This is proper Thai street food, the kind of dish you’d find at any decent food stall in Bangkok, served fast and fiery to workers on their lunch break. Pad kra pao gai is all about high heat, bold flavours, and that distinctive punch of Thai basil. It’s become one of Thailand's most beloved quick meals for good reason.

The technique here matters as much as the ingredients. Your wok needs to be properly hot – we’re talking smoking – so the chicken mince caramelises rather than steams, picking up those essential charred, savoury edges. The whole thing comes together in under 15 minutes, which makes it perfect for weeknight cooking when you want something with real flavour without elaborate prep.

The fried egg on top isn’t just garnish, it’s essential. That runny yolk mixing into the rice and spicy mince creates the kind of rich, satisfying combination that explains why this dish appears on Thai restaurant menus worldwide. Serve it with plenty of lime wedges for squeezing over everything just before you eat.

Chicken with Thai basil (pad kra pao gai)

Serves 2

for the sauce:
1 tablespoon oyster sauce
2 tablespoons fish sauce
½ teaspoon dark soy sauce
1 teaspoon caster sugar
2 tablespoons water

2 tablespoons peanut oil
3 cloves garlic
1 long red chilli
300g (10 oz) chicken mince
generous handful Thai basil leaves

to serve:
steamed rice
2 fried eggs
lime wedges

Mixing the sauce ingredients together in a small bowl: the oyster sauce, fish sauce, dark soy, sugar and water. Stir together well until the sugar dissolves and set aside.

Peel and finely chop your garlic. Slice the chilli into thin rounds, removing the seeds if you prefer less heat (though a proper pad kra pao gai should have some fire to it).

Get your wok or largest frying pan smoking hot over high heat. Add the peanut oil and swirl it around to coat the pan. Toss in the garlic and chilli and stir-fry for just a few seconds until fragrant. You want the garlic to be golden but not burned.

Add the chicken mince, breaking it up with your spatula or wooden spoon as it hits the pan. Keep everything moving constantly, pressing and breaking up any clumps so the mince cooks evenly. You’re aiming for well-browned, slightly crispy bits throughout. This should take about 3-4 minutes.

Pour in your prepared sauce and stir everything together, letting it bubble and reduce slightly for about a minute. The sauce should coat the chicken and look glossy rather than pooling in the pan.

Turn off the heat, then tear in your Thai basil leaves. The residual heat will wilt them perfectly while preserving their distinctive frgrance. Give everything a final toss to distribute the basil through the mince.

While the chicken rests for a moment, fry your eggs in a separate pan – preferably with crispy, lacy edges and runny yolks.

Divide your steamed rice between two bowls, top each with the aromatic chicken mince and a fried egg. Serve with lime wedges on the side for squeezing over everything just before eating.

A reliable weeknight standby, this leans on the bold, savoury sweetness of gochujang in the easiest sauce I know. It’s essentially a hands-off stir-fry that dials back the manic, high-heat stirring and ramps up the flavour. Perfect for busy nights when you want maximum payoff for a minimum effort, it’s a recipe you’ll keep coming back to for its simplicity and adaptability.

I’ve sung the praises of gochujang before, and it has earned a permanent spot in my pantry – it’s a powerhouse of umami with a hint of heat, and it’s a quick fix for any dish that needs a little extra personality. This recipe is versatile, too: any crisp-tender vegetables lingering in your fridge (think snow peas, bean sprouts, spring onions, bok choy or sliced mushrooms) can be added for colour and crunch. I’ve indicated in the recipe when to toss them in.

I like it best served over sushi rice, though I wouldn’t turn it down with some quick-cooking hokkien noodles, either.

Gochujang chicken

Serves 2

2 tablespoons gochujang
2 tablespoons soy sauce
1 teaspoon minced ginger (jarred is fine)
1 teaspoon minced garlic (jarred is fine)
1 teaspoon caster sugar
2 large skinless, boneless chicken thighs
neutral cooking oil

In a small bowl, combine the gochujang, soy sauce, minced ginger, minced garlic, and caster sugar. Whisk together and set aside.

Slice the chicken into bite-sized, forkable chunks.

Heat a thin film of neutral oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat until it shimmers.

Add the chicken pieces in a single layer and cook without moving for about 5 minutes, until well browned on one side.

Turn the chicken pieces and reduce the heat slightly. Cook for an additional 2 minutes.

Pour the prepared sauce over the chicken. Add any quick-cooking vegetables if desired.

Continue cooking for 2 more minutes, occasionally stirring to coat the chicken as the sauce thickens.

If the sauce thickens too quickly, add a splash of water to extend the cooking time.

Check that the chicken is cooked through by cutting into a piece and serve hot over sushi rice or hokkien noodles.

This is the Swedish chocolate cake, a relative of the brownie and the molten lava cake. It all comes together in one saucepan with a wooden spoon, and you purposely underbake it to keep the centre soft and gooey. Couldn’t be easier.

The way I make it now includes light muscovado sugar, which creates delicious caramel notes, but feel free to substitute with brown sugar or, indeed, white sugar as you like. I also add a teaspoon of instant espresso powder, which I add to all chocolate baked goods to deepen the chocolateness; you can happily leave it out.

When you melt the butter you can, if you like, allow it to brown a little. This isn’t traditional, but it works perfectly here.

Kladdkaka

Serves 6-8.

170g (1½ sticks) unsalted butter
250g (1¼ cup) light muscovado sugar
40g (½ cup) cocoa powder, plus more to dust
1 teaspoon espresso powder
½ teaspoon sea salt flakes
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
100g (¾ cup) flour

Set your oven to 160°C (325°F). Lightly grease a 20cm (8 inch) springform pan and line the base with baking paper.

Melt the butter in a roomy saucepan over gentle heat. Remove from the heat and allow to cool a little.

Add the sugar, cocoa, espresso powder and salt, and beat until smooth.

Beat in the eggs, one at a time, until well combined, then stir in the vanilla.

Fold in the flour until just combined.

Transfer the batter to the prepared baking pan. Bake for 30–35 minutes – the edges should be well set and the centre should have a crust over it but still be soft underneath, remembering that it will set more as it cools.

Cool in the pan for at least 30 minutes before unspringing.

Dust with cocoa powder before cutting and serving.

Before it was a one-pot wonder, I used to make this as two separate dishes to be served side by side. The garam masala, coconut milk and almonds were part of the chicken side of the equation, while the other spices, dried fruit and mint were used to gussy up some couscous. They came together harmoniously on the plate, so it wasn’t much of a stretch of the imagination to back things up one step and get them together on the stove, instead. The couscous became rice, simply because of the longer cooking time required, and here we are.

While I’ve specified golden sultanas below, you can – and I often do – use any dried fruit clattering around in the pantry. Dried apricots, cranberries, even pears are all wonderful. Their point is to punctuate the gently spiced depths of the dish with an occasional hit of juicy sweetness.

The only other oddity you’ll find below is a rather exact-sounding amount of coconut milk. That’s because it’s the size of an internationally available small – tiny, really – can of coconut milk and it’s the perfect size here. If you absolutely can’t find it, just round up to 180ml (¾ cup) and it’ll be fine.

Otherwise, this is a lovely, relaxed bit of cooking, just a few minutes of easy prep before you park it on the stove and walk away.

Aromatic one-pot chicken and rice

For 2, generously.

25g (¼ cup) flaked almonds
500g (1 pound) chicken thigh fillets, skin off
2 teaspoons garam masala
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 small onion
1 clove garlic
½ teaspoon ground cumin
½ teaspoon ground coriander
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
50g (¼ cup) golden sultanas (or other dried fruit)
200g (1 cup) brown basmati rice, rinsed
250ml (1 cup) chicken stock
165ml (5.6 fl oz) coconut milk
small bunch mint, chopped

Toast the almonds in a hot, dry pan until golden. Set aside.

Slice each chicken thigh into 3 or 4 large pieces. Pile them into a plastic bag and add the garam masala and a pinch of salt. Shake and massage until the pieces are well covered and set aside.

Heat the olive oil over medium heat in a large, heavy based pan. Peel, halve and slice the onion and sauté in the oil, gently, until soft and translucent. Grate in the clove of garlic.

Add the cumin, coriander, cinnamon and sultanas (or dried fruit of your choosing), cooking for a minute until fragrant.

Stir in the rice, then add the chicken stock and coconut milk. Bring it up to a bubble, then slip in the spice-covered pieces of chicken. Lower the heat to a gentle simmer, cover and cook for 35–40 minutes until the rice is tender.

Spoon into waiting bowls, scattering with toasted almonds and some chopped mint.

This is the kind of home cooking I adore: almost effortless prep, an ingredient list that largely leans on what’s already in the kitchen, and simple, undemanding cooking. That it’s packed with flavour, works easily on a weeknight and manages to be both comfort food and something out of the ordinary are all bonuses.

It all happens in one pan on the stovetop and in under 30 minutes, which is more than enough time to get together either some plain new potatoes, steamed, or rice, either of which will soak up the delicious sauce perfectly. For minimum fuss, just pile up some soft lettuce or baby spinach leaves alongside, let the sauce become a dressing as as you eat and use them to wipe up your plate.

I’ve specified creme fraiche and have found a little tub of it at the supermarket which is perfect here, though I know it’s not always the easiest ingredient to find. To keep the tang factor of creme fraiche, which is much of its point playing with the cider and mustard in this dish, sour cream would be the most obvious substitute, though you’ll need to add it right at the end and off the heat, otherwise it will split. Alternatively, use some regular cream.

Cider mustard chicken

Serves 2.

1 tablespoon olive oil
500g (1 pound) chicken thigh fillets, skin off
1 onion, diced
1 clove garlic
250ml (1 cup) dry apple cider
100g (½ cup) creme fraiche
2 tablespoons wholegrain mustard
¼ cup parsley leaves, roughly chopped

Warm the oil over medium-high heat in a frying pan or other broad, shallow pan (one for which there’s a lid). Slice the chicken into chunks (about 6 from each fillet) and brown them for 3 minutes a side. Transfer to a plate.

Turn the heat down to medium and cook the onion until soft and translucent. Grate in the clove of garlic and cook for a further minute, just until its fragrance rises.

Pour in the cider and return the chicken to pan. Let it come up to a lively bubble before reducing the heat to a gentle simmer. Cover and leave it, unattended, to cook for 10 minutes.

Stir in the creme fraiche, mustard and parsley. Cook for a further 5 minutes, uncovered, letting the sauce thicken slightly. Taste, seasoning with salt and pepper, and serve.

This is a simple way to take a weeknight staple up a notch by doing little more than rifling through your spice rack. A few spoonfuls of spices are transformed into a paste with lemon juice, and all you need to do is run the salmon pieces through it. Roasting, rather than frying, adds to this recipe’s relaxed vibe.

My rice of choice here, as it is so often for fork-friendly (read: couch-friendly) dinners, is sushi rice. The short, desirably sticky grains, given a vibrant blast of colour and earthy flavour with turmeric, make a perfect bed for the fish.

The timing works nicely, too – and this is from someone who is not a great multitasker. Get the rice going first, get your oven up to temperature and the fish can roast while the rice has its rest. In fact, there's even enough time to casually steam a vegetable to go with this – bok choy or broccolini would be great choices – without collapsing into a paroxysm of stress from cooking three things at once.

Spicy roast salmon and turmeric rice

Serves 2.

½ cup sushi rice
1 teaspoon turmeric
2 salmon fillets
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon ground coriander
1 tablespoon sweet paprika
1 clove garlic
juice of a lemon
1 teaspoon chilli flakes

To make the turmeric rice, rinse the rice in a strainer under cold running water until the water runs clear. Place in a saucepan and pour over ¾ cup of cold water. Bring to a boil and stir in the turmeric. Turn the heat down to a low simmer, put on a lid and leave to cook for 12 minutes. Remove from the heat, keep covered and leave for 10 minutes.

Set your oven to 220°C (425°F).

Measure the cumin, coriander and paprika into a shallow dish. Grate or crush in the garlic. Stir in the lemon juice until it becomes a thick, brushable paste. If it’s too thick, add a little olive oil.

Put the salmon fillets in the dish and brush or spoon the spice mix over to coat well on all sides.

Transfer the salmon to a baking sheet and sprinkle with the chilli flakes. Roast for 8 minutes.

Fluff the rice with a fork, divide between two plates and top with the salmon.

Lamb shoulder chops, sometimes called forequarter, barbecue or gigot chops depending on where you live, will never win a beauty contest but they make for sensational braises, becoming gloriously tender and developing deep, rich flavour. Because of the shape of the joint from which they come, no two are the same and can vary greatly in size, so buy them by weight rather than number.

You’ll notice there’s no additional liquid here – no wine, stock or even water. When the dish is ready for the oven it might seem that something's missing, but don’t fret: the tomatoes will quickly melt and meld into a delicious braising liquid. A tight-fitting lid is key here to stop evaporation, so reinforce the seal between pan and lid with a sheet of baking paper if necessary.

While there’s nothing complicated about this recipe, it does require time. If continuous cooking isn’t an option, you can break the marinating, cooking and eating up over two or even three days. Once the long, slow cooking is done, let the dish come to room temperature and stash it in the fridge, reheating on the stovetop over medium-low heat until thoroughly warmed through.

Slow-cooked lamb shoulder chops

Serves 2.

1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 teaspoon ground coriander
2 teaspoons smoked paprika
½ teaspoon sea salt flakes
freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
400g (14oz) lamb shoulder chops
1 red onion, halved and sliced
1 clove garlic, finely grated
200g (7 oz) tomatoes, chopped (fresh, if they’re good, or tinned)
½ teaspoon sugar

Combine the cumin, coriander, paprika and salt in a small bowl and add a good grinding of black pepper. Stir in enough olive oil, about a tablespoon, until a fragrant paste forms.

Place the chops in a resealable plastic bag (or shallow dish) and pour in the marinade, ensuring the chops are well covered. Set aside at room temperature for an hour, or in the fridge if marinating for longer.

When you’re ready to cook, set your oven to 150°C (300°F).

Heat a tablespoon of olive oil in the lidded braising dish of your choice over medium high heat. Working in batches if necessary, seal the chops for 2 minutes a side until golden. Remove to a plate.

Lower the heat to medium and add the final tablespoon of olive oil to the pan. Cook the onion until it softens and is starting to colour, then add the garlic, cooking until fragrant.

Stir in the tomatoes and sugar, then return the chops to the pan. Use a spoon to distribute the sauce so the chops are nicely covered, and let it come up to a simmer.

Cover tightly and transfer to the oven to cook for 1½ hours, longer if you have the patience, until the lamb becomes very tender.

Everything about this sauce tells you where it comes from: Trapani, on the sun-drenched western tip of Sicily, a crossroads at the very centre of the Mediterreanean. It’s a vibrant and delicious pesto, and it comes together with just a few pulses of your processor.

It’s an ideal choice for warm summer evenings when the thought of standing over a hot stove is less than appealing. Fresh mint is always in my kitchen in the summer months, and I add for a burst of herbaceous brightness that cuts through the richness of the sauce. It’s otherwise a pantry-friendly recipe, relying on staples that you might already have on hand, which means a great meal is never far away.

Because it’s a big sauce I pair it with a big pasta, the ruffle-edged ribbons of mafaldine. Use whatever you like, of course, especially if it has enough ridges or texture to catch the sauce.

Mafaldine with Trapanese pesto

Serves 2.

Put all the ingredients except the olive oil and mint into a small processor or blender and pulse until you have a nubbly sauce.

Add the olive oil, a little at a time. You’re looking for a thick but just-pourable consistency. Set aside.

Cook the pasta in a large pot of salted boiling water. Just before you drain it, remove a cupful of the pasta water.

Toss the drained pasta and the pesto together. Add the reserved pasta cooking water, a tablespoonful at a time, to emulsify the sauce until all the strands of pasta are well coated.

Toss in the chopped mint and serve immediately.

250g pasta
125g cherry tomatoes
4 anchovy fillets
2 tablespoons golden sultanas
1 clove garlic
1 tablespoon capers
25g blanched almonds
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
handful fresh mint leaves, chopped

A friand is traditionally made only with egg whites, but I can never get my act together to use the egg yolks later and they end up staring at me accusingly from the fridge every time I open it. I developed this waste-free recipe using whole eggs and it’s so much easier, too – no whisking required.

The other advantage of using the yolks is that I’ve been able to eliminate the enormous quantity of butter which would be needed to keep them moist, though you won’t believe they’re dialled down when you taste them. Thank you, almond meal.

Nine times out of ten, I use frozen raspberries when I make these as the season for fresh raspberries where I live is, sadly, very short. It makes little difference. If you would like them to be more intensely flavoured, fold a handful of quartered raspberries to the batter before spooning it into the tin.

Raspberry friands

Makes 12.

125g (5 oz) unsalted butter
50g (2 oz) plain flour, sifted
125g (5 oz) icing sugar, sifted
100g (4 oz) almond meal (ground almonds)
2 eggs
12 whole raspberries
butter and flour, to prepare pans

Set your oven to 180°C (350°F).

Prepare 12 mini muffin pans by melting a teaspoon of butter in the microwave and brushing it into each tin. Dust with flour and tap out the excess. Alternatively, simply line the pans with mini muffin papers.

Melt the larger amount of butter in the microwave and allow it to cool a little so it won’t cook the eggs when it meets them.

Sift icing sugar and flour into a bowl. Add almond meal.

Make a well in the centre. Add eggs and butter. Stir until well combined.

Divide among the prepared pans. Gently press a whole raspberries into the centre of each.

Bake for 16 minutes or until light;y golden. Cool in the pans for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely.

There’s something so satisfying about making your own condiments, bubbling away on the stove and filling jars to be stashed away. I think it connects me with a world utterly unlike the one I actually live in, where the season’s bounty would be harvested and preserved for the long, hard winter. A boy can dream.

I use the long, pointed Italian frying capsicums (peppers) here, sometimes called Cubanelles, as they’re sweeter and have less seeds. Feel free to substitute regular capsicums (bell peppers) if you can’t find them. Red only, please.

The heat and sweetness are both completely up to you. I don’t think long red chillies are particularly fiery, so I use them seeds and all. They certainly give this a kick – it is chilli jam, after all – but if it’s too much for you just scrape the seeds out as you go. Likewise, you can fiddle with the balance of the vinegar and sugar to suit your taste, remembering that it may set differently when cool.

You can also change the texture, if you want. I like to keep it rustic, but you can (and I have) given it a few (careful) blitzes with an immersion blender before the final reduction to make it smoother.

Chilli jam

Makes about 2 cups.

6 long red chillies
3 cloves garlic
1 red onion
3 red Italian frying peppers
2 stalks lemongrass
400g (14 oz) cherry tomatoes
150ml (⅔ cup) red wine vinegar
250g (1 cup) brown sugar
½ teaspoon sea salt flakes

To prepare the vegetables, roughly chop the chillies (deseeding if you want), garlic and onion and pulse in a food processor to break down and combine. Set aside.

Slice the Italian frying peppers in half lengthwise, trim, remove the membranes and seeds (the point of a teaspoon makes for quick work) and chop, crosswise, into fine slices.

Cut the cherry tomatoes in half.

Bruise the lemongrass well with something heavy – rolling pin, meat mallet, tin can – then chop into 3 or 4 long pieces each, small enough to fit in your pan and big enough to be easily retrieved.

Put the red wine vinegar and brown sugar into a heavy-based pan over gentle heat and stir until the sugar dissolves.

Add the chilli mixture from the processor, the peppers, tomatoes, lemongrass and salt. Bring up to a boil then turn down to a steady simmer. Stir occasionally until well reduced but still liquid, about 45 minutes.

Using tongs, carefully remove the lemongrass and discard.

(This is the point to use the immersion blender if you want a smoother finished product.)

Turn the heat up to medium-high and stir constantly for a few minutes to finish thickening until you achieve a jammy texture.

Spoon into sterilised jars, seal and turn upside down for 10 minutes. Allow to cool before storing.

There’s nothing complicated going on here, just a collection of familiar flavours simmered together into something wonderful and comforting, a whole greater than the sum of its parts. It’s a relaxed one-pot wonder that requires little attention over its long cooking time.

Versions of this delicious slow-cooked lamb dish appear on the menu of every family-run taverna (and nearly every family) in Greece, where it’s called yiouvetsi. When I island-hopped around the Aegean as a wide-eyed kid, I saw all the compulsory Grecian ruins but it was the food that seared itself into my memory (no surprise there, I guess). Lamb dishes were everywhere – some cooked with flinty retsina, some with olives, some spiked with heat from tiny dried chillies.

I’ve taken a simpler route here, then, somewhat paradoxically, fancied it up right at the end, as if to amplify its Greek origins, with the addition of feta and fresh oregano. I think the feta is necessary; the fresh oregano, while wonderful if you have it around, shouldn’t hold you back from making it.

Slow-cooked lamb with orzo

Serves 2.

750g (1½ pounds) diced shoulder lamb
1 onion, halved and sliced
1 cinnamon stick
1 teaspoon dried oregano
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 clove garlic
1 tablespoon tomato paste
500ml (2 cups) chicken stock
200g (7 oz) canned diced tomatoes
200g (7 oz) orzo
50g (2 oz) feta
sea salt flakes
fresh oregano leaves, to serve (optional)

Set your oven to 180°C (350°F).

Put the lamb in a casserole dish and sprinkle with a little salt. Add the sliced onion, the cinnamon stick, broken in half, the dried oregano and olive oil. Grate in a clove of garlic. Stir together and roast, uncovered, for 45 minutes, stirring halfway through.

Stir the tomato paste into the chicken stock and pour over the lamb, together with the diced tomatoes. Don't be alarmed by the amount of liquid at this point: you'll be cooking the orzo in it later.

Cover the dish and return to the oven for 1½ hours.

You can break the cooking at this point if you need to. Leave the dish to cool and pick up the cooking later the same day, or cool completely and refrigerate until the next day, if you like.

Either way, you finish the cooking on the stovetop. Bring the dish up to a rapid simmer and add the orzo. Be guided by recommended cooking time on the pack (some orzo takes a couple of minutes, some brands take 15) and by tasting at regular intervals. The orzo will absorb the liquid and the sauce will thicken up, so stir regularly to prevent it sticking.

Once cooked, spoon into bowls and serve with a crumbling of feta and some fresh oregano leaves, if using.

There’s an Italian mantra for all risotti, a recipe in just five words: sofritto, riso, vino, brodo, condimenti.

Sofritto is the flavour base, almost always made with onion of some sort and often with celery and carrot, softened but never browned. Then riso e vino: rice and wine.

The rice for making risotto has to be particularly starchy and short-grained. The most common variety is arborio and produces excellent results. If you can find it, the Italian vialone nano is superb.

Brodo is broth or stock (although it can be many other liquids, such as coconut milk or the water from soaking dried mushrooms), added slowly and stirred until absorbed.

Finally, the condimenti, those ingredients added in the final moments of cooking which can include cheese, fresh herbs, fresh mushrooms and seafood.

Here the sofritto is made with leeks, garlic, mustard and dried oregano, and the condimenti are brie, lots of freshly-ground pepper and a scattering of snipped chives.

Leeks come in many sizes from baby pencil through to gigantic so I've specified a weight, using the white and pale green parts. The way leeks are grown pushes dirt into the layers, so it's better to wash them after they're sliced.

Leek and brie risotto

Serves 2.

175g (6 oz) leeks
25g (1 oz) butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
1 clove garlic
½ teaspoon dried oregano
125g (½ cup) vialone nano or arborio rice
½ teaspoon Dijon mustard
60ml (¼ cup) vermouth (or dry white wine)
500ml (2 cups) vegetable stock
100g (4 oz) brie
sea salt flakes
freshly ground black pepper
fresh chives, snipped, to serve

Cut the leek in half lengthways and slice into thin half-moons. Wash thoroughly in a colander and drain. (It will look like an enormous amount. Don't worry: it cooks down.)

Put the butter, oil and leek into a heavy-based saucepan and grate in the clove of garlic.

Turn on medium heat and let the leek cook gently until very soft. It will take about 15 minutes; you don’t have to do anything other than give it an occasional stir and check that it’s not colouring.

Meanwhile, pour the stock into a small saucepan. Clamp on a lid and put it over low heat. It needs to be hot, but not boiling, in 15 minutes, so no rush.

Once the leeks have collapsed, add the oregano and stir in the rice until the grains are thoroughly coated. Add the blob of mustard and the vermouth, turn the heat up to medium-high and stir until no liquid remains.

Pour in about a third of the hot stock and simmer, insistently, until it has been absorbed. Stir often enough to stop it sticking. Add another third, wait for it to be absorbed, and the final third. It should take about 20 minutes.

Taste: the rice should be cooked and slightly al dente although but without any chalkiness. If you need to extend the cooking time, add a little water from the kettle.

Cut the brie into thick slices and stir through the risotto until melted. Taste again, checking for salt. Serve immediately, grinding over some black pepper with a generous hand and a sprinkle of snipped fresh chives.

I have to start with a confession: I don't make popcorn for movie nights, I make a bowl of these sticky, spicy little winglets. There's something about being slumped on the couch, nibbling away on these, a stack of paper towels so I can wipe my fingers to fast-forward through all car chases (very few good movies hinge on the outcome of a car chase), a couple of cold beers – I am filled with domestic bliss. Odd, maybe, but true.

Drumettes – the upper third of the wing joint – also make great party food because they're a bit easier to eat with one hand (the other holding a drink, of course) than a whole wing, and your guests can neatly wrap the single bone in a napkin and be done with it. It's easy on the cook, too, as they can be roasted a couple of dozen at a time. Use the whole wing if you like, and this recipe will happily work for 12 wings instead.

It's a quick job to mix up the marinade and toss them in the fridge. You need to give them a full day's marinating to fully infuse all the flavours, but that's no work other than patience. Then 30 minutes in the oven and you're done. Domestic bliss, indeed.

Asian-spiced sticky chicken drumettes

Makes 12.

12 chicken drumettes
2 tablespoon sambal oelek
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon rice wine or mirin
1 teaspoon sesame oil
1 teaspoon grated ginger
1 teaspoon grated garlic
1 teaspoon sesame seeds, for sprinkling

Whisk all the marinade ingredients (that's everything except the sesame seeds and the drumettes themselves) together in a small bowl.

Place the drumettes in a resealable plastic bag and pour over the marinade. Close the bag and give everything a gentle massage to get all the chicken pieces covered.

Put the bag in a bowl, in case of leakage, and refrigerate overnight.

When ready to cook, set your oven to 200°C (425°F).

Using tongs, remove the drumettes from the marinade and arrange on a foil-lined baking sheet. (If you have a rack to lift them up a little, use that, but it's not absolutely essential.) Reserve the remaining marinade.

Roast for 30 minutes, turning halfway through and basting occasionally with some of the reserved marinade, which will become sticky, dark glossy towards the end of the cooking time.

Sprinkle with the sesame seeds and serve.

I cook sausages because they are deeply unfashionable. At a time when a Paleo quinoa cheesecake is a real thing (I'd link to it, but don't want to encourage such nonsense), it's the least I could do.

This is my take on sausages and mash, pimped up with a tasty dressing of tomatoey spinach and lentils. In place of the mash, soft polenta flavoured with cheese and stock. It’s easy to make, requiring not much more from the cook than various bits of stirring, and you make the polenta while the sausages are gently braising, so there’s no multitasking business necessary.

If you go in for exotically flavoured sausages, feel free to use them here. I follow the advice that you can judge the measure of a butcher by the quality of his pork sausages – it’s exactly how I settled on mine – and so I prefer them plain, though this is no less delicious for it.

Sausages with tomato, spinach, red lentils and soft polenta

Serves 2.

4 pork sausages (or however many you want)
2 teaspoons olive oil
1 shallot or small onion
2 cloves garlic
1 large ripe Roma tomato, diced
2 tablespoons tomato paste
250ml (1 cup) chicken or vegetable stock
3 tablespoons red lentils
large handful baby spinach leaves, roughly chopped
sea salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper

for the polenta:
125ml (½ cup) milk
125ml (½ cup) chicken or vegetable stock
50g (2 oz) instant polenta
25g (1 oz) Parmesan cheese, finely grated

Heat the olive oil in a frying pan over medium-high heat. Brown the sausages all over and remove to a plate.

Cut the shallot in half and slice it into thin half-moons. Sauté in the frying pan and grate in the garlic. Cook until the onion just begins to colour.

Pour in the stock and stir in the fresh tomato, tomato paste and lentils. Let everything come to a simmer and return the sausages to the pan. Let them simmer away for 6 minutes while you make the polenta.

In a small saucepan, heat the milk and stock to the edge of a boil.

Pour the polenta in a fine, steady stream, whisking constantly. Turn down the heat and continue stirring for 3 minutes. The polenta is ready when it has thickened and starts to come away from the side of the saucepan. When it’s done, stir in the Parmesan cheese.

To serve, spoon the polenta into deep dishes and top with the sausages. Mix the spinach leaves into the lentil sauce, just long enough to wilt them. Taste the sauce, season with salt and pepper, and pour over the sausages.

This is an uncomplicated cake but it has real presence thanks to the natural flavours of the fruit. The combination of orange and blueberries is wonderful, and I’ve restrained the sugar to let some their tartness shine through.

I make it in a 3cm deep flan tin only because I like the fluted edges and, since it’s a rather flat cake, hardly rising to the edges of the tin, it bakes faster. You can make it in any cake tin you like, of course; just bake until the edges are golden and you'll be fine.

In keeping with its simplicity, there’s no need to use an electric mixer. In fact, I think it’s nicer to make cakes like this with a bowl and a wooden spoon, and it comes together very quickly with a few casual turns.

Orange and blueberry cake

Serves 6–8

75g (3 oz) unsalted butter
150g (1 cup) flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
75g (⅓ cup) caster sugar
finely grated zest and 3 tablespoons juice from 1 orange
1 egg
80ml (⅓ cup) milk
100g (4 oz) blueberries

Set your oven to 180°C (350°F).

Melt the butter and brush a little of it inside a 23cm (9-inch) loose-based flan tin or cake tin, setting the rest aside.

In a mixing bowl, stir the flour, baking powder and sugar together with a balloon whisk or fork until well combined.

Add the orange zest and juice, egg, milk and melted butter, stirring until combined. Pour the batter into the tin, scatter over half the blueberries and bake for 15 minutes.

Scatter the remaining blueberries across the cake, which should be just firm enough to stop them sinking too much, and continue to bake for a further 20 minutes or until the edges are nicely golden and the centre is cooked through when tested with a toothpick.

Let it cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes before turning out.

This is my homespun version of a Japanese way with eggplants, fried in sesame-tinged oil with a few chilli flakes, sauced up with miso, soy, mirin and rice wine. It works as a lovely side dish – accommodating, too, as it doesn’t have to be served piping hot – though it’s substantial enough on its own. We often eat it unaccompanied by nothing but steamed rice.

It’s a successful treatment for all kinds of eggplants, so as a guide I have specified a weight below, rather than a particular variety. If you’re using a large eggplant, cut it into 2cm (about 1 inch) cubes. For egg-sized baby eggplants, cut them into quarters, lengthways. For the long, slender Japanese eggplants, cut them in half lengthways.

Eggplants with a miso sauce

Serves 2.

350g (12 oz) eggplant (see preparation note above)
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 teaspoon sesame oil
½ teaspoon dried red chilli flakes
2 tablespoons rice wine
1 tablespoon mirin
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon soy sauce
2 tablespoons white miso
1 tablespoon water

Place the canola oil, sesame oil and chilli flakes in a frying pan over medium heat. Warm through until the chilli flakes start to crackle.

Add the eggplants and fry, turning occasionally, until tender and golden all over.

Meanwhile, combine the soy sauce, mirin, rice wine and sugar in a small bowl, stirring until the sugar dissolves. Add the miso and water, mixing until smooth.

Add the miso mixture to the eggplants, tossing for a minute or so until everything is nicely coated and warmed through.

Transfer to your serving bowl or bowls. Sprinkle with a few sesame seeds and some roughly chopped coriander leaves if you have them to hand.

This is a quick write-up of a dessert I published on Instagram. I'll update it with the US conversions and notes.

Chocolate bônet

Serves 2.

for the caramel:
50g (3 tablespoons) caster sugar
30ml (2 tablespoons) water
¼ teaspoon sea salt flakes

50g amaretti biscuits
250ml (1 cup) milk
1 egg
1 egg yolk
50g (3 tablespoons) caster sugar
35g cocoa
½ teaspoon vanilla extract

Set your oven to 160°C (320°F) and have a roasting tin or cake tin big enough to accomodate two 1½-cup ramekins standing by.

To make the caramel, place the sugar and water in a small saucepan and stir together. Place over medium-high heat and bring to a boil. Don’t stir; you can swirl it around with the handle, but no spoons (it will crystalise if you do). Continue to cook until it turns pale gold. It will continue to get darker quickly, so watch it carefully. Divide it between the ramekins. Set aside.

Grind the amaretti to a fine powder in a small food processor (or crush them in a bag with a rolling pin). Set aside.

Warm the milk, either on the stove or in a jug in the microwave. Either way, it only needs to be warm, not hot.

Place the egg and the extra yolk and sugar in a mixing bowl. Whisk together until combined.

Sieve in the cocoa and mix thoroughly. Add the vanilla and the crushed amaretti. Mix well.

Add the warm milk at little at a time, mixing well between each addition.

Pour the mixture into your ramekins. Set them inside a roasting tin or cake tin and pour in enough hot water to come halfway up the sides.

Place on the centre shelf of the oven and cook for 45 minutes. Remove from the oven and leave in the water bath until the water is cool, then remove the ramekins, cover and refrigerate for at least six hours, overnight if possible.

When you’re ready to serve, run a sharp knife around the edge of the ramekin, cover with a serving plate and invert. The caramel will glaze the top and drizzle down the sides.

Here’s a quickly-scaled dessert idea that you can whip up anytime and is especially useful when you find yourself with bananas that rapidly approaching their use-by date. 

The coconut caramel, sweet and wonderfully creamy, is easy beyond belief – no fiddling around with sugar thermometers required. Don’t worry if it seems too thin on the stovetop, as it thickens up beautifully once you put it in the fridge.

I get out my chargrill pan for this, though you need to know that it works perfectly well if you grill your bananas under a hot overhead grill (broiler) or, indeed, the barbecue if that’s up and running.

I like the little sweet  “lady finger” bananas with this, though of course it works just as well with any bananas you have to hand.

Fried bananas with coconut caramel

Serves 2.

125ml (½ cup) coconut milk
4 tablespoons (¼ cup) light brown sugar
¼ teaspoon sea salt flakes
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon olive oil
2 bananas
2 tablespoons coconut flakes
2 tablespoons pecans, chopped

To make the coconut caramel, place the coconut milk, brown sugar and salt in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring it up to a boil, turn the heat down a little to medium and stir until the sugar has dissolved.

Continue to cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes, until dark, fragrant and beginning to thicken. Remove from the heat, let it cool slightly, and pour into a small bowl. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Heat a dry frying pan over medium-high heat and toast the coconut flakes. until lightly golden. Transfer to a small bowl and set aside.

Add the butter and olive oil (to stop the butter burning) to the pan. Peel and halve the bananas lengthways and cook in the butter for about 3 minutes a side, until golden.

Transfer the bananas to serving plates, drizzle some of the coconut caramel over and sprinkle with coconut flakes and pecans.

I’ve long been intrigued by the way caramels are used in Thai cooking. I think we’re so used to caramel being firmly entrenched as for desserts-only that the idea of its use in savoury foods can seem counterintuitive. In Thai cuisine, however, balance is everything, so while there is sweetness, of course, there must also be sourness, and that’s exactly what we have here.

In my version of a Thai caramel, sourness is provided firstly by red wine vinegar and later by fresh lime juice. The addition of a single star anise bridges the gap between the sugar and the acids, so it comes together as a spectrum of flavours, far removed from a desserty caramel.

I make this in my cast-iron skillet because the large surface area helps the sauce reduce more quickly. Instead of multiple pans, I park a bowl and a piece of foil next to the stove to shuffle the ingredients around as I go along. It sounds odd, I know, but read through the directions before you start and I promise that it will all make sense.

Finally, a warning: this is not a recipe for beginners. You’ll need to reduce a liquid a couple of times, know how to control your heat properly and work with hot, melted sugar, all of which can be tricky or even dangerous. For an easier – and infinitely safer – recipe, try my Asian-spiced sticky chicken drumettes instead. If you're comfortable in the kitchen, however, you're in for a treat.

Thai-style caramel chicken

Serves 2.

3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
50g (¼ cup) brown sugar
1 star anise
125ml (½ cup) chicken stock
1 tablespoon peanut oil
2 chicken thigh fillets, skin off, cut into bitesize pieces
juice of ½ lime
1 small red chilli, finely chopped

In a skillet or other wide pan (with a lid), stir together the vinegar and sugar over low heat until the sugar dissolves. Add the star anise, turn the heat to medium and simmer gently for 5 minutes.

Add the chicken stock and turn the heat up enough to produce a steady bubble. Reduce the mixture by half, stirring occasionally. Pour into a bowl and set aside.

Heat the oil in the pan over medium-high heat and stir-fry the chicken until it is sealed all over and just beginning to brown.

Pour the liquid mixture over the chicken, cover and turn the heat down to low, simmering for 5 minutes. Check that the chicken is cooked all the way through before using a slotted spoon to transfer it to your bowl. Cover with foil to keep it warm.

Add the lime juice to the sauce and turn up the heat, reducing again until you have about ½ cup left.

Return the chicken to the pan and toss it in the liquid. Keep tossing – quickly but carefully, please – over medium-high heat until the sauce comes together and is sticky enough to coat the chicken well. Remove from the heat and let it cool a little before serving (to avoid burned mouths).

I serve this with plain, steamed rice, spooning over any caramel remaining in the pan, with a scattering of fresh chilli and a simply steamed Asian green like bok choy or edamame beans on the side.

I know the title of this recipe might seem like the words are in the wrong order, but it’s correct. This is a celebration of the mighty mushroom, boldly and meatily (without actual meat, of course, though even the most committed carnivore will enjoy this). This isn’t orzo with a mushroom sauce – it’s mushrooms with a sauce that includes orzo.

While you can use any mushrooms that are available, the portobello (or any of the flat, hefty varieties) give this dish the stately, uncompromising presence it needs. Bigger kinds of shiitake are also very good if portobellos are not around, or a mixture of both portobellos and shiitake, as you choose.

Because we’re talking about a huge quantity of mushrooms – they cook way down, of course, so don’t panic when confronted by the enormous pile of sliced mushrooms you’ll start out with – you’ll need to employ the biggest pan in your arsenal. I use my wok, and it works perfectly here. If you are using a smaller pan, you can divide the mushroom-cooking into two batches, combining them before the addition of the sauce ingredients.

Orzo and risoni are the same thing: small pasta the size and shape of rice grains. The only difference is their lineage – Greek or Italian, respectively – so use whatever it’s called where you live. While most brands cook to al dente in under 10 minutes, be aware that some are particularly tough little customers and can take 15 or even 20 minutes, so be guided by the recommended time on the pack and start testing a minute or so before that time is up.

Finally, I add a little bit of cream at the end of cooking. Feel free to substitute with crème fraîche or mascarpone if you have any to hand. You can also use sour cream, for a slightly tarter edge, or yoghurt – the thick Greek kind and, please, not of any reduced-fat variety – though you will need to add it off the heat as it’s prone to curdling.

Portobello mushrooms with orzo sauce

Serves 2.

2 tablespoons butter
1 tablespoon olive oil
500g (1 pound) portobello mushrooms
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
½ teaspoon dried thyme
80ml (⅓ cup) white wine
45ml (3 tablespoons) cream
sea salt flakes
freshly ground black pepper
150g (1 cup) orzo
2 tablespoons parsley leaves, to serve

Wipe the mushrooms clean, trim and cut into finger-width slices.

Bring a saucepan of lightly salted water to the boil, getting it ready for the orzo.

In a large pan over medium-high heat, warm the butter and oil. When the butter foams, add the mushrooms and cook, stirring frequently.

Cook until mushrooms release their liquid, then keep cooking until no liquid remains and the mushrooms have cooked down and become darkly golden.

Put the orzo into the pan of boiling water to cook, following recommended timing from the pack.

Drizzle the balsamic vinegar over the mushrooms and add the thyme and garlic. Cook, stirring, just until the garlic’s fragrance rises.

Pour in the wine and continue cooking until no liquid remains in the pan.

Turn the heat to low, add the cream and let it simmer gently. Taste, seasoning with salt and pepper as required.

Drain the orzo and add to the mushrooms. Toss together, gently but thoroughly, and serve immediately, scattering over some roughly chopped parsley as you do.