Crab with marinated raw sprouts, sprout flowers and parsley

Where has all of the time gone? Work was a hectic flurry of oysters, lobsters and smoked salmon before Christmas, then a well-earned break spent catching up with family and attending a lovely wedding up north. Then there has been trying to get to grips with the exciting yet mega stressful house build project that Katie and I are currently undertaking, all punctuated by an unpleasant and hugely boring bout of cold and flu, which I’ve been trying to shake off for what feels like forever. All of those days branded ‘update blog’ on my to-do list seemed to nestle into distractions, and somehow it’s now the middle of January. How!? Anyway, finally I have managed to turn back to these pages and write another recipe. I’m really determined to not let things slip too much with this blog, and I’m really looking forward to another year of cookery exploration.

 
Now that Christmas is over, everyone seems to have forgotten about Brussels sprouts. Some with true relief, and others because the only place for a sprout is beside a golden, shimmering and utterly bone dry turkey. Well not me. I’m happy they still reside in constant stock at my local greengrocers. And there’s so much more to sprouts than Christmas lunch, they work a treat in this recipe.
 
I really hate eating salads in January. Not because I hate salads, but because it makes me feel like I’m conceding to the masses of hysterical New Year detox bullshit that’s everywhere right now. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to eat healthily, and there’s nothing wrong with dieting sensibly, but recently it all seems to have gone way out of control. Guilt has always been a massive force in food and marketing, but now you’re frowned upon unless your chocolate cake is made from some sort of weird cashew and date concoction, And don’t even think about eating it if it contains the merest mention of white flour. Ugh. It’s all so draining. Although I’ve always been happy with a balanced diet, which could involve a broth one evening and a cheese-filled hamburger the next, I worry about the confusing, dangerous signals that all of this gives to less confident eaters. It’s time that food and food writing was about celebrating ingredients again, not about banishing them from our diets. 

 
So yes, a salad. But the focus of this salad is some very special crabmeat. There are few things in cooking greater than boiling up a whole crab, before meticulously picking every last scrap of meat from the still warm shell, ideally surrounded by piles of bread and mayonnaise. But I appreciate that some don’t have the time and space, and that it might not be appropriate for the moderately squeamish. Failing that, there are some excellent hand-picked, unpasteurised crab products available, that allow this little plateful to be prepared in a matter of moments. The bright, fresh shellfish contrasts with the bitter sprouts wonderfully, with dinky capers and fiery chilli flakes adding a welcome kick along the way.
 
Serves 2
 
Ingredients:
 
For the white crabmeat:
 
250g unpasteurised white crabmeat 
A squeeze of lemon juice
 
For the brown crabmeat:
 
100g brown crabmeat 
½ a teaspoon of Dijon mustard 
1 lemon, zest and juice 
4-5 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
 
For the sprout salad:
 
1 handful of Brussels sprouts, trimmed and finely sliced 
1 handful of sprout flowers, leaves peeled 1 large bunch of parsley 
½ a small clove of garlic 
1 tbsp capers 
1 pinch of dried chilli flakes 
1 lemon, zest and juice 
3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil



Tip the brown crabmeat into a food processor and add the mustard, lemon zest and a good pinch of seasoning. Blitz until well combined. With the engine still running, slowly pour in the olive oil, until the mixture is light and emulsified. Stir in the lemon juice and taste for seasoning. 

 
Make the dressing for the greens by combining the lemon zest and juice, capers, grated garlic, dried chilli flakes and salt and pepper in a small bowl. Whisk in the olive oil.
 
Put the sliced sprouts, sprout flower leaves and roughly torn parsley into a large bowl and toss evenly with the dressing.
 
Squeeze the lemon juice over the white crabmeat and taste. Add salt and pepper if necessary.
 
Spoon a good dollop of the brown crabmeat onto each plate and arrange a pile of the white meat next to it. Scatter some of the dressed salad to the side and serve.

Wild sea bass with crab panzanella

A tomato is a tomato is a tomato right? Those matt red orbs bagged up on supermarket aisles are the fresh ones, the reduced and intensified ones in the tubes form the puree and the others are chucked in a blender and then tinned. If you’re being well fancy and putting together a 1990s antipasti, then a jar of those oily sundried things look great with a nifty rocket salad and some balsamic vinegar. This is pretty much what I thought during my teens and early twenties. The time that I was positive beyond anything else that I HATED tomatoes. 

 
I’m not sure at what point the revelation happened. There was no epiphany as such. But somewhere along the line I worked out that the main problem wasn’t tomatoes as a whole, but just the tomatoes I was used to eating (hiding under a napkin). I think it must have coincided with learning about the impact that salt has on everything. Suddenly the most basic of ingredients were transformed, and somehow started to taste like they were supposed to. And instead of thinking that those squishy, soft tomatoes were past it, I worked out that they were just the ones to seek. Chopped roughly with a liberal amount of wonder-seasoning and some oil, I was scratching my head at why I’d been so avidly avoiding tomatoes all of this time.  

I first ate panzanella totally by accident. Katie and I had been seeing each other for a short matter of months, and had enthusiastically hopped by plain and train to the depths of Tuscany, still unsure if we’d come back talking. It had been a magical whirlwind trip filled with the long, rolling views of Siena and pizza gorging in bustling piazzas. But we hated Florence, all blood and sweat from Caravaggio, mosquitoes and wall-to-wall tourists. We escaped one evening to a quiet eatery across the river where our waitress delivered a stodgy tomato salad. It was delicious, but we just couldn’t work out what all of the soggy stuff was. Then it dawned on us, bread. It certainly beat the bouncy veal and nondescript mushroom gnocchi that we had consumed to that point.  

The concept for this recipe was not a difficult one. At work we had a batch of magnificent, solid bass and a box of ripe, jewel-like heritage tomatoes. Crab is best friends with both of these, especially the brown meat, which brought everything together with a deep richness. A few torn up bits of bread, some good oil and basil leaves and the dish was there.  

Serves 2  

Ingredients:  

For the seabass:  

2 wild seabass fillets, from 1kg plus fish. Scaled, trimmed and pinboned. 
A squeeze of lemon juice  

For the brown crabmeat:  

4 tbsp good quality, fresh brown crabmeat 
50g ciabatta, crusts removed 
1 lemon, juice only 
2-3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 
Cracked black pepper  

For the bread:  

2-4 thin slices of ciabatta, depending on size of the loaf 
1 ripe tomato, crushed 
½ a garlic clove, grated  

For the dressing:  
 
3 red chillies, finely sliced 
2 garlic cloves, grated 
1 shallot, finely sliced 
1 tsp fennel seeds 
1 tsp dried oregano 
1 lemon, zest only 
1 small handful of basil leaves, torn 
6 tbsp extra virgin olive oil 
2 tbsp white wine vinegar  

For the semi-dried tomatoes:  

3 medium tomatoes, cut into quarters 
Salt  

For the asparagus:  

6 asparagus spears, peeled and trimmed 
A squeeze of lemon juice  

For the tomatoes:  

3-6 ripe heritage tomatoes, a mixture of sizes and colours, sliced and chopped into different sized pieces  

To finish:  

4 tbsp good quality, unpasteurised white crabmeat 
A handful of basil leaves  


First make the chilli oil for the dressing. Set a small saucepan to a high temperature and pour in a little olive oil. Fry the red chillies until starting to char on the outside, then turn down the temperature and add the grated garlic, shallot, dried fennel seeds, oregano and lemon zest along with a pinch of seasoning. Continue to cook gently for another few minutes until everything is softened. Remove the pan from the heat and allow to cool slightly, then pour in the rest of the oil and the torn basil leaves. Stir to combine. When completely cold, cover and allow to infuse overnight.  

Strain the chilli oil through a fine sieve and discard the flavourings. Create the dressing by pouring the white wine vinegar into a bowl and slowly whisking in 5-6 tbsp of the flavoured oil until emulsified. Taste and season if necessary then set aside. 

 
For the semi-dried tomatoes, preheat the oven to the lowest possible temperature – about 50⁰C or thereabouts. Line a small baking tray with greaseproof paper and drizzle with a little oil. Arrange the quarters of tomato on top and sprinkle with a little salt. Slide into the oven and roast for 3-4 hours, until intense in flavour but still fairly soft. Turn off the oven and allow everything to cool down. When cold, coat with a little extra virgin olive oil and set aside.  

To prepare the brown crab meat, spoon the crab into a food processor and add the ciabatta and lemon juice along with a little seasoning and blitz well. With the motor still running, slowly pour in the olive oil until everything is emulsified. Taste and adjust the lemon, salt and pepper levels if necessary, and let down with a little water if too thick. Spoon into a bowl and set aside.  

Slice the heritage tomatoes into a random mixture of different-sized pieces and arrange in a bowl. Spoon over a little of the dressing and allow to sit for 5-10 minutes. 

 
Set a heavy griddle pan onto a high heat. Drizzle a little olive oil onto the ciabatta slices and sprinkle over some seasoning. When the pan is hot, fry the bread for a few minutes on each side until they begin to char. Use a pestle and mortar to finely crush the tomato and garlic together then spread onto a plate. When the bread is toasted, transfer on top of the crushed tomatoes and allow to soak up the juices for a few minutes.  

Brush the asparagus with oil and season. Cook on the same griddle pan as used for the bread, frying at a high heat for a few minutes until beginning to blister on all sides. Transfer to a plate and squeeze over a little lemon juice. Keep warm.  

Set a heavy frying pan to a medium-high heat and add a generous splash of oil. Pat the sea bass fillets dry with a piece of kitchen roll and season all over. When the pan is hot, place the fish skin-side down in the pan and cook for 3 minutes. During this time, use a spoon to continuously baste the top of each fillet, effectively cooking it through both sides at the same time. Finish with a little lemon juice.  

To serve, arrange the slices of ciabatta and some pieces of fresh and semi-dried tomato on each plate. Dot on a generous amount of the brown crab puree. Position the fish on top of one of the pieces of ciabatta. Scatter the asparagus spears, white crab meat and basil leaves around the plate and finish with a good amount of the dressing.

Pan roasted black bream with crab, confit fennel, asparagus, clams and sea purslane

As I wrote a couple of posts ago, I have recently been pretty obsessed with cooking fish. I tend to do this with food; I will go through stages of really concentrating on one group of ingredients, or method of cooking and will use it in lots of things that I make. Previously it has been adding breaded, deep fried things (see cod cheeks, pork cheeks and oysters in the last few months), or asparagus which I can’t get enough of at the moment. The fact that the very short British asparagus season is in full swing, and combines with fish so beautifully means that they take high priority on the menu. And simply both ingredients are delicious and I take great pleasure in eating them.

This dish came about in a bit of an accidental way. The ingredients and concept are classic enough, but the finished meal was not really what I intended when I started thinking of what to cook. For the last few weeks I have had some wacky idea in my head about curing an oily fish, initially sardine fillets, in rhubarb to create a fresh tasting, vibrantly pink element to a dish which also included some chargrilled fillets for contrast. I imagined that it would produce a lovely looking little salad, and couldn’t wait to get experimenting with it. Flaw in my plan no.1: when I enquired to my local fishmonger about sardines, I was told that they were ‘pretty scarce’ at the moment. That was the sardine thought grounded, but fair enough I would use the trusty mackerel instead. So off I went to the fishmongers on Sunday, and as my luck would further have it, a good weekend had seen them cleared right out of mackerel. Bugger. 

I’m rubbish at creating quick, inventive things to cook on the spot, so I felt really thrown at that point and a little panicked that I was just going to buy a load of random things that wouldn’t come together. This is where the joy of a local, independent fishmonger came in. After a quick chat, it was decided that black bream is really in season, and would work perfectly with the ingredients that I planned to use. They are pretty mad looking fish, with big heads and dark silvery flanks, but fillets that you get from them are amazing, very similar to seabass. Along with the clams and purslane that I also bought, to my delight I was also given a bag of freshly picked white crab meat. Menu sorted I left a happy bunny (apart from the flat tyre I got on the way home...). Thanks a lot to the excellent as always Jonathan Norris in Victoria Park village. 

This dish is pretty simple to put together, with the only time consuming thing being the fennel confit. Once this is made everything else can be prepared and cooked quickly. Cooking fish is something that takes experience, as it only takes a minute or two to overcook and ruin, but with a little practice it’s dead simple. The key is to make sure that the pan is hot before you add the fish, and that you cook it skin side down for the majority of the time.   

Serves 2

Ingredients:

For the bream:

1 black bream (or gilthead will be fine), filleted and pinboned

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

1 tbsp butter

1/2 lemon, juice only

For the confit fennel: 

2 bulbs fennel, finely sliced, fronds kept for garnish

600ml olive oil, or enough to just cover the fennel

2 bulbs garlic, whole

150g white crab meat

1 lemon, juice only

Salt and pepper

For the asparagus puree:

8 asparagus stalks, heads removed and kept for pickling

30g butter

1/2 lemon, juice only

Salt and pepper

For the pickled asparagus:

The heads of the 8 asparagus

200ml white wine vinegar

3 tbsp caster sugar

6 black peppercorns

For the clams:

1 small handful clams

1 glass white wine

For the samphire:

1 small handful samphire, rinsed

1 tbsp butter

Squeeze of lemon juice

Salt and pepper

To finish:

1 small handful sea purslane, rinsed

Fronds from the fennel

To make the confit fennel, put the sliced fennel and whole garlic in a medium-sized saucepan and cover with the olive oil. Cover the top of the oil with a cartouche and set on a low heat for 35-45 minutes, or until very tender. Drain well, discard the garlic and set aside. 

Take the prepared bream and crab out of the fridge and allow to get to room temperature. If the fillets are big then cut into two neat pieces. 

For the puree, fill a medium saucepan with salted water and bring to the boil. When boiling, add the asparagus stalks and boil for 3-4 minutes or until tender. Drain and transfer to a food processor with the butter, lemon and seasoning. Blitz well, then taste and adjust if needed. Set aside in a warm place.

To pickle the asparagus tips, put the sugar, white wine vinegar and peppercorns in a small saucepan and bring to the boil. When the sugar has dissolved, put the asparagus into a small bowl and cover with the pickling liquid. Set aside.

Put the cooked fennel into a saucepan and gently warm up on a medium-low heat. Season well and squeeze over the lemon juice. Keep heating through as you finish the other elements of the dish.

Heat a large non-stick frying pan to a medium-high heat and add a good glug of olive oil, 2-3 tablespoons. 

While the pan is getting hot, put another small pan on a medium heat and melt the butter for the samphire. When melted, add the rinsed samphire and seasoning and cook for a minute or two until just al dente. Squeeze over the lemon and keep warm. 

Also put a small saucepan on a medium-high heat for the clams. When hot, pour in the clams and add the white wine, which should bubble straight away. Put a lid tightly over and shake the pan a couple of times. Cook for a minute or two until the shells open. Remove the clams into a bowl, and pour the white wine liquor into the fennel saucepan along with the white crabmeat. Mix well and taste, adjusting seasoning and acidity. Cook for another minute and take off the heat. 

When the frying pan is hot, season the bream fillets all over and gently place skin side down, holding them flat to the pan with your fingers for a couple of seconds to stop them curling up. Cook for 2-3 minutes on the skin side only, and while this is happening baste the flesh side with the hot oil, running the back of the metal spool down each fillet. This will gently cook that side too without the need to flip the fish. After 3 minutes the skin should be crispy, add the butter and lemon and remove from the heat while you plate up. 

Spoon a good tablespoon of the asparagus puree onto the middle of each plate, then lay some of the confit fennel on top. Place the cooked bream onto the fennel, then place the clams, pickled asparagus, samphire, purslane and fennel fronds around the edges. Squeeze over a touch more lemon and serve.

Crab risotto with basil oil, brown meat mayonnaise and tomatoes

It surprises me that it’s taken just over a year for me to post a risotto recipe. Now that the days are longer and it’s a bit warmer, a bowl of light risotto is a perfect midweek dinner to have sat on the balcony in the evening sun. The joy of risottos are they can be as simple or complicated as you want them to be, and they are often a saviour when you need to make a meal out of the scant remnants in the fridge. They were one of the first things that I learned to cook post university, when it wasn’t considered acceptable to live on a diet of lasagne and poorly cooked steaks. My dad also makes a mean risotto, usually the centrepiece of a big family gathering and usually using vegetables that he has pulled from the ground that very day. Good times and full stomachs. 

For this recipe I have returned to an old favourite, crab. These early summer evenings just cry out for a fresh piece of seafood, and I fear that it may be weeks before I’m lusting over a piece of red meat again. My mind has sprung to life with recipes that make the most of light, delicate fish and zingy citrus and herbs. I was particularly inspired by the idea of a crab risotto because I saw it made on Masterchef during the finals this week. On that occasion, the cook made a real mess of it, but in my head it lit a spark and from then I craved it. Luckily, I work just across the road from a good fishmongers so was able to pop over and get my hands on a crustacean that was perfect for the job. Risottos are normally associated with stodgy cold weather meals, but with crab, lemon and basil flavours running through it’s much lighter. I used very similar ingredients in my crab and scallop ravioli recipe that I posted last year and I couldn’t help using them again; they complement the crab perfectly without overpowering. The dish still tastes distinctly crabby - the worst thing you can do to crab or any other shellfish is mask the taste with heavy flavourings. 

To someone who has never worked with crab, especially live ones, they can seem really daunting. However, there is a mine of online information about how to prepare one yourself, with videos and photos to make the directions easier to follow. The best thing to do is just get stuck in and learn as you go along. Once you’ve prepared a couple it gets loads quicker and are even dead easy for midweek after work suppers. Sourcing your crab is important. Always try and buy them live or freshly cooked from a local fishmongers, as they will taste way better and fresher than any supermarket bought alternatives. 

Serves 2

Ingredients:

1 crab, cooked with brown and white meat removed and kept separate

For the stock:

2 fennel bulbs, sliced

2 shallots, sliced

2 garlic cloves, sliced

1/2 red chilli, sliced

4 tomatoes, roughly chopped

1 tsp smoked paprika

A small pinch of saffron

1 litre light chicken stock

1/2 glass dry white wine

Legs and claw shells from the leftover crab

Salt and pepper

For the risotto:

1 shallot, finely sliced

Splash of brandy

5/6 of a mug of arborio risotto rice

The white meat from the crab

1 lemon, juice only

30g butter

Salt and pepper

For the brown meat mayonnaise:

The brown meat from the crab

1 egg yolk

Splash white wine vinegar

400ml vegetable oil

1/2 lemon, juice only

Salt and pepper

For the basil oil:

2 bunches basil

100ml olive oil

1/2 tsp caster sugar

Salt and pepper

For the tomatoes:

1 plum tomato

1 tbsp olive oil

1/2 tsp caster sugar

To finish:

Red amarinth leaves

First make the stock. Heat up a large saucepan with a little olive oil to a medium heat. When hot, add the crab and lightly caramelise on all sides. Chuck in the fennel, shallot, garlic, chilli, seasoning, saffron and smoked paprika and cook for a couple of minutes until everything starts to soften. Pour in the white wine and bring to the boil to cook out the alcohol. Add the chopped tomatoes and stir through for another minute before adding the hot chicken stock. Bring to the boil then turn down to a simmer and cook for around 20 minutes, until the stock is full of flavour and colour. Strain the liquid through a sieve into another saucepan and discard the shell and vegetables. Keep warm.

Heat up about a litre of lightly salted water in a small saucepan.

Whilst the stock is cooking make the basil oil. When the water is boiling quickly blanch the bunches of basil for about 20 seconds, then remove with a slotted spoon, keeping the same water for use later. Transfer the basil to a small food processor with the oil, sugar, salt and pepper and blitz well until very fine. Taste and adjust if needed. Strain through a fine sieve into a bowl or bottle and set aside. 

Also make the mayonnaise. Put the brown crabmeat into a high-sided bowl with the egg yolk, salt and pepper and white wine vinegar. Whisk well until frothy. Carry on whisking whilst very slowly adding the vegetable oil until all of it has been emulsified into a thick mayonnaise. Squeeze in a little of the lemon juice and taste. Adjust the seasoning if needed and pour into a bottle. Set aside. 

To prepare the tomato, score a cross into the bottom of it and put it in the water still boiling from the basil earlier. Boil for about a minute, then remove and plunge in a bowl of cold water. Pull the skins off, then slice segments of the flesh from around the edge. Discard the seeds from the middle. Cut the flesh of the tomatoes into 1/2cm squares and place into a small bowl. Dress with the olive oil and sugar and set aside.

Put a large frying pan or skillet onto a medium heat with a little olive oil. When hot, add the chopped shallot then season and fry for a couple of minutes until tender. Add the rice and cook for another minute or two, stirring to coat the grains. Pour in the brandy and allow to bubble away and cook out. Add a ladle of the hot stock and allow the rice to absorb the liquid before adding the next. Stir regularly. When the rice starts to get plumper and the starch has thickened the mixture, start tasting a grain every so often to judge the cooking. The rice is cooked when soft with a little bite remaining, and it should be wet enough to spread out once dolloped onto a plate. At this point stir in the white crabmeat, butter and lemon. Taste and adjust the seasoning if needed. 

To serve, spoon a good amount of the rice into the middle of a shallow bowl and shake to spread out evenly. Squeeze a few blobs of the mayonnaise evenly on top and place some of the tomato pieces around the middle. Scatter some of the amarinth leaves over the top and drizzle a little bit of the basil oil around the edge.

Scallop and crab ravioli with basil oil, tomatoes and fennel fronds

When I cooked crab for this blog a couple of months ago, it made me realise that I really don’t eat enough of it. It ticks all of the boxes, with wonderful sweet flavour, great sustainability and reasonably priced. On that occasion I served it very simply, boiled and then eaten with fresh bread and lemony mayo. While this was delicious, it also inspired me to think of loads of other ways to use it; crab tian, crab roll, crab linguine, crab green thai curry... you get the picture! 

Crab ravioli is a really lovely way to make the most out of fresh crab, with light fresh summery flavours. Cooking a fresh live crab and then making pasta may seem like a major hassle, especially for a starter, but there are loads of ways that you can turn it into a quicker meal. When I tested the recipe for this blog I made it as a midweek, after work meal. To save time, the crab can be cooked in advance, or you can buy one that has been already cooked and dressed from a decent fishmonger. Once you have this, the only time consuming thing is making the pasta, but after a few practices this process speeds up dramatically. To make the meal really quick, you can even make the ravioli well in advance and freeze it until needed. This would be great for when having friends over as all you have to do is thaw it out and prepare the finishing touches. 

Skinning tomatoes and adding fennel fronds may also seem like too much work, but it is all worth it. By discarding the bitter skin and seeds you are left with just the sweet flesh, and the texture harmonises with everything else on the plate. The fennel adds a subtle, fresh flavour and makes the dish look delicate and inviting. 

Scallops and crab are both very delicate flavours, and mixing them with lemon, chilli and herbs lets that flavour really shine through. As with sourcing anything, try and find local, independent suppliers who will often be able to give you the best quality produce. I only use a little of the brown crab meat in this recipe, spread the leftovers on hot toast with a squeeze of lemon.

Serves 4 

Ingredients:

For the pasta:

400g strong 00 flour

4 eggs

salt and pepper

For the filling:

1 crab, cooked, white and brown meat removed

8 scallops

2 small red chillies, finely chopped (or to taste)

2 lemons, juice only

Small handful parsley, finely chopped 

40g butter, melted

To finish:

4 tomatoes

1 small chilli, finely chopped

Large handful fresh basil

Extra virgin olive oil

1 lemon, juice only

Fennel fronds 

Rocket leaves (optional)

Make your pasta by putting the flour, eggs, a good pinch of salt and olive oil in a food processor, and blitz until the mix looks like coarse breadcrumbs. Tip everything out onto a floured surface and knead together until the dough has an elastic texture but is not sticky. Knead in a little flour if necessary. Wrap in cling film and put in the fridge for at least half an hour to rest.

While the pasta is resting, make the ravioli filling. Put all of the white crab meat and 2 tbsp of the brown meat into a bowl, and add the chilli, parlsley, half the lemon juice and salt and pepper. Mix well and stir in the cool melted butter. Taste the mixture before you add the raw scallops and adjust with the remaining lemon, you want to slightly over-season the mixture to cater for this. Chop the scallops, but not too finely as you want the cooked filling to have texture. Mix everything together for a final time and set aside.

After you have made the filling and once rested, remove the pasta dough from the fridge. Using your pasta machine, roll the dough through until it’s at it’s finest setting and you are left with a long sheet - you want the finished ravioli to have nice thin pasta.

Roughly mark on one of the pasta sheets with the pastry cutter that you are using for your ravioli. Carefully place a spoonful of the filling mixture in the middle of each marking. Brush a little water on the pasta sheet around the filling and then place the other sheet on top. Gently seal the pasta around each pile of filling, making sure that no air bubbles are left. Using the pastry cutter, cut through the pasta around each filling until you are left with the finished ravioli parcels. If you don’t have a pastry cutter then you can just use a knife - traditionally they are square shaped anyway. Dust with a little flour and place on greaseproof paper; they can now be refrigerated until needed or frozen.

Fill a small saucepan with water and bring to the boil. Score a small cross in the bottom of each tomato and drop into the water for 10-20 seconds, or until the scores in the skin start to expand down the sides. Remove the tomatoes from the water and peel off the skin, then cut into quarters. Spoon out the seeds and discard with the skin. You will now be left with the flesh. Cut into very small squares and put into a small bowl. Add the finely chopped chilli, salt and pepper and a little olive oil. Taste, season and set aside. 

To make the basil oil, blitz the basil with the lemon juice, salt and pepper and a little extra virgin olive oil in a food processor until finely chopped and smooth. Adjust the seasoning and pour into a bowl. 

Bring a large saucepan of very salty water to the boil. 

When ready to cook, drop the ravioli into the boiling water and cook for 2-3 minutes. When cooked, remove from the water onto heated plates. Quickly drizzle over the basil oil and spoon over the tomatoes, making sure each ravioli gets some. Decorate with the fennel fronds and rocket if using, pour over a little more extra virgin olive oil and serve.