This Easter, we’re doing things a little differently by serving up a lamb shoulder studded with anchovies & rosemary. We suggest serving this up with borlotti bean caponata and chargrilled pointed cabbage.
Tapas come in many guises, from simple tortilla to London-centric ‘picture on a plate’ restaurant creations but often in Spain, and also Chez Ben’s, they can just be a ladle of whatever is in the pot at the time. Spain has an abundance of bean stews and Fabada Asturiana is, without question, the best known – almost the paella of the north. It's as simple as they come but totally dependent on the quality of the meat ingredients. It's almost a religion and the packs of, ready to go, belly pork, morcilla and chorizo are available in every food shop (including Ben's Farm Shop). Complete authenticity requires fabes de la granja (large dried runner beans) and a lightly smoked, semi cured morcilla (black pudding), chorizo and thick slices of salted belly pork. In damp Asturia, they smoke all their preserved meats in the chimney. The morcilla is the only one that keeps it’s form when cooked so definitely isn't interchangeable. The real deal beans are expensive and hard to find so most people, including me, substitute fava/butter/judion beans. It's important to stir as gently and little as possible to keep the beans intact.
The end result isn't exactly short of flavour but the extremely inauthentic mojo picon adds a little body to what can be a pretty thin broth. As with all these dishes, a slow cooker is ideal.
First Nation people were baking beans, sweetened with maple syrup, a long time before the Pilgrim Fathers arrived. A rum distilling industry soon developed in New England so the maple syrup was swapped for molasses or black treacle and Boston Baked Beans were born. It’s hard to imagine that tinned baked beans came from anywhere else. They were the first thing I cooked after my mother shipped me off to university with a slow cooker and a copy of Jocasta Innes’s Pauper’s Cookbook and they’ve remained a firm favourite ever since.
For years I thought that anything other than the green Genovese version was sacrilege - until I was introduced to its Sicilian cousin aka Trapanese. Since then, I’ve been swimming with the Trapanesian fishes. The only caveat is that you have to have the right tomatoes. Only the finest and tastiest will do and that definitely doesn’t include cherry - or anything available in the supermarket.
You need that mythical beefsteak tomato some old lady in a french provisioners used to make you a sandwich, one hot afternoon just outside Carcassonne about twenty years ago. As you can tell, it was the highlight of my holiday but I was firmly put in my place a few years later when a friend, who had had a similar experience told me that she had extracted some tomato seeds from said sandwich, smuggled them back to Blighty, germinated and grown them the next year. Now that really must have been a good sandwich.
Anyway, back to the pesto. It’s a simple concoction of peeled and deseeded diced tomatoes (blessed by the lady in black from Carcassonne), blanched almonds, garlic, basil and a little mint. Recipes invariably call for Sicilia or Sardinian pecorino but I reckon it’s best left out of the sauce and grated over the finished dish.
Bright, refreshing, and bursting with citrusy goodness, this fennel and orange salad is a simple yet elegant dish that celebrates seasonal produce. The crisp fennel pairs beautifully with the sweetness of oranges, while the lemon and marmalade dressing adds a zesty twist. Perfect as a light starter or a vibrant side, this salad is a quick and delicious way to elevate your meal.
This Crown Prince and Chard Lasagna is a hearty and satisfying dish that celebrates the natural sweetness of squash and the earthy flavours of chard. Perfect for a cosy dinner, it layers caramelised Crown Prince squash seasoned with warming spices, tender chard, and a rich, creamy white sauce infused with nutmeg and Dijon mustard. Topped with golden parmesan and baked to perfection, this lasagna is a delightful twist on a classic, showcasing the best of seasonal, comforting ingredients. Serve it up for a special family meal or as a delicious vegetarian centrepiece.
My daughter Nell virtually forced this on me when we had lunch at Manteca in Shoreditch (where she works). Vincotta is heavily reduced, pressed, unsieved grape must and is a speciality of Puglia. Rick Stein gave it a shout-out as his secret special ingredient. You don’t see it in South Devon very often but I’d have thought pomegranate molasses would give an equally interesting result. Sprouts have never been my thing – I normally suffer, rather than relish them at Xmas - but I couldn’t stop eating these. They’d work as a small plate or side – but probably not with the trad Christmas dinner - and, if, like me, you’re not big on deep fat frying, work a treat in the Air Fryer.