Chilli venison casserole with chocolate

I made this Mexican 'mole' inspired casserole in the slow cooker at the weekend and, apart from having to deal with all the shallots, it was very easy indeed. What's more at this time of year it's so useful to literally throw several ingredients in the pot and a few hours later, as if by magic, have a delicious warming meal. My slow cooker was a Christmas gift from my parents last year and we use it constantly. As well as being an incredibly efficient bit of kit, there is something deeply reassuring about knowing that dinner is taken care of and you can get on with your day.

This is based on a recipe from Slow Cooking: Best New Recipes by Annette Yates and Norma Miller which doesn't look or sound terribly inspiring, but has become my slow cooking bible. It serves 6 people.

900g stewing venison, cut into cubes
3 rashers of streaky bacon
12 shallots, peeled and sliced into quarters
2 red chillies, seeds removed, finely sliced
150g cranberries
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/4 tsp ground allspice
1 bay leaf
1 cinnamon stick
400ml stock (ideally venison or beef)
150ml port or red wine
freshly ground black pepper
55g dark chocolate

Firstly preheat the slow cooker to High. Place everything apart from the chocolate in the slow cooker, cover with the lid and cook on Low for 6 to 8 hours. Everything goes straight in without having to fry the meat or shallots/onions first. Just before serving stir through the chocolate and check the seasoning. You might need to thicken the sauce slightly if it's a bit thin with some cornflour mixed with water.

The ingredients cook down beautifully resulting in a warmly spicy dish and meltingly tender venison. As a crunchy garnish I made a gremolata with a handful of breadcrumbs fried until golden with butter and a crushed clove of garlic, combined with finely grated orange zest and chopped parsley.

Served with steamed cabbage and a bottle of Rioja Reserva, it was a perfect winter meal.

Home made candied peel

This is a real winter favourite and something I make most years as Christmas gifts – what's not to love about home made candied peel, especially dipped in chocolate. You often see recipes for it in the run up to Christmas as it's photogenic and sounds so luxurious, but they are rarely honest about how long it can take. The method hinges on the sugar syrup dried out fully and this depends on the atmosphere. Last year mine weren't ready in time for Christmas after leaving them for a week to dry out and I think all the damp weather was the problem. However, if you start now and use a warm airing cupboard (or low oven if it comes to it), you should be fine.

You can use any citrus fruit, but I prefer orange as it goes better with chocolate. Select unwaxed fruit or failing that, scrub the skins thoroughly. Divide 6 oranges into quarters and carefully cut away the flesh from the pith and peel. Slice this into strips or leave in larger pieces to use in cooking (cakes, buns, mincemeat etc). Place in a large saucepan or preserving pan and cover with water. Over a low heat simmer until soft. Drain away the water and repeat the process. Strain the fruit and reserve the cooking water for the syrup.

Make a syrup by dissolving 600g granulated sugar in 300ml water, bring it to the boil and let it bubble until slightly thickened. Add the cooked peel. Over a low heat allow it to simmer gently until the peel has absorbed all the syrup – this might take two hours or so and swirl the pan occasionally in case the peel is sticking to the bottom of the pan.

Once all the syrup has been absorbed, arrange the peel on drying racks spaced so the air can circulate. I put the racks on large trays lined with cling film or baking parchment as the sticky syrup drips off the fruit and makes a real mess (I learned this the hard way first time around). Rearrange them every couple of days.

Once fully dry, if you like, dip the peel in melted dark chocolate, alternatively, larger pieces can be snipped up to use in cooking. Store in airtight containers. To say it's better than shop bought candied peel is quite an understatement. It's fabulous with Vin Santo, but Tokaji and other well flavoured sweet wines also work beautifully.

Duck, cherry and beetroot salad with Lambrusco

A couple of weeks ago we were treated to a particularly memorable meal at Quo Vadis that featured a main course salad of duck with cherries and beetroot, topped with crunchy toasted breadcrumbs. It was the perfect dish for a warm summer evening. Grown up and satisfying, yet not too earnest – large pieces of crisp, salty duck skin were a deliciously naughty touch.

We had friends round for dinner last Friday and I recreated it as a starter. Flicking through my new copy of Diana Henry's A Change of Appetite I noticed a recipe for goat's cheese and cherry salad in which she macerates the cherries in brandy or grappa, along with olive oil, white balsamic vinegar and lemon juice. I used kirsch, olive oil and apple balsamic (I don't yet have any white balsamic) and found the dressing didn't need any lemon juice, leaving them for a couple of hours or so before combining with salad leaves, sliced cooked beetroot and the flesh and skin from duck legs I'd roasted earlier. The crunchy breadcrumbs were made by roasting chunks of bread in the pan used for the duck. Once they had dried out I scraped the pan thoroughly to incorporate all the tasty duck bits and then pounded the toasted bread in a pestle and mortar.

We enjoyed it with a bottle of Albinea Canali Lambrusco Ottocentonero from the Wine Society (a steal at £7.95) – dry, fresh and appetising with plenty of lush cherry fruit and spot on with the salad. It was a steal at £7.95, but has (not surprisingly) sold out. However, their other Lambrusco would also be worth trying, but keep an eye out elsewhere, especially while dining out, for proper dry examples (not to be confused with the naff sweet versions of the past). Following New York's lead, interest in this 'forgotten gem' is growing in the UK where, for example, Ottolenghi restaurants report booming sales. Great news for summer drinking.

Home-made orange curd

At this grim, energy sapping time of year, citrus fruits really help perk you up, with those fresh tangy flavours and all that Vitamin C. With my annual batch of marmalade out of the way, I was flicking through a magazine and a recipe for orange curd made my mouth water. I was also making a birthday cake for a friend and it seemed the ideal filling.

The recipe (from the January issue of Waitrose Kitchen) suggested Seville oranges, but I'd used up all mine in the marmalade, so used Navel oranges instead. The directions were quite straightforward. Place all the ingredients in a large saucepan: the zest and juice of 3 oranges and 2 lemons, 4 large eggs, 350g caster sugar and 225g unsalted butter, cubed. Heat the pan gently to melt the butter and beat with a whisk to combine the ingredients, then allow the mixture to gradually thicken, still whisking, until it is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. In my case, this took a lot longer than the suggested 10 minutes and I had to keep changing hands. It was quite a workout. A bit more whisking was required as it cooled down. Finally, pour the curd into a couple of warm, sterilised jars, seal and store in the fridge. This recipe suggests using the curd within a week, but, as I'd cooked mine for so long (more than half an hour), I'm hanging on to it for a bit longer – I'm enjoying it as a breakfast treat on toast and might throw together an orange meringue pie inspired by my adaptation of the River Café's lemon tart my husband occasionally makes.

Since making the orange curd, I've consulted other recipes and several suggest stirring, rather than whisking which I'm prepared to try next time to save energy. Nigel Slater feels that using a whisk makes the curd lighter and more wobbly. Leith's in their Cookery Bible use a wooden spoon and Pam Corbin in the River Cottage Handbook on Preserves whisks the mixture together and then stirs it until it thickens, as does Marguerite Patten in Jams, Preserves and Chutneys who also points out that you shouldn't cook the curd for "too long" as it continues to thicken once it has cooled down.

Whichever way works best for you, homemade orange or lemon curd is a fabulous winter treat (particularly if followed by a back and shoulder massage if you choose to whisk it).

Mont Blanc: the most glamorous winter dessert

Here in London this morning the snow is falling – it's been threatening all week, but this feels like the real deal. It's settling and everywhere is looking Christmas card gorgeous. 

Over Christmas I couldn't resist making one of my favourite wintery desserts – Mont Blanc. I originally tasted a Mont Blanc at Angelina's in Paris and mine were based on their take on this classic, topped with chestnut purée, rather than Chantilly cream. I'd made a batch of meringue nests with some left-over egg whites, so it was easy to quickly assemble the Mont Blancs. I gently whipped some double cream and lightly sweetened it with icing sugar before plopping it onto the meringue. Similarly with the canned chestnut purée – it needed sweetening and beating lightly before being piped over the cream. I finished them off with some chopped marrons glacés, a dusting of icing sugar and, for a bit of festive glamour, some gold leaf. 

With our Mont Blancs we had some Vin Santo – the tangy, raisiny sweetness worked well with such a rich, luxurious dessert. However, next time I'd love to try it with some ice wine...

Turkey, pea and ham risotto

It's almost New Year, but you might still be wondering what to do with all the leftover turkey. Each year I make turkey and ham pies to freeze, but last night we used some of our leftovers in a risotto. I finely diced an onion and sweated it until translucent in some duck fat, then added the rice, stirring it for a while. Shredded turkey and ham came next with frozen peas and some fresh fennel (which had been used in a salad earlier in the week), gradually stirring in turkey stock. Once the rice had cooked and the consistency was creamy, I served the risotto with more fresh herbs and a slick of olive oil. It was delicious with our bottle of fresh, fragrant Guardiolo Falanghina from The Wine Society, although it would also be good with a fuller bodied, even oak-aged white – Burgundy would be a especially good. Happy New Year!

Oxtail stew: soothing and so simple

I've had a few memorable meals out recently, but there aren't many things that beat a soothing home-cooked supper. At this time of year a rich, hearty casserole goes down really well and you can leave it to cook itself. In this  instance, we went to the theatre for a matinee performance of The Lion King while our stew cooked.

This recipe is based on the one in the Leith's Cookery Bible. They suggest cooking in two stages – two hours, then skimming, adding the tomato purée and lemon juice and cooking for another three hours. I prefer to simply leave it alone for about 5 hours until the meat is tender and falling away from the bones. If you like you can take a peek from time to time and skim as necessary.

2 oxtails, cut into 5cm lengths (total weight about 1.35kg)
seasoned plain flour
30g beef dripping
340g carrots, thickly sliced
225g onions, sliced
150ml red wine
570ml water
a large sprig of fresh thyme
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon tomato purée
a splash of balsamic vinegar
juice 1/2 lemon

Wash and dry the oxtail and toss in the seasoned flour. Fry the oxtail in the dripping, a few pieces at a time, turning them around so they gain plenty of colour. Place them in a large casserole dish. Brown the carrots and onions in the same pan and add them to the casserole. Pour the wine into the frying pan and allow it to bubble, scraping any bits off the bottom of the pan. Pour into the casserole and add the water. Add all the remaining ingredients, stir, cover and cook at 150°C/Gas Mark 2 for about 5 hours (see note in introduction).

Keeping things simple and wintery, and making the most of the unctuous gravy, I served the stew with suet dumplings. Make them according to the instructions on the packet and cook on the surface of the stew. All that leaves is perhaps another vegetable – an easy and very satisfying winter meal.

To drink
Any big hearty red will do nicely here – muscular and flavoursome. We had a gutsy Grenache-Syrah blend from the Languedoc.

Moules frites at Chez Hortense, Cap Ferret

Last year I enthused about Chez Hortense, a favourite restaurant of generations of visitors to Cap Ferret. The Cap Ferret peninsular and the town of Cap Ferret itself is the kind of place that people return to year after year for their summer holidays, and Chez Hortense oozes the kind of reassuring, traditional charm that draws people back. Perched on the water's edge at the very tip (La Pointe) of Cap Ferret, and with stunning views across to the Dune de Pyla, it's rather dreamy. It ticks those fantasy French holiday boxes. (This little film on You Tube sums it up delightfully.)

Well, I returned this summer and wasn't disappointed second time around. What's more my husband and daughter, who missed out last year, were fully in agreement, with 6-year-old Alice declaring "This is a superb restaurant!". We had a selection of dishes including some magnificent langoustines, but my favourite is their decadent mussels enriched by jambon de Bayonne and almost certainly goose or duck fat. Our reasonably priced bottle of Graves, Graville Lacoste 2010, was appetisingly fresh and zesty with all this rich seafood and kept things nicely local.

Apparently, the moules frites recipe has been a well guarded secret at Chez Hortense for several decades, but this should result in something similar:

Wash and de-beard 4 litres of mussels. Mince or finely chop 4 thick slices of Bayonne ham (prosciutto, Serrano or thick cut smoked bacon would be fine) or a skinned Toulouse sausage. Add 4 tablespoons of oil (or goose or duck fat) to a large sauté pan and briefly fry the ham, bacon or sausage with 5 crushed garlic cloves. Finely chop half a bunch of flat leaf parsley and add to the ham and garlic, along with 2 tablespoons of breadcrumbs. Leave to cook for about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Over a high heat, quickly cook the mussels in some white wine (about a glass) – dry white Bordeaux is the authentic choice, but any other crisp, fresh white would be good (whatever you fancy drinking with the finished dish). Once the mussels have opened up, add them and their juices to the other pan, stir well to combine everything thoroughly and serve hot – ideally with mounds of frites and a sea view.

Calçots and romesco sauce: perfect for the barbecue

Recently we had a spell of barbecue weather, so, of course, we made the most of it. I'd been lucky and had come by some calçots from the father of one of my daughter's school friends who's a fruit and vegetable wholesaler in Druid Street, Bermondsey (one of several who used to be based in Borough Market). He likes pickles, so I gave him some of my spiced apple chutney as a little 'thank you'. (I also had some wild mushrooms from him last autumn. Generous man.)

Calçots are like a cross between spring onions and leeks and are a Catalan speciality. I first encountered them on a visit to Torres (who are based near Barcelona) whose public relations I used to handle. Calçots have a short season late winter/early spring and the Catalans get very enthusiastic about them, grilling them over charcoal until the outer leaves are almost black and serving them with peppery, nutty romesco sauce. It's a messy, but delicious process, peeling off the burnt bits and dunking the hot, juicy calçots into the sauce. Well worth getting enthusiastic about.

Initially I was expecting to keep things simple and buy some romesco, but Spanish specialists Brindisa didn't stock it, but were able to sell me some piquillo peppers and fabulous blanched marcona almonds. I slightly adapted the Moro recipe which was pretty straightforward (I didn't have quite the right combination of peppers, but I don't think it matters that much as you make it as hot or mild as you like). The big surprise, though, was how well it also went with the chicken we were barbecuing as well. It just seemed brilliantly suited to grilled food.

Note: the romesco started off as a full-on garlicky Mediterranean mouthful, but mellowed and was quite mild when we finished it off a week later. Either way, our five-year-old also really enjoyed it. Once the weather improves, we'll definitely be making more.

Wine
The romesco was great with both white and red wine: Torres' crisp, refreshing and incredibly versatile Viña Sol (particularly good with the calçots) and a big, spicy Jumilla. (We played safe and stayed with Spain on both occasions, although southern French wines, especially from just across the border in Roussillon, would also work well.)

Romeso sauce
Serves 4
100g whole blanched almonds
50g shelled hazelnuts
*4 small dried red chillis (see below)
3 garlic cloves, peeled
6 tablespoons olive oil (more might be necessary)
50g stale white bread, cut into 1.5cm cubes
100g piquillo peppers or 1 large red bell pepper, roasted peeled and seeded
1-1.5 tablespoons red wine or sherry vinegar (or mixture of the two)
1 teaspoon tomato purée
40 strands saffron, infused in 8 tablespoons boiling water
half teaspoon sweet smoked Spanish paprika (or more to taste)
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

* The original recipe suggests 4 dried ñoras peppers (small and round) and half a dried guindilla pepper (spiky in shape and like a large red chilli). Sweet and/or hot paprika can be used instead, although the result will obviously be a bit different.

Preheat the oven to 180°C/Gas Mark 4. Place the nuts on a tray and dry roast in the oven until light golden brown. This will take 10 minutes or so. Remove and cool. Rub the skins off the hazelnuts.

Meanwhile break open the dried peppers and remove the seeds; crumble peppers a little further. Place in a small bowl and cover with boiling water.

Fry two of the garlic cloves whole in the olive oil until coloured. Remove them with a slotted spoon and reserve. Use this oil to fry the cubes of bread until light brown. Keep the oil for later.

You can use a pestle and mortar to make the sauce (the traditional method), but a food processor is the easier option. Start by pounding/processing the bread, nuts, garlic and peppers (soaked and roasted). Keep the pepper water handy for later.

Tip this mixture (by now a course paste) into a large mixing bowl and stir in the olive oil, half the pepper water, vinegar, the remaining garlic clove (crushed), tomato purée, saffron and paprika. Check seasoning. If the sauce still looks too dry and thick add more oil and/or water. The sauce should have the consistency of a sloppy hummous.

Serve generously. (And, as mentioned earlier, the fierce flavours will mellow after a day or so.)

Easy luxury: confit duck with potatoes

Time is always an issue, so I'm developing a little repertoire of dishes that almost seem to cook themselves. A family favourite is the all-in-one roast I've blogged about before. We're also partial to cooking a whole chicken with potatoes, all together in the same roasting tin. The bird is slathered with butter and dressed with the juice from a couple of lemons that have been halved and stuffed into the cavity and tucked among the large chunks of potato. I might also slice through a head of garlic and position one half at each end of the bird. A splash of white wine will help keep things moist. After a generous seasoning with salt and pepper, the dish can be put into a moderate oven and left alone to cook until the chicken juices run clear and the potatoes are tender. If you're feeling keen, you could deglaze the tin and make a gravy, or just serve with some green veg or salad and plenty of Dijon mustard.

Recently I cooked a rather more luxurious version of this kind of dish for Valentine's which was on a week night during the half-term holiday. It had been a busy day. I had a tin of confit duck in the cupboard, so decided to see how it responded to this hands-off approach. I peeled and thinly sliced some potatoes and arranged them in a small roasting tin, positioning the (deliciously fatty) pieces of duck on top, before roasting in a moderate oven until the duck skin was crisp and golden and the potatoes soft. (After about half an hour I poured off some excess fat and made sure the duck wasn't colouring up too much. The dish needed just over an hour's cooking.)

While it was in the oven we relaxed with a refreshing apéritif and then enjoyed the dish with some peas – easy and so good with duck – and a little home-made spiced plum chutney on the side. Such a simple dish is an ideal foil for some serious wine and we spoilt ourselves with a mature red Burgundy, the fresh acidity cutting nicely through the decadent duck fat. Fabulous.

Seville and ginger marmalade

Until earlier this week, winter had been pretty mild. It's all changed now, though. Here in London we have vivid blue skies, bright sunshine, but it's bitterly cold. Perfect weather for making and, indeed, eating marmalade. Rather than turning on the heating, why not base yourself in the kitchen and let a large pan of this amber nectar simmer away, not just warming the room, but allowing the smell of fresh, fragrant Seville oranges permeate your home?

This recipe comes from my mother – a twist on classic marmalade. The ginger gives it a really warming kick and couldn't be more welcome this time of year. It also includes cooking apples, although you wouldn't know from tasting the marmalade. I'll give the ingredients in imperial, rather than metric, as that's how they came to me. Just to warn you: you need to allow a long time. As this was my first time making marmalade, I was surprised just how long it took to prepare the oranges, even though you don't need many. It's well worth it, though.

Seville and ginger marmalade
Makes 10–12 jars
5 Seville oranges
5 pints water
3 lb cooking apples
6½ lb sugar (I used granulated)
8 oz crystallised ginger, roughly chopped
½ oz ground ginger

Cut the oranges in half, squeeze out the juice and reserve. Shred the peel finely, scraping out pips and pith into a muslin bag (I used a large muslin square that I tied into a makeshift bag). Put the peel, juice, water and the muslin bag into a large preserving pan and simmer for a couple of hours until the peel has softened. Remove the muslin bag, squeezing it with your hands to reserve as much juice as possible.

Peel, core and slice the apples. Simmer in 4 tablespoons of water until pulpy. Add the apples to the cooked oranges and stir in the sugar until dissolved. Add both types of ginger and stir well. Bring to the boil and allow to bubble away, skimming as necessary, until setting point is reached. Pour into warm, sterilised jars and seal immediately.

I decided to play things safe and use the sugar thermometer, taking it to 105°C. The temperature rose to just over 100°C fairly quickly and then I watched it like a hawk for it to reach setting point – which seemed to take a long time. Maybe 15 minutes or so, but I also tested it more traditionally on a chilled saucer. I'm really happy with the results and hope you will be, too.

A luxurious taste of Christmas

I can hardly believe how quickly the year has flown by – Christmas is upon us yet again. I'm doing some final preparations before this year's gastronomic extravaganza kicks off at the weekend and I've been reminded of some highlights from last year.

My brother celebrated his 40th early in 2010 and a couple of years earlier at The Sampler in Islington I laid my hands on some claret from his birth year. He generously decided to share it with us all at Christmas, bless him. I thought it would be fun to partner it with another claret – a comparatively youthful 1990 (although maturing nicely). A traditional, if rather cerebral choice for the turkey, but absolutely delicious – both freshly structured and beguilingly complex – and an interesting contrast to the fuller, spicier wines we often have at Christmas. Southern Rhône being a particular favourite (which we'll be having this year). The clarets topped the bill after an apéritif of ever-elegant Pol Roger, and a gently aromatic, dry Gewürztraminer from Blanck was perfect with our starter of smoked fish. We concluded with some PX – practically Christmas pudding in a bottle. Heady stuff.

Something that featured in last year's dinner was this magnificent and totally decadent stuffing. It's a recipe by Heston Blumenthal from Waitrose Kitchen magazine that includes chestnuts, cranberries, caraway seeds and brandy, sliced and fried in black butter before serving. This year I'll be preparing it in advance to take to my parents' whose turn it is to host and it'll be enjoyed alongside my (late) great-aunt's lemon and herb stuffing. Even if you're having goose, poulet fermier, a turkey crown or smaller game birds for your festive feast, this will make a memorable 'trimming'. A truly luxurious taste of Christmas.

Cranberry and caraway stuffing
Serves 6
280g unsalted butter
7 slices white bread, crusts removed
50g dried breadcrumbs
1 onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, diced
1 tbsp groundnut oil
200g sausagemeat
60g cooked chestnuts, chopped
60g dried cranberries
8 sage leaves, finely chopped
15g parsley, finely chopped
1 tbsp caraway seeds
140ml brandy
100ml chicken stock
1 egg, beaten

Preheat the oven to 180°C, Gas Mark 4. Melt 250g butter in a saucepan and heat gently until it goes brown and smells nutty, then strain through a fine sieve. Set aside 175g of the strained butter.

Dice the bread slices and combine with the breadcrumbs in a large bowl.

In a small frying pan, melt 15g butter; add the onion and cook on a low heat until soft. Add the celery and remaining 15g butter and cook for 10 minutes, then add the bread mixture.

In a separate pan over a high heat cook the sausage meat in the groundnut oil until browned, breaking it into evenly sized pieces as you go. Add this to the stuffing with the chestnuts, cranberries, sage, parsley and caraway seeds, then return the pan to the heat. Pour in the brandy and boil vigorously for 1 minute so the alcohol evaporates. Scrape up any bits from the bottom of the pan.

Combine 125g of the brown butter with the chicken stock and mix with the stuffing. Season with salt.

Stir through the beaten egg (the mixture should be very moist) and spread on to a parchment-lined baking tray so that it is 1.5cm deep.

Cook in the oven for about 20 minutes, then remove and set aside until ready to serve (this can be made the day before).

Slice the stuffing into rectangles, about 5cm x 7cm. Fry in batches, using 1tbsp of the remaining brown butter for each batch, until golden all over.

Canelés: chic and versatile

In the summer while we were on holiday in Cap Ferret we were able to enjoy some of our favourite local delicacies: canelés. I vividly recall being introduced to them a few years ago when visiting the region. At the time it struck me that if Yorkshire pudding and crème anglaise (or a smart home-made, vanilla-flecked custard) got together they would produce this rather elegant, glamorous offspring. Since then I've wanted to try making them. This summer, while staying in our friends' house again and consulting one of their cookery books, I had the chance. My friend Christine loves canelés, but tends to make a savoury version with cheese and chorizo. I needed to tackle the classic sweet version first.

The recipe looked straightforward. In a large pan heat a litre of milk with 200g caster sugar, 3 sachets of vanilla sugar, 100g butter and 5cl rum until the sugar has dissolved.

Remove the pan from the heat and beat in the flour. This was a bit scary as it looked quite lumpy – I've since seen other recipes which suggest sieving or blending the batter at this stage.

Add four eggs, one at a time, thoroughly beating them into the batter until you have what the recipe describes as a pâte lisse (smooth paste). (I must say this stage was hard work and I ended up with a very achy arm!) This may also be the time to leave the batter overnight or for longer to settle as suggested in many other recipes.

Generously butter the canelé moulds and pour in the batter, but be careful not to overfill. However, buttering the moulds may not be necessary with modern silicone moulds. Some recipes suggest using beeswax instead of or combined with butter to help create the glossy, hard, caramelised exterior, and advocate using traditional copper moulds.

Bake in a preheated oven at 200°C/Gas Mark 6 for 40 minutes. (Mine needed another 10 to 15 minutes and probably could have done with longer. Other recipes suggest starting off at a very high temperature such as 230°C for the first 15 minutes to boost the caramelisation and reducing the temperature for the rest of the cooking. It's also worth being aware of how they rise dramatically and then sink back down again. Don't worry: they're meant to be quite dense and chewy.)

For a first attempt, my results weren't too bad. They lacked the even dark, glossy sheen of the professional examples, but had a good rich vanilla flavour and seductive texture, although they could have done with more of a rum kick. Nevertheless, they were delicious with coffee and made an easily assembled chic dessert, especially when served with seasonal fruit and a glass of Sauternes or Monbazillac.

Spiced apple chutney

You might have a great pile of apples and are wondering what to do with them. Well, you could do a lot worse than stockpile some jars of this delicious spiced chutney. Home-made chutney is a great staple for the larder and is more useful than you might think. This spiced apple chutney goes brilliantly with sharp, mature cheddar and other hard cheeses. It's also a bold accompaniment to coarse, rustic pâté, sausage and mash, hearty pies. Alternatively, try stirring it into casseroles for a bit of extra oomph. This recipe is based on one that appears in Nigella Lawson's How to be a Domestic Goddess.

Spiced apple chutney (this quantity makes about a litre)
500g apples
1 medium onion
2 bird's-eye chillies
250g brown sugar
1 teaspoon ground allspice (or a mixture of nutmeg and cinnamon)
1 teaspoon ground cloves
half a teaspoon sea salt
freshly ground black pepper
1 heaped tablespoon chopped or grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon turmeric
350ml cider vinegar

Peel and roughly chop the apples – you might need to pick them over first to remove any badly bruised flesh (ours came from my parents' garden in Hertfordshire). Chop the onion. Seed the chillies and chop finely. Put all the ingredients in a pan and bring to the boil.

Cook over a medium heat for 40 minutes or so, until the mixture thickens. Spoon into sterilised jars. Try to wait a few weeks before using as it needs time to mellow, otherwise, it will taste too acidic and vinegary.

Butternut squash risotto with chorizo and sage

Here in London we are currently basking in unseasonably hot weather – just like earlier this year when we were sunbathing and barbecuing over the Easter weekend. It's quite surreal for those of us who love the change of season and autumn produce. However, I'm not complaining. So, if you're not too busy tracking down charcoal or preparing salads, here's an easy autumnal supper.

For two servings, peel, shred or finely chop a half a butternut squash. As uncooked squash is quite hard, this is easiest done in a food processor. Melt some butter in a deep sauté pan and sweat a finely chopped onion for a few minutes until translucent (you only need a small onion). Add the squash, stir around and then add 150g risotto rice (ideally arborio or carnaroli). Turn up the heat and stir well for a couple of minutes before pouring in a generous splash of white wine or vermouth, allowing it to bubble fiercely and reduce. Add about half a litre of vegetable or chicken stock (home-made or from a cube – most recently we used a Maggi vegetable bouillon cube) kept warm in a separate pan. A few strands of saffron are a good addition to this dish and can be sprinkled in at this stage.

I'm afraid I cheat with risottos and start off by adding about half a litre of stock, covering (drowning) the rice, stirring well and only adding more once it has been absorbed. In total I use about a litre or so. I don't use the traditional ladle-by-ladle method. I check the rice intermittently, stirring, adding more stock and letting it cook for longer. If I've run out of stock and the risotto looks a bit dry or if needs more cooking, just add some hot water (or more stock). I do this two or three times during the 20 minutes the risotto takes to cook. Once the rice is sufficiently tender, remove the pan from the heat and allow to rest for a minute before adding cubed butter and, if you like, grated Parmesan (or Grana Padano), season and stir well.

This risotto is particularly good with a few fried slices of chorizo and sage leaves fried in butter. The chorizo bleeds delicious peppery oil into the risotto and all the colours combine beautifully.

A tasty way of using up leftover risotto is to shape them into patties (a bit like arancini, but without the stuffing) and shallow fry until golden and crisp. They make a great lunch with some salad leaves, topped with a fried egg (and a glass of chilled crisp white wine).

Wine
We spent part of our recent summer holiday in France on the Mediterranean, just south of Perpignan. Further down the coast is Collioure which makes some intriguing saline, savoury wines based on Grenache Blanc, Grenache Gris, Marsanne, Rousanne and Vermentino, as well as the gutsy reds for which it is better known. Grapes from these old terraced vineyards also go into local port-like Banyuls. Our bottle of Collioure Blanc was unexpectedly good with the risotto – cutting through the richness and complimenting the sweet and spicy flavours. However, any number of Italian whites such as my current favourites Fiano and Falanghina would have refreshing, defined structure and plenty of flavour to partner this dish.

Blackberry jelly: preserving the taste of late summer

The summer holidays have flown by and our daughter is now settling back into her school routine. The holidays were strangely punctuated by the riots and a deep sense of fear and unease. As it turned out, that particular week I had arranged to take Alice camping for a few days in Epping Forest, and it was with great relieve we drove out of London into the ancient woodlands. We were blessed with good weather and one of the activities we enjoyed was foraging for blackberries. It reminded me of my childhood in the north London suburbs when I used to go blackberrying in Epping Forest with my mother and grandmother on sunny September afternoons, my grandmother expertly hooking the upper branches with a walking stick to reach the ripest berries. Jars of jam and a freezer full of fruit pies helped preserve these harvests.

Our recent foray yielded such delicious fruit that I was determined to do it as much justice as possible and, having never made fruit jelly, I was keen to give it a go. Here is the recipe I used from Basic Basics: Jams, Preserves and Chutneys by Marguerite Patten.

Blackberry (bramble) jelly
900g blackberries
150ml water
lemon juice
caster sugar
You will also need a jelly bag or muslin and sterilised jam jars.

Wash the blackberries, put into a large pan with the water and simmer gently until very soft. Press the fruit from time to time to release the juice.

Strain through a jelly bag or muslin. For clear, pristine juice, it is important to allow it to strain as gently as possible. I left mine overnight.

Measure the juice and allow 450g sugar and 2 tablespoons lemon juice for each 600ml juice. Heat the juice, add the sugar and lemon juice and stir over a low heat until the sugar has dissolved. Then boil rapidly until setting point is reached, checking frequently.

Pour the jelly into hot jars and seal down. You can see from the picture below that mine has quite a firm set. Next time I'll reduce the boiling time to try to get a softer result. However, it does taste wonderful – pure, vibrant flavour and jewel-like appearance. (Go the whole hog and serve it with farmhouse butter seasoned with crunchy sea salt.)