As Strong As Soup

I can't really describe this classic recipe as forgotten, but it seems to be overlooked and unfashionable these days. It fits perfectly with my plan to gather some of the recipes that I've been meaning to get around to for years. The first version of this recipe (at least, in English) seems to have surfaced in Elizabeth David’s ‘A Book Of Mediterranean Food’ in 1950 (interestingly, she suggests using red or white wine). It became a staple of the celebrated restaurant ‘The Hole in the Wall’ in Bath and its chef George Perry-Smith through the 1950s and 60s. In the following two or three decades, versions of the recipe surfaced now and then, but I've not seen it mentioned much in the new century. It's a simple recipe that's too tasty to fade away, so here's my version, for what it's worth. The definition of “button” mushrooms is a bit loose and if yours are not quite as small as you might expect, then extend the cooking times a bit. I've used unsmoked pance

Around 45 years ago, I was best of chums with a woman who loved good food and was a fine cook. But, in her view, all that cooking palaver was wasting good partying time. Now and then, she did prepare some food for one of her own parties and that usually meant large pots of decidedly tasty chilli or a strange, vaguely oriental stew of chicken or pork cooked in prodigious amounts of soy sauce. The latter was stuffed into pitta bread before being served to bemused but captive partygoers. It was a very long way from being an authentic dish but, personally, I don't think there's anything wrong with that. To this day, though, I think it just might be the saltiest and, in some ways, the oddest thing I've ever attempted to eat. Recently, I saw some pork shoulder steaks on offer in the supermarket and, for some reason, I remembered that curious, party dish. This definitely isn't  an attempt to recreate it, but I think this modern version sort of captures the spirit of the origin

Continuing my personal plan for 2024, here's another recipe that I've been meaning to get round to for many years. Using new potatoes in a soup may seem a bit odd, but I remember Franco Taruschio used to make a new potato soup back in the hallowed Walnut Tree days and the estimable Simon Hopkinson has made several versions over the years. So, if two of my food heroes make it, then I have to produce my own, prosaic version. It's a different way of celebrating spring or early summer produce and you can even use the bits of asparagus that taste good but may be cheaper because they don't look their best. As I've discovered to my cost, there are two aspects to this soup that are really important. First, don't try to ramp up the flavours by adding too many ingredients, powerful stock or spices because you'll lose the subtle flavour of the potatoes. Second, the purée stage of the soup is absolutely crucial. If you liquidise the potato mix, then the soup is likely

This simple, versatile recipe is another one that I've been meaning to post for quite a while. It's a sweet and spicy sauce that gives you both colour and powerful flavour. It's based, pretty loosely, on a barbecue sauce that Peter Gordon made back in the London Sugar Club days. The sauce will work well with fresh, frozen or even canned mango but there's likely to be a big difference in the sweetness that each type of mango brings to the sauce, so taste and adjust the acidity as you see fit. It's a very forgiving concoction, so vary the spices and the amount of chilli as you fancy. The sauce is good with most simple meat suppers, like burgers, sausages, pork and venison. But it will also liven up leftovers and veg, including winter root veg. Use the sauce to baste during cooking and serve the warmed sauce over or alongside your chosen main ingredient. You could also try it cold as an alternative to the usual ketchup or chilli sauce. In theory, this makes enough for

Last Christmas I was saddened to hear the news that Bill Granger had gone. When I first came across the book "Sydney Food" at the start of the new century, it felt refreshing and joyful. There were many high-profile books published at the time that I found repetitious and dull, but Bill's sunny, carefree food was never forbidding and always relaxed and interesting. Reading his recipes made me want to make them or, at least, something inspired by them. If I strayed away from the details of his recipes here and there, it didn't seem to matter. For me, cooks that inspire in that way are rare and always uplifting.   Since then, I've collected a modest pile of his books and made many meals over the years using his recipes, even if I've altered them a bit along the way. Incidentally, BG was called the "egg king" because of his famous, Australian-style scrambled eggs made with a serious amount of cream, but, I suppose because of my European background, that

In the area around Amiens in the Somme they take rhubarb very seriously and this recipe is based (pretty loosely) on a dish from there. The sauce has a sweet and sour quality that's sharp enough to cut through the rich flavour of duck but it will also work very well with pork, goose or guinea fowl.   If you're using sweet, forced rhubarb such as the superb product from the Rhubarb Triangle in Yorkshire, then it won't need much (if any) sweetening. If in doubt, use the minimum amount of grenadine and add any necessary sweetening at the end.  Despite my sincere attempts to be lazy, I'm now reluctantly forced to admit that the very best grenadine is homemade. Unless you're obsessed with cocktails, though, you probably don't have any, so use whatever commercial brand you fancy. If you don't have any grenadine at all, then just sweeten with honey, agave nectar or even plain sugar, but combine them with a little pomegranate molasses, if possible. The sauce can be