My blog has amassed a small collection of what I like to think of as Random Fans. These are people who have been passed a link by a friend or family member of mine (most likely my mother), and who, rather than commenting on my site, refer their praise back to their own original source. So I get a lot of emails like “Your cousin made your chickpea salad and loved it” and “My friend Sarah’s mom made those brownies last week- they were great!”.

A couple weeks ago, I posted a Sardine Pasta which proved a hit with both Blog Readers and Random Fans alike. Though possibly its success was due to the guest appearance of seafood, I think it’s more likely that the nature of the recipe – quick to throw together, filling and tasty – struck a chord. So I thought I’d share another staple weeknight pasta today, one which makes use of those perfectly cooked chickpeas I told you about the other day.

This dish started life as a simple Spaghetti Aglio e Olio, or spaghetti with garlic and oil. Simple, yes- perhaps a little too simple for me. Because I soon found myself “adding things” with wild abandon; some chickpeas from the fridge, freshly chopped tomatoes, a handful of chopped parsley. My version is still simple as pastas go of course, but the toothsome, chewy chickpeas and the sweet tomatoes add just enough oomph to make this feel like a meal.

So give it a go – I can’t imagine anyone not being a fan of this dish.

• Spaghetti with Chickpeas
• serves 2
• 200g spaghetti
  2-4 Tbs. olive oil
  2 small garlic cloves, thinly sliced
  1/2 tsp. chili flakes, or to taste
  1 cup cooked chickpeas
  4 small tomatoes, roughly chopped
  1/3 cup finely chopped parsley
  parmesan cheese, to serve
• 1. Put a large pot of water on to boil, and salt it generously when it does. Cook the pasta until al dente, according to package instructions. When you drain it, reserve 1/2 cup of the pasta cooking water.
  
  2. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil over low heat in a nonstick saucepan. Add the garlic and cook very gently for 3-4 minutes; it’s important not to burn it. Add the chili flakes and chickpeas. Use the back of a wooded spoon to break up about 1/3 of the chickpeas, though most should remain whole.
  
  3. Turn the heat up to medium and add the tomatoes. Cook, stirring occasionally, until they are hot through and loose their raw look- about 5 minutes. Add the parsley and remove the sauce from the heat.
  
  4. When the pasta is drained, add to the sauce along with a little pasta cooking water or extra olive oil, as needed to moisten the dish. Toss together well and serve immediately, topped with parmesan cheese.

If you scanned the recipe page of this blog, you might be led to believe that I was vegetarian. But I’m not, at least not technically. Though I’ve been meat-free for almost three years now I do occasionally eat seafood, so the term “pescetarian” more accurately describes my eating practices. Generally though, I prefer to use the term vegetarian for a couple reasons- first of all, many people have no idea what a Pescetarian is, and secondly, it’s terribly pretentious-sounding, don’t you think?

Then of course, there are the Judgers. I’m often embarrassed to even admit that I eat seafood, lest I’m faced with the dreaded “Why? Don’t you think fish have feelings?” or “I guess fish don’t count as animals to you, because they’re not cute”. Here we go. I don’t get caught up in these conversations, because my reasons for eating seafood are hardly better than a lack of cuteness: I like it, and think I’d miss it too much if I gave it up. For me, giving up meat was easy, but I’m not sure giving up fish would be.

That said, I don’t eat seafood very often, and fresh seafood even less so. Maybe the hardest fish for me to give up (and I’m not gonna try) would be anchovies; these salty little fillets add a savoury kick to sauces and pasta dishes that I just adore. It’s surprising, then, that until recently I’d never tried their close cousin, sardines. Long-known to be a “brain food” and rich in omega-3 fatty acids, canned sardines are also, as I’ve recently discovered, wicked good.

This recipe, which comes from an old Mark Bittman column, is one of those great “pantry standbys”. You probably have many of the things needed to make it – pasta, sardines, capers, breadcrumbs – in your cupboards right now, and the others – lemon, parsley – in your fridge. The genius of it, aside from the possible effects of the sardines (ha,ha), is in the breadcrumbs; they coat the pasta and somehow corral all the other ingredients into a sauce. Moreover, it’s quick to make, filling, and defies the need to shop much.

And of course, it’s tasty. And isn’t that the best reason for eating something?

• Simple Sardine Pasta
• adapted from Mark Bittman
• serves 2
• 200g spaghetti
  olive oil
  1/3 cup chunky bread crumbs, made from stale bread
  sea salt and black pepper
  2 shallots, finely chopped
  1 small clove garlic, minced
  zest of 1/2 lemon
  juice of 1/2 lemon
  1 can sardines packed in olive oil, drained
  1 Tbs. capers
  1/4 cup chopped parsley
• 1. Put a large pot of water on to boil and cook pasta until al dente, according to package instructions.
  
  2. Meanwhile, heat a glug of olive oil in a nonstick pan over high heat. Add the breadcrumbs and cook until toasted and lightly golden, 3-4 minutes. Remove breadcrumbs to a bowl (they will burn if you leave them in the pan) and season lightly with salt and pepper.
  
  3. Heat a bit more olive oil in a larger pan over medium heat. Add the shallots and garlic and cook gently until soft and translucent; about 5 minutes. Add the lemon zest, lemon juice, sardines and capers and continue cooking until everything is warmed through.
  
  4. When the pasta is done, drain (reserving about 1 cup of the cooking water) and add to the pan with the sardine mixture. Toss well, adding in the breadcrumbs and parsley, as well as any cooking water needed to moisten. Serve immediately.

How do you feel about gnocchi? Unlike its close cousin pasta (which every sane person on the planet adores, and if you claim otherwise I simply won’t believe you), gnocchi tends to divide people. I can completely understand, having a love-hate relationship with the little Italian dumplings myself. A lot of it depends on the quality of gnocchi you’ve had; pillowy, light-as-air morsels will make you a lifelong convert, but dense hockey pucks hardly inspire fervent devotion.

It’s not just eating gnocchi that can be dangerous ground, but making them, too. About twice a year or so, I’m struck with the urge to rice, knead, roll and boil a batch up, but there’s really no rhyme or reason to how they turn out. Sometimes they’ll be delicious beyond words, but there’s no guaranteeing that I can replicate that success next time. Just as often they’ll be tough and rubbery and cause Andrew to ask me “Why do you try to make gnocchi?” with a mournful look on his face. In fact, I’m not convinced that gnocchi success is ever down to any particular recipe, but maybe more arbitrary factors; the size of your potatoes, the temperature of your kitchen, the colour of your apron.

Having said that, I have picked up several tips via my adventures and misadventures in gnocchi making. The first is simple: do not overwork the dough. Much like making scones or pastry, you’re aiming to mix until just combined, knead until just soft, touch as little as possible. The other tip is to use a finely milled flour. Italian “00″ grade is perfect for this, and the fact that it’s somehow denser, yet lighter, means that much less of it is needed.  I’m not generally a fan of keeping loads of different flours around, but this is one place where it pays to be frivolous.

Once made, gnocchi can be a vehicle for any number of delicious sauces. You omnivores will probably love it with a meat ragu (I did, in days gone by), and I like it with pesto, cream sauces or baked with veggies. Tonight I’ll be enjoying the rest of this batch with cheese sauce and broccoli- a tasty twist on macaroni and cheese. It’s like I said- everyone loves pasta, no?

• Fluffy Gnocchi
• adapted from In Praise of Sardines
• serves 4 (makes approx. 80 gnocchi)
• 3 medium baking potatoes (about 1½ pounds total)
  1 egg
  pinch freshly grated nutmeg
  ½ tsp. sea salt
  1 cup “00″ grade flour, plus extra for dusting
• 1. Preheat the oven to 230°C/450°F. Clean the potatoes and prick them all over with a fork or sharp knife. Place on a baking sheet and cook for about one hour, until very tender inside. Allow to cool for at least half an hour, so you can easily handle them.
  
  2. Cut the potatoes in half and using a potato ricer, grate the soft flesh into a large bowl. If you don’t have a ricer, just use a wire sieve like I do. The potatoes should yield about 1 1/2 to 2 cups of flesh; if you have more, reserve the rest for another purpose. Let the potatoes cool completely in the bowl.
  
  3. Beat the egg in a small bowl, together with the salt and nutmeg. Add to the cooled potatoes and mix with a wooden spoon until just combined- do not overwork! Add the flour and gently fold in until a soft dough forms (you may need a little more flour).
  
  4. Turn dough out onto a well-floured surface and knead for about 1 minute, until smooth. Divide into 4 equal pieces, dusting each with flour before you set them aside. Working with one piece of dough at a time, roll them into a long tube about 1/2″ in diameter. Using a sharp knife, cut into 1/2″ pieces on a diagonal.
  
  5. Line a large baking sheet with parchment and dust it with flour. Take the gnocchi and roll each over the back of a fork, so that one side of each will have deep ridges (these help the gnocchi “hold on” to the sauce). Remove to the baking sheet and continue until you have formed all the gnocchi.
  
  6. To cook the gnocchi, bring a large pot of salted water to the boil. Working in batches, add half the gnocchi and give a gentle stir to ensure they don’t stick to the bottom. Cook for 3-4 minutes, until the water has returned to a simmer and the gnocchi are all floating. Remove to a colander with a slotted spoon, and repeat with the second batch. Serve gnocchi with whatever sauce you like.

What do you eat, when you’re eating alone? Say your husband/boyfriend/roommate is out for the evening, and you’re settling in to dine solo. You’ve got your favourite embarrassing music on, or maybe you’re eating in front of the TV, watching that show you love that they just don’t get (my choice would be Gossip Girl or Ugly Betty, depending on the night). What’s on your plate?

Some people can’t be bothered to cook, minus the adoring audience. While I’m not really in it for the praise, I admit that I’ll often turn to a quick standby like scrambled eggs if it’s just me. Some use solitary evenings as an opportunity to experiment, testing new recipes or ingredients. Still others make the things they love but their partners’ can’t stand, an approach I like. Specifically? I have risotto.

On the surface of it, risotto hardly seems worth making for just one person. All that ladling and careful stirring, when there’s no one around to praise you? Bizarre, you might think. Unfortunately, I don’t get to make it for others that often. Andrew isn’t the biggest risotto fan (he thinks it’s “too much of the same flavour”) and I find it a bit time-consuming to make on the rare occasions we have friends over for dinner.

So if I want risotto, it’s got to be per uno. Luckily, I was in just such a solitary situation the other day, when Andrew went out for drinks with a friend. The only problem was my lack of ingredients; no stock, barely any vegetables, and only a few sprigs of sage in the way of fresh herbs. Still, I wasn’t to be deterred, and dreamed up this tomato-sage risotto as a way of using up what little I did have.

In place of a pan of bubbling stock, I used a little Marigold Bouillon Powder and water from the kettle, which was so quick and easy that I’m now wondering why I even bother doing it any other way. The tomato-sage combination wasn’t as odd as I’d feared, and in fact it made a nice autumnal change from the more obvious tomato-basil. In the end, this was a perfect single-serving TV dinner.

• Tomato Sage Risotto
• serves 1
• 1 Tbs. butter
  2 shallots, finely chopped
  1 tsp. finely chopped sage
  1/2 a garlic clove, minced
  1 Tbs. tomato paste
  2 smallish tomatoes, skinned, seeded and chopped
  115g arborio rice
  1/4 cup white wine
  1/2 tsp. bouillon powder
  2 Tbs. grated parmesan cheese
  sea salt and black pepper
• 1. Bring about 1 litre of water to boil in a kettle by the stove. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt the butter over medium-high heat. Add the shallots and cook until soft and translucent.
  
  2. Add the sage and minced garlic and cook for another 2 minutes, until fragrant. Add the tomato paste and tomatoes, and cook for another 2 minutes until bubbling. Add the rice and stir until everything is well coated.
  
  3. Pour in the white wine and stir until it has absorbed, about a minute or two. Then add about 1/2 cup of water from the kettle (there’s no need to measure, just add a bit at a time) along with the bouillon powder and stir until that has also absorbed.
  
  4. Continue adding water from the kettle a little at a time, stirring after each addition to make sure it’s been absorbed, before adding the next amount. Do this for about 16 minutes, then begin to taste the rice.
  
  5. When the risotto is cooked to your liking, remove from the heat and stir in the parmesan cheese, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Serve with more parmesan and crispy sage leaves (fried in a little butter), if you like.

Risotto is one of my favourite things to make. Not only is it delicious and relatively foolproof, but it’s also improbably impressive. Announce to a group of friends that you’re making risotto for dinner and someone is bound to gaze at you in wide-eyed incredulity, regarding this as some kind of domestic tour de force.

These are the people who wouldn’t attempt to make risotto at home. They think of this rib-sticking dish as belonging high on the culinary pedestal, and something only somebody’s Italian mother or a trained chef should attempt. I know this because I used to be one of those people. I was convinced that risotto was fiddly and laborious, and if I stopped stirring for just one second the whole thing would end up ruined. Where I got this idea I’m not sure, but if you’re still thinking along those lines, I’m here to set you straight. Risotto is a piece of cake.

Besides the fact that its simple and even quick to make, but there’s another reason this Italian staple should be on every home cook’s roster: its versatility. Once you’ve got the basic technique down, you’re limited only by your imagination. Don’t feel like you have to stick to the tried-and-true classics, because almost everything tastes fantastic in risotto. I routinely use it as a vehicle for leftover bits of this and that from the fridge, as well as for experimenting with flavour combinations.

Case in point, this broccoli and cheddar version, which I made the other day for a quick and comforting lunch. The cheddar seems a little far-fetched at first, I’ll admit, but if you think about it, it makes perfect sense. Consider the classic down-home pairing of broccoli, cheese and pasta, and think of this as its sophisticated cousin. It’s not by any means a healthy risotto (and yes, they do exist), as the handfuls of cheese and finishing touch of cream make it quite rich. Rich, but oh so delicious.

Besides, don’t you want to see the looks on your co-workers’ faces when you bring the leftovers to work for lunch?

• Broccoli & Cheddar Risotto
• serves 4
• 1 small head broccoli, cut into bite-sized florets
  1 litre vegetable stock
  1 Tbs. butter
  1 Tbs. olive oil
  1/2 a large white onion, finely chopped
  1 clove garlic, minced
  1/4 tsp. chili flakes
  250g arborio rice (or other risotto rice)
  75g strong white cheddar, grated
  15g parmesan, grated
  salt and pepper
  2 Tbs. cream (optional)
• 1. Put a saucepan of water on to boil, and put the broccoli florets in a vegetable steamer on top. Steam the florets for 3-4 minutes until tender-crisp. At this point, remove half of them and rinse under cold water to stop the cooking process. Set aside.
  
  2. Continue cooking the remaining broccoli for another 5-7 minutes, until very soft. Remove to a shallow bowl and mash to a rough pulp with a fork or potato masher. Set aside.
  
  3. Heat the stock in a small saucepan to almost boiling, then turn the heat down to very low. Heat the butter and olive oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan over medium heat. When the butter foams, add the onion, garlic and chili flakes and cook until soft and translucent, about 5 minutes.
  
  4. Add the rice and cook for another minute, ensuring it gets evenly coated in the butter/oil. Then add the mashed broccoli and heat through briefly. Begin to add the stock, one ladleful at a time, allowing the rice to absorb each before you add the next. You should stir often but it doesn’t need to be continuous- just make sure nothing sticks on the bottom, and that you add the next ladle of stock before the risotto gets too dry. If you run out of stock, use hot water from the kettle.
  
  5. After 15 minutes of adding stock and stirring, add the steamed broccoli florets and continue. After 18 minutes (from the beginning, not since adding the broccoli), taste the risotto. It should be tender but with some bite/chew to it. If it isn’t ready, continue as you were for another 2-5 minutes.
  
  6. When the rice is cooked to your liking, turn off the heat and stir in the cheeses. Salt and pepper to taste, and stir in the cream if using. Serve immediately.

We all have our favourite flavours, right? The ones that keep tempting us, year after year, and become mainstays in our home cooking. Also the ones that as food bloggers we have to watch ourselves on, lest we become known as “the girl who writes that goat’s cheese blog“.

For me, those flavours include: goat’s cheese (clearly), caramelized onions, butternut squash, leeks, broccoli, sundried tomatoes, cumin, ginger, coriander, thyme and lemon. (And those are just the savoury ones; you’re lucky this isn’t a dessert blog!) Anything that combines two or more of these favourite flavours is bound to win my affection.

Come Autumn, when the squashes start appearing at the market, I go especially crazy for any combination of butternut squash with onions, nuts, sage, thyme and/or cheese. I’ve combined these ingredients, in various permutations, in countless pastas, risottos, tarts and salads. Yet still I go back for more.

With that in mind, today’s dish is a painfully obvious one. Yes, the onions here are roasted and so technically not caramelized, but the squash, goat’s cheese and thyme are all present and accounted for. Sigh, I’m a predictable little thing, aren’t I?

Heidi‘s recipe for Farro and Roasted Butternut Squash has been on my “to-make” list for some time, and a recent lunch at home with Andrew proved the perfect opportunity to add it to my roster of squash dishes. Since I’ve made rather a lot of farro-based salads lately, I was planning on replacing the farro here with brown rice or quinoa. Unfortunately, Andrew’s alarmed face stopped that idea in its tracks, and pasta it was.

To that pasta (whole wheat, so it’s not so bad) I added the roasted vegetables, some toasted nuts and some crumbled goat’s milk cheese. A simple balsamic vinaigrette brought it all together perfectly. And yes, it might have been obvious, boring and run-of-the-mill, but it was also very, very good.

Oh well- you can’t fight city hall, can you?

Note: This dish is meant to be warm and not hot, so don’t worry about finishing all the steps at the same time. It’s also good at room temperature, or even chilled.

• Roasted Squash with Whole Wheat Pasta
• adapted from 101 Cookbooks‘ Farro and Roasted Butternut Squash
• feeds 4
• 1 small butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/2″ cubes
  1 small red onion, peeled and cut into 12 lengthwise wedges
  4 Tbs. olive oil
  1/2 tsp. dried thyme (use 1 tsp. fresh if you have it)
  pinch of sea salt
  150g whole wheat pasta (conchiglie and orecchiette work well)
  2 Tbs. balsamic vinegar
  20g pinenuts
  30g walnuts, chopped roughly
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
  30g soft goat’s cheese, crumbled
• 1. Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F. Put the cubed butternut squash in a shallow baking dish and scatter the pieces of onion (break them up as best you can) over the top. Add 2 Tbs. of olive oil, the thyme and a pinch of sea salt and toss well. Roast, tossing every 7 minutes or so, for approximately 25 minutes, until the squash is tender and browned. When you remove it from the oven, stir in 1 Tbs. of balsamic vinegar and set the dish aside to cool.
  
  2. Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to the boil and cook the pasta according to package instructions. When it’s done, drain and remove to a large bowl. Toss with 1 Tbs. of olive oil and 1 Tbs. of balsamic vinegar and set aside.
  
  3. Heat a small frying pan over high heat. When it’s hot, add the nuts and cook for 3-4 minutes until nicely toasted (toss frequently). Remove from heat to cool.
  
  4. When the squash and onions are cool enough to handle, remove roughly half the onions (I chose the burnt, ie less pretty, ones) and chop them finely. Dump them into the bowl containing the pasta, followed by the squash and rest of the onions, two thirds of the nuts and the remaining 1 Tbs. of olive oil. Mix everything together gently and add salt and pepper to taste. Sprinkle over the goat’s cheese and the rest of the nuts and serve.

You know how, as food bloggers*, we like to convince our readers that we always eat like this? That beautiful, creative, well thought out and healthy meals grace our tables daily and effortlessly? That we never succumb to take-out pizza, boxed cake mixes or store-bought vanilla extract?

(*I’m addressing this to “food bloggers” because I’m convinced that at least 90% of food blog-readers are food-blog writers, too.)

Well, in my house at least, the above is emphatically not the case. Sure, I try to eat healthily most of the time, and the last time I used a baking mix was years ago, but come on- I’m not Super Foodie Girl, here. To prove this, I feel like it might be time to come clean about one of my favourite meals, one that is eaten all too often in my house: macaroni and cheese. 

I’ve talked about my love for mac n’ cheese before, but I don’t think I really admitted how often we eat this around here. I’d say some variation of this dish graces our table every week, either because I’ve planned it, or because we’re too tired or uninspired to think of anything else. Plus, it’s the all-time favourite meal of my three-year-old child 26-year-old boyfriend, and what Andrew wants, Andrew gets. 

Luckily, no amount of fatigue can quell my kitchen creativity, so I’m always trying out new recipes for our favourite dish. Some experiments are deemed failures (Andrew wasn’t too keen on my Mac n’ Cheese with Caramelized Onions and Sundried Tomatoes the other week) and some are pronounced winners. Truthfully, the scale tips in favour of the latter (it’s sort of hard to make mac n’ cheese bad, after all), so we now have a lengthy roster of winners to choose from. 

This version uses the mild, onion-y flavour of leeks and the tartness of sour cream to keep things interesting, along with a healthy (er, unhealthy) dose of mature cheddar and parmesan. I usually use whole wheat pasta for it, if only because the extra nutrients soothe my food-blogging guilt, slightly. 

• Macaroni and Cheese with Leeks and Sour Cream
• serves 3
• 250g pasta, any shape you like
  1 Tbs. butter
  2 leeks
  1 Tbs. flour
  1/2 cup + 1 Tbs. milk
  1/3 cup sour cream (low-fat if you must)
  1 cup grated cheddar cheese
  1/4 cup grated parmesan 
  sea salt and black pepper
• 1. Bring a large pot of water to boil, and when it does, salt it generously. Cook pasta according to packet instructions. 
  
  2. While the pasta cooks, slice the leeks (white and light green parts only) into 1cm rounds, and rinse them well. Mix together the flour with 1 Tbs. of milk in a small cup, and set aside. 
  
  3. In a medium-sized saucepan, heat the butter over medium heat. Add the sliced leeks and cook for 5-6 minutes until softened.
  
  4. Add the remaining 1/2 cup of milk and the sour cream to the pan, and stir well. The mixture will begin to curdle- DO NOT panic! Keep stirring, and it will come together. 
  
  5. Stirring all the time, pour in the milk/flour mixture and wait until the sauce thickens- about three minutes. Add the cheeses and stir until melted. Taste, season with salt and pepper and take off the heat. 
  
  6. When the pasta is ready, drain and toss with the sauce. Serve immediately. 

I hope you’ll permit me to begin this post with a bit of a rant:

How unfair is it that it’s only the beginning of August, and the days are noticeably shorter already? Obviously I realize that science (or whatever- physics?) dictates that the Summer Solstice is sometime at the end of June, and after that the days get shorter. Fine, I get it. But if I was in charge of the world (and therefore physics answered to me), I wouldn’t let the days shorten until the end of August at least. The whole thing just puts a damper on summer, doesn’t it?

I didn’t know this until this year, but the whole thing puts a bit of a damper on food blogging, too. See, food blogging requires food photography, and food photography requires natural light. Andrew and I tend to eat our evening meal quite late, especially in the summer. I can’t get hungry for dinner until 8 or even 9 o’ clock on most evenings. So far, it’s been working well: I cook, snap a few photos in the kitchen, serve dinner, bask in Andrew’s praise of my prodigious talent, etc, etc. 

The other night though, I ran into a problem with this routine. I plated up the meal and set it on the kitchen table as usual, but try as I might, I just could not get a photo that wasn’t blurry, too dark, or comprised of odd pasta-shaped shadows. I’m loathe to use a flash (horrible invention, that) so in the end I just gave up. Luckily, the dish in question makes fantastic leftovers, so I was able to photograph some the next day, no problem. But it does beg the question: what on earth am I going to do come winter? Have dinner at 3 in the afternoon?

Well I won’t worry about that now, but I will share the meal that caused the question to pop up in the first place. This dish of leeks braised in white wine, served over pasta, is one of my favourite. I love leeks, and anything that gives them a starring role, rather than the bit-part they’re too often confined to, is bound to appeal to me. Braising them in white wine until they’re sweet and tender? I’m sold. 

Adapted from a Jamie Oliver recipe, I’ve simplified this a touch, doing away with the Porcini Pangrattato (though it is delicious, if you can be bothered), and adding a bit of cream for richness. It’s fantastic made fresh and works as leftovers too; great for the obsessively photographic among us, no?

• Pasta with Leeks Braised in White Wine
• serves 3
• 250g pasta, any shape you like
  3 good-sized leeks, outer leaves discarded
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  2 Tbs. butter
  2 cloves garlic, sliced thinly
  1 tsp. fresh thyme leaves (I’ve used dried in a pinch)
  3/4 cup white wine
  1/2 cup stock or water
  1/4 cup cream 
  salt and pepper 
  grated parmesan, to serve 
• 1. Put a large pot of water on to boil. When it does, salt generously and add the pasta to cook according to package instructions. 
  
  2. Meanwhile, slice the leeks into 1cm thick slices, white and light green parts only. Put in a colander and rinse very well- leeks can hide a lot of dirt! Drain and set aside. 
  
  3. In a large heavy-bottomed pan with a lid, heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat. When the butter foams, add the garlic and thyme and cook for one minute. Add the chopped leeks and stir until everything is coated well. 
  
  4. Pour the white wine and stock over the leeks and cover. Turn the heat down to low and allow to cook for 25-30 minutes, until the leeks are quite tender. You can stir occasionally and may have to add some extra stock or water to keep the dish from drying out- you want it thick and saucy, but not soupy. 
  
  5. When the leeks are tender, remove from the heat and stir in the cream. Salt and pepper to taste. You can serve this as a sauce over the pasta, or add the pasta to the pan and mix everything together- both are delicious. Serve with parmesan grated on top. 

I should probably explain, huh? This dish unfortunately goes by the moniker “Plaster Pasta” in my house. Charmingly bestowed by Andrew, it’s from the early days of the recipe, when I was still working out the kinks. As it cooled, the ricotta would firm up and the whole thing would stick together in a rather unappetizing way. Unappetizing for him, I should say. I didn’t really mind- it still tasted good! If plaster pasta sounds less than appealing to you, though, not to worry. I fixed the recipe and it doesn’t do that anymore. Unfortunately, the name has stuck.

If you can get past it, you should really try this. I love creamy pasta sauces, but try to stay away from them for obvious reasons. They’re less than healthy, and, in the summer at least, who needs all that richness? This dish, though, is wonderfully creamy and light, so it’s perfect for the warmer months. Almost all the creaminess comes from ricotta; I’ve added only a bit of single cream and olive oil to cut down on the plaster-like properties. You could even use low-fat ricotta if you really wanted to. 

It’s not just the sauce; the basil, lemon and peas share responsibility for the great summery-ness of this pasta. I used fresh peas from the farmer’s market, but frozen would work, too. For the pasta, I find conchiglie (better known as shells) work best; they hold onto the peas, making the whole thing easier to eat. 

Speaking of eating, this should be served semi-immediately. If it sits around for too long, traces of plaster pasta might return. Hey, I’m not a miracle worker, and cooking concessions have to be made sometimes, right?

• Pasta with Peas, Ricotta and Lemon
• serves 2
• 200g conchiglie (shell) pasta, or other small, hollow shape
  100g (approx. 1 cup) fresh podded peas (or frozen)
  1/3 cup ricotta cheese
  3 Tbs. single cream
  1/4 cup parmesan
  1 Tbs. olive oil
  zest of one lemon
  juice of 1/2 a lemon 
  2 Tbs. roughly chopped basil (or only small leaves)
  sea salt and black pepper
• 1. Put a large pot of water on to boil, and salt it generously when it does. Cook according to package instructions, and add the peas for the last 4 minutes of cooking time (Only 1 minute if peas are frozen). Drain, but reserve 1/2 cup of the cooking water. 
  
  2. Meanwhile, combine the ricotta, cream, parmesan, olive oil, lemon zest and juice in a large bowl. Whisk together thoroughly, salt and pepper to taste, and add most of the chopped basil. 
  
  3. Add the cooked pasta and peas to the bowl with the sauce and toss to coat. If it seems a little thick or sticky, thin with some of the reserved cooking water. Serve with the remaining basil as a garnish, and extra pepper and parmesan if you like.  

Stuffing pasta with cabbage seems like a half-baked idea, I know. For many of us, doing anything with cabbage seems a bit far-out. I used to hate cabbage- well, actually, I used to think I hated cabbage, which is something completely different. We didn’t eat it all that often when I was growing up, so I never really got the chance to decide for myself whether I hated it- but every kid hates cabbage, right?

Andrew proves my theory; he did and still does loathe the stuff. He calls it “poor person” food, an idea planted by the movie Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, one of his favourites as a kid. At the start of the film, Charlie’s family is so poor that all they can afford to eat is cabbage. (Hmm, I wonder if that film is also the reason Andrew loves chocolate so much?) 

It wasn’t until I moved to the UK that I realised how great cabbage can be. Not only is it healthy, delicious, and yes, cheap, but this veg is a total chameleon. I love it braised and sweet or sautéed and spicy. In my family, though, there is one cabbage dish that stands head and shoulders above the rest: boiled, with butter, salt and pepper. Sounds horrible, I know, but with the right ingredients, it’s divine.

Still, no matter how it’s made, Andrew never really warmed to the stuff. Until this, that is. This cabbage-stuffed cannelloni is one dish he’ll happily eat, and I defy any cabbage dissenter to feel otherwise. Originally the recipe (much adapted from a Jamie Oliver one) called for a combination of cauliflower and broccoli, which I strayed from one day when I didn’t have any broccoli in the house. It’s even better this way, so I’ve never gone back. 

Though tasty, this isn’t a quick weeknight meal. The two sauces are practically effortless to make, but the filling does require its fair share of simmering, mixing and mashing. And that doesn’t even take into account stuffing the cannelloni; slow and tricky work, though also calming in a mindless sort of way. The good news is that the whole thing can be made in advance, and kept, covered tightly, in the fridge for up to 24 hours.  

• Cabbage and Cauliflower Cannelloni
• serves 4
• Filling
  1  small head cauliflower, cut into florets
  3 Tbs. olive oil 
  1 small onion, finely chopped
  2 cloves garlic, minced
  3/4 tsp. chili flakes
  1/2 small pointy cabbage (or green cabbage), finely chopped
  sea salt and black pepper
  1/4 cup grated parmesan
  1/3 cup ricotta    

  Tomato Sauce
  1 cup pasatta or simple tomato sauce
  1 Tbs. balsamic vinegar
  sea salt and black pepper

  White Sauce
  2/3 cup crème fraîche (low-fat is fine)
  1/3 cup ricotta
  1/4 cup grated parmesan
  sea salt and black pepper

  12 cannelloni noodles (roughly 125g)
  small bunch of basil leaves, torn
  150g ball of fresh mozzarella, sliced
  olive oil, for drizzling

• 1. For the filling, bring a medium pot of water to the boil. When it boils, add the cauliflower florets and cook until tender, approximately 5 minutes. Drain and set aside, but reserve 1 cup of the cooking water. 
  
  2. In a large, heavy-bottomed and lidded pan, heat the olive oil over low heat. Add the onion, garlic and chili flakes and cook for about 5 minutes, until just softened. Add the cabbage, cauliflower florets, reserved cooking water, and salt and pepper to taste. Cover the pan and cook for 20-30 minutes, stirring every so often. You may have to add a bit more water from time to time, but remove the lid for the last 5 minutes, so that it all cooks off. 
  
  3. Remove the pan from the heat and, with a potato masher, crush the cauliflower into the rest of the ingredients; everything should be very soft at this stage. Mix in the parmesan and ricotta and set aside to cool.
  
  4. Now, make your sauces. In one bowl or jug, mix together the passata, vinegar and salt and pepper to taste. In another, whisk the ricotta with the crème fraîche, and salt and pepper to taste. 
  
  5. Preheat your oven to 190°C/375°F. Lightly oil the bottom of an 8″ x 10″ baking dish and pour in the tomato sauce. Distribute evenly and set aside. 
  
  6. The filling mixture should now be cool enough to handle. Fill the cannelloni with a small teaspoon; with a creamier mixture it can be piped in, but this is chunkier and requires a bit more time. Fill the tubes until almost bursting, and lay flat on top of the tomato sauce.
  
  7. When all the cannelloni are filled, pour the white sauce over the top and spread it evenly to cover. Sprinkle over the torn basil and lay over the sliced mozzarella. Drizzle on some olive oil and bake for 30-40 minutes. The top should be golden brown and the mixture will bubble at the edges. Let sit for 10 minutes before serving.