I ordered two burgers with "the works" (lettuce, tomato, onion, sliced pickles, mustard, ketchup, mayo) and gave my name, while we were offered a cosy booth amid the heaving crowd. What struck me were the different people: suits, designer wear, builders, tourists... all here to grab a burger, and god knows how they'd found the place. The walls were also covered in scribbles, with notables such as Chuck Liddell, Joss Stone and Hiro from Heroes.

A minute later my name is barked (all burgers are cooked to order and to desired doneness) so I push through and grab my waxpaper-wrapped treats. I can't wait to sit down and try it, so after some feverish unwrapping I take my first bite. It's the texture that gets me, all loose and moist. But the flavours are then running through my mouth; savoury and salty. For what has become the ultimate symbol in garbage food, this was high dining indeed.

cheesecake

I had a truly awful meal at the legendary Lindy's, opposite Madison Square Garden. Overpriced, pathetic and overwrought.

I had an open turkey sandwich, which consisted of two stale slices of white bread, piled with sandwich turkey, covered in packet gravy. Served with instant mash. Gross.

And their "world famous cheesecake" - which I went for - was distinctly average and grainy. I have many better ones, I've had better ones in the same month. Very disappointing.

Also - NYC restaurants close at 10.30pm as a rule - wassupwitdat?

bbq brisket

At the Dallas BBQ, I was given the most enormous platter of BBQ brisket beef. No way could I finish the lot. And as if the coleslaw on the side offset the enormous meat intake!

pork chop with fennel slaw and sweet potato fries

From The Crooked Knife - juicy, aniseedy and sweet.

chocolate-covered pretzels

Holsten's, the diner where they filmed the last scene of The Sopranos. As part of a tour we stopped there for complimentary onion rings and sampled some of their home-made chocolates. My favourites were chocolate-covered pretzels, which seemed to get outlawed in the UK ten years ago. Petition for their return!

eggs, sausage, grits and potatoes

Eisenberg's, opposite the flatiron building. A famous sandwich joint from 1929, at which we grabbed the above breakfast. It wasn't the food that made it, more the 60+ yr old guy behind the counter gabbing on about his sick mother, his rich aunt, and being invited to Amish reservations. Hilarious and memorable.

t-bone steak

Mickey Mantle's - best steak in the world.

yaki soba

Now here's one of my absolute favourites. I'd played with stir fries for years, and only kind-of enjoyed the results. It never felt particularly special though, just muddy and bland. "Use the holy trinity" Ken Hom would intone. "Rice wine vinegar," he'd bark. And that was that. Identikit meat + noodle + veg + jar of Amoy sauce stir-fry, and another dull meal. I knew there was something eluding me.

One lunchtime, urged by my good friend José, I finally tried Wagamama, the Japanese-inspired 'fast-food' chain. I pored over an expansive glossy menu printed in elegant Nihon vocab. I'd dimly recalled Yaki Soba being good - can't remember where from - so ordered it and loved it. Every morsel. And then one opened quite near to me that same month.

I loved it so much, I sought out its' recipe book, which is more or less the version I present here. I've tweaked it to my taste, but the rules for this and its' accompanying stir fry recipes were at once, blindingly simple and obvious:

1. Get the pan as hot as can be - it's the searing quality that keeps the freshness.
2. Cut all ingredients to roughly the same size - they'll cook in the same time.
3. Keep everything moving all the time - don't let the ingredients settle long enough to burn.

Armed with this ruleset it makes stir fries foolproof. On to yaki soba!

On of my deviations from the norm is to use chicken legs roasted with a little oil and seasoning in a hot oven for about 45 mins. This gives a richer, more interesting flavour than dull ol' breast. Once out of the oven I shred it with forks, ready to be mixed with yakitori dipping sauce.

Speaking of which, this is time to get on with the sauce: 250 ml light soy sauce, 3 tablespoons of dark soy sauce, boil up gently with a teaspoon of sugar and pinch of salt, til it gets all bubbly and thick. Once that's the case, pour this over beansprouts and spring onions (the recipe also calls for prawns here, which are a nice option). You also need noodles in this mix, and being a lazy so and so I like to use the pre-cooked ones which are good to go. If I can get them then I'll use soba (wholewheat) noodles, hence the name, else I'll use udon or whatever I can lay my hands on. Toss this all together and leave to sit a while. Once my chicken's cooked that's going in there too. During this marinating time I like to slice an onion into half-moons and a red and/or green pepper. Now it's cooking time.

The onions go into a devlishly-hot pan with a little oil, and after a minute or two to take the harsh edge off the onions, the peppers go in for the same treatment. Don't forget to keep it on the move. Once they start to tenderise then the yakitori-soaked mixture is chucked in. Once you feel the noodles and beansprouts start to give a little, you're practically there. Now add two beaten eggs, which will collect up all the loose juice and meld with it to form a silky, delicious coating. Keep it on the move as always, it's not supposed to be egg-fried rice.

Dole out into bowls, top with sesame seeds, pickled ginger and fried onion bits and devour with joy in your heart. It's just brilliant.

cheesecake

King of teatime desserts, the New York style cheesecake. I'm not a great sponge-baker so this kind of non-flour dessert works great for me.

One thing I really recommend is a springform cake tin - one with a clasp on the side. It makes getting it out dead easy.

Easy first stage - mix melted butter and broken biscuits (digestives for me) to make a base, and line the greased tin with with this mix. I leave this in the fridge to firm up while I make the batter - which is pretty straightforward. Just mix together caster sugar, cream cheese, lemon zest, two eggs, two more egg yolks, vanilla extract and double cream. Pour this on the biscuits and whack it in a 160C oven in a bain marie. About thirty minutes later it'll be firm round the edge and wobbly in the middle, after cooling and a couple more hours setting in the fridge you'll have yourself a firm, creamy, sweet, lemony dessert to die for.

Now someone make me a coffee to have with it...

sausages and tomatoes

Sorry about the rubbish name for it, but that's almost all it is! It's a Jamie Oliver recipe that's a marvel for taking on the leftovers and gluts from the garden. My tomato plants have been kind to me this year; now I have the remainders to use up and this is just the thing.

Any tomatoes to hand get chucked in a nice deep roasting tray in a hot oven with a splash of oil, a nice sprig of rosemary (thank you window box), and a healthy swig of cheap balsamic vinegar - about half a bottle. It stays in the oven, filling the house with the slightly accrid whiff of boiling vinegar. It's worth it though, as the flavour mellows, sweetens and starts to break the tomatoes down. After about half an hour the skins will blister and burst, and you can remove them. It's a bit fiddly, and I find using some tongs can help to yank them off.

Once the skins are off sausages can go in. Any that you like will do the job. After another 20 mins the sausages should've browned, so give 'em a turn. When they're browned, we're good to go. Try the broth - you might want to add some seasoning or even a pinch of sugar.

Dish it up, and serve with some bread to mop up all the juice. One day I mean to make this, but then sieve and reheat the sauce to serve with perhaps some lamb leg steaks.

bread

Is there anything more honest, rewarding and fulfilling as baking your own bread?

It almost seems like alchemy - magic even - to go through the whole process. And it's so sad that we don't either subscribe to the French model (new bread every day) or that making your own seems like such an unusual prospect. It's so not difficult, and at least a million times better than anything you'll ever buy.

A kilo of flour mixed with 14g of yeast (two of those handy little sachets), 20g of salt (for flavour), a pinch of sugar (food for the yeast), and 600ml of tepid water (party bath for yeastlings) gets you started. I often have to add water or flour to get the right consistency. Once it's all sticky and malleable it gets a thorough kneading on a floured surface to encourage gluten formation. Then it's left in a bowl in a nice warm place for an hour to let the yeast get it's party started.

After about an hour it should have doubled in size. Now it needs pushing the air out and forming into the desired shape. Roll-size, tin loaf, squat thing.. whatever you want. Leave this again for another hour to settle down, dust with flour if you like, then put in a preheated 250C oven. Once it's in there it can calm down to about 200C.

Every loaf cooks the way it wants to, and a time can never be prescribed. The best advice I ever heard was from Nigel Slater: lift the bread and tap the underside - it will sound like a hollow drum when ready. In the meantime, it will fill the house with that clichéd "house-buyers love it" smell. You'll be desperate to gnaw chunks off it straight from the oven, but I promise you, half an hour's rest will make it sublime. And you'll feel like a King for making it. Just great.

pea, bacon and mushroom pasta

Here's a mouthful. A little of everything in one bowl, quick and tasty.

I got some spaghetti on to boil whilst the pan business goes on. A quick frying of some bacon in a pan, and then some frozen peas and sliced chestnut mushrooms. Whilst that fries up I took a trip to the windowbox to collect some woody, aromatic thyme. I think it's my favourite herb, so robust and penetrating, leaving a comforting note. I chuck a few leaves in with everything else.

Pasta's about done now, so I drain that and chuck it in the pan with some creme fraiche and lemon juice. A quick season, a sloosh around for a couple of minutes, and in a bowl it goes. Instant and tasty.

moussaka

This moussaka posited an excellent time-saver: red pesto as the main gravy indredient. You can't hold back with moussaka; as a permutation of lasagne as all nations are wont to have, bold flavours work best here. This version oozed lambiness, retaining a lot of that savoury juice that characterizes rich lamb dishes.

The red pesto saved a lot of bother by forming the basis of the sauce, both gutsy and part tomatoey. Persuaded to try again I'd some tomato puree to oomph up that side. In a semi-traditional nod this recipe had a custardy topping, one which I've never been oversold on. And this is no exception. A clagginess underscores any flavour advantage you might gain. I'd rather head back to roux territory for the ultimate aubergine topping. And what a star aubergine is here. Meaty, moist and exuding a mediterranean flavour, and somehow always so filling.

Served with leftover courgettes from yesterday, this was a very satisfying meal.

lamb with cous cous and courgette

Inspired by a recipe in last month's delicious magazine, this faintly Moroccan dish seemed too tempting to pass up. I love an excuse to eat lamb, which can often take too long to cook, so when I find a snappy lamb dish difficult to ignore.

I got some lovely lamb neck fillet, all chunky and packed with lambiness. This was smeared in a yoghurt-spice mixture and left alone for a while. The spice was supposed to be a Moroccan-style infusion but due to a kitchen mix-up got blended with my garam masala (gary masala...) which I'll get to the recipe for one day but rest assured it's fairly standard Indian-y blend of cumin, cinnamon, chilli, pepper, fenugreek...

The nice and sloppy marinated lamb was griddled to brownness and then left in the oven for ten minutes whilst the other stuff went on.

The cous cous was steeped in boiling chicken stock, lemon zest and butter and left covered to absorb the flavours. Meanwhile, I griddled razor-thin sliced courgettes a coupla minutes a side to get those attractive dark lines. Five minutes later, I'm adding lemon juice, chopped coriander and the browned courgettes. Tumble it onto plates, dot with lamb and serve with lemon wedges. Not difficult at all, but filling, tasty and very nearly healthy.

lasagne alla cacciatore

I'm a big fan of home-made lasagne dishes; as many variations as there are families this side of the Alps. Alternately cheesy, beefy, saucy, chewy... it's such a warming, filling dish full of flavour that unashamedly reeks of comfort, how could you not love it? I have my own version (of course) that I love to trot out, but my head was turned by this version apparently printed in The Times. I got it from Ocado's recipe book given with their deliveries. It's a touch lengthy, requiring a true béchamel and a gutsy tomato sauce but as it's a Sunday I'll let it go. None of it is real grind, more a case of letting things simmer.

The dish means "Lasagne in the hunter's style", I'm not quite sure where that part comes from. I've had cacciatore-style dishes before, which usually means a rich tomatoey base. Lasagne in the classic sense (and when I say classic I mean that in the English way that most of us recognise) is mostly this anyway, so hey-ho. The thing that I understand grates Italians most is the mountain of meat smothering the pasta, which after all is what the dish is named for. So I've made a deliberate attempt here to layer the golden sheets inbetween thin peeks of ruddy ragu and let it sing through. I use Waitrose's fresh lasagne sheets (snob alert!) which have a wonderful chewiness and a light crispy texture when cooked unadorned. They are a wondeful fridge standby too: need papardelle / tagliatelle / faux linguini instead? Just slice as required.

Out of the oven it behaves as it should: patchy brown, angrily bubbling sauce. It was the high point however, it looked much better than it tasted. I felt here the braising steak was not given long enough to develop a tender consistency, despite me giving it longer than prescribed. Additionally the meat hasn't had long enough to meld with the tomato sauce - the flavours are entirely separate in the mouth, and not in a fulfilling way. Beef mince would have sufficed perfectly. Done again I would brown the meat first, then let stew with the tomatoes for a lot longer - maybe two hours or so. I pushed it a little further in the simmering stage also as there was a heckuva lotta juice in there. Also adding parmesan to this béchamel is overdoing it, and becomes lost among the savoury notes.

On the positive, having chunks of meat is texturally pleasing and gives an interesting mouth-feel. The sage topping is inspired, leaving behind a camphorous perfume that sits atop the cheesiness in a pleasant way. That's one I'll be using elsewhere - I adore sage, particularly with oils and dairy, but struggle to find times when it's appropriate.

In all, an interesting take on a 'traditional' lasagne al forno, but ultimately overwrought and trying too hard. I'll do my usual at some point, and we'll see how that measures up for time, effort, and taste.

PS. This does give me a chance to proffer one of my favourite lasagne-style meal tips: when taking a dish like this out of the oven, leave it to one side for five minutes or more; the cheeses and sauces will set and meld and make a topping much easier to cut through. This leaves a much tidier and cool-looking wodge of food on the plate.