Flat White, 17 Berwick Street, Soho

Check out the rosetta - the fern-like pattern- on this flat white! I'd been meaning to go the Flat White in Soho for ages, and it didn't disappoint.

Chicken fatigue

I have been experiencing the cook’s equavilent of writer’s block. I have been cooking, but more out of necessity than desire, and while most of the stuff I've made has been OK, nothing really excited me. Most evenings in the past week I made mish-mash sort of curries using whatever vegetables were in the fridge and a jar of Madras paste and taking the leftovers to work for lunch, or made things using from bits of a chicken.

Last weekend I bought a whole small chicken to joint and use throughout the week. This was something I’d been meaning to do for ages since I knew it was far cheaper than buying pre-jointed pieces. Even though I don’t actually buy chicken very often I thought it would make a nice change, and when my housemate came back from Asda announcing that a whole chicken was only about 3p more expensive than a pair of breasts, I decided to give it a go. (Incidently a very small free-range, corn-fed bird was only about £4.)

I jointed the chicken, which I had tried a few times in the pat and made a mess of, but it was easier than I expected. The key is pulling the leg as far away from the body as possible, until it ‘pops’ slightly and then putting the knife through the joint. Wriggle around until you feel a slight dent - you should not be putting through very much bone, and shouldn’t need to press very hard.

On Saturday, the drumsticks and thighs went into a casserole with onions, bacon, white wine, cream, and lots of parsley added at then end. I was hoping the green freshness would somehow ‘cancel out’ all the cream and alcohol.

The leftover bones, and the carcass with the breasts still attached went into a pot with a broken up celery stick, a halved, unpeeled onion (the skin adds colour to the stock - in the Second World War women used onion skins to make a dye for their legs because they didn’t have stockings). I was surprised how long the breasts took to cook when they were attached to the bone, about 40 minutes. These were cut off and put away to be used at a later date: the carcass went back in to the pot for another hour or two.

The stock and some leftover rice made a vaguely south-east Asian soup which was probably the highlight of the week. I threw a small piece of star anise, a dried chilli and a big lump of ginger into the simmering stock to infuse while I chopped up some of the leftover breast meat, finely sliced a leek and chopped a handful of (admittedly quite old and droopy) cabbage. This all went into the stock with some cooked rice and just before I ate it I added more very finely chopped ginger, parsley and fish sauce. It was soothing but sprightly.

The last of the breast meat went into leeks and white sauce made with white wine and water instead of milk, some grain mustard and the tiniest drop of Worcester sauce. Nestled under some pastry it made a rather sweet looking pie for one. Interestingly I made the pastry (just normal shortcrust) quickly without paying much attention, and used margarine rather than butter, and it was the best I'd made in ages. Is margarine the answer, or maybe the need to make it quickly meant I didn't over handle it? The pie went down well with buttery steamed spinach and a not-too-bad white wine.

Looking back on this I think I have simply been suffering from chicken fatigue. I plan to rectify this with mackerel, possibly grilled with smoked paprika; fennel, whose medicinal scent seems just right after the excesses of December; and if I can get my hands on any I really fancy some salsify.

Rice, chicken, cranberry and parsley salad

I am starting a new job next week but I feel like I’m about to start primary school all over again: I’m a bit nervous, I don’t know what the other boys and girls will be like and I hope I won’t get lost in the unfamiliar corridors.

There’s an ironed shirt hanging in my wardrobe and I even polished my shoes, but most importantly I have a little lunchbox prepared in the fridge. No day can be too daunting with the prospect of something good to eat halfway through it.

This salad of rice, chicken, parsley, dried cranberries and seeds seemed to be a low risk option. It can’t leak into my handbag, and it won’t smell strong (I’ll be saving the smoked mackerel and Thai salads reeking of fish sauce for when I’m a bit more settled in). Also, I find the Christmassiness of the red, white and green immensely cheering when it’s January, cold and grey, and spring is still a fantasy.

It’s loosely based on the North American salad in (I think) Nigella Lawson’s Feast made of leftover turkey, wild rice, cranberries and pecans. I had meant to include pecans in mine, but forgot to buy any, and anyway I think the seasoned seeds I used are possibly even better. I am hugely excited about these: pumpkin, sesame and sunflower seeds mixed with a bit of soy until they are conker-shiny, sprinkled with smoked paprika and baked in a medium heat oven until dry. Be warned - these are dangerously moreish.

Although I made this from scratch, writing the recipe out make me realise it’s the perfect way to use up leftover cooked chicken or rice. Although these sorts of salads are a good time to experiment and are best made by adding what you think looks right, try not to treat them as a dustbin by putting in absolutely anything that needs using up.

About a cup of cooked rice (sorry, I didn’t measure anything for this)

A small handful of cooked chicken - I used the meat taken from one drumstick, and dark meat is better here

One very small leek, sliced into rings

Dried cranberries

Toasted seeds or nuts, whatever takes your fancy

Flat leaf parsley - lots

Dressing - nothing fancy, I like one part wine vinegar to five of olive oil

Cook the leek in a tiny drop of water until just tender, either in a small saucepan or you can do it in the microwave in the bowl you’ll mix the rest of the salad in later, then allow to cool. Mix the rice, the chicken cut into little chunks, and whatever proportions of cranberries, seeds and parsley please you. I like a lot of parsley so it almost ressembles tabbouleh. Douse in dressing.

Christmas Eve

The tree has been decorated (complete with wooden lobster), presents wrapped, and enough food bought to survive a six month siege. Christmas can begin. The kitchen still smells faintly of mulled wine, which was scented with ginger cordial, and the sitting room smells of pine needles and spicy from the Christmas tree decorations studded with cloves.

My sister is making a chocolate log, and because we don't have an electric whisk everyone has had to have a go with the hand whisk, trying to get the mixture to leave its elusive 'ribbon' that shows that it is thick enough. Once the sponge has been cooked it will be rolled up with whipped cream and jam and then smothered in chocolate fudge icing.

As well as a the chocolate log there's a pavlova baking in the Aga. This isn't excessive, you understand, the pavlova is for the non-Christmas pudding eaters and the chocolate log is for afternoon tea.

My family nearly always has fish pie on Christmas Eve, before the excesses of the next day. This one was made from cod and salmon poached in milk with a few bay leaves and pieces of leek and carrot, then the milk used in a white sauce, made more exciting with Worcestershire sauce, a tiny bit of mustard and seasoning. Instead of mashed potatoes it just had breadcrumbs on top, and we ate it with new potatoes and peas. A calming meal before the festive madness begins tomorrow.

Christmas feasting, part one

As the old saying goes (I think) 'If one Christmas meal is good, then more than one is even better'. Ever since university I've done a Christmas dinner with friends as well as the real event on 25th December. I can't remember if I did the year I lived in France when a) it is impossible to get hold of a turkey, and b) no-one I knew owned an oven, but I hope I did.

This year was destined to be a good one: not only did I have an oven but also three lovely housemates who are I'm very pleased are as greedy as me. I wanted to avoid turkey because I knew I'd be eating it on actual Christmas Day, and much as I love it I think part of its appeal lies in only having it once a year. Gammon seemed like a good option, it feels Christmassy and smothered in mustard and honey looks suitably Special Occasion. But gammons there were none (at least in Clapham Asda) so we had a leg of pork instead, and I'm so glad we did.

Normally I think pork can be a bit dull. Any bits of the a pig that haven't been cured or aren't covered in fat have a tendency to be dry and dessicated. Julian Barnes in A Pedant in the Kitchen once described it as 'tasting like the compressed cardboard from which they make hospital pee-bottles', and cooked badly enough I think this is pretty accurate.

We decided to try Nigel Slater's recipe for roast leg of pork with onion and Marsala gravy which was a triumph and in the process I think I have discovered the holy grail that is the Secret of Crackling. Two things that I think resulted in the spectacular, pale gold puffs of fat that crowned the pork (I forgot to take any photos so you'll have to take my word about its beauty) were rubbing the skin with salt that night before, and once it was cooked leaving it to rest then just before serving it putting it under a searing hot grill for a couple of minutes.

*The mince pies and mince pasties were made by my housemates Anna and Agnes, and are one of the reasons I'm very glad I live with them.

A leg of pork, around 1.5kg

Salt - lots

For the gravy

3 onions

Oil or dripping if you have it

2 tbs plain flour

2 small wine glasses of Marsala

1 tbs grain mustard

The day before you plan to eat score the skin of the pork at 1cm intervals so that the cuts go down into the fat but not the meat. Rub generously with salt and leave, uncovered, in the fridge overnight.

If you remember in time it is a good idea to let the meat come back to room temperature before you put in in the oven. I rinsed off the salt I'd applied the previous day (I'm not sure why, but I was concerned about it being too salty) and dry it well. A tea towel works well because you need to get all the moisture off it if you are to have any hope of getting crackling. Re-rub with salt, plonk on a rack in a roasting tray and put it in the oven preheated to 220 degrees. After 30 minutes lower the heat to 190 and cook for 25 minutes per 500g - for our leg this came to about two hours in total.

Meanwhile, slice the onions thinly and put in a pan with the oil/fat on a low heat. Leave them to cook very slowly for at least half an hour, stirring every few minutes and adding a drop of water it it looks like they might stick. I didn't do this and massacred the pan, but managed to rescue most of the onions.

Once the onions have become a single pale brown mass stir in the flour and cook for a minute or two. Throw in the Marsala and let it splutter for a moment then add the water and the mustard. Let it all bubble gently for at least ten minutes until it has thickened a bit and no longer tastes floury.

I don't normally make a separate gravy to go with a roast and just deglaze the pan with some wine or stock, maybe using a bit of flour, because that way the gravy 'matches' the taste of the meat. But this rarely produces quite enough, and on this occasion it was lovely to have far too much gravy, along with too much meat, potatoes, roast vegetables and wine....

But it seemed a shame to waste the gorgeous sticky juices and residue at the bottom of the tray the pork was cooked in, so I poured in a glass of water and let simmer over the hob, scrapping up the stuck-on bits from the bottom until it became a syrupy, amber liquid, and added this to the onion-Marsala concoction.

Once the pork has cooked (ie. the juices run clear or brownish rather than pink) cover it with two layers of foil, shiny side down, and leave to rest for at least 30 minutes. Resting is so important when roasting meat; it allows the fibres that tensed up in the heat of the oven to relax and the juices to flow back into them thus avoiding dry, cardboard pee-bottleness.

Jus before you you're going to eat put it under a grill set as hot as it will go for just a few minutes to puff up the crackling. As I type this I realise that some people might be concerned about letting meat cool slightly (although cocooned in foil it shouldn't lose much heat) and them putting it back in the oven might not constitute best food safety practice. But we were fine after eating it, and the meat was still hot all the way through when I carved it.

We ate the pork and onion gravy (which was fantastic - Marsala and pork are very good partners, and pork is always good with alium) with roast potatoes, parsnips and carrots, with lots of wine and then chocolate log. Perfection. Christmas Day has a lot to live up to.

Fritatta with potato and cooked greens

Lunch in ten minutes. One potato, one hanful of leftover cooked greens, three eggs. Easy.

Chop a potato into small dice and fry in olive oil until golden over a low heat

Stir in a small hanful of cooked cabbage or sprout tops, or use raw spinach or rocket, and allow to heat through and season well

Add three eggs, lightly beaten. Although it seems counterintuitive if you beat the eggs too much the frittata will be tough. Pour over the eggs and mix quickly with the potato and sprout topsCook on the hob for a minute or two then cook th top by putting in under the grill for a minute more. This is just a good cold, and wonderful packed lunch food.

Butternut squash soup

I'm sorry I have neglected you of late, little blog. I have been horribly busy so either haven't had time to write posts, or haven't eaten anything worth writing about. Poached eggs on toast have become a staple of mine, along with the exciting variation of poached eggs on marmite toast, but I imagine you all know how to poach an eggs.

If you don't: slide egg into barely simmering water, cover and leave on the lowest possible heat for five minutes. You should also read what Delia has to say on them in How to Cook, in fact everything she has to say on eggs. There are some especially interesting parts on how an eggs changes as it becomes older, and what it can best be used for when it is really fresh, middling, and a few weeks old.

Beyond poached eggs I have totally fallen in love with this butternut squash soup. It's so intensely savoury it almost tastes meaty, but it doesn't even use chicken stock. I've recently discovered Kabocha squash and I imagine it would work just as well here.

1 butternut squash, peeled and diced
1 onion, diced
Butter
Two cloves of garlic
A finger length piece of rosemary
1 scant tsp smoked paprika

Fry the onion gently in butter until it begins to turn translucent. While this is cooking chop the garlic and rosemary as finely as you can - you could use a garlic crusher but I don't think they're worth the hassle of washing up. Add this to the onion and cook until it smells fragrant, then stir in the paprika, cook for one minute then add the squash.

Cover with water and simmer until the squash collapses when you prod it with a wooden spoon, probably about fifteen minutes. Blizt with a stick blender (or any other sort of blender, or put it through a mouli if you prefer to do things traditionally). Eat, for lunch, for a late night snack, or even for breakfast.