It was love at first sight when I saw the mound of magenta pods, streaked with trails of cream, on Farrington’s stand at the Bristol Organic Food Festival.  Borlotti beans! I squeaked with delight and received some very odd looks from the other shoppers around me.  I make no apologies for my excitement, though… I’ve been a bean-lover for years but I’ve never had the opportunity to eat fresh beans, other than the very British sort.  So as I sifted through the bean mountain, searching for the plumpest, prettiest pods, I pondered what to do with my newest treasure.  Pasta e fagoli?  Some sort of stew?  Italian-style beans on toast?

Nothing seemed quite right until I remembered one of my newest books.  (I am trying, really really trying, not to buy any more cookbooks until the New Year.  Believe me, it’s been tough.)  In My Favourite Ingredients by Skye Gyngell (from Petersham Nurseries) there is a whole chapter of bean recipes, which is one of the reasons my eyes lit up when I spotted the book in Waterstones.

I loved the concept of Skye’s first book, but I found it rather inaccessible and to this day I haven’t cooked from it.  However, upon flicking through her newest effort, I found myself wishing that the book came with more than four bookmarks.  I want, desperately want in fact, to make so many things from this book.  The roast halibut with preserved lemon and crème fraiche sauce is screaming out to be made— and I’m not much of a fish-lover —cherry cordial, blood oranges with warm honey and rosemary, squash and tomato curry with lime and coconut, pickled pumpkin with burrata, apple ice-cream with toasted cobnuts and caramel sauce…  I’m practically listing every recipe from the book, so I’ll stop here.  Suffice to say that this book is crammed with wonderful recipes that are accessible to the home cook.  Both in terms of ingredients and technique.

But back to the beans.  A flick of my thumb and the cranberry coloured pod split open and revealed one of Mother Nature’s surprises!  The speckled theme from the pods carried through to the beans, but the colours were reversed–cream speckled with magenta, which reminded me a lot of the marbled eggs that we used to make around Easter-time.  They were so pretty that I had to go and show them to my boys, whereupon Lucas tried to eat one raw.  He’s getting to be quite the little adventurer–I caught him munching on a shallot at the farm shop today.

I didn’t have quite enough fresh beans for the dish, so I supplemented with some quick-soaked beans from the cupboard.  My dried borlotti were very different to the fresh, both in colour–a tan or chestnut colour–and were a lot smaller too.  Still, as I stirred everything together in a big baking dish, I was hopeful.

As the beans cooked, the most amazing smells floated from the kitchen, drawing us all toward the oven.  I had to disappoint Dave and Lucas by telling them that the delicious smells weren’t in fact part of that night’s dinner… the beans were just sharing space in the oven in a fit of environmental efficiency.  When I finally peeled back the tinfoil lid, I discovered that the speckled colours of the beans disappears during cooking, but the flavour made up for that small disappointment.  The dried borlotti fattened up, almost to the size of the fresh but not quite and all of the beans came out gorgeously creamy in texture, bathed in the most amazing green sage and garlic oil.  The sage and garlic intensified the naturally earthy flavour of the beans as well as contributing their own robust flavours and the whole dish barely needed more than a pinch of salt.  After cooling and sitting in the wonderfully flavoured oil overnight they were even better, and as you might expect, the flavour kept on intensifying until they were all gobbled up.  I’ve got to say that the fresh beans were way better than the dried, even though the former were excellent.  Better flavour and creamier texture… these were little beans of joy whenever you encountered one.

I served the beans–on the first day–with some slow-roasted shoulder of lamb, itself liberally strewn with robust herbs and garlic, and Ottolenghi’s broccoli with garlic and chilli.  Yup, loads of garlic.  Lucas gave Nanny an absolutely garlic-laden kiss after all of that!  Good thing she loves garlic almost as much as we do.  Unsurprisingly, Lucas ate the lion’s share of the rest of the beans.  He loves strong flavours and you can’t get much stronger than garlic.  I thought he’d like them, but I was still surprised to have his bowl handed back to me twice with him asking for more beenz.  I think we can call this a definite success.

I’m really looking forward to growing my own borlotti beans next year.  I may not have dug the beds yet–very lazy, I know–but I do have the beans all picked out.  I’m going for the classic Lingua di Fuoco or “tongues of fire” variety, which is, I believe exactly what I bought from Farringtons.  At £5 a kilo, I should save an absolute fortune with a few plants of my own!  Now if only I could succeed at growing garlic and sage, too…

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Before I tell you all about this beautiful bread… check out the all-new look that A Spoonful of Sugar has!  After almost five years of blogging I felt it was about time I splashed out on a professional designer.  So, huge thanks to Teresa from Delicious Design Studio for my gorgeous new look.  What do you guys think?

Also, if you happened to be in Scotland this morning, and if you also happened to be listening to BBC Radio Scotland, then you probably heard me talking to Fred MacAulay & Co about cookbooks.  A big ‘Hello!’ to any listeners who’ve dropped in for a visit.

And so to the bread…

My Italianophile tendencies don’t just encompass present-day Italy. Oh, no… I’ve been entranced by Italy ever since we learned about the Roman Empire at school. For years I used to love trotting out Roman trivia–did you know that the Romans developed and named the concept of camber on roads?

Recently Dave treated me to a copy of Roman Cooking by Mark Grant. This book, although one of my newest, is also in a sense my oldest. It aims to recreate ancient Roman recipes for the modern cook from the rather vague or fragmented recipes that have survived the ages. It makes for fascinating and mouthwatering reading. We’d always been told at school that ancient Romans had decadent–and drunken–feasts, but the actual details of the food were somewhat glossed over. Twenty years later, this book has done a great job of filling in the gaps for me!

The book’s introduction does a great job of introducing Roman Empire cusine to the reader and of comparing it to the cusines of the rest of the Ancient World at that point in time.  It rather shattered my ideas of constant banquets for everyone, and I suddenly recalled that the class system was very much in evidence at that time.  The recipes in Roman Cookery are everyday, common people recipes and it’s quite reassuring to see how well they ate.

The book is divided into familiar chapters: Breakfast, Lunch, Dinner at the Bar and Dinner in the Dining Room which reminded me that the ancient Romans were real people.    Breakfast seemed to be porridge of various types, but there was also a rose honey to sweeten things up which intrigued me.  There is a huge variety of breads on offer in the Lunch chapter and also some unusual fried pasta sheets which are a precursor to the lasagne we know today.  There’s plenty of vegetarian recipes, and indeed this might be a great book for a jaded vegetarian, as meat and fish were highly expensive.  Of the meat recipes included, I’m particularly keen on trying the Pork in a sweet wine and fig sauce which sounds incredibly good.  There’s oodles of historical information in the chapter introductions and recipe headers which held my attention nicely, but your mileage may vary on this.

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Among my birthday presents this year was a copy of Gordon Ramsay’s Recipes from a Three-Star Chef. Since then I’ve been sighing longingly over the pictures and only giving the merest of glances to the recipes in the second section of the book—the first half of the book is a photo-documentary of a day in the restaurant, packed with pictures and nuggets of information—as I assumed that everything would be beyond my level of skill.

It’s not often that a cookbook intimidates me, but this one really did. For a start it came complete with a protective silver slipcover, which sets the tone to “posh”. My only other cookbook to have been given such an accolade by its publisher is a hardback copy of Larousse Gastronomique, so I’m sure my brain made a mental association there. Secondly, this book is huge. Is there a category beyond over-size? It’s even bigger than Home Baking by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid, which is pretty damn huge. Alas, I fear the impractical size of the book may put many cooks off using it—who has sufficient counter space to leave this book open as they cook?

It is a shame that the book has this level of surface intimidation, as once you dig into it, it is surprisingly accessible. Yes, overall the recipes are complex. But that’s what you want, surely, if you’ve bought the book? This isn’t the Dummies Guide to Michelin Starred Cookery; this is the real deal. However, if you treat each recipe as a collection of smaller recipes—the babystep approach as Flylady would say—then you’ll get along just fine.

As I was so awe-struck with the Pineapple and Coconut soup we had at the restaurant, I decided to make that my first recipe re-creation from the book. I should point out that while the majority of the restaurant’s dishes are in the book, they will be subtly different from what was on the menu. In this case, Pineapple and Coconut soup in the restaurant, and Pineapple and chilli soup with fromage frais foam in the book.)

The soup was incredibly simple. Chunks of fresh pineapple were tossed with some sugar and quickly caramelised lightly in a frying pan. A quick blitz and strain, and there you had it… pineapple soup.

The coconut foam was slightly more involved, but the hardest thing was whisking it up to a foam when I was putting together the dessert. I couldn’t get it quite foamy enough by hand, so pulled out the electric whisk which worked a treat. A nitro siphon, as used in the restaurant, would have been fantastic and even more fun. I think I’d let the foam mixture set a little longer next time so that the structure is stronger when whisked, but I was rather rushed.

The soup really, really did taste like the real thing. The pineapple portion was deliciously sweet and zingy with the slight fizz from the sparkling wine and the much more dramatic snap-bang!-pop from the popping candy. The coconut foam had almost the correct taste and texture, but due to a couple of changes I’d made it wasn’t quite as luxurious as it could have been. I must say that I couldn’t pick out the chilli syrup, but then again… I couldn’t at Gordon’s either, so I was quite satisfied all in all.

Thoughts for next time…

Use full-fat fromage frais, even if it means shopping around. I could only get fat-free which tasted a bit thin. Similarly, coconut cream would be better than coconut milk. (These were my own changes to the recipe, so you can’t blame Gordon for that.)

I need to shop around and find some plain popping candy. The pack that I had—courtesy of my mother-in-law, who for some reason had a packet tucked away in the kitchen—was strawberry flavoured and you could taste that a little. Also, some of the pieces went a little soggy. Not a huge problem by any means… I just like to get things right.

I’ll definitely be making this recipe again and taking further forays into the book as a whole. Sure, there are some things that I’ll shy away from—there’s no way that I’d ever actually cook lobster at home, delicious as it is—but I really do feel that this is an accessible and achievable cookbook for the keen amateur home cook.

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It’s always a good sign when the very first recipe in a cookbook has me champing at the bit to get into the kitchen.

Rachel Allen is Ireland’s answer (or indeed antidote) to Nigella Lawson. She’s fresh, natural and engaging onscreen and is quite clearly passionate about her food (which is a good thing, since she married into the famous Irish Allen food-dynasty). Yes, she has an enviable lifestyle with a fabulous house—presuming that that they do indeed film in her real house and not a staged set in a warehouse as The Times revealed about Nigella Express—and what appears to be very much the perfect family, but somehow it doesn’t grate on me. Naturally, opinions are divided on her, as is the case with Nigella these days. My only further comment on the matter is that it’s much easier to relate to someone who cooks whilst wearing jeans and dog-eared trainers than someone who is baking a bread pudding at midnight whilst wearing a designer party dress!

The hallmarks of Rachel’s Favourite Food For Living are: straightforward recipes, bold flavours—although there are some more refined and delicate dishes which I’m keen to try—well-illustrated—I’ve only found one unillustrated recipe in the book—and well-written recipes. Unlike some other big-name British authors, Rachel has actually specified the appropriate size of baking tin (or other vessel) to use in recipes and doesn’t simply say “a knob” of ginger. She actually gives the rough size that it should be. While this isn’t a big deal for more experienced cooks, beginners and novices need this sort of information otherwise they’re left wide open to recipe failures and then throwing up their hands in dismay and never bothering again.

The food styling is a little n the twee side of things but that seems to work in its favour making the recipes seem achievable and the book as a whole welcoming and cosy. I’d have to say that the production values of Rachel’s books have come a long way from her first book which felt dated almost as soon as it was published.

Those of you who are watching your weight will be pleased to hear that there is a chapter full of low(er) fat recipes and to be perfectly honest, you can easily slash the oil and butter content in the majority of the savoury recipes without feeling at all deprived.

Many of the recipes come with suggestions for variations and handy hints if the recipe features an uncommon preparation or cooking method. As a little bonus, there are a few essays scattered through the book on subjects such as choosing wine; chocolate; the perfect cup of tea, and others. I thought that this was a nice little touch, and it makes the book eminently suitable for bed-time reading.

My must make recipe list includes:

• Carpaccio of Fish with Peppers and Herbs
• Chocolate and Hazelnut Caramel Bars
• Asian Chicken Salad
• Arabian Spiced Rack of Lamb with Couscous
• Stacked Chocolate Fudge Squares with White Chocolate and Raspberries
• Roast Loin of Pork stuffed with Prunes and Apples with a Calvados Sauce

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