It’s no surprise that I take a lot of inspiration from the food bloggers around me. Given that there are so many of us, and their recipes are right at my fingertips (rather than all the way on the other side of the room, where my cookbooks live), it’s completely understandable that I turn to fellow bloggers when looking for new content. But in order to avoid the dreaded “recipe thief” label, I try to be a little clever when doing so. If I’m going to post a blogger’s recipe on Kitchenist, it’s usually one that I’ve adapted heavily, and either from an obscure or niche blog, or simply from an older, long-forgotten post. I’m hardly likely to go over to the world’s best-known blog and grab a recipe right from the front page, am I?

Except that’s what I’m doing today. As soon as I saw the Cauliflower and Parmesan Cake posted by Smitten Kitchen just two days ago, I knew I’d have to make it, and fast. Not only did I have a head of romanescu cauliflower sitting the crisper begging to be used, but come on; it’s a cauliflower cake, and you know I like that idea. So yes, I stole this post from Deb in broad daylight and you know what? I’m not sorry.

Of course, if I hadn’t just admitted that, you’d never know. Not only does my spin on this baked omelette-like cake look completely different from its inspiration, but I’m sure it tastes different, too. The original recipe (adapted in turn from Yotam Ottolenghi), is made in a deep-dish Springform pan, and feeds a load of people. I a) do not have a Springform pan, and b) only have one other person to cook for, so I cut this recipe way back. The result is that it’s not quite as pretty as it could be, and definitely leans a leans more toward omelette than cake.

But looks aren’t everything, and I venture to boast that my version is more than a match for any other in the taste department. A mix of romanescu cauliflower and purple sprouting broccoli adds some veg variation, while sautéed leeks and a good amount of cheddar and parmesan finish the flavour perfectly. Because of its egginess, this would make an impressive brunch dish, but it equally suitable for lunch or dinner, too. Just, er- don’t serve it for dessert.

• Cauliflower and Broccoli Cake
• adapted from Smitten Kitchen
• serves 4-5
• butter, for greasing
  2 Tbs. cornmeal or polenta
  2 cups small cauliflower florets (Romanescu or regular)
  1 cup purple sprouting broccoli florets (1″ lengths”
  1 Tbs. butter
  1 Tbs. olive oil
  1 large leek, sliced
  5 large eggs
  3/4 cup flour
  1 tsp. baking powder
  1/4 tsp. paprika
  1/8 tsp. turmeric
  1/2 tsp. sea salt
  black pepper, to taste
  3/4 cup grated cheddar
  1/4 cup grated parmesan
• 1. Preheat the oven to 275°C/350°F and grease the inside of an 8″ loose-bottomed cake tin with butter. Through in the cornmeal and shake until the bottom and sides of the tin are covered. Set aside.
  
  2. Bring a large pot of water to the boil and salt it well. Add the cauliflower florets and boil for 2 minutes; add the broccoli and continue cooking for another 90 seconds. Drain and rinse the vegetables well in cold water.
  
  3. Head the butter and olive oil in a nonstick pan over medium heat. Sauté the leeks for 8-10 minutes until very soft but not yet browned. Set aside to cool.
  
  4. Whisk the eggs together in a large bowl until well beaten. Add the flour, baking powder, spices, salt and lots of black pepper, and whisk well. Add the cheeses and cooled leeks, and whisk again. Stir in the cauliflower and broccoli florets until well coated; feel free to break up any too-large florets with a wooden spoon.
  
  5. Pour the mixture into the prepared cake tin and spread evenly. Bake for 25-30 minutes until puffy and golden on top. Cake will feel firm to the touch when done. Let cool at least 10 minutes before gently un-moulding and  slicing.

I seem to be in a baking mood lately. Maybe it’s the turning of the seasons, but ever since we’ve come home from holiday, I just can’t get excited about salads, stir-fries or gratins. I’ll have to curb this habit soon lest I become so doughy that I can’t fit into my winter coat, but for now it’s all cakes, cookies, and breads at casa Kitchenist. Still, I try to sneak in some veg where I can. I’m not whizzing beets into brownies or anything, but with savoury baking at least, there’s room for experimenting.

The other day, I was reminiscing about the last night of our Italian holiday this summer. We had dinner at our hotel, overlooking the ocean, and enjoyed course after course of local specialties. But it wasn’t the cheese-stuffed anchovies or fantastic wine I was thinking about, it was the bread. I’ve always had a soft spot for focaccia (could it be all that tasty olive oil and sea salt?), but these little squares were something else. Served with a delightfully peppery olive oil for dipping, they had the perfect mix of crisp, herb-scented top and fluffy, chewy interior.

Since then, I’ve been thinking of making focaccia, though of course I went a little off-plan with this recipe. I’ve made the classic herb-and-olive-oil version before, so I wanted to challenge myself a bit this time (not to mention use up the butternut squash sitting in my fridge). A stuffed bread seemed like the answer; Autumn flavours like squash, sage, sharp cheese and toasted nuts could be tucked right between layers of dough, giving a bit of veggie bang for your buck.

As a focaccia, this is entirely different from the stuff of my Italian memories, though not in a bad way. It might not have that mouthwatering authenticity, but it’s far more substantial, and I can see it working wonderfully with a squash or carrot soup. In fact, with the days getting shorter and darker, this is exactly the kind of bread I want to curl up with, along with a mug of tea and a good book. At least until the next baking urge strikes, then it’s back to the kitchen I go.

• Stuffed Autumn Focaccia
• basic recipe adapted from Nigel Slater, via Let Her Bake Cake
• For the dough:
  450g plain flour
  1 1/2 tsp. salt
  2 tsp. instant yeast
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  400ml warm water
  small handful cornmeal, for dusting
  
  For the filling and topping:
  1 cup cubed and roasted butternut squash
  small handful sage leaves
  30g mild blue cheese or goat’s cheese, crumbled
  3 Tbs. chopped pecans or walnuts
  olive oil
  sea salt
• 1. Mix together the flour, salt and yeast together in a large bowl. Pour over the olive oil and most of the warm water, leaving 1/4 cup or so aside. Stir well with a dough whisk or wooden spoon, until the dough comes together. You may need to add the rest of the water to reach this stage, but do so little by little.
  
  2. Turn the dough out onto a well-floured surface and knead by hand for about 5 minutes, until smooth and elastic but slightly tacky. Form the dough into a ball, coat lightly with olive oil, then place in a covered bowl to rise for one hour. Dough should double in size.
  
  3. Preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F and prepare an 8″ round cake tin by brushing it lightly with oil and dusting the inside with the cornmeal. Set aside.
  
  4. Punch down the risen dough and divide into two pieces. Press one of them into the bottom of the prepared tin until it overs the bottom (it’s helpful to stretch it out with your hands before placing it inside the tin). Scatter over the roasted squash, cheese, and several torn sage leaves before topping with the other piece of dough, in a similar manner. Cover with a tea towel and let rise again for about 30 minutes.
  
  5. When it’s well risen, use your finger to press “holes” through the focaccia in a random fashion; stuff some more torn sage into each of these. Scatter the nuts over the top of the bread, drizzle with a little olive oil and scatter with sea salt.
  
  6. Bake focaccia for 25-30 minutes until golden brown on top. Remove from the oven, drizzle with a little more olive oil, and cool before serving.

The week is drawing to a close and tomorrow morning, I’m off! I’ll be flying home to Canada, attending the wedding of an old friend, then spending 48 blissful hours in New York City. There’ll be no more posting for at least a week, until I get back to London and back into my regular routine.

But I’m not so cruel as to leave you with nothing while I’m gone. Several weeks ago, I was asked to contribute a Guest Curator post to Etsy‘s blog, The Storque. Given how much I adore Etsy, as well as the awesome calibre of food bloggers who’ve contributed posts before me (Sprouted Kitchen, anyone? Tartelette?) I was thrilled to be asked.

You can check out my Etsy guest curator post here, complete with my favourite finds for the kitchen, and yes- a recipe. Those savoury broccoli cakes make great party food, and are the perfect thing to serve with a cup of warming, Autumnal soup. So why not indulge in something delicious this week, and I’ll see you back here soon.

If you’ve been reading my blog for any length of time, you’ll know that I’m a fan of the one-dish meal. Fussing about with multiple pots and pans is just not for me, and nor is doing multiple sets of dishes afterward. The way I see it, if something needs a side dish to complete it, how good can it be?

Yet there are certain dishes (and yes, good ones) that do require a little something else, aren’t there? I can think of several: fishcakes, tarts, certain soups. In those cases, I’ll often reach for one of my beloved salads, but sometimes I’m in the mood for something simpler. So occasionally, yes- I’ll have a side dish. And very occasionally, if I’m feeling particularly virtuous (or if I plan to bake something particularly sinful later on), I’ll have just a side.

As was the case last weekend, when I roasted up some broccoli for my lunch. This dish is adapted from an Amateur Gourmet recipe, but it’s hardly something any one person can take credit for. Broccoli, lemon, cheese: that’s pretty much it.

This time, I used Tenderstem broccoli, which I believe goes by the moniker “Broccolini” outside of the UK. The long, tender stalks and asparagus-like flavour is perfect here, but any broccoli will do. I’ve used regular calabrese, purple sprouting and even Romanescu before, all with slightly unique but equally delicious results. You can also change up the cheese here; feta is great in the summer, and parmesan or gorgonzola work well in the cooler months.

So, make this, and I’m sure you’ll forgive me my little side-dish aside. It probably won’t happen again for months, anyway.

• Roast Broccoli with Lemon and Cheese
• serves 4 as a side
• 400g Tenderstem (or other) broccoli
  2 Tbs. olive oil
  zest of one lemon
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
  juice of one lemon
  50g feta cheese, crumbled (could also use: parmesan, gorgonzola, buffalo mozzarella)
• 1. Preheat the oven to 200C/400F. Lay the broccoli in a single layer in a shallow roasting tin, and drizzle with the olive oil. Sprinkle over the lemon zest, a pinch of sea salt and lots of freshly ground black pepper.
  
  2. Roast broccoli for approximately 20 minutes, until turning brown and crisp in places (there is no need to toss with the Tenderstem, though you may want to with a chunkier variety). Remove from the oven and sprinkle with the lemon juice and cheese. Serve immediately.

I want to start this post with a great big Thank You to everyone who left a comment on this post last week. On Wednesday I flew home to Canada for my grandmother’s funeral, and spent the past week visiting with family and friends. Though I’m feeling okay and trying to present an upbeat front, dealing with death is never easy, and your words of support helped more than I can say.

Almost since I wrote that post, I’ve been thinking about how best to tackle this one. How to pay tribute to a woman like my Granny? A woman born during a time of horses and carriages, who lived through two world wars to adapt effortlessly to an era of fast cars, email and international travel. A woman who immigrated twice; first to England to escape Nazi persecution in her native Germany, and then to the wilds of rural Canada, to put down roots for her growing family. A woman who loved art, reading, conversation and above all, a good party. Also, and somewhat unfortunately, a woman whose culinary contributions included dishes like Stuffed Cucumbers and Tuna Noodle Casserole with Potato Chips.

No, Granny wasn’t a great cook. This widely-acknowledged fact isn’t intended to be rude; she’d be the first to admit that the preparation of meals held little interest for her. I knew that whatever recipe I shared in this post, it wasn’t going to be one of hers. The only thing I ever looked forward to eating at her house was Lemon Meringue Pie or Jello, both of which came from a mix.

Still, mealtimes with Granny were special. When I was growing up, my family would travel five blocks east to my grandparents’ house, where whatever was served inevitably played second fiddle to conversation, love and laughter. In later years my parents would often have her to dinner at our house, usually on the first night I was home from university on a break. While those meals surely tasted better than the earlier ones, I can’t say I remember any of them, either. What I do recall of these evenings is Granny peppering me with questions about my classes, friends and hobbies- always interested in what I was up to, always happy to see me.

The dinner my Mum made on Wednesday evening was similar in spirit to those meals, at least. My sister and I had just stepped off a (delayed) transatlantic flight, and what we needed most was sustenance, with a side of catching up. This lentil gratin comes from a cookbook published by UK charity Christian Aid, one which my Mum has been pushing me to review on Kitchlit for months, and I (in my modern, agnostic snobbery) have been stubbornly resisting.

I may have to eat my words if this recipe is anything to go by; rich, hearty and comforting, this was just what I needed that evening. Nothing fancy, just a simple background meal to some much-needed family time. Because sometimes, it’s not really the food that matters.

• Lentil Gratin
• adapted from The Christian Aid Book of Simple Feasts by Sarah Stancliffe
• serves 4 (with a salad side)
• 150g Le Puy lentils
  1 Tbs. butter
  1 clove garlic, minced
  1 small yellow onion (or 1/2 a large one), finely chopped
  1 leek, chopped
  1 medium carrot, coarsely grated
  75ml single cream
  100g grated Gruyere cheese
  1 Tbs. finely chopped parsley
  sea salt and black pepper
  20g chopped walnuts
• 1. Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F. Lightly butter a medium-sized gratin dish and set aside.
  
  2. Bring a pot of water to the boil and add the lentils. Cook according to package instructions, about 35 minutes at a low boil.
  
  3. Meanwhile, melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan that has a lid. Add the garlic, onion, leek and carrot and stir to coat. Cover, turn the heat very low and allow the vegetables to sweat for 20-25 minutes, until soft and translucent but not browned. Set aside to cool slightly.
  
  4. When the lentils are cooked, drain and add to the vegetables. Stir in two tablespoons of cream, about half of the cheese and the parsley. Season to taste and spread the mixture into the prepared gratin dish.
  
  5. Mix the rest of the cream and cheese with the walnuts until you have a lumpy paste. Spread this over the top of the gratin and bake for 20 minutes, until golden brown on top.

Lean in close, and I’ll let you in on a shameful little secret of mine: I’ve never successfully made a gratin before now. Absurd, right? The easy-peasy staple of French cooking, winter cooking and (let’s face it) 1950′s home cooking has never been my forté. Until now, that is.

It’s not as though I’ve been slaving away over a hot stove (er, oven) trying to make the perfect gratin or anything; I’ve only really tried once, and the dismal scalloped potatoes that resulted were enough to put me off the whole idea. Rather than the creamy, cheesy dish I’d tried at my sister’s, my effort- with the same, borrowed recipe, I might add- was strangely both watery and lumpy. If I’m honest, my pride was a little hurt- I’m meant to be the cook in the family, after all.

Though for some reason, cooking au gratin was on my mind last week. Maybe it was the dawn of winter, or the delicious-looking Swiss Chard and Sweet Potato Gratin that Deb posted, or (and this is more likely) maybe it was the two potatoes and half a swede, left over from my Root Vegetable Korma, that were burning a hole in my crisper.

Somewhat imprudently for someone with acknowledged gratin performance issues, I didn’t follow any specific recipe for this dish. Instead I glanced in a couple of my favourite go-to cookbooks for a quick refresher on technique, and jumped in head first. I was unsure whether to pre-cook the vegetables (some recipes call for it, some don’t) but decided to err on the safe side. For cheese I chose a nutty Emmental, which I thought would be a nice change from my standby cheddar.

My “throw caution to the wind” approach worked, in this case. Hitting the nail on the head in both flavour and texture, the gratin was rich and creamy but delicately flavoured. Quite the coup- especially considering that I was only holding out for something edible.

• Potato, Swede and Leek Gratin
• serves 4
• 2 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced into 1/4″ rounds
  1/2 a swede, peeled, halved and sliced into 1/4″ slices
  2 leeks, white and light green parts only, sliced into 1/4″ rounds
  2 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
  2 1/2 cups milk
  1 bay leaf
  sea salt and black pepper
  1 cup grated cheese (Emmental, Gruyère or Cheddar)
  1 Tbs. butter
  1/2 cup single cream
• 1. Preheat your oven to 175°C/350°F, and lightly butter a 8 x 10″ gratin dish.
  
  2. Combine the potatoes, swede, leeks and crushed garlic cloves in a deep frying pan that has a lid. Pour over the milk, add the bay leaf and season gently (you can always add more later).
  
  3. Simmer, partially covered, over low heat for 15 minutes- until potatoes and swede are tender to the point of a knife. Remove from heat to cool slightly, then find and discard the bay leaf and garlic cloves.
  
  4. Using a slotted spoon, remove half the mixture to the prepared gratin dish, trying to get an even mix of potatoes, swede and leeks. Cover with half of the grated cheese, then repeat with the rest of the vegetables/cheese.
  
  5. Return the remaining simmering liquid to a low heat, and add the butter and cream. Whisk until the mixture thickens, about 5 minutes. You should have about 1 1/2 cups of liquid, which will be the consistency of light cream.
  
  6. Pour the liquid over the vegetables and cheese- it should come 3/4 of the way up the dish, but not cover it completely. Bake for 20-25 minutes, until bubbly and browned on top. Serve immediately.

Some would argue, on reading the title of this post, that these two things are not, in fact, the Perfect Pair. Some might say that too much of a Good Thing is actually Bad, and would possibly even bring up the old adage that Opposites Attract.

Which is true, for some people and on some occasions. But not for me, and certainly not where cheese is concerned. Today’s soup and muffins are strikingly similar (or as similar as soup and muffins can be); both contain a mixture of cheddar and parmesan, making the whole meal a delicious, cheesy feast.

I haven’t made a soup in a while, so I was eager to try something new when I bought a gorgeous romanescu cauliflower on Sunday. Andrew was working from home yesterday, so I thought a home-cooked lunch was in order. Heidi had recently posted a simple and delicious-looking recipe for Broccoli Cheddar Soup, so I figured it was as good as any place to start.

I was also itching to do some baking, and opted to make muffins to go with the soup (though I was thisclose to making these Cheddar Cornmeal Scones that my sister posted about- talk about genetic taste). While the muffins didn’t exactly act as a counterpoint/foil/what have you to the soup, I think they went perfectly. Soft and flavourful, they were perfect for dunking into the pale green liquid.

What can I say? Sometimes you just know what you’re in the mood for.

• Romanescu-Cheese Soup
• adapted from Broccoli Cheddar Soup from 101 Cookbooks
• serves 4
• 2 Tbs. olive oil
  1 medium yellow onion
  2 cloves garlic
  1 medium potato, peeled and cut into 1″ cubes
  1 litre vegetable stock
  1 frozen parmesan rind (optional)
  1 medium head romanescu, rinsed and cut into florets
  1/2 cup grated cheddar
  1/4 cup grated parmesan
  1/4 cup crème fraîche
  sea salt and black pepper, to taste
• 1. Heat the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan with a lid. When it’s hot, add the onion and cook over low heat for about 5 minutes, until the onion is soft and translucent.
  
  2. Add the garlic and potato and continue cooking for another 2 minutes. Pour over the stock, cover and cook until the potato begins to become tender, 15-20 minutes. (If you have a parmesan rind, add it at this point.)
  
  3. Add the romanescu florets and continue cooking until they are tender to the point of a knife, 5-8 minutes.
  
  4. Remove the soup from the heat and remove the parmesan rind, if using. Using an immersion blender, purée the soup to a smooth consistency- you might want to add more water, if you think it seems too thick.
  
  5. Return the soup to a low heat and stir in the cheddar, parmesan and crème fraîche until the cheese has melted and the soup heated through. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve.

• Cornmeal-Cheese Muffins
• adapted from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison
• makes 6 (easily doubled)
• 1/2 cup plain flour
  1/4 cup + 2 Tbs. finely-ground cornmeal (or polenta)
  1 1/4 tsp. baking powder
  large pinch salt
  1 egg
  1/2 cup milk
  1 Tbs. honey
  1 Tbs. vegetable oil
  3/4 cup grated cheddar cheese
  1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
• 1. Preheat oven to 200°C/400°F. Prepare a 6-cup muffin pan by greasing the cups or lining with papers (if not silicone).
  
  2. Mix together all the dry ingredients in a medium-sized bowl and set aside. Whisk together the wet ingredients in a large jug, and pour over the dry ones. Mix until everything is just combined, and then stir in the cheese.
  
  3. Divide the mixture between the muffin cups, then bake for approximately 25 minutes, until muffins are browned on top and springy. Let muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.

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.

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. 

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.