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Seasonal salads and vegetables

I find myself focusing more and more on vegetables, not only for flavour but for the beauty their different textures can bring to a salad or a dish, sometimes just by the way you cut them. I am excited by the idea of vegetable butchery.

Pan-fried cauliflower salad with anchovies and chilli

When I was cooking at the Savoy I thought of myself as the King of the Cauliflower, because one of my jobs was to make the cauliflower soup, and I made a cauliflower cheese that was a work of art, really light and perfectly glazed. But the truth is I never liked cauliflower much. In the cooking of countries like India it is treated to interesting spices, but in European cuisine it often seemed like the boring enemy of gastronomy. In Italy they used to say that cauliflower was for priests, because it kept the sex drive down. But my opinion changed forever a few years ago when I tasted a cauliflower pizza made for me by a husband and wife team, Graham and Kate, when I was a judge at the BBC Radio 4 Food and Farming Awards.

This sweet couple, who now have a restaurant in Bristol, drove around in a bright yellow Defender van with a wood-fired oven called Bertha in the back, and they would come to your party and make maybe 70 or 80 pizzas in a night. Back then it was quite a revolutionary thing to do. I asked them to make me a pizza margherita and another one of their choice. The margherita arrived and it was unbelievably light, Neapolitan style, and I was already thinking, ‘These guys are good,’ when they brought out their anchovy and cauliflower pizza. Graham had sliced raw cauliflower very thinly and used it instead of cheese. I cannot even describe the way in which it was almost melting and yet it kept its structure and flavour, and its tanginess worked so well with the flavour of the anchovy and a little touch of chilli and lemon zest. It was so delicious and like nothing I had tasted on a pizza before.

When someone presents to you, in such a different way, a vegetable that you have put into a certain compartment of your mind for years and years, it is a total shock. I went back to the kitchen at Locanda and I immediately said to the boys, ‘Do we have some cauliflower?’ Of course we didn’t, because I didn’t like it. So I had to go and buy some. We played around with a lot of ideas, and this way of pan-frying the cauliflower and incorporating it into a salad with anchovies, in a little echo of the pizza flavours, was the one we loved the most. It is exactly the kind of quick and simple salad I like to make if Plaxy and I are at home on our own, or as a starter if friends come around.

When a cauliflower is quite big and loose it is easy to break it into small florets of the same size which will cook evenly, as I suggest here, but if it is smaller and very hard and compact, it can be easier to cut a cross in the base and cook it all in one piece, until just tender. As it cools down, the heat will penetrate evenly all the way through to the centre. Then you can cut it into slices. It’s your call, depending on the size and density of the cauliflower.

Or, if you prefer to roast the cauliflower in the oven, you can spread the florets over a baking tray and roast them at 180°C/gas 4 for 20 minutes, sprinkled with a little olive oil. When they have turned golden, remove the tray from the oven and allow them to cool down.

Serves 6

salted anchovies 6

cauliflower 2 heads, separated into florets

olive oil

hard-boiled eggs 3, chopped

black olives 15, stones removed

capers in vinegar 1 tablespoon, drained and rinsed

chopped mild red chilli 1 teaspoon

chopped fresh parsley 1 tablespoon

Giorgio’s dressing 200ml (see here)

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Pan-fried cauliflower salad with anchovies and chilli

1 Rinse the salt from the anchovies and dry them. Run your thumb gently along the backbone of each anchovy – this will allow you to easily pull it out and separate the fish into fillets.

2 Blanch the cauliflower in boiling salted water for 2 minutes. The florets should still be crunchy. Drain them.

3 Heat a little olive oil in a pan, put in the cauliflower and sauté until golden all over. Lift out into a large serving bowl.

4 Add the anchovy fillets, eggs, olives, capers, chilli and parsley. Drizzle in the dressing, mix everything together very gently so that you don’t break up the egg yolks any further, and season to taste.

Plaxy’s salad

When I first came to London my palate wasn’t very spice-oriented. In my region of Lombardy we would occasionally put a little mild chilli into a pasta sauce, but that was it. It was Plaxy who educated me to eat more spicy food, which seemed very daring at the time. But the more you eat, the more you increase your capacity to still taste the flavours of the food and not be distracted by the heat, and so I came to love spice as much as she does.

This has become known as Plaxy’s salad because I first made it for her after we had been in Thailand, and she was hankering after the fresh, clean flavours of the food there. I had some carrots and apples, so I put together this very simple combination which has become a favourite at home, and the boys in the kitchen often make big bowlfuls of it when the staff sit down for their meal before the evening service.

It is the combination of fresh carrot, chilli, mint and sweetness that really drives the flavour, so the rest can be quite loose and you can use different fruits if you prefer: perhaps pears or mango. You can leave out the almonds if you like, maybe put in some tomatoes, parsley or coriander, which adds its own radish-ey aroma. Often we grill some chicken breasts and put them on top of the salad and that is lunch, and it is a great salad to put out as part of a barbecue. Of course you can increase or decrease the quantity of chilli, and if you prefer a more citrus dressing, add a little more lemon juice, or if you like a milder flavour, add more olive oil.

Buy fresh, bunched, organic carrots if you can, as you want to get as close as possible to that intense flavour and aroma that a good carrot has when it is just pulled from the ground and that you never forget. When I was small, my grandad had to stop me pulling up all the carrots in the garden, washing them and eating them straight away, like Bugs Bunny. I loved them so much.

Be gentle when you grate the carrots so that you don’t bruise them, otherwise they will lose some of their moisture.

Serves 6

almonds 250g

carrots 12

green apples 3

fresh mint leaves a good handful

limes juice of 2, or of 1 lime and 1 lemon

Thai chilli paste 2 teaspoons, or to taste

extra virgin olive oil 5 tablespoons

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Plaxy's Salad

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 Lay the almonds on a baking tray and put them into the oven for about 7 minutes, moving the tray around and giving it a shake occasionally so that the nuts become golden all over. Remove the tray from the oven, allow the nuts to cool then chop roughly.

3 Grate the carrots coarsely into a serving bowl, or, if you want a more beautiful presentation, slice them on a mandoline.

4 Cut the apples in half, take out the core, then slice into segments, leaving the skin on. Add to the carrots, together with the toasted almonds and the mint leaves.

5 In a bowl or jug combine the citrus juice, chilli paste and olive oil, taste and season, then toss this dressing gently through the carrot, apple and almonds and serve straight away.

Green bean salad with roasted red onions

People often ask how it is possible to get so much flavour into a dish that is essentially green beans and onions in a shallot dressing, but this is a great example of a very simple salad that is all about the quality of the ingredients and the detail of preparing them.

When a green bean is perfectly cooked, if you squeeze and push along the seam with your thumbs it should split easily. Then, a trick I like to do is to run a knife along the length of almost half the beans so that they hold the dressing, along with little slivers of shallot, almond and Parmesan, in a way that a closed bean can’t do. The contrast of the closed and open beans creates a slightly different feel in the mouth that makes the salad more interesting.

The real key, though, is the contrasting intense sweetness of the red onions, which comes from roasting them very, very slowly in their skins, but also relies on sweet, fresh onions full of juice to begin with. You can tell easily when you buy them: they shouldn’t look dry, and they should feel heavy. The onions we use are the cipolle di Tropea, the special Calabrian onions that have their own Protected Geographical Indication label, and are famous for being so sweet you could almost eat them raw. Tropea is on the coast looking out to the Stromboli volcano, and the best onions are grown south of the town and closest to the sea, where the soil is rich with sandy deposits that have blown into it over the 2,000 years since the onions were introduced to Calabria by the Phoenicians. Of course you can use any other variety – the pink French Roscoff are also especially good – but if you can’t find really fresh red onions, forget about them; it’s better to choose some beautiful sweet, juicy white onions instead.

When onions are slowly roasted like this they can be used for so many other things, too; for example, they are good mixed with roasted vegetables, especially aubergines, or crushed into a paste and served on toasted bread.

The mixing in of the grated Parmesan should be the final touch just before serving, so that it doesn’t get soaked into the dressing: that is very important.

I also made this salad for a friend who is vegan, and instead of the Parmesan I pounded a handful of pine kernels with some extra virgin olive oil and just drizzled this over at the end.

Serves 6

For the onions:

coarse sea salt 100g, plus an extra pinch

red onions 4 large

red wine vinegar 2 tablespoons

extra virgin olive oil 2 tablespoons

For the beans:

almonds 120g, chopped

long green beans 700g

shallot dressing 3 tablespoons (see here)

Giorgio’s dressing 100ml (see here)

Parmesan 200g, grated, plus a little extra for shaving

Green bean salad with roasted red onions

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 Lay the almonds on a baking tray and put them into the oven for about 7 minutes, moving the tray around and giving it a shake occasionally so that the nuts become golden all over. Remove the tray from the oven, allow the nuts to cool then chop roughly.

3 To roast the red onions, scatter the sea salt over a roasting tray and lay the whole onions on top, still in their skins. Cover with foil and put into the preheated oven for 2 hours. They are ready when they feel quite soft to the touch but still give a little resistance. Take out of the oven and when just cool enough to handle, remove the skin and cut each onion in half. Put into a bowl.

4 Mix together the vinegar, oil and a pinch of salt. Pour over the onions, toss through and leave until completely cool.

5 Blanch the beans in boiling salted water for 4 minutes, depending on their thickness, until they are just tender but retain their bite: they should open out easily if you split them along their length. Then drain them under the cold tap to keep their bright green colour.

6 I like to use the outer layers of onion for decoration. If you want to do this, take off the two outer layers of each onion half, keeping them in one piece, and put to one side. Chop the rest of the onion and mix into the beans, add the shallot dressing and Giorgio’s dressing, season and toss all together.

7 Arrange the outer layers of the onions around the outside of a large shallow dish to resemble a crown. Add the grated Parmesan to the bean and onion mixture and turn it all together gently, then spoon it into a mound in the centre of the crown of onions. Sprinkle the almonds on top and finish with some shaved Parmesan.

Dressings

I am always shocked at how many bottles of dressings and sauces there are in the supermarket, when it is so easy and so much better for you to make your own. Why not invest in some little squeezy bottles to put on that rack on the inside of the door of your fridge, and fill them up with some punchy dressings that you can pull out any time you need something with a kick of flavour to add to a salad, over some vegetables, or a piece of fish or meat. Grate some carrots, add some anchovy dressing from the fridge and you have a starter. The good thing about a squeezy bottle, as opposed to a jar, is that the contents don’t come into contact with any utensils, like spoons that have been dipped into other sauces, so the dressings stay pristine. They are all made with oil and vinegar, so they will keep for up to a month, unless you have a son like Jack, in which case it will be a few days.

Giorgio’s dressing

This is my everyday dressing. I like a fresh, fruity, grassy, rounded oil, and so just over ten years ago we decided to experiment with producing our own oil in Sicily in partnership with the owner of the small Tenimenti Montoni estate, Antonio Alfano, to use in the restaurant and to sell. The patch of land is high up in the mountains of Cammarata, close to Enna, where they grow Nocellara and Biancolilla olives, and we planted an additional 3,000 olive trees at the top of the mountain which have now come to full production. The oil that they produce is unfiltered, green-gold in colour and full of flavours of tomato and artichoke and cut grass. We have bottles of every single vintage in the kitchen at Locanda, and every autumn when the first new oil comes in it is exciting, because there is always a subtle difference, depending on the season. One year a tempest came in from the sea and did a lot of damage to the trees, but we still managed to produce a beautiful oil. It is such a pleasure and a privilege to open each bottle and to feel that, yes, it has all the rich characteristics of a typical Sicilian oil, but it is also very personal, reflecting all the particularities of a piece of land that you know so well.

Makes about 375ml

sea salt ½ teaspoon

red wine vinegar 3 tablespoons

white wine vinegar 2 tablespoons

extra virgin olive oil 300ml, preferably a fruity southern Italian one

1 Put the salt into a bowl.

2 Add the vinegars and leave for a minute to allow the salt to dissolve.

3 Whisk in the olive oil, with 2 tablespoons of water, until the liquids emulsify. Now you can pour the vinaigrette into a clean squeezy bottle and keep it in the fridge for up to a month. It will separate out, so just give it a good shake before you use it.

Shallot dressing

We use this dressing often for salads, especially when they include roasted onions, sometimes on its own and sometimes combined with Giorgio’s dressing.

Makes 150ml

long banana shallots 2, or 4 small round ones, finely chopped

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

red wine vinegar 75ml

extra virgin olive oil 150ml

1 Put the shallots into a bowl and season, then add the vinegar.

2 Leave to marinate for 12 hours in the fridge, then pass through a fine sieve and discard the vinegar. Put the onions into a sterilised jar and add the olive oil. You can keep this in the fridge for up to a month.

Anchovy dressing

Use a blender with a small cup (around 500ml). Blend into a dressing, and store in your squeezy bottle for up to a month.

Makes 200ml

anchovy fillets in oil 14

extra virgin olive oil 120ml

white wine vinegar 3 tablespoons

garlic ½ a clove

dried chilli a pinch (optional)

Sun-dried tomato dressing

Use a blender with a small cup (around 500ml). Blend into a dressing, and store in your squeezy bottle for up to a month.

Makes 200ml

sun-dried tomatoes 8 halves

extra virgin olive oil 100ml

white wine vinegar 2 tablespoons

fresh basil leaves 10

dried oregano a pinch

Black olive dressing

Use a blender with a small cup (around 500ml). Blend into a dressing, and store in your squeezy bottle for up to a month.

Makes 200ml

black olive tapenade 2 tablespoons

anchovy fillets in oil 3

garlic ¼ a clove

extra virgin olive oil 80ml

white wine vinegar 1 tablespoon

Onion and chard salad with broad bean purée

This is a salad that we always made at home, because Margherita could eat everything but the chicory and chilli – although it was a shame she couldn’t enjoy them too, because what I love about this is the contrast of the sweetness from the purée, the slight bitterness of the chard, the sweet and sour of the onions, and the chilli. The chilli brings a lift and a liveliness to the salad; it needs to be a detectable flavour, so if you like you can increase the quantity of mild chillies, or use one hotter one instead.

When it first comes into season I like to substitute the Swiss chard with catalogna, one of the members of the big chicory family, which is similar to the Roman puntarelle, except that puntarelle has little spears inside whereas this one is all white-ish-light-green stems and darker green leaves that look a bit like those of a dandelion. In southern Italy catalogna grows wild everywhere, so when you buy your vegetables in the market, the stallholders will often give you a bunch of it as a present, in the way that they might give you a bundle of herbs at other times of the year. People eat it in all sorts of ways, often sautéd with chilli and garlic, or with ricotta. You could also use the blanched version, the Belgian endive, and just cut it into long strips. It will give you the bitterness, but the shapes and texture will be different.

Although you could make the salad with fresh or frozen broad beans (I am always wary of beans in tins, which may have unwanted ‘agents’ in them), I like to use dried beans. Yes, fresh beans have a fantastic flavour and vivid colour, but dried ones, when they have been soaked and cooked, have a natural viscosity that really helps to bring the purée to the hummus-like consistency that you are looking for. Dried beans are a great gift to humanity: you can keep them in the cupboard or freeze them, you can soak some and if you change your mind about using them straight away you still have 24 hours to use them. And even then, if you cook more than you need, you can cool them down and keep them in a container in the fridge to mix into salads.

When we have the wild fennel, Finocchio selvatico, that comes in from Sicily, I like to use it instead of the fennel seeds, or you could use the fronds from a bulb of Florence fennel, chopped very finely and added at the same stage.

I like to serve this with some thick slices of toasted bread so you can mound some of the purée on top then add some of the chard or chicory and onion to get the full experience of sweet, sour, bitter – and a touch of heat.

Serves 6

dried broad beans 500g

white onions 4 medium

olive oil 150ml

fennel seeds 1 teaspoon (or 50g wild fennel or fennel fronds, finely chopped)

white wine vinegar 50ml

capers in vinegar 2 tablespoons, drained and rinsed

sugar 1 teaspoon

Swiss chard or catalogna chicory 2 bunches

garlic 1 clove, chopped

mild red chilli 1, chopped

extra virgin olive oil, to finish

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Onion and chard salad with broad bean purée

1 Soak the beans in cold water overnight.

2 When ready to cook, chop one of the onions and heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil in a large pan. Add the onion and the fennel seeds, or wild fennel or fennel fonds, if using, and cook gently until the onion is soft and translucent.

3 Drain the beans from their soaking water and add to the pan with just enough fresh water to cover. Bring to the boil, then turn down to a simmer for about 1 hour, until tender. Transfer the beans to a blender along with any remaining cooking water (most of it will have been absorbed) and blend, adding 2 more tablespoons of the olive oil, a little at a time, until you have a quite smooth purée that resembles hummus in texture.

4 Chop the rest of the onions. In a separate pan, heat 2 more tablespoons of olive oil, add the onions and cook gently. When soft and translucent, add the vinegar, capers and sugar. Take off the heat, put the lid on the pan and leave to cool down.

5 Cut the stems from the chard or chicory and blanch in boiling salted water for 3 minutes, adding the leaves for 2 more minutes until the stems are tender, then take off the heat and drain.

6 Heat the rest of the olive oil in a large sauté pan, add the garlic and chilli and cook gently for 1 minute. Add the chard or chicory stems and leaves and sauté gently, so they take on the flavours of the garlic and chilli, but don’t colour. Season, then take off the heat.

7 Spread the broad bean purée over the base of a serving dish, then layer the chard or chicory and onions on top. Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil and finish with black pepper.

Swiss chard with butter, Parmesan and baked eggs

An egg and anything interesting that you have in the fridge is a really good meal. If I am at home by myself I love a fried egg; there is something very comforting about it, cooked slowly in a little bit of salted butter in a non-stick pan, so you really taste the flavour of the eggs – I am not a fan of eggs that have been fried hard and turn brown and crispy around the edges.

Lately I have a penchant for the breakfast made for me by Willie Harcourt-Cooze, who supplies us with his single-estate chocolate: fried egg and smashed avocado on toasted bread, with a little chilli, salt, and some bitter cacao shaved over the top. It has become my favourite thing. And in a way this very straightforward combination of baked egg, Swiss chard and Parmesan touches the same comfort zone. I always think it is a good dish for kids who are not keen on vegetables, because Swiss chard is not known for its huge flavour. It has a sweetness that counteracts the overly bitter edge that other leaves can have, and the umami action of the Parmesan really helps to bring the elements together and makes the combination so delicious – but if you can’t find chard, you can substitute fresh, or even frozen, spinach.

100g of Parmesan is great, but if you have 125g that is even better. And if you have an aged Parmesan of 24–36 months, which will have more depth of flavour, that’s better still.

Serves 6

Swiss chard 1.5kg

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

butter 50g

eggs 6

Parmesan 100g, grated

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 Cut the stalks from the chard leaves. Blanch the stalks first in boiling salted water for 3 minutes, then add the leaves for a further 2 minutes. Drain, squeezing out the excess water with your hands.

3 Melt the butter in a pan, add the chard, season and toss in the butter briefly, then lift out into an ovenproof dish. Break the eggs on top, season, sprinkle with the Parmesan and put into the preheated oven for about 8–10 minutes, until the whites of the eggs are cooked but the yolks are still soft and the Parmesan is golden.

4 Take out of the oven and serve straight away.

Aubergines x 4

I can’t think of many ingredients that captivate me in the way that aubergines do. They are so much a part of Italian culture, but over and above the beauty of their many colours – which go from marbled cream and violet to inky purple – I love the aubergine’s great capacity to transform itself and agree with flavours and ideas from other cultures. In all the years I have been cooking, the aubergine has surprised me many, many times, and I know that, when I am not expecting it, it will happen again. What is special is that sponginess of texture that you can use to great advantage to absorb other flavours, which, in turn, enhance the slightly bitter flavour of the aubergine, rather than obscuring it.

My first real aubergine revelation, many years ago, was caponata, that Sicilian explosion of sweet and sour vegetables. Then in a fantastic Turkish restaurant in North London, I watched the chef/owner bury a whole aubergine in the ash of a fire pit, so it was protected all around and the skin didn’t touch any direct heat. He left it for about 10 minutes then held it upright by its little stalk, peeled it and roughly chopped it with spring onions, seasoned it with lemon juice and salt and pepper and it was so delicious: fresh, yet smoky. I have done the same thing many times since in the summer, burying the aubergines in the ashes of a barbecue. And one of my latest favourite ways to eat aubergine is roasted, covered with miso paste.

It is easy to forget that aubergines have a season, which in the Mediterranean lasts through the summer to autumn. A medium-sized aubergine that is perfectly ripe has a great freshness about it, whereas the older and bigger the fruit, the more bitter it becomes.

To prepare the aubergines for each recipe (apart from the caviar), slice them crossways into 1cm-thick slices. Sprinkle with sea salt and put into a colander to drain for 2 hours to remove some of their bitterness, then rinse and pat dry.

Each recipe overleaf makes enough for 6.

Char-grilled and marinated

This can be a starter or side dish with grilled or roast meat. If you are having a barbecue, you can put the aubergines on the grill first, and have them marinating, while cooking the meat.

1 Prepare 3 aubergines as here, season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, drizzle with olive oil and put on a griddle pan (or barbecue) until the flesh is soft and the skin is marked on both sides (alternatively you can pan-fry them in a non-stick pan with no olive oil over a very low heat until they dry out and become light golden), then lay the slices in a serving dish.

2 With a pestle and mortar, make a marinade by crushing 2 cloves of garlic to a paste, then adding 4 anchovy fillets (drained of their oil) and 20 fresh mint leaves.

3 Continue to pound the ingredients, adding a chopped hot red chilli and 2 pinches of dried oregano, and finally 4 tablespoons of white wine vinegar and 4 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil.

4 Pour the marinade over the aubergine slices. You can eat them straight away, but they are better kept in the fridge overnight, so that the aubergines really absorb the flavours.

Caviar

This is good as a starter, cooled and spread on bruschetta, or served hot with lamb (you can add some chopped mint at the end).

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 Take 3 large aubergines and cut them in half lengthways, but keep them in pairs.

3 Lay a sprig of rosemary and a slightly crushed clove of garlic over one half of each aubergine. Sprinkle with a little sea salt, then put the halves back together and wrap in foil.

4 Bake in the preheated oven for around 1½ hours, until the aubergines feel soft to the touch.

5 Take out of the oven, discard the rosemary and garlic, scoop out the aubergine flesh and roughly chop it.

6 Heat some olive oil in a large sauté pan, add around 10 finely chopped spring onions and cook them gently until just soft, then add the aubergine and cook until the flesh begins to dry out.

7 Add a tablespoon of tomato purée and cook for another 5 minutes. Taste and season.

Parmigiana

This is a meal in itself, like a lasagne but with aubergine instead of pasta. You need around 1.5 litres of tomato passata and around 300g of Parmesan. Some people like to add mozzarella (you will need 2 x 120g) and chopped cooked ham (around 5 slices), but these are optional.

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 Take about 7 aubergines, prepared as here. Either pan-fry the slices in olive oil (the traditional way) or grill them, brushed with a little oil. If you have fried them, drain them on kitchen paper before assembling.

3 Start by spreading a ladleful of tomato passata thinly over the base of a deep oven dish (this layer should be just enough to coat the aubergine, which goes in next, and not any thicker, or it will make the aubergine too wet).

4 Now put in your layer of aubergine slices, almost overlapping them to avoid any gaps.

5 Sprinkle with plenty of grated Parmesan and a few leaves of basil. If using mozzarella, dot some pieces over the top, and if using cooked ham, scatter in some pieces here, too.

6 Repeat the layers (ideally you should have around 7 layers of aubergine), finishing with plenty of Parmesan.

7 Put into the preheated oven for 30 minutes until golden on top.

Pickled

This will make enough to fill 2 small jars and is a great accompaniment for prosciutto and other antipasti.

1 Prepare 3 aubergines as here, but cut into slices of only around 5mm thick before salting.

2 Slice again into 5mm strips.

3 Bring 300ml of water, 300ml of white wine vinegar and 300ml of white wine to the boil with a teaspoon of sea salt.

4 Put in the aubergine with 2 whole cloves of garlic and cook for 3 minutes, then drain in a colander and pat dry. If you like, you can keep the liquid and store it in the fridge in a plastic container to use next time.

5 Sterilise 2 jars, pack them with the aubergine, garlic and add a sprig of rosemary and a few slices of chilli.

6 Cover with extra virgin olive oil. You can store the jars for a month as long as the aubergine is completely submerged.

Aubergine and sun-dried tomato salad with wild garlic

At one time I used to like to make a carpaccio of aubergines: slicing them very thinly, salting, draining them, rinsing and patting them dry, then grilling them and serving them with chimichurri (see here), and at some point that idea developed into this salad. We make it with thicker slices of aubergine, char-grilled and then combined with the sharp kick of spring onions and the sweetness of oven-roasted or sun-dried tomatoes. I like to keep a big bowlful of it in the fridge at home to pull out and have with grilled fish or meat, or just with some toasted bread and maybe some burrata.

Serves 6

aubergines 3 large

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

red onions 3

white wine vinegar 1 tablespoon

olive oil

sun-dried or oven-roasted tomatoes 18 (see here)

wild garlic leaves 6, when in season, finely chopped (or 1 garlic clove, crushed and then chopped with 1 tablespoon of fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves)

Giorgio’s dressing 3 tablespoons (see here)

1 With a peeler, take off four vertical strips of peel from each aubergine at equal intervals to create a stripy appearance, then slice crossways, 1cm thick. Sprinkle with sea salt and put into a colander to drain for 2 hours, to remove some of the bitterness, then rinse and pat dry.

2 Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

3 Put the onions, still with their skins on, into a roasting tin, sprinkle with some more sea salt and roast for 2 hours – if you squeeze them gently they should be soft.

4 When cool enough to handle, take off the onion skins and cut the flesh into strips. Sprinkle with the white wine vinegar and a little more sea salt and set aside in a serving dish.

5 Season the slices of aubergine, drizzle with olive oil and cook on a hot griddle pan (or barbecue) until soft and marked on both sides (alternatively, pan-fry them in some olive oil until golden). Allow to cool, then cut into strips of a similar thickness to the onions and mix with the sun-dried or oven-roasted tomatoes in a serving dish.

6 Toss the wild garlic leaves, or parsley and garlic, through the aubergine and onions with the dressing, then taste and season if necessary.

Winter brassica and potato salad

This is the kind of chunky, sturdy winter salad that you can put into the fridge and it will be better the day after you make it. It is good on its own, or to put on the table to extend a family meal. You could use Savoy cabbage, but cavolo nero has a bitterness that really helps. Sometimes I like to add a spoonful of good sauerkraut from a jar on top – the vinegariness and slight spice works really well.

Serves 6

coarse sea salt 100g

red onions 4 medium

white wine vinegar 3 tablespoons

extra virgin olive oil 2 tablespoons

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

potatoes 4 medium

romanesco 1 medium head, separated into florets

cauliflower 1 head, separated into florets

cavolo nero around 300g, spines removed and leaves cut into large pieces

red cabbage 1 small head, sliced

shallot dressing 6 tablespoons (see here)

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 To roast the red onions, scatter the sea salt over a roasting tray and lay the whole onions on top, still in their skins. Cover with foil and put into the preheated oven for 2 hours. They are ready when they feel quite soft to the touch but still give a little resistance. Take out of the oven, and when just cool enough to handle remove the skin and cut each onion in half. Put into a bowl.

3 Mix together the vinegar, oil and a pinch of salt. Pour over the onions, toss through and leave until completely cool.

4 Cook the potatoes (skin on) in boiling salted water until tender, then cool, peel and slice.

5 Halve any large florets of romanesco and cauliflower: you want all the pieces to be of a similar size so that they cook consistently.

6 Bring a large pan of salted water to the boil, put in the romanesco for about 3 minutes, depending on the size of the florets, until the pieces are just tender, but still have a little bite, then lift out with a slotted spoon and transfer to a bowl. Repeat with the cauliflower, again cooking for 3 minutes, then the cavolo nero, but cook this for just 1 minute. Finally put in the red cabbage for 4 minutes. When you lift out the red cabbage put it into a separate bowl, or it will stain the other leaves.

7 In a large bowl, crush the potatoes a little and toss with the romanesco, cauliflower, cavolo nero, red onions and 5 tablespoons of the shallot dressing, then season. Transfer to a serving dish. Season the red cabbage and toss with the remaining shallot dressing, then spoon on top of the salad.

Anchovy and chicory salad with lemon compote

This is one of my favourite salads: it is like a little winter garden of different varieties and colours of chicory all laid down in front of you: green puntarelle, which is the speciality of Rome, round, pink-and-cream-speckled Castelfranco when it comes into season in November, and crimson-and-white-veined radicchio. I like a mix of the long Treviso radicchio which comes from the Veneto, and, in the months between November and March, radicchio tardivo. This is the same variety of chicory, but it has a much more pronounced flavour thanks to an old, ingenious process of cutting and packing the heads of radicchio in baskets in dark forcing sheds with spring water running through. The roots stay immersed in the water and after about ten days, amazing new, crisp, red and white hearts appear and the outer leaves are stripped away.

A winter salad is different to a spring or summer salad: when those delicate, tender leaves are no longer in season what you must have is crunch and character, and I like the bitterness that you get from leaves and vegetables like chicory and artichokes; it is something I have come to enjoy even more as I have got older. We seem to have pulled away from bitterness in our foods, but apart from the extra edge of flavour that it adds, bitter is good for the digestion and helps your liver to function properly.

The green sauce is similar to a classic salsa verde but made without egg or bread, and with some spinach put in with the herbs, and finally there is a little Sicilian soul from the addition of the lemon and chilli compote, which is a bit like a jam with attitude.

It is easy to buy anchovy fillets already marinated in vinegar and oil for this recipe, but try to choose ones in a quite gentle marinade, as some can be too harsh and vinegary. At Locanda we marinate our own fresh anchovies, and it is easy to do if you can find the fresh fish.

To marinate your own anchovies

You will need around 1kg. Take off the heads, then run your thumbnail along the backbone to remove the fillets and wash them well under running water to remove any traces of blood, which will make the anchovies taste bitter.

Make the marinade by putting 300ml of white wine vinegar and 50g of sea salt into a pan with 500ml of water. Bring to the boil, stirring until the salt has dissolved, then take from the heat and leave to cool down. Put the anchovy fillets into the marinade and leave them in the fridge for 4 hours, moving them around from time to time to make sure they are all completely covered, then lift out and drain in a colander. Put the anchovies into a bowl with 2 chopped cloves of garlic, around 20 large fresh parsley leaves and 10 black peppercorns, then pour in enough extra virgin olive oil to cover. Make sure the anchovies are completely submerged. Once under the oil, the anchovies will keep in the fridge for up to two weeks.

Serves 6

sea salt

potatoes 4 large, skin on, washed

Giorgio’s dressing 200ml (see here)

puntarelle 1 small head

radicchio di Treviso 1

radicchio di Castelfranco 1

radicchio tardivo 1

marinated anchovy fillets about 500g (or about 10 per person)

For the lemon compote:

lemons 10

caster sugar 200g

mild red chilli ½

For the green sauce:

spinach leaves 80g

salted anchovies 6

garlic 1 clove, peeled

fresh flat-leaf parsley 100g

white wine vinegar 1 tablespoon

extra virgin olive oil 200ml

Anchovy and chicory salad with lemon compote (picture here)

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 Scatter a little sea salt over a baking tray, put the potatoes on top and bake in the preheated oven for at least 40 minutes, depending on their size. Remove from the oven and when cool enough to handle, peel and cut into slices about 1cm thick. Put into a bowl, season and toss with half the dressing.

3 Meanwhile, take off the spiky outer leaves of the puntarelle. (Don’t throw them away, as you can blanch them and sauté them in olive oil, with a little garlic and chilli, as an accompaniment to meat or fish, or use them in the salad here.) Now you will see at the base of the puntarelle the fat, hollow, spear-like stems that are white at the bottom, turning green, and have tendrils growing out from them. Cut these free, then, with a small knife, make vertical cuts all around the base of the stems, put them into a colander and drain under cold running water for 5 minutes, to remove some of the bitterness. Then transfer them to a bowl of iced water for about an hour and you will see that the cuts in the stems will allow them to twist and curl like little flowers in the icy cold.

4 To make the lemon compote, remove the peel from the lemons using a sharp knife, and discard it. Then separate into segments, removing the skin, and put into a pan. Squeeze the rest of each lemon over the top, so that any additional juice goes into the pan. Add the sugar and chilli to the pan, slowly bring to a simmer and cook gently for 10 minutes until you have a pale syrup. Take off the heat, put the contents of the pan into a blender and blend until smooth, then keep to one side.

5 You can make the green sauce using either a pestle and mortar or a blender. First, blanch the spinach very briefly in boiling salted water – just lower it in and then lift it out again – then drain it in a colander under cold running water, to stop it from cooking any further and keep it looking fresh and green.

6 Rinse the salt from the 6 salted anchovies and dry them. Run your thumb gently along the backbone of each one, which will allow you to easily peel it out and separate the fish into fillets, then just roughly chop them.

7 If using a pestle and mortar, crush the garlic first, then add the anchovies and continue to crush. Add the parsley leaves and keep on working the ingredients into a paste. Add the spinach and work it in. Finally, mix in the vinegar and oil. You should finish up with a smooth bright green paste. If using a blender, you can put all the ingredients in together and blend as quickly as possible, to a smooth paste.

8 Cut the base from the heads of radicchio to release the leaves and wash them under running water. Pat dry and put into a bowl. Drain the puntarelle ‘flowers’ from their iced water and pat them dry too, then add them to the bowl and toss with the rest of the dressing.

9 To assemble the salad, spread the green sauce over the base of a large serving dish and arrange the potato slices on top. Drain the marinated anchovies, then intersperse them with the dressed leaves and puntarelle ‘flowers’. Dot teaspoonfuls of lemon compote onto some of the leaves and serve.

Courgettes

x 4

My grandad used to grow courgettes in the garden and I remember when I was small thinking, ‘These plants take up such a massive space, and all you get is about three courgettes,’ so the first time I saw a whole boxful I thought it must take miles and miles of garden to grow them. I believe that to produce a good courgette the plant must have its roots in the ground, and preferably be grown organically, which seems to make a massive difference to the taste and smell, rather than using the hydroponic culture, which I feel produces a more watery courgette. I visited an amazing farm in the desert in Dubai, where an incredible woman, Elena Kinane, was growing organic courgettes, as well as around 120 different heirloom varieties of fruit, vegetables and herbs, in a tiny, shadowy area of sand in a valley between some massive dunes. One of the crops she grew was alfalfa, which went to feed local racing camels, then the manure from the animals was sent back to fertilise the sand. It was such an extraordinary thing to suddenly come across this green oasis in such a harsh environment. She had an irrigation system, and glasshouses, more to keep the produce cool than hot, and every so often an amazing storm of coldish wet air would be created inside. The courgettes were her obsession, and the whole operation was so inspirational, it gave me hope that there are always people with the will and the ingenuity to produce food and survive in the harshest of environments.

There is a certain sweetness and particularity of flavour about courgettes that kids seem to like, in the same way as peas. We always had them at home for Margherita because although she was allergic to so many green vegetables, she could eat courgettes, and she loved them. I only wish we saw more interesting varieties, as so many seem to have disappeared in favour of the universal sleek green one. Where are the yellow ones, the ones that are so pale green they are almost white, and the round ones that are the perfect shape for stuffing?

Each recipe makes enough for 6.

Marinated

You can eat the courgettes on their own, in a salad, or serve them with burrata, or fish.

1 Cut 6 large courgettes lengthways into thin slices (about 3mm) with a sharp knife or mandoline. Heat some olive oil in a sauté pan and fry the courgettes until golden on each side. Lift out and drain on kitchen paper.

2 Very finely chop a handful of large fresh mint leaves with a small handful of fresh parsley leaves and 2 cloves of garlic, and mix with about a teaspoon of dried chilli.

3 In a large pan heat 500ml of extra virgin olive oil to 120°C (just under a simmer). Very slowly and carefully add 70ml of white wine vinegar and allow to bubble up for a minute. Take off the heat and leave to cool.

4 Layer some of the courgettes in a serving dish, sprinkle with some of the herb and garlic mixture, then spoon in some of the oil and vinegar. Repeat until you have used up all the components. Cover with clingfilm and leave in the fridge to marinate for 24 hours.

Pan-fried with garlic, tomato and white wine

This is a good side dish for white meat, fish, or whatever you like.

1 Put a clove of garlic on a chopping board, and with the back of a large knife, crush it into a paste.

2 Put a large handful of fresh parsley leaves on top and chop finely, so that the garlic and parsley combine and release their flavours into each other.

3 Cut 3 medium courgettes in half lengthways, then slice into half-moons about 5mm thick. Heat some olive oil in a large sauté pan, add 2 lightly crushed cloves of garlic and cook gently until golden (take care not to let them burn). Add the courgettes, season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper, then spread them out so that they are all in contact with the pan and sauté quickly – you will need to do this in batches – until golden on both sides.

4 Add half a glass (35ml) of white wine and about 5 halved cherry tomatoes to the pan and cook for about 3 minutes. Remove the whole garlic cloves and sprinkle in the parsley and garlic mixture.

Deep-fried

1 With a mandoline, cut about 3 large courgettes into long, thin strips. The trick is to cut only two strips from each side: one, two, then turn, one, two, turn, so you get a homogenous amount of firm white courgette and courgette with a little bit of skin attached. That way when you fry them they will be fantastically crispy, whereas if you carry on cutting all the way through to the soft middle of the courgette when you fry those strips they will just turn to mush.

2 Put the strips into a shallow bowl, season with sea salt and leave for about 30 minutes, until some of the water has been drawn out.

3 Mix equal quantities of 00 flour and semolina flour in a shallow bowl and lift the courgettes into the flour. Don’t rinse, drain or squeeze them, as you want them to be moist, so that the flour will cling to them.

4 Heat some vegetable oil to 180°C in a deep-fryer (alternatively, heat the oil in a large pan, no more than a third full – if you don’t have a kitchen thermometer, drop a little flour into the oil and it will sizzle very gently).

5 Lower the floured courgettes into the hot oil and fry for a few minutes until golden and crisp.

6 Drain on kitchen paper and sprinkle with sea salt to taste.

Stuffed

For a starter or a light lunch, you need 8 courgettes.

1 Cut 6 of the courgettes lengthways and scoop out the seeds. Sprinkle with sea salt and put into a colander for an hour to draw out some of the water and season the courgettes at the same time. Rinse and pat dry.

2 Meanwhile, heat some olive oil in a pan, add a diced onion and 2 diced stalks of celery, and cook gently until the onion is soft and translucent.

3 Add 2 tablespoons of white wine vinegar, bring to the boil, stir in a tablespoon of tomato passata and take off the heat.

4 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4 and line a roasting tin with baking paper. Chop the remaining 2 courgettes and an aubergine.

5 Heat some olive oil in a sauté pan and fry both together until golden. Add to the onion and tomato mixture, stirring in a little extra tomato passata if the mixture is too dry.

6 Spoon into the cavities of the courgettes and lay them in the lined roasting tin. Put into the preheated oven and bake for about 20 minutes, until the vegetable stuffing has turned dark golden.

Creamed salt cod salad with cicerchia purée

Salt cod has become very fashionable, and yet the technique of salting and then drying fish goes back hundreds of years. It is hard for us to understand now how important and valuable salt cod was to inland regions of Italy and other Mediterranean countries in the days before refrigeration, especially on Fridays, the traditional fish day decreed by the Catholic church. In some remote areas, where animals couldn’t easily graze, salt cod possibly even kept some families alive. Take a region like Calabria, which has a big beautiful coast full of lovely fish, but the mountains are so close to the sea that only a short distance away the only fish that would have been available would be salted and dried. There is a particular village, Gerace, which was known for its salt cod, because the people used to soak it in the local spring, and there is still a shop there where you can buy the whole salted fish, which look like prehistoric creatures.

I remember, also, that my grandmother thought that the fish would be better if you soaked it under the fountain in our village of Corgeno. She used to de-salt it and cook fat pieces of it in milk, with onions and garlic, alla vicentina, in the style of the town of Vicenza in the north of Italy, or in umido, with tomatoes and onions, but my favourite is to turn it into a creamy paste, as in this recipe and the one that follows. It is quite magical to see the transformation of this fibrous fish as you beat it, adding olive oil very, very gently until it becomes whiter and whiter. You do need to use a lighter northern oil, such as a Ligurian one, though, as a strong green Sicilian or Tuscan oil will give a green tinge to the cod, and also impose its own flavour too much.

With the popularity of salt cod, it is now easy to buy it already de-salted. In the markets in Italy, there will often be a salt cod specialist selling it both ways, in many different cuts. There may be a few eggs or anchovies on the stall, but nothing else. It is all about the salt cod. But if you are soaking it yourself, you need to do this in cold water in the fridge, for up to three days, changing the water every day, depending on the thickness and the particular cut of cod.

The creamed cod is fantastic just on its own with a little salad as a starter, and it makes a great crostini to put out with drinks. You can have it ready in a bowl in the fridge and toast your bread in advance and keep it in an airtight container. Then you can just scoop some of the creamed cod on to the pieces of toast and put some halved cherry tomatoes on top, if you like. I was once served creamed salt cod on top of a thick, firm slice of a green Cuore di Bue – the massive, ribbed ox-heart tomato – which had been pan-fried really quickly, and it was fantastic.

Cicerchia is an ancient chickpea-like legume (known in Britain as the grass pea) that is one of the almost-extinct crops that has been revived and championed and made fashionable by the Slow Food movement. It used to be grown as a peasant crop in many countries, including Italy, because it can grow in areas where conditions are harsh, and so in times of famine it was very important. Then it fell out of favour, after it was discovered that it contained a neurotoxin called diaminopropionic acid, and if it was eaten as a major part of the diet over a period of time (as could happen during times of famine) it could cause paralysis of the lower limbs in adults and brain damage in children. However, in small quantities it is now known to be harmless. In fact it is considered to be nutritious, as well as full of flavour – but if you prefer, you can use chickpeas. If you can find good chickpeas in jars, that have no thickeners or other unwanted ingredients added, and not too much salt, you can use them instead.

Serves 6

dried cicerchia, or chickpeas 300g, or the equivalent good jarred or tinned ones

dried cannellini or other white beans 150g

dried borlotti beans 150g

shallots 100g, finely chopped

salted capers 40g, rinsed

anchovy fillets in oil 12, rinsed

de-salted salt cod 1kg

garlic 8 cloves, whole

bay leaves 7

milk 2 litres

pancetta 6 thin slices

fresh sage leaves a small bunch

diced pancetta 200g

lamb’s lettuce 300g

delicate extra virgin olive oil, for example Ligurian 300ml

fresh flat-leaf parsley a handful

Giorgio’s dressing 150ml (see here)

Creamed salt cod salad with cicerchia purée

1 Soak the cicerchia (or dried chickpeas, if using) and the beans in separate bowls of water overnight.

2 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

3 Mix the shallots, capers and anchovies in a bowl.

4 Lay the cod in a deep roasting tray and spread the shallot, caper and anchovy mixture over the top. Add 3 of the garlic cloves and 4 of the bay leaves and pour the milk over the top, then cover with foil. Bake in the preheated oven for 2½–3 hours, until the cod breaks into soft flakes, then remove and keep to one side. Turn the oven down to 150°C/gas 2.

5 Line a baking tray with baking paper and lay the slices of pancetta on top. Put into the oven for 40 minutes, until crispy, then lift out.

6 Meanwhile, drain the cicerchia or chickpeas and beans, discarding the water. Rinse under running water and put into separate pans with enough fresh water to cover. Add another clove of garlic, a bay leaf, and a few sage leaves to each pan. Bring to the boil, then turn down to a simmer and cook until tender (each one will take roughly an hour). Take off the heat, leave to cool down in the cooking water, then drain. Keep back half the cicerchia or chickpeas then mix the rest with the beans in a bowl. If using jarred or tinned chickpeas, add half now, but keep the rest, with their liquid.

7 Heat a frying pan, add the diced pancetta and sauté until crisp and golden. Lift out and drain on kitchen paper, then add to the bowl, together with the lamb’s lettuce.

8 Take the reserved cicerchia or chickpeas and put into a blender, adding 3 tablespoons of the olive oil a little at a time, until you have a creamy purée. If using jarred or tinned chickpeas, heat them up with enough of their liquid to cover before blending. Keep to one side.

9 Put the remaining garlic cloves on a chopping board and with the back of a large knife, crush them into a paste. Put the parsley leaves on top and chop finely, so that the garlic and parsley combine and release their flavours into each other.

10 Lift the cod from the cooking milk and put it into the bowl of a food mixer. Pour the milk and the shallot, caper and anchovy mixture through a fine sieve, discarding the milk. Add the drained anchovy mixture to the cod and mix slowly, adding the rest of the olive oil a little at a time, to avoid splitting the mixture, until you have a creamy consistency. Towards the end of mixing, add the chopped parsley and garlic.

11 To serve, spread the cicerchia or chickpea purée over the base of a shallow serving dish. Toss the rest of the cicerchia or chickpeas and beans with the lamb’s lettuce and dressing and scatter over the purée. Spoon the creamed salt cod over the top and finish with the crispy slices of pancetta.

Creamed salt cod salad with confit cherry tomatoes

This is a variation on the previous recipe to make in summer when you have good, ripe cherry tomatoes. The salt cod has a very deep, rich flavour, and the acidity of the tomatoes and the pepperiness of the watercress offset it perfectly. I really like it with crunchy polenta crisps (see here).

Serves 6

shallots 100g, finely chopped

salted capers 40g, rinsed

anchovy fillets in oil 12, rinsed

de-salted salt cod 1kg

garlic 6 cloves, whole

bay leaves 5

milk 2 litres

cherry tomatoes 1kg

olive oil 500ml

fresh rosemary 1 sprig

fresh flat-leaf parsley a handful

watercress leaves 2 bunches

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

white wine vinegar 1 tablespoon

To serve:

polenta crisps (see here), (optional)

1 If you are making the polenta crisps, these need to be started off the night before.

2 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

3 Mix the shallots, capers and anchovies in a bowl.

4 Lay the cod in a deep roasting tray and spread the shallot, caper and anchovy mixture over the top. Add 3 of the garlic cloves and 4 of the bay leaves and pour the milk over the top, then cover with foil. Bake in the preheated oven for 2½–3 hours, until you can break the cod easily into soft flakes. Keep to one side.

5 Meanwhile, lay the tomatoes in a single layer in a shallow heatproof dish. Heat half the olive oil very gently in a pan with a garlic clove, bay leaf and rosemary – just until the odd bubble breaks the surface and the herbs begin to lightly fry (around 70–80°C if you have a thermometer). Take off the heat and pour over the tomatoes, so that they are completely covered. Leave for 2 hours, until cool.

6 Put the remaining garlic cloves on a chopping board, and with the back of a large knife, crush them into a paste. Put the parsley leaves on top and chop finely, so that the garlic and parsley combine and release their flavours into each other.

7 Lift the cod from the cooking milk and put it into the bowl of a food mixer. Pour the milk and anchovy mixture through a fine sieve, discarding the milk. Add the drained anchovy mixture to the cod and mix slowly, adding the rest of the olive oil a little at a time, to avoid splitting the mixture, until you have a creamy consistency. Towards the end of mixing, add the parsley and garlic.

8 Drain the tomatoes, but retain the oil. Halve the tomatoes and put into a serving dish. Add the watercress, season and dress with about 3 tablespoons of the oil reserved from marinating the tomatoes, together with the white wine vinegar. Serve with the creamed salt cod and the polenta crisps, if you like.

Cappon magro

I love this. I know the recipe looks a little long and scary, but it’s such a beautiful thing to do if you have lots of friends coming around in the summer, so I just had to include it. It is a huge celebratory feast of fish and vegetables from Genoa, the capital of Liguria, which is a region that is such a tight fit in between the sea and the mountains, and this is an incredible marriage of the bounty of both. I have never found the idea of surf and turf acceptable in the form of steak with lobster – for me these are two things that should not be put together – whereas the combination of seafood and hearty vegetables works so well, especially as each ingredient stays recognisable in its texture and taste within the structure of the dish, which layers its way up from quite rich and saucy at the base, to the delicate ingredients on top.

Like so many dishes that ended up as elaborate baroque centrepieces on rich men’s tables, cappon magro has its roots in the meals that fishermen ate at sea, made with galettes – hard biscuits – which would be soaked in sea water to soften them and then layered up with some of the fish they caught and boiled up, along with root vegetables which would either have been stored on board or preserved in vinegar – the genesis of the vinegary salsa verde (green sauce) that binds the layers together. I have given a recipe for the galettes (once made you can store them in an airtight container for a few weeks), but you could use water biscuits instead.

Cappon magro was one of the dishes that the great Italian chef Nino Bergese was most proud to put his name to. He was one hell of a guy, who cooked for royalty and film stars and was the first chef to earn two Michelin stars at his restaurant, La Santa, in Genoa, but he never forgot the traditional dishes of his region. The way I do the dish is a little different, because I like to add hake. Sometimes we make it at Locanda, where the challenge is to incorporate all the ingredients into individual plates, but personally I like to make one big dish of it, as it looks so splendid. This is the kind of thing I would do when I am relaxed on holiday with family and friends and can buy a box of mixed fish and shellfish and really fresh vegetables in the market. The nature of it is that you can adjust the ingredients according to what you can find, so if you have to leave out the artichoke or beetroot, depending on the season, it really doesn’t matter; if you can’t find hake, another white fish will be fine, and you can leave out the bottarga, too, if you prefer.

Serves 10

potatoes 4 medium

Jerusalem artichokes 3

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

carrots 4 large, peeled

celery 4 stalks

green beans 200g

red beetroot 2 large

lemon 1, halved

black peppercorns a few

lobster tails 3, and/or 20 large prawns in their shells

langoustines 12

mussels 15, cleaned and prepared as here

clams 1kg, cleaned and prepared as here

hake fillets 800g

Giorgio’s dressing 6 tablespoons (see here)

white wine vinegar 150ml

extra virgin olive oil 50ml

oysters 6, shells washed and opened

pickled artichokes 4 (see here)

hard-boiled eggs 3, quartered

pea shoots 500g (optional)

bottarga 1 slice of

For the galettes:

00 flour 300g

semolina flour 200g

polenta flour 50g

fine table salt 15g

fresh yeast 15g

extra virgin olive oil 100ml

For the green sauce:

salted anchovies 3

olive oil

fennel 70g, chopped

capers in vinegar 1 tablespoon

hard-boiled egg 1

breadcrumbs, made from stale bread 1 tablespoon

white wine vinegar 60ml

black olives 20g, stones removed

garlic 1 small clove

extra virgin olive oil 80ml

cold water 20ml

Cappon magro

1 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

2 To make the galettes, mix all the ingredients together in a large bowl until you have a firm ball of dough. Leave to rest for 20 minutes, covered with a clean tea towel, then roll out thinly (2–3mm) and prick with a fork. With a 4cm diameter cutter, cut out discs (you should get around 25–30). Lift on to a baking tray, or trays, and put into the preheated oven to bake for about 10 minutes, until light golden. Remove and keep to one side.

3 Cook the potatoes and Jerusalem artichokes, whole, in a large pan of boiling salted water until tender.

4 Meanwhile, cook the whole carrots, celery and beans, in a separate pan of boiling salted water, lifting out each vegetable as soon as it is tender, and draining under cold running water. Finally put the beetroot into the same pan of boiling salted water (don’t add it until all the other vegetables are out, as it will stain them red) and cook until soft, then drain and set aside with the rest of the cooked vegetables.

5 Bring a fresh pan of salted water to the boil with the halved lemon and peppercorns, and put in the lobster tails, if using, and cook for 4 minutes. Alternatively, if using prawns, cook with the langoustines, for just one minute then remove. Then put in the mussels and cook until they open (remove any that don’t). Lift out, then put in the clams and cook until they open (again, remove any that don’t). Lift out, then finally put in the hake and cook until tender. Lift out and keep to one side.

6 Now you need to make the green sauce. Rinse the salt from the anchovies and dry them. Run your thumb gently along the backbone of each anchovy – this will allow you to easily pull it out and separate the fish into fillets. Heat a little olive oil in a pan, add the fennel and cook briefly until just soft. Lift out and allow to cool, then put into a blender with the rest of the ingredients and 550ml warm water and blend into a green sauce.

7 Cut all the reserved cooked vegetables into slices and put them into separate bowls, then season each one with a tablespoon of Giorgio’s dressing and some salt and pepper.

8 Take the skin from the hake and flake the fish. Put into a separate bowl with half the white wine vinegar and the olive oil.

9 Take the shells from the lobster tails or prawns (if using prawns, leave the heads on). Take half the mussels and clams out of their shells (reserving the rest for garnish).

10 Put the rest of the white wine vinegar into a large shallow bowl with 125ml water and put the galettes into the bowl to soak for a few minutes.

11 To assemble the salad the idea is to layer up the hake, galettes and sauce with a different vegetable each time, starting and finishing with the sauce. So you will need seven layers of the sauce, and five layers each of the flaked hake and galettes.

12 First, spread a fifth of the green sauce over the base of a large serving dish, then spread a fifth of the hake over the top, followed by all of the carrots in an even layer, then a fifth of the whole soaked galettes, spread out evenly. Next, spread over another fifth of the sauce, followed by another fifth of the hake, all the celery and another fifth of the galettes. Repeat, this time with the potatoes, then again with the Jerusalem artichokes, and the beetroot, and finishing with a layer of galettes and another layer of sauce. Garnish the top as decoratively as you like, with the lobster tails and/or prawns, langoustines, mussels, clams, the oysters in their shells, pickled artichokes, hard-boiled eggs, green beans, pea shoots if using, and shavings of bottarga.

Giardiniera (pickled vegetables)

When I was growing up in Italy it was part of the fabric of life to grow your own vegetables or buy them in the market when they were in season, and at their most prolific, then prepare some to keep under oil or pickle them in vinegar in jars for the rest of the year, ready to put out with some prosciutto or salami if someone special called around. It is a tradition Plaxy and I always carried on when the kids were younger, because I liked the idea that anyone could come home at any time, especially after a journey, and there would be some carta di musica (see here) in the cupboard, some cured meats in the fridge, and jars of vegetables as in this recipe, or onions, as in the recipe that follows, to put out with them.

Our village, Corgeno, only had one butcher, Stefanino, and they would kill a cow once a week, outside. My brother and I would be coming home from school, and we would stop and wait to see the guys kill the cow under the supervision of the vet before we went home, which was an important thing, because it taught us where our food came from, and to respect the animals that were providing it. Every part of the animal needed to be sold: the tripe, lungs, heart and the bones for the dogs. Stefanino knew everybody in the village and who liked what, and he would say to my mother sometimes, ‘I kept you the knees’ – clearly the animal only had four legs, so I am sure he had to rotate these specialities between people. My mother would simmer these pieces of bone very slowly – I can still smell it now. Then she would pull off all the bits of meat and cartilage, chop them up and mix them with the giardiniera, to make insalata di nervetti. I used to hate it at the time, but now I love it: all the different consistencies of soft and gristly meat mixed with the sweet-and-sourness of the peppers, carrots, cauliflower and courgettes: so delicious.

Makes several jars

extra virgin olive oil 1.5 litres

red wine vinegar 1.5 litres

caster sugar 300g

sea salt 150g

cauliflowers 3, separated into small florets

red peppers 3, deseeded and cut into squares about 1cm

yellow peppers 3, deseeded and cut into squares about 1cm

carrots 6 large, cut into cubes about 1cm

courgettes 6 large, cut into cubes about 1cm

red onions 3, sliced vertically

white onions 3, sliced vertically

mild red chillies 6 large, chopped

Makes 1 large jar

extra virgin olive oil 750ml

red wine vinegar 750ml

balsamic vinegar 350ml

caster sugar 150g

sea salt 75g

baby onions 2kg, peeled

1 In a pan mix the olive oil, vinegar, sugar and salt and stir to dissolve the sugar. Add the chopped vegetables and chilli and bring to the boil, stirring regularly, then immediately take off the heat and leave the vegetables to cool down in the liquid.

2 Once cold, store in sterilised jars in the fridge for up to a month.

Sweet and sour baby onions

1 In a pan mix the olive oil, vinegars, sugar and salt and stir to dissolve the sugar. Add the onions and bring to the boil, stirring regularly, then immediately take off the heat and leave the onions to cool down in the liquid.

2 Once cold, store in a sterilised jar in the fridge for up to a month.

Pinzimonio

I can tell a lot about someone by the way they prepare their pinzimonio, which is nothing more complicated than raw vegetables cut up and put out with a sauce (typically bagna cauda, made with anchovies and garlic) to dip into as an aperitivo before lunch or dinner.

In the 70s and 80s the fashion was to cut vegetables into identical short, sharp, geometrical shapes, then slowly, slowly they began to appear more loosely, until the 90s, when everyone began to acknowledge that vegetables should just look natural. Personally I have always thought that when you slice vegetables for pinzimonio, you should follow their shape and structure as much as possible.

You can add or subtract any vegetable you like, and instead of the sauces suggested here you can put out anything you want, maybe some olive or sun-dried tomato paste loosened with extra virgin olive oil, or even a spicy chimichurri (see here), made with plenty of very finely chopped parsley (and/or coriander), oregano, garlic, shallots and chilli, seasoned and mixed with some olive oil, vinegar and lemon juice.

Serves 6

carrots 2

celery 3 stalks

cucumber 1

fennel 1 bulb

radicchio tardivo 1

yellow pepper 1

red pepper 1

asparagus 1 small bunch when in season

radishes 1 bunch

For the bagna cauda:

milk 9 tablespoons

garlic 9 cloves

anchovies in oil 12, drained

extra virgin olive oil a little

butter a knob

For the artichoke sauce:

artichokes 5

olive oil a little

onion 1, finely chopped

white wine ½ glass (35ml)

lemon juice of 1

good vegetable stock 150ml

bay leaf 1

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

(see picture)

1 Cut all the vegetables into thin strips lengthways and lay them on a bed of crushed ice to keep them crisp. Put into the fridge while you make the sauces.

2 For the bagna cauda, put the milk and garlic into a small pan and bring to the boil, then turn down the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes, until the garlic is soft. Just before you take it off the heat, put the anchovies into a shallow heatproof bowl with a little olive oil and the knob of butter and place it over the pan, for a minute or two, until the anchovies ‘melt’. Take the pan off the heat and press the anchovy mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl. Crush the garlic with a little of the milk in which it was cooked and stir into the anchovy mixture. Loosen if necessary with a little more olive oil.

3 For the artichoke sauce, prepare the artichokes as here, and cut into quarters.

4 Heat a little olive oil in a pan, add the onion and cook gently until soft and translucent, add the artichokes, wine and lemon juice and bring to the boil, then add the vegetable stock and bay leaf and cook for about 10 minutes, until the artichokes are soft.

5 Lift out the artichokes and put into a blender with half the cooking liquid. Blend to a purée, adding more of the cooking liquid if necessary. Taste and season as necessary, adding a little more lemon juice if it isn’t sharp enough. Drizzle with a little extra virgin olive oil and put out alongside the bagna cauda.

6 To serve, I like to put some more crushed ice in the base of a large deep glass bowl, and put in the raw vegetable strips so that they are standing upright, and everyone can take pieces as they like and dip them into the sauces.

Vignarola (braised spring vegetables)

Simple springtime vegetable dishes like this have always figured highly in our family. When we were on holiday in Sicily, I used to make a little stew that Margherita could have, with the long, bendy, green zucca trombetta, which is a kind of cross between a courgette and a pumpkin. I would sauté it with onions and garlic, add some spinach and peas, cover it with white wine and simmer it for 20 minutes or so.

Vignarola is simply a celebration of that moment in spring when you have an abundance of beautiful artichokes, and the first of the broad beans and peas. In the restaurants in Rome they will bring out little dishes of bright green vignarola along with artichokes alla Romana and fritti, with baskets of bread and olive oil, and sometimes bowls of the first young broad beans of the season. You open up the pods and there are maybe only three or four tiny beans inside, which you eat raw with pieces of pecorino and pepper. Such a wonderful collection of flavours and textures.

Vignarola is so simple, but what makes it special is that the vegetables are cooked one after the other in olive oil and with the tiniest amount of water, so that each one tastes totally of itself. As the season goes on you can take some vegetables away and add others, such as spinach or chard, but keep the essence of the dish by using good frozen broad beans and peas. I like to have any that is left over in the fridge to smash up for a sandwich, to put out with burrata and toasted bread, or warm up alongside some grilled chicken or steak. One morning when Plaxy and I were on holiday in Puglia in the spring, for brunch I made a vignarola quickly with fresh peas and beans I had bought in the market along with some cime di rapa (turnip tops). I toasted some bread, fried a couple of local farm eggs, broke them up and mixed them into the vegetables, which I crushed a little bit, and we ate from bowls, sitting looking out at the sea, and it felt like some of the best food I had made in my life.

Serves 6

artichokes 4 small

olive oil a little

spring onions 5, chopped

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

podded fresh broad beans 200g

podded fresh peas 200g

fresh mint leaves 10

1 Prepare the artichokes as here and cut into quarters.

2 Heat a little olive oil in a pan, add the spring onions and cook briefly.

3 Drain the artichokes and add to the pan. Season, cover and cook for 2 minutes.

4 Add the broad beans with a couple of tablespoons of water and cook for another 2 minutes, then add the peas, plus another 2 tablespoons of water. Cook for another 2 minutes, adding a little more water if necessary. Each vegetable should now be tender and the water should have been absorbed.

5 Finish with the mint leaves. Eat warm or cold.

Artichokes

x 4

I know I cannot claim artichokes (carciofi) only for Italy, but they are such a quintessential ingredient, so steeped in Italian history, and things of such beauty and fascination that they have been captured many times in Italian art. There is even a famous Italian bitter liqueur, invented in the 1950s, called Cynar, from Cynara scolymus, the botanical name for artichoke. It is made with various plants and herbs, but artichokes are the main flavouring and the dark bottle has an iconic bright red label with a green artichoke on it. Usually you drink it as a spritzino, mixed with prosecco and soda water. I remember when I was quite young seeing an advert on TV set in a square outside a bar in Milan where fashionable people sat around tables drinking Cynar underneath a massive metal sculpture of an artichoke.

There is another story that the name Cynar comes from Greek mythology: Zeus, the ruler of the sky and all the gods, was besotted with the nymph Cynara, who drove him mad with jealousy, so he transformed her into a spiky artichoke to remind him of both the green of her eyes and the pain she caused him.

Artichokes were developed by the Arabs in Sicily and first found their way onto the mainland in the sixteenth century, when the Jewish people were expelled during the Spanish Inquisition and artichokes were one of the ingredients they took with them. The first artichokes were said to be very hard, even more spiny and very bitter, but over the years they have been cultivated to be sweeter, softer and more friendly, though they retain that very special tinny flavour that I love, either when they are raw, or when simply boiled whole with a little bit of butter.

The artichokes that I like most are the small spiny ones, which have a deep, essential, slightly bitter flavour, but small doesn’t necessary equal tender. Even bigger artichokes can be tender. What is important is not size, but age. The fresher the better: look at the stem of the artichoke and it should be green, not turning black.

Artichokes in cooking

Artichokes are fantastic on their own, but their elegant touch of bitterness gives so much depth of flavour to other dishes. An artichoke risotto is beautiful, and if I make a vegetable lasagne, I always want to put artichoke in there, as it goes so well with the béchamel and cheese, and adds its own texture to that of the other vegetables.

When we used to go on holiday every summer in Sicily, artichokes were one of my favourite things to put into a frittata, or to make into a little stew like vignarola with other spring vegetables, or to mix with other greens in the chicory family, maybe with some potatoes added, to serve with some chicken or a pan-fried fish like John Dory.

Or we would eat them at my friend Vittorio’s restaurant in Portopalo after they had been roasted, sprinkled with oil and salt, in the ashes of the wood-burning stove, with each artichoke perched upright in a series of ‘cones’ forged into a special grill pan. When they came out, smoky and tender, you just peeled off the blackened outer leaves and ate the rest straight away. Artichokes are so important to the Sicilians that out of their season you could often find them in the supermarkets cleaned, cut into four and frozen, along with other vegetables, such as spinach, peas or broad beans.

Rome, too, has held a great importance in the development of artichokes in Italian cooking. Between January and May/June, artichokes and puntarelle are the two vegetables that are celebrated in Rome more than anywhere else in Italy. In the famous Campo di Fiori market you see the guys sitting at their tables taking beautiful purple and green artichokes from big baskets, and as they prepare them the outer leaves fall like petals into boxes at their feet. As they work they rub the cut artichokes with lemon juice and all you have to do is take them home and cook them.

When I am in Rome I always like to eat carciofi alla giudìa (artichokes Jewish-style). The special Romanesco artichokes grown in Lazio (which are very different to other varieties because they have no spikes) are pressed down and fried, with the stalk upwards, so that they open out and turn golden like Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, then they are sprinkled with lemon juice and salt. There are famous restaurants in the Jewish quarter in Rome where the guys sit all day by the till, just like their counterparts in the market, turning boxes and boxes of artichokes, because everyone who comes in expects to eat carciofi alla giudìa.

The other famous Roman dish made with the same variety of artichokes is carciofi alla Romana – artichokes braised whole with herbs – which makes a great starter, or you could double or triple the quantities for lunch or dinner. Any left over can be chopped and crushed in a pan and fried in olive oil until golden on both sides – you could even break in an egg, and add some grated Parmesan and salt and pepper, for a great starter.

Blanched or char-grilled artichokes kept under oil are also beautiful, but if you are buying them, check the labels to make sure that there is not too much sugar and salt added. I have also given a recipe for pickled artichokes.

Which to choose

There are actually around ninety different types of recognised artichoke, and every region has its local variety, with its own particular season, but most of them are never seen elsewhere. Some are entirely violet-purple, some green, some a mixture of both, depending on the areas of production, and in some regions a particular artichoke will have its own Protected Designation of Origin status, which means it must be grown to specific standards in a defined region by a member of a consortium of growers.

The best-known varieties can be roughly divided into three kinds:

The pointed baby Venetian artichokes, originally from the Laguna Veneto, are best sliced and baked, grilled or deep-fried (see here). The most famous are the stunning purple-violet variety which grow in the salty soil of the island of Sant’ Erasmo, where the very first, tiniest, sought-after buds are called Castroere and are usually eaten raw. Venetian artichokes are also beautiful in risotto, under oil or pickled, especially served with burrata (see here).

Sardinian and Sicilian Spinoso (spiny) artichokes are more compact, slim and spiky. These are the ones that Vittorio cooks whole in ash using his special grill. They are great all-rounders, so you could use them for any of the recipes that follow, though Romanesco are better for cooking alla Romana.

Romanesco (which are also called Cimarolo or Mamole) and the Venetian Chioggia are more tender, flatter on the base and are best cooked with their stalk intact, as this is also delicious to eat. These are the varieties of artichoke to cook alla Romana, They are also good raw, with Parmesan, and lemon oil, as in the recipe overleaf.

The only problem, sometimes, is finding the right wine to pair with artichokes, as their tannins and metallic, iron-y nature can make it quite complicated.

How to prepare

‘Turning’ or preparing an artichoke is a little fiddly, but not difficult. The thing to remember is that artichokes discolour very quickly, so once you cut them, they need to go straight into water that has been acidulated with lemon juice.

Have ready a big bowl of cold water. Cut a lemon in half, squeeze the juice into the water, then put the halves of lemon in, too. Then as you work, you can either dip the artichoke into the lemon water or just use the halved lemons to rub directly onto the exposed surfaces.

Hold the artichoke in one hand, then work your way around it snapping off and discarding the hard outer leaves from the base, until you reach the tender, yellow leaves underneath. Now cut off the bottom of the stalk, and with a small paring knife, trim off the stringy outside part all the way around the stalk, back to the core. Trim and scrape away the hard pieces around the base of each artichoke. Finally trim off the spiky tops of each of the leaves that are left using a sharp knife and then slice across the very top of the artichoke – take off about 2cm – enough to remove the spiky tops and reveal the choke inside.

Because the artichoke is actually a flower bud, the most important thing for it to do is to put out its seeds, so even when it is cut by its stalk from the plant, the choke – or beard, as I call it – will continue to grow, trying to develop into a flower. If the artichoke has been freshly harvested, or if it is very small, the choke will barely have formed, but the longer the artichoke has been cut from the plant, or the older or bigger it is, the more the choke will have developed and become hairy. So you need to scoop this out with a teaspoon. The easiest way to do this is to slice the artichokes in half lengthways first (unless the recipe calls for them to be left whole, as in carciofi alla Romana overleaf). As soon as the artichokes are sliced in half and the chokes removed, keep them in the acidulated water until you are ready to use them as they are, or cut them again into quarters or smaller pieces, according to your recipe.

Each recipe overleaf serves 6.

Raw with rocket, Parmesan and lemon oil

This can be a starter or a salad.

1 Take 6 medium artichokes and prepare as here. Cut in half lengthways, then using a mandoline or a very sharp knife, shave the artichokes lengthways as thinly as possible and put them into a bowl. Squeeze some more lemon juice over them straight away to avoid further discoloration.

2 Add 2 good handfuls of rocket, 2 tablespoons of grated Parmesan, 2 tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil and season. Toss all together and finish with some shavings of Parmesan.

Alla Romana (braised)

You need a variety of artichoke such as Romanesco, with a large base. The herb to use, if you can find it, is the Italian minty mentuccia (sometimes called nepitella or calamint).

1 Finely chop 3 cloves of garlic, and if you don’t have any mentuccia, finely chop a handful of fresh mint leaves and a handful of parsley leaves, and mix with some sea salt and freshly ground black pepper and a touch of olive oil. Some people add some breadcrumbs and/or some chopped anchovies.

2 Prepare 6 medium artichokes as here but leave them whole, scoop out the choke with a teaspoon, then press the garlic and herb mixture into the hollow that you create.

3 Place upright in an ovenproof dish and add enough water to just cover them. Drizzle some more olive oil over the top and, if you like, a splash of white wine and a touch of vinegar (not too much vinegar, as they have already been in acidulated water).

4 Put in a bay leaf, a few peppercorns, and put into the oven at 160°C/gas 3 for 40 minutes, until the liquid is reduced and the artichokes are soft if you prick the heart with a toothpick.

5 Lift out and serve either hot or cold.

Carciofi fritti (fried)

Like the deep-fried courgettes here, these are good to put out in a bowl with drinks.

1 Prepare 6 medium artichokes as for the recipe with rocket and Parmesan opposite, then toss the artichoke shavings in some semolina flour (for a more rustic appearance) or plain flour.

2 Heat some vegetable oil to 180°C in a deep-fryer or a large pan (no more than a third full). If you don’t have a thermometer, drop in some flour and it should start to sizzle gently.

3 Deep-fry the flour-coated artichoke shavings until golden, then season with sea salt and freshly ground black pepper and sprinkle with a little lemon juice.

Caponata (sweet and sour)

1 Prepare 6 medium artichokes as here, and cut into quarters.

2 Preheat the oven to 180°C/gas 4.

3 Bring 3 potatoes in their skins to the boil in salted water, then cook until just tender. Drain, and when cool enough to touch, peel and cut into cubes of about 1cm.

4 Spread 30g of pine nuts over a baking tray and put into the preheated oven for about 8 minutes until golden, then remove and chop.

5 Bring a pan of water to the boil with 70ml white wine vinegar, put in the artichoke quarters and blanch for a couple of minutes until just al dente, then lift out and drain.

6 Add a chopped stalk of celery to the water and repeat.

7 Heat a little olive oil in a sauté pan and put in the drained celery. Sauté until golden, then add the drained artichoke pieces along with a finely chopped clove of garlic and a few small fresh mint leaves, season with black pepper and stir for a few minutes.

8 Mix a tablespoon of sugar with a tablespoon of white wine vinegar in a cup, tip into the pan and bring to the boil, then turn down the heat, add the cubes of potato and the toasted pine nuts and take off the heat.

9 Cover with clingfilm and leave to cool down, so that the flavours can develop, before eating.

Winter vegetable stew

Ciambotta is the name that is often given to this stew of winter vegetables, which is a little more hearty and soupy than the spring vegetable dish of vignarola and makes a meal with chunks of bread or polenta. When Margherita was at school or home from university we would make up big batches of stews like this, using the vegetables that she could eat, then portion them up in bags in the freezer so she always had something she could take out and warm up to eat on its own or to have with some grilled chicken. You can use cabbage or kale instead of cavolo nero if you prefer.

Serves 6

dried cannellini beans 250g

fresh sage leaves 4

olive oil 3 tablespoons

white onion 2, cut into large dice

carrots 2, cut into large dice

celery 2 stalks

bay leaves 2

potatoes 2 large, cut into large dice

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

ripe tomatoes 4 large, chopped

parsnips 2, cut into large dice

butternut squash ½, cut into large dice

cavolo nero 1 bunch, cut into large pieces

1 Soak the beans in cold water overnight.

2 When ready to cook, drain the beans from their soaking water and put into a pan with the sage leaves. Cover with 1 litre of water, bring to the boil, then turn down the heat to a simmer for around 1 hour, until the beans are tender but still have a little bite. Take off the heat but leave in the pan.

3 Heat the olive oil in a large casserole dish, then add the onion, carrots, celery and bay leaves. Put on the lid and cook gently for 5 minutes, then put in the potatoes, season, and continue to cook gently for another 5 minutes.

4 Add the tomatoes, parsnips, squash and cavolo nero, then pour in half the cooking liquid from the pan of beans. Taste and adjust the seasoning if necessary, and continue to cook for another 10 minutes.

5 Discard the sage from the pan of beans, then add them to the casserole along with the rest of the cooking water. Check the seasoning again, simmer for 10 minutes, then serve.

Grilled Jerusalem artichokes with heritage carrots

Jerusalem artichokes have an incredible sweet, nutty flavour and when they are griddled until they are crispy they are delicious, though as a child I also remember eating them raw, with my grandad, dipping them into bagna cauda (see here). Originally they were introduced to Italy and the rest of Europe from the New World, and one theory is that their name comes not from Jerusalem, the place, but the Italian word for sunflower, girasole, because they are actually a variety of sunflower. However, when the early explorers first found them, they needed to describe the flavour, which they likened to an artichoke.

Carrots have their own fascinating history, because the very first ones, which were grown in Afghanistan in around AD7, were purple, and later yellow, not orange at all, and they were long, thin and pointed. It is said that the purple ones began to lose favour around the Middle Ages because, a bit like beetroot, their colour came out into the cooking water and stained the pots. Then, around the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Dutch developed the fatter, orange carrot that we all know today. Unfortunately, over time, for the sake of commercialisation, many varieties have been bred for appearance and resistance to disease, often hydroponically, and the flavour has been compromised, so that they either taste of very little, or they are so intensely sweet that they are barely recognisable as a carrot, which should have a much greater complexity of flavour and a hint of bitterness. It is a puzzle to me how carrots can often look so uniform, as if they were made by machine. I prefer my carrots ugly, but tasty!

Perhaps that frustration with bland carrots is why so much interest has been shown in heritage varieties, which are again being grown in their original colours and which have so much more flavour. If you can’t find them, try to buy organic carrots, and if they have a bit of mud and greenery attached to them when you buy them, so much the better.

Serves 6

Jerusalem artichokes 1kg, large

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

extra virgin olive oil 80ml

Pinot Grigio or other subtle white wine vinegar 150ml

golden, white and purple heritage carrots 200g of each

pea shoots 300g

1 Cook the artichokes in boiling salted water for about 1 hour (depending on the size), until tender but still firm. Drain under cold water to stop them cooking further, then peel and slice 1cm thick. Drizzle with 1 tablespoon of the olive oil, then season and put on a hot griddle pan or barbecue until marked.

2 Pour the vinegar into a dish, put in the artichokes, cover with clingfilm and leave to marinate for 2 hours, turning them every so often. Lift out of the vinegar (but reserve this).