Recipes

Nigella Lawson

While I don’t go in for starters, even if I have friends to dinner, I am — as I mention often — a dips-with-drinks devotee. This is a new addition to my stable of regulars: the beetroot not only turns the chickpeas a quite ridiculously uplifting pink, but its earthy sweetness is smokily tempered by the tahini and, furthermore, it helps create a smooth and soft texture, all the better for dipping a baby carrot, a radish or, indeed, a tortilla chip in. And I generally bring it out as a pair with the Coriander and Jalapeño Salsa: I can never resist the combination of pink and green, but more, the sharpness of the green sauce is perfect with the luscious creaminess and depth of the pink one. I tend to use the Spanish chickpeas (along with the gloop they sit in) that come in jars, though they are admittedly a lot more expensive than canned, but have such a soft and velvety texture. All too often canned chick peas have a resistant pebbliness which can never quite be blitzed smooth. Still, by far the most economical option if you want soft and creamy chick peas is to soak and cook 300g/ 1⅔ cups dried ones, though remember to keep some of their cooking liquid to add while blending. (If you have a slow cooker or an Instant Pot, you wouldn’t even need to soak them.) I do have to insist you use a beetroot you’ve roasted yourself which, while easy enough, does take more time than one ever imagines; I cannot, I’m afraid, recommend ready-cooked beetroot here. I must also recommend you get the more fluid and less claggy proper Middle Eastern tahini. But this is not just a dip: when I first started making it, I did think of it as Beetroot Hummus, but then I decided that perhaps it was too mutant a version to be worthy of the name. But still, I eat it, too, just as I would a traditional hummus; it is very fine spread thickly on bread or toast, topped with long skinny wedges of avocado, spritzed with lime and sprinkled with sea salt and those fairy fronds of dill. And, splodged vibrantly on a plate of dry-fried halloumi slices sitting saltily on peppery rocket/arugula, sharply dressed and dotted with capers, chopped fresh mint scattered over the lot, it makes for a fabulous light lunch or supper. However you eat it, I can promise it will brighten up any day!

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

This is a gloriously Germanic feast: pork knuckles, rubbed in salt, garlic and caraway seeds, then roast in the oven with onions apples and potatoes and beer. You need to go to a good butcher, ask for uncured meat, so that you, essentially, are getting pork not ham, and make sure to get the rind scored for you. That’s all you need to know before you start. As for once you get going, it’s as simple as it is splendid: I love this kind of cooking — everything in one tin, left to cook (save some casual basting with beer) slowly on its own in the oven.

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

The anchovies really just provide flavourfulness, certainly not fishiness: there is no need to mention their presence if you are feeding people who might take against the idea. This, as with most stews, is at its best if you cook it, cool it, chill it, then reheat the next day. This version is slightly different from how it started out in How To Eat, but the taste is as good as ever.

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

This comes from the children’s food chapter of How to Eat, but it should certainly not be confined to the Kids’ Menu. It is a de-stressingly easy, fabulous tasting, one-pot meal that provides instant comfort. When my children were little, I didn’t add any parsley to this (one of them had nothing but affronted disdain for Green Bits) but please add a scattering of freshly chopped parsley to serve if you wish. And I pour over mine some fierce and glowingly orange chilli oil.

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson · Nigella Summer

While I think of this as a salad, you might consider it simply a vegetable dish served at room temperature. No matter: it’s a glorious summer dish whichever way you look at it: green and yellow courgettes/zucchini, cut into batons, oil-dressed and oven-roasted; jade-glowing broad beans/fava beans and deep emerald fine beans, both lightly boiled then refreshed in a bowl of icy water to keep their verdant intensity. It

Nigella Lawson

Where do I start with this cheesecake? Easy to make, luscious to eat, this crustless cheesecake — soft under its scorched tortoiseshell top — is a total joy. It’s best to eat this (first time out, at least) on the day you’ve made it; I reckon it takes around 3 hours to cool to room temperature. If you must refrigerate it before its grand unveiling, try not to do so for more than 30 minutes before eating it, as you don’t want it to set too solid, losing its oh-so-tender texture. Having said that, I really don’t think there is a bad way to eat this. Speaking of which, while this is wonderful just with some berries (or paired with a rhubarb compote) for me there was no turning back once I ate the version from Sabor in London, where the sublime Basque chef, Nieves Barragán Mohacho drapes it with an intense and darkly glinting liquorice sauce. She was kind enough to tell me how she made it, and I include the recipe here, but obviously if you are a loather rather than a lover of liquorice, just leave it out. Just a couple more things before I leave you to make this: first, you absolutely must make sure all ingredients are at room temperature before you start; and you have to believe me that you need to take the cheesecake out of the oven when, underneath the burnt top, it seems far too jiggly still.

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson · Nigella Summer

Nigella Lawson · Nigella Summer

Nigella Lawson

Nigella Lawson