Farfalle with ‘nduja, anchovies, red wine and cherry tomatoes

It’s been a while since my last post. Tragically, my twin brother died very suddenly just before Christmas after a very short battle with cancer. All thoughts of cooking flew out the window as my family came together to support each other through the most difficult time imaginable.

I’ve only been back in London a week or so, and it feels good to slowly get back into a normal routine, even though I’m not sure I know what normality feels like anymore. Like many other food centrics, cooking proves therapeutic and healing, and never more so than in the last couple of weeks. Luckily, I’ve had some spare time on my hands recently, so I’ve had afternoons to tuck my head into the butchers, and time to nosy about the green grocers again. I’m finally itching to get back in the kitchen, and with thoughts firmly on my wonderful brother, this was always going to be my first post… 

The inspiration for this recipe is the pasta of my youth. It was one of the first things that I was confident in cooking, and would cook it at any given opportunity. When my parents went on holidays I was always in charge of the cooking, and invariably we would eat this dish two or three times over that period. This became my brother’s favourite, and we would gorge on it until we were fit to burst before laying on the sofa groaning in pain. When we stopped living in the same house, he would always phone me to be reminded of the recipe, complaining that he had tried to make it but it hadn’t been “quite right”. 

Of course in those days I hadn’t even heard of things like ‘nduja, and it was a good few years until I would learn to make pasta. The sauce would be made with chorizo or bacon, mixed with a tin of chopped tomatoes and then poured over whatever dried pasta we had in the cupboard. This recipe is slightly more refined, but the taste still brings back warm happy memories. 

‘Nduja seems to be a very trendy ingredient at the moment in restaurants and food blogs, but despite this it’s still relatively difficult to get hold of. It gave me a great excuse to head to Borough Market where I found a wonderful British made variety. The texture of the soft salami is similar to those I have tried before, but the taste is slightly less spicy and more fragrant with fennel seeds. Delicious. My brother always hated anchovies, but accepted them in this sauce as they just melt away and enhance all of the other flavours. 

Although my reasoning for making farfalle in this recipe was in tribute to the random pasta shapes that we used to find at home, the shape is very suitable with the sauce. The large surface area grips the sauce meaning that you get a good taste with every mouthful.

Serves 2 

Ingredients: 

For the pasta: 

200g ‘00’ grade flour
2 medium eggs
1 tbsp olive oil
Good pinch of salt 

For the sauce: 

1 shallot, finely chopped
2 garlic cloves, finely sliced
½ red chilli, finely chopped
1 tsp smoked sweet paprika
1 tsp fennel seeds
3 sprigs rosemary, finely chopped
4 anchovy fillets, roughly chopped
80g ‘nduja, skinned and chopped roughly
1 glass red wine
15-20 very small ripe cherry tomatoes, quartered
Olive oil 
Salt and pepper

To finish: 

Parmesan, finely grated
Basil leaves
Extra virgin olive oil


To make the pasta, put the flour, eggs, salt and oil into a food processor and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. Tip out onto a clean surface and knead well for about 10 minutes until the dough is smooth and elastic in texture. Wrap with clingfilm and allow to rest in the fridge for at least half an hour. 

Remove the dough from the fridge and roll through the thickest setting 6-10 times, folding after each pass. Lightly dust the sheet with flour then pass once down through the settings until you reach the thinnest. Lay the long, thin pasta sheet onto a floured surface. To make the farfalle, cut small rectangles out of the sheet and shape them by gently pushing out the middle and folding in the narrow sides to form a bow tie. Put each one on a lightly floured sheet of greaseproof paper. They can be used straight away, but are best after allowed to dry for a few hours.
Fill a large saucepan with well salted water and bring to the boil. 

To make the sauce, heat a little olive oil in a large non-stick frying pan. Cook the shallot, garlic, rosemary, fennel seeds, chilli and paprika over a medium heat for a few minutes until softened. Season a little. Add the ‘nduja and anchovy and continue to fry for another few minutes, stirring until they almost melt into the mixture. Turn the heat up slightly and pour in the red wine and allow to reduce by half. Stir in the quartered tomatoes until slightly softened.

Tip the farfalle into the boiling water and cook for 1-2 minutes. When cooked, use a slotted spoon and transfer the pasta to the frying pan with the sauce, along with 1 tbsp of the cooking water. Stir gently to combine the sauce and pasta and cook for a further minute. Taste and season if necessary.

Transfer the coated pasta to warmed plates and top with basil leaves, grated parmesan, cracked pepper and a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil.

Mussels with ‘nduja broth, butter beans and tarragon

Here I will carry on from my last blog post with the actual meal that I intended to cook in the first place! Before I got sidetracked into buying the prawns, the main reason that I went to Borough Market at the weekend was to buy the ‘nduja to make the sauce for my mussel broth. You can buy the rest of the ingredients from most fishmongers and greengrocers, but I have travelled to loads of Italian delis around Stoke Newington and couldn’t find it anywhere. I always try and find my ingredients as locally as possible, and if I fail with that then I know that I can get pretty much anything from Borough, even though it is a bit of a trek from north London. From researching on Twitter, I knew that there were stalls that sold the soft, spicy salami from southern Italy, and luckily I managed to stumble upon one really quickly. The guys at the De Calabria stall were very friendly, and I was happy to have found what I had come for. 

In the past I have used sombrasada, which is a soft chorizo from Spain, and very similar to the ‘nduja in texture. However, the ‘nduja carries a much meatier and savoury flavour, with a much spicier kick than it’s Spanish equivalent, which I thought would work really well with the cider broth and the mussels. I’ve still got a big chunk of the stuff in the fridge, and am always so tempted to slap it on some crusty bread when I stumble back from work hungry. Aside from this broth, it will work really well in giving backbone and depth to soups and sauces, and I can’t wait to have it with some fresh pasta. As it’s strong and spicy, you only need a tiny bit to make an impact; a little definitely goes a long way.

I’m surprised that it’s taken me this long to write about mussels in this blog, as they are right up there with my favourite seafood. I started eating them on holidays with my parents cooked with white wine, cream and garlic and haven’t looked back since. Although I still love moules mariniere, or even better, moules frites, there are so many more ways to cook mussels. They handle big flavours really well, so using things like ‘nduja, cider and paprika is no problem. The key is in the preparation and cooking of the mussels. Always buy fresh live mussels from a good fishmonger in the months when they are in season. Make sure you de-beard them, and while you do this, discard any mussels that are broken, or that don’t close when given a sharp tap. They only need to be quickly steamed, otherwise they go very rubbery and won’t be nice! If you haven't already, I urge you to give them a go. They are also really sustainable and excellent value for money, which can only be a good thing.

To give my sauce even more flavour and a little sweetness, I used the leftover shells from the prawns that we had eaten as a starter. You could see if your fishmonger has any spare, but this is not totally essential, and the sauce will be lovely if you don’t have the shells. 

Serves 2 as a main, or 4 for a light lunch or starter.

Ingredients:

1kg live mussels, de-bearded and cleaned

3 shallots, finely chopped

1 red chilli, finely chopped

1 carrot, finely chopped

1 fennel, finely chopped

2 garlic cloves, finely sliced

1/2 tsp hot smoked paprika

1 tsp tomato puree

75g ‘nduja, skin removed and roughly chopped

1 small pinch saffron

1 bay leaf

1.5 litres good fish stock

250ml dry cider, I used Black Fox organic

1 splash brandy

Shellfish shells (optional)

To finish:

400g butter beans, pre-soaked or tinned and drained well

1 large handful small cherry tomatoes, halved

5 sprigs tarragon, leaves picked and roughly chopped

1 lemon, juice only

A few rocket leaves

To serve: 

Soda bread and butter

Heat up a large saucepan or skillet to a medium heat and add a little oil. When up to temperature, add the shallot, season and cook for a couple of minutes until soft. Add the fennel, carrot, garlic, chilli and paprika and cook for  5-10 minutes until the vegetables start to become tender. Stir in the ‘nduja, saffron and tomato puree and cook for another couple of minutes, so that the ‘nduja dissolves into the sauce and the puree has cooked out. If you are using the shellfish shells, you can add them at this point too and saute. Turn up the heat slightly and pour over the brandy and carefully flambe, burning away all of the alcohol. Add the cider and reduce by half, then top up with the fish stock and bay leaf. Bring to the boil before turning the heat back down to medium and seasoning well. Cook uncovered until the liquid has reduced by about two-thirds, stirring occasionally. This reduction process should take around 30-45 minutes. 

When the mixture has reduced, strain the liquid through a sieve into a bowl, pushing down on everything to make sure that every drop of liquid and flavour goes through. Discard the vegetables in the sieve and put the strained sauce into the cleaned saucepan. Heat the sauce back up and when simmering, add the drained butter beans and cherry tomatoes. 

Turn the heat up, bring the sauce back to the boil and add the prepared mussels. Cover the saucepan and give it a shake. Keep the pan covered and cook for 4-5 minutes, or until all of the mussels have opened. When the mussels are cooked, remove them from the pan and set aside. Stir through the lemon juice, tarragon and seasoning before tasting and adjusting. 

To plate up, spoon some of the sauce, beans and tomatoes into a bowl and then add some of the cooked mussels. Top with a little rocket, a drizzle of olive oil and serve with some crusty soda bread and butter.

Giant prawns

A nice and quick one this, as it’s less of a recipe and more of show of great ingredients. 

Last weekend I had a quick after work trip to Borough Market with Katie. It had been a really busy week, and the thought of drifting around a bustling market with a steaming cup of something mulled was too good an opportunity to refuse. As I work on Saturdays, I hardly ever manage get down there so couldn’t wait to get back! 

Over the past few weeks I have been trying to eat a bit more sensibly, mostly cooking up big vegetable stews and soups in an attempt to get in a bit better shape and hopefully save some pennies in the process. I even went as far as promising a friend one drunken night that I would go through the whole of November as a vegetarian, declaring that I could do it with ease. Obviously that didn’t last long. I have generally been good though and I have enjoyed feeling a little bit healthier because of it. I am the sort of person that could eat a good soup or stew every day of the week, so I plan on carrying this on a little longer. However, this doesn’t carry over to weekends, and it’s always so tempting to pig out. 

I had intended to be quite thrifty at Borough too, and it was the perfect chance to get some hard to source ingredients for a meal that I had been meaning to make. Sitting in the park in the cold on my lunch breaks in the week had made me crave warming bowls of mussels with a rich and spicy sauce with cider, tarragon and ‘nduja. The only problem with this is that when you are at Borough, you are surrounded by amazing quality produce and it is so easy to go a bit crazy and buy things by ‘accident’. This occasion was no different, and especially after a mulled cider as the first meal of the day I was a sucker. As I went to buy the mussels that I needed from the large fish stall in the central market, Katie pointed out the massive Madagascan prawns, and in a rash moment I pointed at those as well. 

I had often seen these prawns and wanted to buy them, but mostly I reason that they are too expensive, potentially unsustainable and I’m also not too comfortable with the amount of air miles involved in getting them here. That’s not to say that I only use local ingredients, I don’t, but in the case of the prawns I often just think that there is something better that I could buy from closer to home. However, at that point on Saturday I found those prawns in my bag, and I was quite excited about eating them.

I only had one method of cooking them in mind - fast and simple. When you spend that much on such special ingredients you want them to speak for themselves. Garlic, chilli and lemon go amazingly well with prawns, and the smell and taste of the freshly grilled prawns made me feel like I was on holiday, ripping the shells off whilst sitting at some Mediterranean harbour. If you like you can use the same methods with prawns of any size, just adjust the cooking time to suit. I used a grill, but had this have been summer, a bbq would have been my first choice. 

Serves 2

Ingredients:

6 large prawns, shells left on

1 small red chilli

1 large garlic clove, finely chopped

3 tbsp parsley, finely chopped

1 lemon

1 tbsp olive oil

Salt and pepper

To serve:

Good quality mayonnaise, preferably homemade

1 lemon

Salt and pepper

Turn the grill up to high.

Mix the garlic, chilli, parsley, lemon juice, olive oil and some seasoning together in a bowl. Toss the mixture through the prawns, and arrange them on a flat baking tray. 

Put the prawns under the hot grill and cook for 3 minutes, then turn over and cook for another 3 minutes, or until the shells have turned pink and are sizzling away. 

While the prawns are cooking, mix a few tablespoons of mayo with the juice of half a lemon and some salt and pepper. Taste and adjust. 

When the prawns have cooked, squeeze over the other half of lemon juice and sprinkle over a little seasoning. Serve with the mayo and tuck in!

Courgette flowers stuffed with goat’s cheese, oregano and lemon with a tomato and sombrasada dipping sauce

I first tried courgette flowers a few years ago, randomly enough from a food stall at a Cornish music festival, and have always wanted to have a crack at cooking them myself. They are one of the only things that manage to turn what is basically deep fried cheese into something delicate and beautiful. They also have the wow factor, but despite looking complicated, with a little care they are really easy to make. 

The only difficult thing about courgette flowers can be getting hold of them. Only very good greengrocers and food markets will stock them, and when you do find them they can be quite expensive. The most satisfying and cheapest way would be to grow them yourself. I had high hopes of doing that this year, but my plans were scuppered by hungry slugs with educated palates. So with my tail firmly between my legs I found myself walking to Borough Market, knowing if anywhere would have them it would be there. 

There are some really fantastic food markets and local suppliers in London and around the country, and they often have a much wider range of great quality produce than you would find at the supermarket. My trip to Borough didn’t disappoint: it really is a mecca of food produce that cannot fail to inspire. I had to control myself and remain disciplined to the recipe in hand, and I emerged with a bag of ingredients that had me excited to get home and start cooking. 

As well as the courgette flowers, I also needed to find ingredients for the stuffing and the dipping sauce. The cheesemonger recommended that I used a soft goat’s cheese from Poitou Charentes, which has a sweet and mild taste to complement the courgette. With that bought, all I had to find was something to flavour the dipping sauce. Originally when planning this recipe, I wanted to get hold of some ‘nduja sausage, which is a spicy spreadable salami from Calabria. On this occasion I couldn’t find any, but upon stopping at a Spanish delicatessen I saw some sombrasada, which looked like it would fit the bill perfectly. This is a soft chorizo that has similar qualities to ‘nduja, and I knew that it would melt through my sauce giving it a strong, hot flavour. 

Courgette flowers are seasonal, and you can only really source them in the summer. With this in mind I urge you to make the most of them over the next month or so!

Serves 2

Ingredients:

For the courgette flowers:

4 courgette flowers

200g soft goat’s cheese, I used a Poitou-Chareutes

1 lemon, zest and juice of half

5 sprigs fresh oregano, leaves picked and finely chopped

20g parmesan, finely grated

Salt and pepper

1.5 litres vegetable oil  for deep frying

For the dipping sauce:

120g sombrasada, skin removed and roughly chopped

2 shallots, finely chopped

1 garlic clove, finely chopped

1 small red chilli, finely chopped

2 anchovy filllets, finely chopped

2 handfuls good quality cherry tomatoes, quartered

Salt and pepper

2 tbsp olive oil

For the light batter:

100g plain flour

200ml sparkling water

salt and pepper

First get the dipping sauce on. Heat the olive oil in a large frying pan (one with a lid) to a medium heat, and when hot add the shallots, garlic and chilli. When they soften, add the sombrasada and anchovies and cook for another couple of minutes. Finally add the cherry tomatoes and season well, mix everything together and put the lid on the pan. After 15 minutes, the tomatoes will be dissolving and the mixture will be looking like more of a sauce. After another 5 minutes transfer the contents into a food processor and blitz until smooth, adding a little water if if needs thinning down. Season and adjust if needed, before  pouring the mixture into a saucepan to be heated up later. 

While the sauce is cooking make the batter. Sieve the flour into a mixing bowl, mix with a good amount of seasoning before slowly whisking in the sparkling water. Once the batter is thoroughly mixed and the thickness of double cream cover and allow to rest for 30 minutes. 

To make the filling for the courgette flowers, mash the goat’s cheese, lemon juice and zest together with a fork to loosen slightly.  Mix in the oregano, parmesan and seasoning before tasting and setting aside. 

Pour the frying oil into a large, heavy saucepan and heat up to 170ºC.

To prepare the courgette flowers, carefully part the petals until you can just squeeze your fingers through to remove the stamen. Spoon your filling mixture into a piping bag, and once any air pockets have been removed, carefully squeeze in the filling. You want enough filling in each flower to create a nice full pocket, but not too much that you can’t fully seal with the petals. Repeat until all flowers have been filled, trimming the ends of the courgettes if necessary at the same time. 

Put the saucepan containing the dipping sauce onto a low-medium heat and gently warm up.

When the oil is hot, very carefully dip the courgette flowers into the batter mixture, making sure they are completely covered. Allow any excess to drip off before lowering into the hot oil. Quickly repeat with another. I usually do this in batches of 2 flowers to stop them sticking together. Cook for a few minutes, or until the batter turns a light golden colour before removing from the oil and draining on kitchen paper. 

When all of the courgette flowers are cooked, arrange 2 on each plate, adding a small bowl of the dipping sauce and a few fresh oregano leaves. 

Any leftover dipping sauce can be used as a fantastic base for a pasta sauce or soup, and goes particularly well with butternut squash.