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Seeded bread and roast tomato soup
A few years ago I spent a glorious six months living and working among the Chianti vines in the deep green heart of Tuscany. I was an hour’s walk from the nearest bus and cooking was all there was to do. We worked hand in hand with what was going on around us and it was glorious. We made this traditional Tuscan favourite, pappa pomodoro, for our staff lunch at least twice a week – comfort eating at its best.
The flame-red tomatoes turn scarlet pink when slowly roasted, and the bread softens and soaks up the tomato juices to become almost soft and milky. The seeded bread is my way of doing things – I love the pops of texture it adds. I still make this in deepest winter with four tins of really good cherry tomatoes and rosemary or thyme – it’s a different soup but still killer.
SERVES 4
500g ripe vine tomatoes, halved
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
a large bunch of fresh basil, leaves picked
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
olive oil
2 × 400g tins of good-quality plum tomatoes
4 slices of good-quality seeded bread
Preheat the oven to 220°C/fan 200°C/gas 7.
Pop the vine tomatoes into a large deep ovenproof casserole dish with the garlic, half the basil and a good pinch of salt and pepper, and drizzle with olive oil. Place in the oven for 20 minutes to roast and intensify. Once your tomatoes are roasted, take the pan out of the oven and pop it on the heat, remembering to be careful, as your pan will be very hot.
Add the tinned tomatoes and a tin of water and break up the tomatoes a little with the back of a wooden spoon. Bring to a simmer, then cook for 20 minutes.
Once the soup is thick and sweet, tear the slices of bread and most of the rest of the basil over the top, cover with a lid and leave to sit for 10 minutes. Then give it a stir so it all comes together. Ladle into bowls, drizzle generously with very good olive oil, scatter with the remaining basil and eat with enthusiasm and a fine Chianti.
ONE SOUP: 1000 VARIATIONS
Walnut miso broth with udon noodles
One of my favourite meals to go out and eat is this one, sitting on my own at the noodle bar in Koya in Soho. Their udon noodles are from the gods, just the right side of chewy. But it’s the walnut miso paste that comes next to them in a little bowl, that really crowns it. I am sure they make it in a far more sophisticated way – I’ve never asked. This is my version.
This is a soup that has everything. Deep umami flavour, cleansing sharpness and a delicious bundle of veg. Both udon and soba noodles work here. The broth is a very simple and clean one and you’ll need to stir in the walnut and miso for the flavours to really work. At Koya they add one of those amazing Japanese eggs, poached in their shell. I sometimes add a poached egg too, but it divides opinion, so I have left it out here.
Walnuts and I have a curious relationship. After a year working at a posh restaurant in Knightsbridge where I had to individually peel each walnut without breaking it, weaving delicately in and out of those dainty, frilly edges, I fell out of love with them. But I have ditched the peeling and have since fallen back into their arms. They are a delicious vegetarian source of omega 3, which is key for brain health – a handful will provide you with almost all you need in a day, so get snacking on some walnuts.
Most veg would work well in this broth – chard, asparagus, sugar snaps, spinach. Don’t be tied to what I have suggested here.
SERVES 2
FOR THE WALNUT MISO PASTE
100g walnuts, lightly toasted
2 tablespoons dark miso paste (I use brown rice miso)
2 tablespoons honey or agave syrup
1 tablespoon sweet soy sauce or tamari
a splash of white wine vinegar
FOR THE BROTH
2 spring onions, trimmed and finely sliced
a thumb-size piece of fresh ginger, peeled and chopped into matchsticks
1 veg stock cube, or 1 tablespoon veg stock powder
1 head of spring greens, destalked and shredded
a handful of shimeji mushrooms (about 150g)
a handful of enoki mushrooms (about 150g)
250g dried udon noodles
Preheat your oven to 220°C/fan 200°C/gas 7.
Put the walnuts on a baking tray and toast them in the oven for 5–10 minutes, until just browned and smelling great. Take out and leave to one side to cool.
Now get the broth going. Put the spring onions, ginger and veg stock cube or powder into a pan with 2 litres of water, place on the heat and bring to the boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 10 minutes, then add the greens and mushrooms and turn off the heat.
Meanwhile, bring another pan of water to the boil. Add the noodles and cook for 6–8 minutes (or follow the instructions on the packet).
Pulse the toasted walnuts in a food processor until they resemble very coarse breadcrumbs. Mix with the other walnut miso paste ingredients.
Once the noodles are cooked, drain and divide them between two bowls. Ladle over the hot broth (about 2 ladles for each bowl) and pop a generous spoonful of walnut miso in the middle of each and stir in.
Restorative coconut broth
There are some evenings when I feel like I’ve absorbed the day. When all the frenetic activity around me has somehow seeped in. Whenever I am feeling off centre and need some calming, this is what I have for dinner. The clean white of this broth is like a blanket on a cold night and whispers away the hustle and bustle. The coconut milk calms and soothes, the chilli boosts and wakens, the lime leaves and lemongrass cleanse, and veg add fuel and freshness.
I pick up bundles of lemongrass and lime leaves whenever I see them. If you haven’t used them before you will be amazed at the powerful citrus depth they impart in minutes. If you use them frequently you can keep them in the fridge, where they will last about a month. If you are less likely to use them up that fast, pop them into the freezer – they keep well and can be used from frozen.
SERVES 4
2 × 400g tins of coconut milk
1 veg stock cube, or 1 tablespoon veg stock powder
4 sticks of lemongrass
optional: 4 lime leaves
1 shallot, peeled and finely sliced
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and halved
1 red chilli, roughly chopped
2 tablespoons coconut sugar (see here) or golden caster sugar
a bunch of fresh coriander
4 generous handfuls (about 250g) of green leaves, shredded (spring greens, pak choi, cavolo nero)
2 handfuls (about 120g) of mushrooms (enoki, shitake, oyster or sliced chestnut would do well)
2 tablespoons soy sauce or tamari
juice of 2 limes
Pour the coconut milk into a large pan and add a canful of water and the stock cube or powder. Bash the lemongrass with a rolling pin until it’s smashed, to help release the flavours more quickly. Add to the pan with the lime leaves (if using), shallot, garlic, chilli and sugar. Cut the roots off the coriander and add these too.
Push all the aromatics into the liquid so they are covered and turn the heat on under the pan. Bring to a gentle simmer, then allow to bubble for 15 minutes, until you have an intensely flavoured coconut broth.
Take the pan off the heat and sieve the broth into a bowl, discarding all the aromatics (they have done their work now). Then pour the broth back into the pan. Add the shredded greens and mushrooms, and warm through for 2–3 minutes. Then take off the heat and add the soy sauce and lime juice.
Ladle the soup into bowls and top with the roughly chopped coriander leaves. I like the neatness of this simple, soothing soup on its own, but if you are hungry, try adding some cooked soba noodles.
Sweet tomato and black bean tortilla bowls
I love Mexican food for its attention to different textures and its layers of flavour, crunch, softness, creaminess, citrus punch and chilli heat, and that’s what I like about this bowl.
The soupy-stew is great on its own, but when you top it with popping roasted tomatoes, buttery avocado and even a perfectly poached egg it becomes a serious team of flavours in a bowl. Don’t be fooled by the title – this is not one of those sketchy bowls made from a baked tortilla that you see in dodgy Mexican restaurants.
Smoked paprika is a good friend – if I can find any excuse to shake some of the sweet smoky stuff on to my food, I will. Last year I visited my holy grail: the chilli fields of La Vera in Spain. Over the years I have been lucky enough to tour a bunch of different artisans and producers, but this was my favourite one of all – fields and fields of brave red chillies, picked by hand and carted to huge kilns in a beautiful old smokery in the middle of the fields, where fires were lit below ceilings made of wire racks holding thousands of chillies, to smoke them and get that wonderful taste.
SERVES 4
1 medium sweet potato, washed and chopped into little pieces
20 cherry tomatoes, halved
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
olive or rapeseed oil
a bunch of spring onions, trimmed and finely sliced
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely sliced
1 teaspoon sweet smoked paprika
1 teaspoon ground coriander
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 × 400g tin of chopped tomatoes
750ml hot vegetable stock
1 × 400g tin of black beans, drained
6 corn tortillas (see here)
optional: a few organic or free-range eggs, for poaching
optional: 1 avocado, peeled and cut into chunks
a small bunch of fresh coriander, leaves picked
Preheat your oven to 200°C/fan 180°C/gas 6.
Place the sweet potatoes on one side of a baking tray and the halved cherry tomatoes on the other, then sprinkle the whole lot with a good amount of salt and pepper, drizzle with a little oil and roast for 20–25 minutes.
Heat a little oil in a large pan over a medium heat. Add the spring onions and garlic and sizzle for a few minutes, until the garlic has just started to brown, then add all the spices and stir round a couple of times. Add the tinned tomatoes and simmer for 5 minutes, until all the flavours have come together.
Add the stock and bring to the boil, then simmer for another 5 minutes. I like to blitz the broth now, but feel free to skip this if you like it with more texture. After simmering, add the beans.
By now the tomatoes and sweet potatoes should be roasted. Take the tray out of the oven and add the sweet potatoes to the broth, then keep it ticking over on a low heat. Set the roasted tomatoes aside – they will go in later.
Cut the tortillas into 0.5cm wide strips and put them on another baking tray. Season with a little salt, drizzle over some oil, toss to coat and bake in the oven for 4–5 minutes until crisp and lightly golden.
I like to serve poached eggs on top of my soup, so if you like the idea poach 1 egg per person (see here for my method).
Once the tortilla strips are golden, take them out of the oven. Ladle the soup into bowls, top with the roasted tomatoes and crunchy tortilla strips, a poached egg, some chopped avocado, if you like, and a scattering of coriander.
Charred pepper and halloumi stew
There seems to be a blanket fascination with halloumi, especially among vegetarians. Every barbecue in the summer seems to include a couple of blocks. While I like the squeaky cheese, I think it needs a bit of help in the flavour department. Here it sits in a warm blanket of blackened peppers and a flash-cooked tomato stew that coats the just-crisped halloumi in its balmy juices. Somewhere between a warm salad and a fresh herby stew.
SERVES 4
3 red peppers
500g mixed cherry and vine tomatoes, halved
2 handfuls of Kalamata olives (about 20), pitted
2 tablespoons little capers
grated zest of 1 unwaxed lemon
3 tablespoons good olive oil
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 × 250g pack of halloumi cheese, cut into 12 slices
½ a bunch of fresh mint, leaves picked and chopped
½ a bunch of fresh parsley, leaves picked and chopped
½ a bunch of fresh basil, leaves picked and chopped
If you have a gas stove, turn on the hob and use tongs to balance all 3 peppers around the naked flame, turning them every few minutes until they are charred all over. This will take 10 minutes or so. They are done when they are almost completely black and they have softened and lost their rawness. If you don’t have a gas hob, use a really hot griddle pan to char them in the same way instead, or put them under a very hot grill. Once black and charred all over, put the peppers into a bowl and cover with clingfilm. Leave to sit for 5 minutes.
Put the tomatoes into a bowl with the pitted olives, capers, lemon zest and 1 tablespoon of olive oil. Season well with salt and pepper and leave to mingle while you get on with peeling the peppers. Take the peppers out of the bowl and use your fingers to peel the blackened skin into the bowl, cleaning off as much of the skin as you can. Don’t be tempted to rinse them under the tap, as this will wash away all the flavour. Deseed the peppers, cut them into 1cm strips and add them to the bowl of tomatoes.
Now heat a frying pan on a medium heat. Add the rest of the olive oil and allow to heat up, then add the slices of halloumi and fry for 30 seconds or so on each side, until they have just turned golden. Place the halloumi on a plate, then tip the tomato mixture into the hot pan and pop back on the heat for a couple of minutes to warm through and release some juices.
Finally, add the chopped herbs and halloumi to the pan and serve straight away, warm, with some good bread and spritely greens.
Celeriac soup with hazelnuts and crispy sage
Celeriac is an under-used star. I love it and champion it in my kitchen. Sometimes it’s simply roasted with salt and pepper, other times it’s smashed with lemon and thyme or just eaten raw, finely sliced in a remoulade.
Here it’s the centrepiece of a comforting soup. Apples are the perfect foil for adding sweetness, while the butter beans bring creaminess, so no need for cream or crème fraîche here. The soup can be eaten simply as it is, but have a go at the brown butter – it amps it up and makes this soup a real winner. If you haven’t made brown butter before, it’s got a deep nutty flavour which melds with the crispy sage and toasted hazelnuts to send this soup to a different dimension.
Celeriac is a bit of a beast to look at. But looks are not everything – beneath the gnarly, knobbly exterior lies a creamy white flesh with a sweet, nutty, super-savoury flavour. It packs some serious health benefits. It’s high in fibre, potassium, magnesium and vitamin B6. Peel your celeriac thickly to get rid of any green tinges around the edge and any muddy leftovers.
SERVES 6
olive oil
1 leek, washed, trimmed and finely sliced
1 celeriac, washed, peeled and roughly chopped
4 apples (Cox’s are my choice), cored and roughly chopped
a few sprigs of fresh thyme, leaves picked
1.5 litres vegetable stock
1 × 400g tin of butter beans, drained
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
TO SERVE
a handful of hazelnuts
100g butter
a few sprigs of fresh sage, leaves picked
Heat a splash of oil in a large pan, then add the leek and cook over a medium heat for 10 minutes, until soft and sweet. Add the celeriac, apples and thyme and cook for 2–3 minutes, then add the stock and butter beans and season well. Simmer over a low heat for 20–30 minutes, until the celeriac is tender, then remove from the heat and blitz with a hand blender until smooth.
Toast the hazelnuts in a frying pan until golden brown then remove from the pan and put to one side. Add the butter to the pan and once it is hot add the sage and fry until it is crispy and the butter is light brown. Keep the heat low for this last bit and take the pan off as soon as you see the butter turn brown, as it can burn really quickly.
Ladle into bowls and top with the sage and hazelnut brown butter.
Lemony lentil and crispy kale soup
I love this simple soup, which is somewhere between a dhal and a soup – it reminds me of the curry that is served in southern India with dosas. This soup is cleansing and clean, thanks to being spiked with turmeric and a lot of lemon. It’s what I crave if I’ve over-indulged or been around food too long (an occupational hazard – a very nice one). I serve this with a kitchari.
Turmeric is a favourite spice of mine. If I am feeling off-colour I stir a teaspoon into hot water and sip it as a reviving tonic. I love the vibrant, deep saffron-gold colour, the clean, sharp, savoury acid note and the hard-to-put-your-finger-on flavour. It’s a real star on the health front, as it is an anti-inflammatory and has anti-carcinogenic properties. What a spice.
SERVES 4–6
a splash of olive or rapeseed oil
1 leek, washed, trimmed and finely sliced
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 teaspoons ground cumin
2 teaspoons black mustard seeds
juice of 2–3 lemons
250g split red lentils
1 veg stock cube, or 1 tablespoon veg stock powder
4 handfuls of kale (or other greens), washed, trimmed and shredded
TO SERVE (OPTIONAL)
yoghurt, stirred with a little sea salt
Get a large pan on the heat. Add a little oil and turn the heat to medium. Add the leek and fry for a few minutes, until it has softened and smells sweet, then add the spices and fry for another couple of minutes. Squeeze in the juice of 1 lemon and stir around to lift all the spices from the bottom of the pan.
Next, add the lentils, 1.5 litres of water and the stock cube or powder and allow to bubble away for 20–35 minutes, until the lentils are cooked and the soup has thickened.
Turn off the heat and, if you like, you can blitz the whole lot to a thin dhal consistency, then squeeze in the juice of the remaining 2 lemons, tasting as you go to make sure it doesn’t get too lemony. It may seem like a lot, but you really want the lemony tang to come through.
Just before you’re ready to serve, sauté the kale in a little olive oil until it slightly softens but begins to crisp at the edges.
Ladle into bowls and top with the salted yoghurt and the crispy kale.
White beans, greens, olive oil – my ribollita
I spent a good few years of my life cooking Italian food, and I am still in the midst of what I know will be a lifelong love. This is one of the dishes that made me love it so. It is a diva of a dish and it demands you use the very best of everything for it to perform. A ribollita made from the best oil, tomatoes, cavolo nero and bread takes a lot of beating.
I remember every note of my first taste of this in the kitchen of Fifteen London, at the hands of a wonderful chef, Ben Arthur, a Londoner who cooks like an Italian. Dishes like this changed how I looked at food, how I understood it – why the oil needed to be the very best, why there needed to be a lot of it, why traditions were followed and techniques respected. A life-changing bowl of soup, you could say.
This is an autumn version. In summer I use chard or spinach in place of the cavolo and squashed fresh tomatoes instead of tinned ones. I use tinned beans here for ease, but you could cook your own too.
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