Parsnip Dumplings in Broth

He will actually like this (despite the fact it doesn’t contain half an Ox), as it’s delicate and sophisticated. However you only have yourself to blame if he’s hungry again before bedtime. The answer is to have this early and keep a stack of muffins to toast later. It’s well worth making while parsnips are turning up regularly in the veg box. Another stolen recipe – Yotam Ottolenghi’s this time.

For the broth

2 tbsp olive oil

2 carrots, peeled and cut into batons

4 sticks celery, cut into chunks

5 garlic cloves, peeled

1 onion, quartered

½ Celeriac, peeled

3 sprigs thyme

2 small bunches flat leaf parsley

10 peppercorns

2 bay leaves

Handful frozen peas

For the dumplings

200g floury potatoes, peeled and diced

200g parsnips, peeled and diced

1 garlic clove, peeled

30g butter

60g self raising flour

50g semolina

1 egg

We’re making the broth first. Vivaldi’s concertos for mandolin go on, full blast. Bugger the neighbours!  Sauté all the veg, except the peas. Add the herbs, peppercorns and bay. The thyme and bay come from just outside the kitchen  door. The bay tree needs re-potting – it gets blown over in the slightest wind. The boy considers picking the bay tree up as much a part of going out as locking the front door. The thyme is okay – getting woody, which means it grows much more slowly but has a better flavour.

Cover with cold water and simmer slowly for 2 hours. This is enough to get you through both the comedy hour and crime & thrillers hour on Radio 4 Extra. Or better, the whole of Jonathan Harker’s Journal, in Dracula, as part of your new pledge to read to each other. Skim occasionally and add a cup or two more water if it needs it.

Strain through a fine sieve and set aside. It will be a bright, golden colour. Keep back some of the carrot batons. Stick with Vivaldi, but change to his Gloria. The music should be as uplifting as the broth.

Boil the potatoes, parsnips and garlic in salty water until completely soft. Drain very well and then sauté in butter, which will remove any moisture. Mash in a bowl, adding the flour, semolina, and egg. Season and chill in the fridge so it firms up.

Nearly there – another pan of salty water up to the boil and start reheating the broth, adding the reserved carrot batons back in. Add the peas and give them a couple of minutes.

When the water pan is boiling, add the dumplings. It’s sticky so a couple of teaspoons will help. When they rise to the surface, add them to the broth. Garnish with finely chopped parsley.

Gloria! Gloria! In Excelcis Deo!

Perfect for a chilly afternoon. It’s delicate, rather than filling and so won’t keep him going all night. It is very tasty though so a second bowlful later might well do the trick. That and another chapter of Dracula while he snuggles under the throw on the sofa.

Portuguese Steak 'Regional', with Piri Piri Oil and Baked Butter Rice

Even the name of this sounds lovely. Make the oil in advance –and then use it on everything.

Piri Piri Oil

4 small, fresh hot chillies

8 small dried red chillies

2 garlic cloves

2 tbsp brandy

½ tsp lemon zest, grated

1 tbsp lemon juice

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

1 bay leaf

1 tsp rock salt

250ml light olive oil

Pulse the fresh chillies and garlic in a food processor, or bash in a mortar. Add to a small saucepan with the lemon zest, juice, vinegar, brandy, bay, salt and about 3 tbsp of the oil. When it starts to bubble, remove from the heat and add the rest of the oil. Pour into a bottle (sprinkle in the dried chillies first) and allow to mellow for a few days.

Start with the rice: 

50g butter

1 tbsp olive oil

1 small onion. Finely chopped

2 bay leaves

250g rice

2 cloves garlic, chopped

2 pinches paprika

1 litre veg stock.

Preheat the oven to 180/ Gas 4. Sauté the onion and bay leaves in an oven proof casserole . When softened, add the rice, garlic and paprika. Add the stock and season well. Bake for 45 mins. Take the boy our for a walk while it cooks. Point out local points of architectural interest. Check all the stock has been absorbed, and that the rice is cooked. Allow it cool for a few minutes before fluffing It up.

Get on with the Steak Regional. I'm not sure why it's called this but it's apparently native to the Azores. He's very happy to be having steak by the way. He seems to be wandering into the kitchen about every 10 minutes.

2 pieces of rump steak, around 350g each and almost an inch thick.

2 tbsp butter

 3 bay leaves

2 garlic cloves, squashed

2 tbsp brandy

1 lemon

1 large red pepper, roasted and skinned

Get the butter hot –a glug of olive oil will stop it burning.  Add the steak and bay leaves, sprinkling the meat with salt. Add the garlic when you turn it – at the point the bottom of the steak is turning brown. When golden on both sides add the soft red peppers and a good twist of black pepper and some more salt. 

Pour in the brandy and flame it. (Easy – just tilt the pan toward the flame it will catch by itself). Make sure your boy is in the kitchen to witness this – it will flame high and it looks impressive.  Add another big blob of butter to cool it all down and sprinkle with piri piri oil and the juice of a lemon.

Mariza’s Fado Curvo goes on the stereo and the heating goes up until you’re both in T-shirts, and laughing. Fish a decent bottle of red wine from that curious space between the bedroom and the study. Show it to him, as if to get his approval, though he'll have no idea until it's opened. Place a whole chilli on the side of his plate and dare him to eat it. He won't but you'll go on laughing into the night. That's kind of what love is.

Lamb Chops and Three Yoghurt Dressings

As you should have loads of Turkish yoghurt left from last night, this will use up the rest of it. We’re going to use it three ways.Despite how nice the eggs in yoghurt were, he was determined not to to like it. However, he loves lamb chops. He can’t hide it. You love him and can’t hide it either.

6 Lamb chops (if you love him, choose the most massive ones you can find).

2 Aubergines

4 Courgettes

600ml Yoghurt

3 cloves Garlic, crushed

Olive oil for frying

1 tbsp garden Mint sauce

1 tbsp Harissa

Slice the auberginse and courgettes lengthways and fry them until golden brown. Drain them really well. Pat them with kitchen paper and keep warm. I’m not trimming the fat from the lamb – it’s too delicious so I don’t want a double dose from the veg. A really hot pan will help.

Spoon out about half the yoghurt and crush in the garlic. Mix well. Add a little rock salt. Accept this will be quite harsh and raw tasting. It's not meant to be refined.  

Pour him a beer. Reheat the frying pan and get the chops on. As well as cooking on both sides, hold the chops fat side down in the pan with your tongs. Get it really crispy.

While the meat is resting, stir a tablespoon of garden mint sauce into 150ml of the yoghurt. It’s not as sweet as regular mint sauce, but you could go to the other extreme and add mint jelly instead. Stir it up well. To the last 150ml add Harissa paste but mix it loosely so it’s red and white rather than pink.  If you can’t find it, mash a few red chillies with caraway seeds,a  little tomato paste and oil and then lightly stir through the yoghurt. The yoghurt is meant to calm it down, not overcome it.

Plate it up, pouring the garlic/yoghurt mix over the aubergines and courgettes and with spoonfuls of the other dressing next to the chops – in varying proportions - the mint dressing is for him, the Harissa is for you.

The garlic in the yoghurt with the aubergines and courgettes tastes surprisingly fiery. It’s meant to. The fat from the lamb chops and the cool yoghurt cuts through it like a dream. He stays with you for a reason. Start a new tradition of reading to each other, rather than watching TV. He wants to start with Dracula and you’re reading.

Cilbir - Turkish Eggs with Yoghurt

This is a very different egg dish. He’ll need to trust you completely to try it. It’s Turkish. They make the best yoghurt in the world so make sure you’re using really good stuff for this recipe. The boy will be suspicious. The way he comes sniffing around the kitchen  is endearing. He’s hungry but he’s not at all sure about this.  You might need to work him up to it but it is good.

350g Turkish yoghurt
1 small bunch sage, the leaves picked off

1 clove garlic, crushed with salt

75g butter

1tbsp vinegar

4 organic free range eggs

1 heaped tsp Turkish chilli flakes (Pul Biber)

The ingredients first. Eggs are the main feature, so don’t compromise on them please. Pul Biber is a Turkish flaked chilli that is dried and then rubbed in oil. It’s a very dark red and not massively hot. And Turkish yoghurt is thick – use Greek if you don’t live near a good source. If you do live near Turkish yoghurt buy it in the small plastic pails with a handle. You’ll find no end of uses for it. Don’t buy the low fat kind if you can help it.

Sage is evergreen so it grows in January. I have a big pot full of sage and thyme just outside the front door. If your boy picks these he will think he has helped with both the cooking and the gardening. About 10 leaves would be good.

First bit – slightly tricky is caramelising the butter. Heat slowly in a small saucepan. White bits (the whey) will soon separate. Continue cooking slowly until these white bits turn brown. This is caramelised butter, though be careful as it will easily burn from this point. It’s worth mastering (especially if you live in Wood Green) as many Turkish dishes use this. Spoon some of the clarified butter into another pan and add the sage, cooking until it’s crisp. Fish the leaves out and drain on kitchen paper. Keep the butter.

Get a large pan of water on to boil. While it’s heating up, add the garlic to the yoghurt. To crush the garlic, sprinkle salt on a board and then slice the garlic on top of it, using the side of the knife to mash the garlic into the salt every now and then. The salt is an abrasive agent but also mops up the oil from the garlic.

When the water is rolling, add the vinegar, swirl it and add the eggs to poach. I admit poaching eggs is not my talent so gadgets are welcome. Drain well and trim any unnecessarily frilly bits.

Pour the yoghurt onto a serving dish. If needed thin it with a tablespoon or so of water, and then place the drained poached eggs on top. Sprinkle the chilli flakes over and add the sage leaves. Plenty of salt and pepper.  Reheat the butter and pour it over.

Serve with as much panache as you can manage. He’ll be convinced eggs and yoghurt won’t be his thing. This is strongly flavoured though and to be honest, he’s been convinced before that a great many things won’t be his thing. Intellectualise it though: sharp yoghurt, creamy egg yolk, hot chilli, aromatic sage. Give it a go, even if only this once.

Ideally serve with glasses of black Turkish tea (Cay), though you must decide whether this is labouring the point.

Trois Soleils Eggs with Tomato and Cumin

Bless him. He still likes an egg with soldiers, though to preserve his dignity we don’t call it that. He has it with strong coffee anyway. This is my version of a Marrakesh egg and tomato dish – there’s something not quite grown up about this but it’s warming and filling and your guy will love it for his supper.  A good pot of strong Yorkshire tea served afterwards will ensure he’s as contented as you could hope for.

2 cans good quality tomatoes

2 tbsp olive oil

4 spring onions, sliced

2 garlic cloves, sliced

½  tsp cumin powder

¼ tsp cayenne (or a little more. Yes, go on)

4 large organic free range eggs

3 tbsp roughly chopped coriander

Salt & Pepper

Sourdough bread for toast - plenty

I feel I’ve exhausted the subject of canned tomatoes. You know I like Cirio brand. Drain in a shallow bowl and then quarter them lengthways. Save the liquid in case you need it. Quartering the tomatoes will release a little bit more juice. There’s also no point in buying eggs that aren’t Organic free-range – for flavour’s sake as well as conscience. The best tomatoes and the best eggs will probably cost you less than £3 combined and surely you love him that much. There are better things to stint on.

Music choice must be Faudel. He’s young, French, of North African descent, and very handsome. There’s a live CD called 1,2,3 Soleils that features him singing Aicha with Khaled, who originally had a hit with the song. Khaled is middle aged and fat now, with a dodgy moustache but he’s clearly still Faudel’s music hero. When they sing together it is nothing short of magic. It will uplift your cooking, your soul, everything.

In a frying pan, gently fry the spring onions in the oil, adding the garlic and cumin when it starts to soften. Then pour in the tomatoes, cayenne and salt and pepper. Cook for 5 minutes. I save the juice from the tomatoes in case it dries out too much. Drop a whole egg into each quarter of the pan- they will cook on top of the tomatoes, so ruffle out the whites with a fork so they spread thinly. Bubble for a couple of minutes or so until the eggs are as he likes them. If the pan is hot you’ll soon get set whites with runny yolks. Another grind of salt & pepper probably wouldn’t hurt. (“Aicha, Aicha, ecoute- moi/ Aicha, Aicha t’en vas pas…” It’s such a cool song.)

Toast plenty of sourdough bread and butter it. Chuck the coriander on top of the tomatoes and eggs and take the pan off the heat. Plate up, serving the toast on the side. Resist cutting it into soldiers. He can do that himself if he wants to.

Make a pot of strong tea. Having feasted, relax on the sofa with him in your arms and the strangely named 1,2,3 Soleils  CD playing. The third soleil is Rachid Taha, by the way. Your job’s nearly done. Note to yourself whether the balance of cumin and cayenne is absolutely right. You might adjust it next time. He would like there to be a next time. Rub the fuzz on his belly.

Gulyas with Galuska

A dilemma. It’s Twelfth Night (no more cakes and ale) but it’s cold. He’s getting fed up of all these veggie dishes. He’d tell you he needs meat if he wasn’t acutely aware of how wrong it would sound. This is proper Hungarian Goulash. Peppers have been turning up with alarming regularity in the Organic box so I’m taking that as a hint. I won a hotel dinner in Prague early last year. I decided to have Goulash (my dining companion went for something Thai). She was right, I was wrong, the goulash was terrible. Hopefully this is better.

3 tbsp oil

1 large onion chopped

1kg very good stewing beef, cubed

2 cloves garlic, crushed

1 tsp caraway seeds

2 tbsp sweet paprika

1.5 litres water

2 large tomatoes chopped

2 medium green peppers sliced in rounds

300g potatoes, cubed

Not a spoonful of sour cream in sight! Even though this cooks for ages, treat yourself to really good meat. Supermarket stewing beef is often very tough. If you don’t know a nice butcher or live miles away from the wonderful Ginger Pig, in London, do consider cooking for longer than an hour and topping up the liquid. A slow cooker would probably do wonders, provided you start everything off in a big pan. And provided your guy has the patience for slow cooker times. Probably best to get it going and then take him shopping for trainers in the sales. Not as easy as it sounds - he's got big feet and little patience. Make sure you plan in regular time-outs at coffee shops and the like and you'll both survive.

Sauté the onion, without browning. Add the meat and then the caraway and garlic.

Remove from the heat and stir in the paprika, trying to get as much of it coating the meat as possible. Apparently in Hungary, paprika is never added to direct heat as it becomes bitter if it burns. If anyone knows about paprika, it’s the Hungarians! Add the water and simmer for an hour. Check a small piece of meat to make sure it’s tender. If not, cook on, but if it is, add the tomatoes, peppers and potatoes . Add more water if needed - the end result should be quite soupy. Season with plenty of salt and pepper. Cook for a final 30 minutes or so.

You could have this with rice but since you’re going to all this effort, why not make Galuska – the tiny Hungarian dumplings that traditionally go with this:

2 eggs

1tsp salt

200ml water

300g plain flour

Melted butter to serve

These  Hungarian dumplings are both simple and good – and absolutely the thing to have with Goulash. Not that they came with the dreadful version I had in that Prague hotel. But Prague is not in Hungary. Anyway! Beat the eggs with salt and water, using a wooden spoon. Add the flour bit by bit until the dough is glossy and smooth and easily comes away from the side of the bowl. You may need to add more flour if it’s sticky.

Bring a pan of water to the boil. Hungarians often just coarsely grate the dough straight into the water but I prefer rolling into marble sized balls with my fingertips. No puns about fingering balls please! When the dumplings rise to the surface, they’re done. Drain and add the butter. Add them to the Gulyas. This should more than make up for the all the vegetables you have been “subjecting” him to you recently! He’ll attack this with gusto, eventually slowing down in contentment. You’ve just about redeemed yourself

Two North African Winter Salads

These two salads go very well together, one spicy/creamy, the other chalky/ sharp. It takes you in four directions at once and I think you can't ask much more of a supper than that. Please try this. Winter salads are so often a weak compromise. These two really aren't. Served together they will make a dinner, served with flatbreads and perhaps some olives.

Macaroni & Yoghurt Salad

This is Libyan. It’s time we saw Libya anew. If we can start to think of it as home to this delicious dish, rather than all the other things we associate it with, we'll have made the best possible start to 2012.

200g Macaroni

20g Pine nuts

40g unsalted butter

200g Greek yoghurt

1 clove garlic, crushed

½ tsp Baharat

1 tsp olive oil

1 medium bunch coriander

½ tsp chilli flakes

Baharat is a North African spice mix, which, unhelpfully, just means “spice”. To make, combine 2tbsp each: ground cumin, paprika and black pepper. Plus 1tbsp ground coriander and a tsp each of nutmeg and cinnamon with 1/2 tsp of cardamom. You’re good to go. Cook the pasta and lightly brown the pine nuts in the butter. Mix the yoghurt with the Baharat. When the pasta is done, freshen it up in cold water and toss with some oil. Mix it with the yoghurt and chopped coriander. The yoghurt may well need thinning down with a tablespoon of water. Sprinkle with the pine nuts, pouring on the butter they were cooked in and dust with the chilli flakes.

Feta, Chicory & Orange Salad

The freshness will offset the macaroni and yoghurt nicely. You’re getting two Winter salads in one meal and they will both be transporting.

2 Oranges

3 heads chicory, leaves separated

1 small bunch flat leaf parsley, roughly chopped

1 tbsp fresh oregano leaves (if you can find them)

1 small red onion, very thinly sliced

100g Feta cheese

150g Walnut halves

50g Black olives

4 tbs olive oil

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

Find a Greek grocer. Your Feta should come in blocks, from a plastic bucket full of brine, and the olives should be Kalamata- probably oily and wrinkled. You’re not looking for cheese from a plastic packet nor tasteless olives from a jar of brine. Your guy will probably be mortified, used as he is to shopping in Sainsbury’s. The thought of having to actually talk to the people you’re buying food from will be alien to him. Let him skulk in the back of the shop.

When home, and he’s over his embarrassment, whisk together the oil and vinegar with a decent grind of salt and pepper.

Peel the oranges, removing all of the pith – a serrated knife will help. Slice the oranges into 1cm slices. Doing all of this over the serving bowl will help you keep all of the juice. Gently toss in the oregano, chicory, onion and parsley. Add the dressing and crumble the Feta over the top. Sprinkle the olives and walnuts over.

If your boy looks hungry (when does he not?) serve with warm Pitta bread. Salads are not just for Summer and these two suit each other well through being completely different. He can’t say he isn’t getting plenty of variety. Creamy and sharp. Two words that you use to describe him. Remind him of this.

Hot as a Dog's Nose Salsa

Seville oranges are available now and won’t be for long - at least not in the UK. I’ve added some to my weekly organic box just so I can make this sauce. It has the most brilliant name-  in Mexico, the original Spanish is nearly as good: Salsa X-Ni-Pek. It’s supposed to be so hot it will even heat up a dog’s nose.

1 cup chopped tomatoes, unpeeled

½ cup finely chopped red onion

½ cup chopped coriander

1 Habanero chilli or Scotch bonnet, finely chopped

½ cup Seville orange juice

Salt to taste

Two things: Firstly the Seville orange season is so short that I’m making the most of this and am going to double the recipe up (the amounts above are for a single serve). Secondly, regular oranges aren’t remotely the same.

Tomatoes will have to be imported at this time of year but I buy them on the vine at my local Turkish grocers. The onion and coriander also come from there but the Scotch Bonnet comes from the North African butcher's on the High Rd. A milder chilli will not suffice!

It’s simplicity itself to make. Mix in a bowl. Done!

It’s best eaten straightaway but will survive in the fridge for 3 days. It will perk up pretty much anything you have it with. I’m tempted by Guacamole and some dipping chips. This may not be your boy’s thing. Lucky you if it isn’t.

Make him his own version using Jalapenos, adding a clove of finely chopped garlic and replacing the orange juice with a good squeeze of fresh lime juice and you’ll both be happy. It really won’t be that much more effort as you’re using mostly the same ingredients. And it will show him that you care. His version is known as Pico de Gallo, which mean’s Rooster’s Beak. I think the heat is meant to be like a sharp peck. He will no doubt want to change ‘Rooster’ to ‘Cock’. Let him. It’s easier.

Char-grilled Vegetables with Fresh Mint Dressing

It’s time for me to head back to London so I’m making something I can have on the train and can leave half for Lowell to have for his supper.

4 red peppers

5 courgettes

3 aubergines

300g cherry tomatoes

Mint Dressing

2 cloves garlic, crushed

2 tsp cumin seeds, toasted

150ml olive oil

2 tbsp lemon juice

3 tbsp red wine vinegar

2 tbsp mint finely chopped

Lowell’s working on the peppers. They’re quartered and go under a hot grill, skin side up. When they blacken and blister they go into a plastic bag so they steam. After a few minutes, the skin can be peeled off. We’re listening to Die Fledermaus. I’ve a feeling neither of us actually likes it, but we both have a sense that you should listen to Strauss at New Year, and we forgot to, yesterday. I don’t actually know the story, so I can’t follow it, but it’s fun and infectious and captures the mood of the two of us.

The courgettes and aubergines are all sliced lengthways so you end up with long slices, about ½ cm thick. In batches, cook in a griddle pan until cooked and slightly charred. Don’t crowd the pan – you don’t want it steaming instead of chargrilling. This takes ages so there’s plenty of time to listen to Lowell chattering away. Try to keep each batch warm.

Get on with the dressing – you might as well, and having a bit of time to settle down will do it good. Crush the garlic and toast the cumin seeds in a dry frying pan. Simply combine everything in a small jug and give it a good stir from time to time. Lowell has a lovely thick glassed jug, full of natural imperfections. It’s perfect and I want to steal it.

When the veg is all done and has those lovely char-grill lines all over it, halve the tomatoes and cook in the same pan until just soft.

Serve on a nice dish with the minty dressing poured over. I think this looks best with each vegetable separately on the dish, rather than all jumbled together. For something so simple, this tastes really unusual. Everyone asks if there is any sugar in the dressing but it is just the mint, with the cumin undertone, that tastes so sweet.

Lowell will be having his with some (bought) potato salad, smartened up with some finely chopped spring onions & cornichons with a dusting of paprika, and a crunchy green salad. Mainly because I’m convinced he doesn’t eat 5 a day when he’s on his own. Mine is going in a baguette fresh from the local bakers, for the journey.

I’m going to miss this guy. It’s confusing. He’s straight but we’re getting close and bedtimes are good. However confusing it is for me it must be ten times more so for him and so we just get on with things – like cooking. The eating, at least, will be good. When you’re happy, life is for living, not questioning.

A Winter Minestrone

I like to start the New Year with soup. I feel it brings good luck. No doubt your boy would be happy to carry on with the roast meats, puddings and what have you for another month at least but it’s time to change direction. It doesn’t mean you can’t still eat well. This is delicious. Be guided by what’s available and vary the ingredients to what’s available. This is based on a version by London’s wonderful River Café.

2 tbsp olive oil

2 carrots diced

1 large onion coarsely chopped

4 sticks celery diced

6 cloves garlic

1kg (perhaps a little over) made up of at least 2 of the following: Cavolo Nero, Swiss Chard, Savoy Cabbage, Spinach, roughly chopped.

1 small bunch of parsley chopped

1 400g can peeled plum tomatoes

1 400g can cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

1 litre chicken or vegetable stock

A few winter herbs such as Sage, Rosemary or Thyme, chopped

Parmesan to serve

Make a soffrito, by slowly frying the onion, celery and carrot in the oil, getting it very soft. If you’re using Cavolo Nero or Swiss chard, add the stalks along with the garlic, and stir often so it doesn’t catch.

Add the tomatoes, break them up and cook for 10 mins to reduce.

Add half of your winter leaves and 2/3 of the Cannellini beans and all of the stock. Plenty of salt and pepper. Bring to the boil and then reduce the heat and simmer 30 minutes. Listen to a comedy on Radio 4 Extra with your boy. Sprawl on the sofa as he lies in your arms. Stroke his hair. That way he will understand that this soup is a treat, not a deprivation. He will enjoy the feeling, but not what you’ve done to his hair when he sees it in the mirror. You’ll need to factor in how long it will take him to put it right, in your overall cooking time.

When half an hour is up, check the soup. Add water or stock if needed but this is meant to be quite thick. Send your boy to the bathroom to do what he must with wax, putty or whatever it takes to restore his confidence.

Add the other half of the winter leaves so they barely cook – only a few minutes (You’ll probably need to turn the heat up). This will contrast amazingly with the well-cooked half.

Puree the reserved beans with a ladleful of the soup in a blender and stir this in. Add the herbs and serve in deep bowls, sprinkled over with Parmesan and a trickle of olive oil. This should look very green and good for you but one spoonful will persuade him it’s good. His hair is carefully styled back to normal. He’s beautiful. Life is good. Christmas is behind us, but there’s much to look forward to.

This Minestrone doesn’t have pasta in. You could add some tiny pasta shapes about 8 minutes before the end but I’d be happier with some garlic bread with this. Make sure you both have plenty in case there’s kissing while you’re watching an old black and white movie in the late afternoon.

And do vary the vegetables by what is to hand. We seem to have a load of courgettes and a parsnip, in the organic box so they are certainly going to be diced and added!