Everybody needs good neighbours…

When we moved into our new flat recently one of our neighbours, Mark, from the flat below was an absolute godsend. Not only did he help us cart all our stuff up the four flights of stairs to our new home, but without his brawn we would never have broken the record for the heaviest TV ever carried up stairs!

To thank him for his efforts, I took him round a slice of my chocolate beetroot cake. To my surprise (and enormous delight), he felt the need to return this favour, and a few days later arrived at my door with three bags full of wild mushrooms!

See, Mark says he “works with fruit and veg.” I don’t know exactly what that means, (does he grow/sell/... sculpt them?), but he’s twice described his job to me in that way. One day I’ll ask him what his work entails, but for the time being I am just chuffed to have a neighbour who can deliver such treats. And am going to do everything possible to keep up this tasty little exchange we’ve got going!

Precious because they are tricky to get hold of outside of Autumn, wild mushrooms can also be quite pricey to buy, so for me it was like being delivered three bags of gold. I knew instantly what I’d do with them: this delicious, indulgent recipe that I picked up at a cookery class at the Divertimenti Cookery School a few years back. Combining that heady trio of garlic, white wine and cream with a doubly delicious topping of hollandaise sauce, it is French and Fantastic and ma Favourite.

Wild Mushroom and Hollandaise Tarts
400g fresh chanterelle or wild mushrooms (well cleaned)
1 garlic clove
100ml double cream
1 bunch chives
1 bunch chervil
2 tbsp dry white wine
Salt, pepper, nutmeg
250g puff pastry

For the hollandaise:
3 tbsp white wine vinegar
6 black peppercorns
1 bay leaf
2 egg yolks
110g butter, softened
Lemon juice

1. Roll the pastry sheets into rectangles and then cut them into even-sized squares. Now score all the way around about 1-inch in from the edge with a small knife ending with a window-like effect. Place on a baking tray and cook until puffed and golden brown. Remove from the baking tray and place on a cooling rack.

2. Meanwhile, start the hollandaise by placing the vinegar, peppercorns and bay leaf into a small saucepan and simmer until reduced to 1 tbsp. Allow to cool completely.

3. Place another pan with a little water in it onto the heat and bring to a simmer. Place the egg yolks into a heatproof bowl and add the reduction. Set the bowl over the saucepan (making sure it’s not touching the water), and beat the mixture lightly with a whisk. It will begin to thicken.

4. Now start adding the butter bit by bit. As the first knob of butter melts, add the next. Keep stirring until nice and thick. When you’ve added all the butter, turn the heat off but keep the bowl placed on the saucepan to keep warm.

5. Meanwhile, prepare the mushrooms by cleaning them with a damp cloth. Prepare a heavy-based frying pan by placing it on the hob and adding a large knob of butter. When melted, add enough mushrooms to fill the pan. Saute until golden brown on all sides.

6. Now, add the crushed garlic, double cream and wine. Reduce the wine and cream until syrupy. Season and add the chopped herbs. Put to one side until cool enough to spoon over the pastry.

7. Finally, finish off the hollandaise sauce with a squeeze of lemon and seasoning to taste, then spoon this over the mushrooms and serve.

Lazy girl's supper

As you can probably tell from the recipes on here, I’m not one to spend hours slaving in the kitchen (except for very special occasions). So when I had a craving for a bowl of creamy pasta one evening, I came up with this very simple recipe for Smoked Salmon Carbonara that’s a godsend when you CBBC (Can’t Be Bothered to Cook).

Boil up some pasta and while this is on the go, pan fry some smoked salmon fillets in a little olive oil. While the fish is cooking you can make the carbonara sauce. Start by frying a chopped garlic clove in some

oil then combine this with 3 beaten eggs, around 150ml single cream and 2tbsp grated parmesan in a bowl.

When the pasta is ready, pour the sauce over and flake in the salmon. Stir and gently heat for a further 2 mins, then serve straight away, topped with a mountain of rocket (and any other greenery you fancy), shavings of parmesan and plenty of seasoning. It will take you around 15 mins to make, yet is a truly scrummy and comforting supper.

A different kind of curry

When I cook curry, I always make a centrepiece dish. This is usually fish or fake chicken based and accompanied by dhal and at least one vegetable curry.

I also tend to stick to Sri Lankan curries, as they're what I was raised on, and when I can, I like to eat them with my fingers. Sri Lankans say food tastes better like that - and they're not wrong.

Be sure not to let any food go beyond your second finger joints though for it's considered most uncouth. Also, resist the temptation to drum your fingers on the plate to discard unwanted rice grains. I was warned as child that to do so was to tap on someone's grave!

Despite my allegiance to Sri Lankan curries however, every so often I get a hankering for a curry that’s quite different in flavour. This recipe was introduced to me by my friend and ex-editor Rachel (check out her brilliant blog at www.veggielazy.wordpress).

It was devised by Cauldron to go with their terrific marinated tofu pieces and is called Rendang Malaysian Tofu and Coconut Curry.

It has a wonderful flavour owing to an abundance of spices and a lovely sweetness from the sugar, coconut and star anise that coats your mouth.

Apologies for the pic by the way, we were so desperate to get our chops around it that only the dregs were left when I remembered to capture it!

Rendang Malaysian Tofu and Coconut Curry

Serves: 4
Preparation time: 10-15 mins
Cooking time: 20 mins

3 tbsp desiccated coconut
2 garlic cloves, chopped
6 shallots or 1 onion, chopped
2 stalks lemongrass, peeled and sliced finely
2-3 red chillies
2 tbsp fresh ginger, grated
1 tsp turmeric
1 tsp salt
1 tsp sugar
250ml tin coconut milk
1 tsp tamarind pulp, dissolved in 1tbsp water
4 star anise
1 cinnamon stick
2 x 150g Cauldron Tofu Marinated Pieces
2 tbsp fresh coriander, roughly chopped, plus extra to garnish

1 Heat a dry frying pan, add the coconut and toast until lightly golden.
2 Heat some oil in a heavy-bottomed frying pan. Add the garlic, onions, lemongrass, chillies, ginger, turmeric, salt and sugar and cook for five minutes, stirring until fragrant.
3 Add the toasted coconut, the coconut milk, 125ml water, tamarind, star anise and cinnamon stick and bring to the boil, stirring constantly.
4 Reduce the heat and simmer gently for a further five minutes, then add the tofu pieces and carry on cooking gently for another 10 minutes. Stir in the chopped coriander, garnish with coriander leaves and serve with chilli fried spinach and rice.

Mad mixes

I’ve always been fascinated by crazy combinations of flavours à la Heston Blumenthal, and one in particular that really captured my imagination was chocolate and beetroot cake. I first heard about this a few years back and was quite excited at the thought of such an unusual marriage.

I finally gave this cake a go last weekend, and can wholeheartedly confirm that the mix is just brilliant! Surprisingly, you only get the slightest hint of beetroot and this fades as each day passes; by day two it was imperceptible.

Aside from bringing extra sweetness, it seems that beetroot’s main function in this recipe is to keep the cake super moist. So much so that on day 1 of the cake’s existence it was almost puddingy in consistency. My co-taster Charlotte noted that it was ever so slightly redder in colour, also.

If you love chocolate cake you will not be disappointed by this deliciously rich recipe which keeps its moist, velvety texture for days afterwards. I have to add that I quite enjoyed the touch of beetroot on day one, too, not to mention the opportunities this cake affords for playing ‘guess the unusual ingredient’ with tasters! It’s a fun way to work out who among your friends has a delicate palate…

Chocolate Beetroot Cake

100g drinking chocolate
230g self-raising flour
200g golden caster sugar
100g dark chocolate (minimum 60% cocoa solids), broken into pieces
125g unsalted butter
250g cooked beetroot
3 large eggs
To serve
Icing sugar for dusting

Prep time: 30 mins
Cooking time: 50 mins
Use: 18cm (7in) round cake tin
Makes: 8 slices

1 Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas 5. Butter and flour the cake tin.
2 Sift together the drinking chocolate and the self-raising flour, then mix in the sugar.
3 Melt the chocolate and butter together in a heatproof bowl suspended over a saucepan of barely simmering water.
4 Now purée the beetroot in a food processor, whisk the eggs, then stir them into the beetroot.
5 Add the wet beetroot and chocolate mixtures to the dry ingredients and mix together well.
6 Pour the mixture into the cake tin and bake for around 50 mins or until an inserted skewer comes out clean. Remove from the oven and leave to stand in the tin for 10 mins before turning onto a wire rack to cool. Serve dusted with icing sugar.

The ultimate crowdpleaser

Often, when you're least expecting a dish to impress you, it grabs you by the throat and knocks you off your socks! That's what happened when I first tried this ridiculously simple goulash recipe.

At a glance, the ingredients list looks like it could be the basis of any old stew recipe, but what marks this dish out (and sends my friends and loved ones barmy), is the drop dead gorgeous flavour of the smoked paprika.

If I'm cooking for someone for the first time and it's cold outside, I always make this recipe as I know it will never let me down. People always ask for seconds and best of all, if I'm making it just for me, it lasts for days... and only gets better with age.

Though the recipe makes just 8 dumplings I suggest tripling the quantities as people usually want at least 6 each! You can also dump all the ingredients in a slow cooker and let it do its thing.

It's fragrant, spicy, hearty, nourishing goodness - like a massive hug in a bowl!

Veggie Goulash
(serves 4)

4 tbsp olive oil
8 baby onions or 1 large onion, peeled and chopped
8 garlic cloves, peeled and chopped
2 carrots, chopped into fat half moons
2 celery sticks, sliced
500g potatoes, cubed
1 tsp smoked paprika (or to taste)
can chopped tomatoes
salt and pepper to taste
Tabasco, to taste

For the dumplings:
75g self-raising flour
1/2 tsp salt
50g vegetable suet
5-6 tbsp water

1. Heat the oil in a large saucepan, add the onions, garlic, carrot and potatoes and cook over a medium heat, stirring, for 10 mins. Throw in the paprika, stir, and cook for 1 min.

2. Stir in the tomatoes, stock and salt and pepper. Bring it to the boil, then reduce the heat, cover and simmer gently for 20 mins. Add Tabasco to taste at this point.

3. Make the dumplings. Sift the flour and salt into a bowl and stir in the suet, plus pepper to taste. Working quickly and lightly, gradually mix in enough of the water (or as much as needed) until the mixture forms a soft dough. It might be sticky but don't worry, that's normal. Divide into 8 equal pieces and roll into balls.

4.Carefully arrange the dumplings in the stew, leaving gaps between them, then cover and simmer until they've doubled in size and are light and fluffy (about 15 mins).

Thou shalt have a fishy

If there's one dish that really sorts me out if I've been having a bad week, it's my mum's tuna sambol. In fact, whenever I ask her for it a cheeky smile spreads across my face because I know she'll never say no. Because she knows how much I love it.

Like my mum, I too get enormous satisfaction from people asking for second helpings of my food, and when she makes this, it's rare that I will leave any leftovers.

Tuna sambol consists of just 5 key ingredients: tinned tuna fish, drained (in brine), chopped red onion (it must be red), chopped green chilli and chunks of fresh chopped tomato, all doused in loads of fresh lime juice and made to sing by the addition of plenty of crushed rock salt and black pepper.

Although it probably doesn't sound very special, when you mix these ingredients together (and this must be done by hand and with gusto to really unleash their flavour), what you are in fact creating is an acid trip for your tongue. And a great one at that.

It's essential that you mop up the sambol with a hunk of fresh crusty bread (tiger's good) smeared with butter and wash it all down with a mug of inguru thay (that's ginger tea to you non-Sri Lankans). You can prepare this by brewing some black tea in a pot with slices of fresh ginger and, ideally, lots of sugar. The cumulative effect of these 3 things is a sunday brunch that will really rattle your soul and shake loose any bad feelings you might have woken up with: magic.

Top foodie films

When I was studying Spanish at A-Level, our wonderful teacher (the aptly named Mrs Smart) used to let us watch the most beautiful Spanish films. It was through her that I was introduced to Almodovar, now a favourite director of mine. But the film I'd like to tell you about isn't one of his. The one I'm thinking of today is called Like Water for Chocolate. The film was adapted for the screen from the book by Laura Esquivel. We were lucky enough to watch it and read the book at the same time (dontcha just love doing that?).

Set in Mexico, it's a soulful story about love and loss and at the heart of it all is a family's relationship with food. Tita, the protagonist has a deep connection with food, to the point where she can influence people's emotions through her dishes depending on how she felt when she was cooking them. I couldn't possibly convey the magic of this film here, you simply have to see it for yourself. The book is revelation, too. Every chapter begins with a sumptuous Mexican recipe, which helps keep our minds focused on the food (and our mouths watering). A particularly memorable one is Quail in Rose Petal Sauce...

One of the reasons the film struck a chord with me is because my mum has always said that if you cook a dish in a bad mood the food will taste bad too. And I can attest to this - the number of times we've had an argument and my mum's cooking has tasted off. Does she do this deliberately by way of punishment, or could her feelings really be transferring onto the food? Or could it be my own bitterness post-argument that tarnishes the flavour of the food? Being a fanciful type, I like to think that her theory is right. And I swear when I come home some days and she's in a fabulous mood, the food tastes just as fabulous. In fact when something tastes dreamy I sometimes joke with her that she's definitely cooked 'x' with love.