Now to something altogether more comforting: a pasta al forno that leans into the season. This Kitchen in Rome-inspired recipe works with almost any primavera vegetable, alongside -or instead of the courgette. If using broad beans, make sure to double-pod them, as the skins can turn unpleasantly leathery. Spinach, artichokes and asparagus all work well. As with so many pasta dishes, the key is to keep some of the cooking water to loosen the béchamel. Stuffing pasta can be a long and messy business, so this takes a more straightforward, macaroni cheese–style approach, using Northern Pasta’s spelt radiatori to very good effect.
Maincrop rhubarb is upon us, and there is a rumble beyond the crumble. For year-round supply, bottling or canning is the standard go-to (see here), but there are other options. With its high acidity, rhubarb makes a good, if slightly mushy, chutney. Using our mild, slightly balsamic-like Good Ordinary Cider Vinegar keeps the harsh acidity to a minimum, so you can almost treat it as a vegetable side dish or sauce, as well as the ubiquitous sandwich filling. Salting the vegetables overnight cuts down on cooking time and gives a slightly more textured end result.
Prepping artichokes can look a little intimidating, but it’s actually quite easy. Have a look at this guide to learn the finer points:
https://www.seriouseats.com/how-to-prepare-cut-trim-clean-artichokes-hearts
Unlike many stuffed artichokes (alla Romano, for example), in the Carluccio method they’re cooked the right way up, so they need to be a fairly tight fit in the pan so they don’t fall over. The red artichokes we have in the shop hardly have any choke, and what’s there is perfectly edible, so you don’t need to worry about scooping it out.
This recipe is simplicity itself, but the method and cooking time are the same whatever you decide to stuff them with. Serve, slightly smashed, on bruschetta with a smear of Haverstock White or Graceburn Persian feta or as part of an antipasti or mezze spread. Other options include a soft, sweet blue (Dolcelatte-style), nduja, or simply herby breadcrumbs.
When stuffing, you need to leave a fair bit of bract (the spiky bits), otherwise you won’t have anything to hold the filling. The more you leave, the better so the fresher and more tender the artichokes, the better. Discarded, half-chewed leaves on the plate aren’t a great look.
At Ben’s Farm Shop, we love dishes that celebrate simple, honest ingredients and this vibrant salad does just that. This recipe is a from Brindisa, it’s all about contrast: smooth, creamy hummus paired with crunchy roasted chickpeas and cauliflower, finished with a fresh, colourful chopped salad.
Using quality chickpeas that crisp up beautifully in the oven, this dish is as satisfying as it is wholesome. Perfect for a light lunch or as a generous sharing side, it’s a great example of how a few good ingredients can come together to create something really special.
When chef, Rowley Leigh, suggested serving a frittedda at our, somewhat premature, 'end of covid' celebratory lunch in June, 2021 I thought he was talking a bout an omelette. I missed the lunch because my daughter came back from London with, guess what, covid, so it was a while before I really familiarised myself with Sicilian frittedda. Since then it's become a family staple and I'm particularly partial to extending the primavera theme by adding a few Jersey Royal or Cornish new potatoes. Obviously fresh peas and beans are best but frozen will still give a pretty good result. Just adjust the cooking times accordingly. I also like to add a little preserved lemon. It's not traditional but, with North Africa just across the Strait of Sicily, it doesn't feel too sacrilegious.
Frittedda is a tasty vegetable stew / salad originating in the Sicilian capital, Palermo. Prepared with fresh broad beans, peas, asparagus and artichokes, it’s a ‘primavera’ classic for spring (in Italy) or early summer in the UK and can truly be called “spring on a plate”. The vegetables are slowly sautéed, and gently shaken rather than stirred in order to preserve the textures and flavours of each ingredient – the sweetness of the peas, the pleasant bitterness of the artichokes, and the nutty flavour of broad beans.
These flavours can be rounded with the addition of agrodolce, sauce made with caramelized sugar and vinegar. Our Frittedda will work with the antipasto, as a side dish with the cheese tart of pork, or a vegetarian main course. Back in Palermo, it is often served with panelle – Sicilian chickpea/gram flour fritters.
My artichokes were so young that no choke had formed at the centre; larger ones will have to be quartered and the chokes carefully removed. Fresh peas can be added to the mix, or as a substitute for asparagus.
The agrodolce sauce (one part sugar dissolved in two parts white wine vinegar and reduced by half) can be gently mixed in, warm, at the end. How much you add is a matter of choice. If you're serving frittedda as a side dish, you don't want it too fierce so keep it minimal. If it's as part of an antipasta platter a stronger agrodolce flavour might be in order.
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.
This rhubarb is almost too good for crumble. It shines when gently poached—just fresh fruit juice and sugar will do. The key is not to overcook it: two to three minutes is plenty. Like toasting pine nuts, turn away for a moment and it’s burnt/overdone! Serve with thick yoghurt and our BFS granola for a simple, elegant breakfast.
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.