When I went to Italy this year with my mate David Gleave from Liberty Wines, he took me to a wine estate near Verona called Allegrini. All their wines are fantastic, but especially their Amarone, which is perfect for drinking and cooking with. After serving us a fantastic lunch they gave us these pears poached in Amarone. I’ve tweaked the recipe slightly to my own taste. It is so simple and delicious — if you can get some nice pears and a really good bottle of Amarone-style red you’ll be laughing. If you use rubbish wine and manky old pears, the finished dish will be horrible, so don’t try and do it half-heartedly.
Preheat the oven to 190°C/375°F/gas 5. Put the vanilla seeds and pods into a casserole pan that will hold all the pears snugly, add the wine, sugar, and cinnamon, then finely grate in the orange zest and squeeze in the juice. Throw in the thyme, secured together in a little bunch with string. Bring to the boil, turn down to a simmer, then add the pears, sitting upright. Put the lid on the pan and bake in the oven for 1 hour, or until the pears are soft and tender but not falling apart (they can take less or more time depending on the ripeness of the pears). When they’re ready they will have taken on the flavour and colour of the wine and should smell delicious.
By now the wine and sugar will have thickened and the flavour will have intensified. Remove the pears to a dish, place the pan on the hob over a medium heat and reduce the wine by about half. Remove from the heat and add the butter — agitate the pan but don’t give it any more heat. Put the pears back in the pan and leave until ready to serve. Warm is the best temperature to serve this dish, and it’s best with some nice whipped soured cream or crème fraîche — a lovely contrast to the richness of the sauce (which is to die for!).
Having grown up in a pub, two of the alcoholic drinks I tried and got a taste for at an early age were Baileys and a cocktail called a Snowball. Now I’m older I detest the taste of both of them! Jools has a little drop of Baileys every now and again, so there’s usually a bottle hanging about, and one day I had some bananas and it was as simple as that — I tried this recipe out and it was fantastic, one of the best possible twists on a bread and butter pudding.
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Flatten each slice of bread down as flat as possible. Spread each piece thinly but thoroughly with the butter, then cut the slices of bread in half and put to one side.
In a bowl whisk the sugar, vanilla seeds and eggs together until pale and fluffy, add the cream, milk and Baileys and whisk until smooth. Slice the bananas, then lightly toast the almonds in the oven. Grease a baking dish (or you could do individual ones) with a little butter. Dip each piece of bread in the egg mixture, then begin to layer the bread, bananas and almonds into the dish. Repeat until everything has been used up, ending with a top layer of bread. Pour over the rest of the egg mixture, using your fingers to push down the bread to make sure it soaks up all the lovely flavours.
Generously dust the top of the pudding with icing sugar and bake in the oven for 35 minutes, or until the custard has set at the sides but is just slightly wobbly in the middle. Allow to cool and firm up slightly. Some people like to serve it with ice cream or double cream, but if you get it gooey enough in the middle then it is nice just on its own. Feel free to take this recipe in any direction you like — try raisins or dried apricots, or different types of bread, such as brioche or panettone.
When I was little, a gym opened around our way and it had a juice bar where they served this amazing carrot cake with a twangy soured cream topping. This is one of my efforts at making boring old carrot cake remotely credible. My mate Peter Begg, the friendly Scotsman, suggested I swap carrot for beetroot, which I did, and the result was marvellous. Thanks Pete!
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Peel the beetroots and coarsely grate into a bowl. Add the ginger, egg yolks, honey, oil and the seeds from one vanilla pod. Whisk together, then add the baking powder, polenta, finely grated orange zest and the juice, a good pinch of sea salt, the allspice, cinnamon and flour. In a separate bowl beat the egg whites until stiff, then fold them into the beetroot mixture. Grease a 25cm cake tin or cheesecake mould with butter and dust with a little flour to stop the cake sticking. Pour in the mixture, then bake in the oven for 35 minutes, or until spongy. To test whether it’s ready, poke a cocktail stick into the middle — if it’s clean when it comes out, you know it’s done. Allow to cool. Whisk the crème fraîche with the Vin Santo, sugar and the seeds from the remaining vanilla pod. Taste and adjust to your liking with a bit more sugar and Vin Santo. Serve the cake in wedges with a big dollop of the cream.
This is chocolate heaven! The original idea came from my mate Ben, the head chef at Monte’s. I’ve changed it round a bit to make it easier to make at home.
Melt 125g of the chocolate with the coffee, then pour into small ice cube moulds and freeze until hard. Take 6 small pastry rings, dariole moulds or cappuccino cups and grease well with butter. Place in the fridge while you make the sponge mixture. Melt the remaining chocolate with the butter in a bowl over a pan of boiling water, then leave to cool. In a separate bowl, whisk the egg whites with the sugar until firm. Fold the yolks into the cooled chocolate mixture, then add the almonds and flour. Finish by carefully folding in the egg whites. Preheat the oven to 190°C/375°F/gas 5. Spoon a little mixture into each chilled mould, then push in a cube of frozen coffee and chocolate. Cover with the rest of the sponge mixture so each ice cube is completely enveloped. Bake in the oven for 18 to 20 minutes, then remove carefully from the moulds while hot. Serve immediately, sprinkled with hazelnuts.
Sometimes the golden oldies are the best! This rice pudding is dead easy, very comforting and can be varied with all types of different flavours.
Put the butter, sugar, milk, vanilla seeds, rice and a pinch of sea salt in a pan and bring to a gentle simmer. Cover and leave to tick away until the milk has been absorbed and the rice is soft but not too stodgy, stirring occasionally. Serve in bowls while hot.
Try this: For a nice surprise, drop a spoonful of jam into the middle of each pudding, or melt 200g of quality dark chocolate (70%) in a bowl over some simmering water and stir in before serving.
You can make this pastry by hand or in a food processor. See page 284 for some great step-by-step pictures of making the pastry, then baking it ‘blind’.
Stage 1: Cream the butter, icing sugar and a pinch of sea salt together, then rub or pulse in the flour, followed by the vanilla seeds, finely grated lemon zest and the egg yolks. When it’s looking like coarse breadcrumbs, add the cold milk (or use water). Pat together to form a ball of dough, then lightly flour. The idea is to get the ingredients to form a dough with the minimum amount of movement to keep the pastry short and flaky (the more you work it the more elastic it will get, causing it to shrink in the oven and be chewy, and you don’t want that to happen).
Stage 2: On a clean floured surface, roll the pastry into a large, short and fat sausage shape, wrap it in clingfilm and put it in the fridge to rest for at least 1 hour.
Stage 3: Working lengthways, carefully slice off very thin slivers of the pastry (see page 284). Place the slivers all around a 28cm tart mould, fitting them together like a jigsaw. Push the pieces together and tidy up the sides by trimming off any excess pastry. Place in the freezer for at least 1 hour.
Stage 4: If I’m going to fill my tart cases with an uncooked filling I usually bake them ‘blind’ (i.e. with no filling — see page 285) for 15 minutes at 180°C/350°F/gas 4 — this will cook them all the way through, colouring them slightly. Once completely cooled, the shells can be filled. With baked fillings the tart shell has to be baked blind for 12 minutes at 180°C/350°F/gas 4 before being filled and then baked once more.
Try this: Once the tart case has been baked blind, brush the inside with a little egg white, then put back in the oven for 30 seconds — no longer. This will give it a nice waterproof layer which will protect it from a wetter filling. The pastry will stay crumbly and crisp for longer instead of going all soggy.
Or this: Freeze the extra tart case for another day.
I find that if you freeze a pastry case you can bake it blind straight from the freezer without it shrinking. If you haven’t got time to freeze it, then simply line the case with non-PVC clingfilm (yes, it’s absolutely fine) or greaseproof paper, fill it with dried beans, lentils or uncooked rice and bake it, as shown below.
When I used to work at the Neal Street Restaurant with Gennaro Contaldo (a superb chef who taught me such a lot), he used to make 4 or 5 things similar to this every morning using just ricotta and candied fruit. It’s a really fantastic tart — great with a cup of tea in the afternoon. Terrific with a little crème fraîche and segmented oranges. For this version I used half ricotta and half mascarpone and put my own flavour combination together.
Make the pastry and use it to line a loose-bottomed 28cm tart tin. Bake blind (see page 285) and allow to cool. Roll the extra pastry out to the same thickness in a long rectangular shape, dusting with flour as you go, and divide into 14 × 2.5cm wide strips. Set aside — you will need them to finish off the tart.
Turn the oven down to 170°C/325°F/gas 3. Whip the ricotta, mascarpone, icing sugar, finely grated orange zest, vanilla seeds and egg yolks together until smooth and shiny. In a separate bowl, whip up the egg whites until stiff — you can test if they’re done by holding the bowl upside down over your head. Obviously the mixture should stick to the bowl and not fall on your head! Gently fold the egg whites into the mixture. Pour into the cooled tart mould and sprinkle the chocolate over the top. Lay 7 strips of pastry across the tart, equally spaced, and then place the other 7 the other way on top of them like a lattice. Use your thumbs to trim any excess pastry off the side of the mould — this will stick it to the pastry below. Brush the pastry with a little beaten egg, then dust with a little icing sugar. Bake in the oven for 40 to 45 minutes, or until golden and cooked through.
Serve hot or cold with some ice cream, crème fraîche, or yoghurt.
I must have made this torte hundreds of times when I first moved to London — it was one of the first classic Italian dessert recipes that I learned to make and it’s great!
Preheat the oven to 190°C/375°F/gas 5. Grease and line a 28cm loose-bottomed tart tin or cheesecake mould and place in the fridge. Roast the hazelnuts in the oven for 5 minutes, or until lightly golden. Allow to cool, then whiz to a fine powder in a food processor — be careful not to over-whiz. Bash the nuts in a tea towel using a rolling pin if you don’t have a food processor.
Beat the butter and sugar together either in the food processor, or in a bowl with a whisk, until pale. Add the egg yolks one by one, and finely grate in the orange zest. Sieve in the flour, crumble in the ricotta and stir in the hazelnuts and the poppy seeds. In a separate bowl, whip up the egg whites with a pinch of sea salt until really stiff — you can tell if they’re done by holding the bowl upside down over your head. Obviously the mixture should stick to the bowl and not fall on your head! Then fold them slowly into the hazelnut mixture. Pour the mixture into the tin and bake in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, or until lightly coloured on the top. To check if it’s ready, stick a cocktail stick into the middle — it should come out clean and not sticky. Remove from the oven and allow to cool. Meanwhile, place the jam in a little pan with 4 tablespoons of water and bring slowly to the boil. Brush over the top of the torte and, once cool, sprinkle with the grated chocolate. Serve with crème fraîche or yoghurt.
A really lovely dessert with a gorgeous peachy flavour. It can, however, be made with any fruit combination you fancy — try apricots, peaches or plums. Delicious!
Preheat the oven to 180ºC/350ºF/gas 4. Make the pastry and use it to line a 28cm loose-bottomed tart tin, then place in the freezer. Run a knife round each nectarine and twist to remove the stone. Slice up and put into a small baking dish with half the sugar, the butter and the cornflour. Stir well and cover with tin foil.
Place the chilled pastry case in the oven with the dish of nectarines on the shelf below, then bake for 15 minutes, or until the pastry is lightly golden and the nectarines have softened. Whip the egg whites until stiff — you can tell if they’re done by holding the bowl upside down over your head. Obviously the mixture should stick to the bowl and not fall on your head! Whisk in the remaing sugar.
When the pastry case and nectarines are ready, remove from the oven. Pour the nectarines and all their lovely juices into the pastry case. Dollop the meringue on top and peak it with a fork so it’s not all smooth and flat. Put the tart back into the oven for 8 minutes, or until the meringue is lightly golden. Serve this either hot or cold.
This is a great filling for a tart. It gives you a lovely frangipane mixture, with the delicate taste of almonds, and the lovely texture of baked plums.
Make the pastry and use it to line a 28cm loose-bottomed tart tin. Bake it blind (see page 285) and allow to cool.
In a food processor, blitz the almonds to a fine powder and tip into a bowl, then whiz the butter and sugar together until light and creamy. Add to the almonds with the lightly beaten eggs and fold in until nice and smooth. Stir in the pistachios, then place in the fridge to firm up slightly. Once chilled, pour the mixture into the tart case, so it’s three-quarters full. You don’t want to overfill it otherwise it will spill over the edge when you add the plums.
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Toss the plums in the vanilla sugar, let them sit for 10 minutes, then push them into the tart mixture. Bake on a tray in the oven for 1 hour, or until the almond mix is firm and golden on the outside but is still soft in the middle. Allow to cool for about 30 minutes, then serve with ice cream or crème fraîche.
The great thing about this recipe is the way in which it can be varied. The classic lemon curd tart is still my favourite, but sometimes it makes a nice change to blend some lime or orange juice in with the lemon. Or try a straight orange tart. Just make sure your juice amount is always 320ml.
Make the pastry and use it to line a 28cm loose-bottomed tart tin. Bake it blind (see page 285) and leave to cool. Seperate 7 of the eggs. To make the filling, put the 7 yolks, remaining whole eggs, the sugar, and the juice and finely grated zest from the citrus fruit into a thick-bottomed pan and whisk over a very low heat (save the egg whites for another recipe, or see tip below). Keep whisking for 4 minutes, or until the mixture slowly begins to thicken, then you can change from a whisk to a wooden spoon. Add the butter and continue stirring. Make sure you stir up every bit of curd mixture from the bottom of the pan. As soon as it nicely coats the back of the spoon, like really thick custard, you can remove it from the heat and allow to cool a little bit. Give it one final whisk so that it’s nice and smooth. At this point pass the mixture through a sieve to get rid of the little pieces of citrus zest. Using a spatula, scrape every last bit of curd mixture into the tart case while it’s still lukewarm and shake gently to flatten the mixture. Allow to set and cool for 30 minutes, then serve as it is, or try one of my favourite ways below.
Try this: I love dusting the tart with a good layer of icing sugar then caramelizing it with a blowtorch to give a thin snappy layer of caramel. Or try chilling, then topping it with meringue using the leftover egg whites, whisking them with 200g sugar.
Or this: This tart is fantastic served with any seasonal fruit, especially raspberries and strawberries.
I’ve been mucking about with filo pastry quite a lot at home recently — it’s dead cheap, and just by brushing a couple of sheets with melted butter you can wrap or line things to give you a fantastic texture. I’m cooking whole pears in this recipe, but you can try it with poached apples or nectarines as well. I chisel out each core (with nectarines, remove the stones as carefully as possible), then stuff with my kind of frangipane, cover with filo and bake. Simply amazing.
Preheat the oven to 170°C/325°F/gas 3. Peel the pears and carve out each core from the bottom — this will give you a 4cm-deep hole.
Put the almonds into a food processor and whiz until fine — you could also do this by placing them in a tea towel and bashing them with a rolling pin. Put in a bowl with half of the butter, and the sugar. Finely grate in the orange zest and squeeze in the juice. Add the vanilla seeds, then mix until nice and smooth. Bash the chocolate into small pieces, adding these to the mixture, too. Divide into 4 balls and put to one side.
Melt the remaining butter in a little pan for brushing on to the filo. Wet a clean tea towel and wring it out — use this to cover the unused filo pastry so it doesn’t dry out and become too brittle. Working with one piece of filo at a time, spread it out in front of you and brush the sheet with melted butter. Lay the next sheet of pastry on top and repeat until you have 4 brushed layers of filo pastry. Cut the layered pastry down to a 20cm × 20cm square.
Take a pear and one ball of almond mix and fill the hole in the base, packing the excess filling around the base. Place in the middle of a filo square, then gather up the pastry around the stalk and pinch tight to seal. Leave it looking nice and rustic and flopping all over the place, as this will look really good when it’s cooked. Repeat with the remaining pears. Brush the pastry with the remaining melted butter, then cook in the oven for 25 to 30 minutes, or until golden and crisp. Delicious served with crème fraîche or vanilla ice cream.
When I was little we used to make banoffee pies at the pub which everyone loved. To make a big batch the trick was to boil up loads of unopened tins of condensed milk in one big pan for about 4 hours. I suggest that at home you boil a couple of tins up, because when you’ve made this banoffee pie once, you’ll definitely want to make it again. It’s really important to keep the water topped up though, so make sure you keep checking it — if the pan boils dry the tins will explode and you’ll have toffee all over your ceiling — not only dangerous, but a bugger to clean up! When the tins are boiled and left unopened, they keep for months in the larder and even longer in the freezer. It is also important to let the tins cool down on their own and make sure they have cooled completely before you open them. However, jars of pre-made toffee are now sold in the supermarkets, so I’ve used one in this recipe, but feel free to boil your own if you want to live life on the edge!
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Give the almonds a quick rinse in cold water, drain, then mix with the icing sugar in a bowl until sticky. Place on a baking tray and toast in the oven for 15 minutes, or until golden and crisp, turning every 2 minutes. Allow to cool. Make the pastry and use it to line a 28cm loose-bottomed tart tin (or you could try making smaller individual ones). Bake it blind (see page 285) and leave aside to cool.
Spread the dulce de leche as thick as you like across the base of the pastry, then slice the bananas and place on top. Whip the cream, then add the Camp coffee — add a little less if you’d like a more subtle coffee flavour — and the vanilla seeds. Dollop the cream on top of the bananas, as high and as rough as you like. Sprinkle the almonds over the top and serve immediately.
I love the idea of having a refreshing salad for dessert. You can have some real fun with this, sprinkling different nuts, herbs and chocolate over the top.
Peel the clementines, slice across thinly and remove any pips. Arrange on 4 plates and sprinkle over the almonds and mint. Put the sugar and 4 tablespoons of water into a pan, bring to the boil, add the vanilla seeds and allow to simmer until the liquid becomes a light golden syrup. Try not to stir it at this stage. Drizzle the syrup over the clementines and top with shaved chocolate before serving.
This is a really quick and tasty little dish which always makes me happy.
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Put the mascarpone in a bowl. Chop half the pistachios and add to the mascarpone, with half the honey. Finely grate in the zest of one orange and squeeze in the juice. Add the chocolate at this point if you like. Mix everything together and taste for sweetness — you may need a little more honey.
Grease a baking dish with butter. Slice the hot cross buns any way you like into 4 or 5 pieces and lay these in the dish. With a sharp knife, carefully cut across the top of each fig, but not quite all the way through — you want to leave a sort of hinged lid. Poke your finger into each fig to make a little extra room, then spoon some of the mascarpone mix into the gap so it almost oozes out. Keep any leftover filling to one side. Place the figs in, around and on top of the buns. Drizzle with the remaining honey and sprinkle with the extra pistachios, then finely grate in the remaining orange zest. Dab any leftover mascarpone mix around the buns in the baking dish, then dust the whole lot with the icing sugar. Bake in the oven for 35 minutes, or until the bread is golden and crisp and the figs look yummy. Serve with some really cold crème fraîche or ice cream.
Try this: Hot cross buns, or currant buns, are great, but you can also try using some lovely brioche bread or croissants.
This is a ridiculous dessert which brings back a lot of old memories of when I lived in my parents’ pub. I used to make coke floats for all my mates — we would all creep into the pub between lunch and dinner service and take the homemade ice cream cartons out of the freezer. If I was in luck there would be some melted chocolate in the pastry section — I’d pour this over 2 scoops of ice cream in a glass and top it off with Coca-Cola and a sprinkle of sugar-coated pecans and almonds. These are dead easy to make — just dip the nuts in water, shake off any excess, then mix with plenty of icing sugar until they are sticky. Place them on a baking tray and toast in the oven at 180°C/350°C/gas 4 for 15 minutes, or until golden. You can serve this as a dessert or a drink, and it’s obviously OTT, but to this day it always seems like a bit of a treat — although now I’m a big boy I’ve replaced Coca-Cola with a double shot of espresso, which works just as well!
I really want to get you lot into cheese. I know I’m lucky as I’ve got the lovely Patricia from La Fromagerie down the road, but if you love your food, you’ll manage to find somewhere near you that does good cheese. And with farmers’ markets and family-run delis becoming more prominent, you’re bound to find some half-decent stuff somewhere local.
The other day I asked Patricia to do a cheese-tasting with the fifteen Jamie’s Kitchen kids — a brave woman! I was being quite forceful, to make sure that every one of them tried every cheese — even the ones that they thought smelt horrible. You’ve got to remember that a lot of these guys have not had an enormous repertoire of food throughout their lives, so most of the shapes, sizes and smells were completely new to them. I knew just how they felt, because I knew bugger all about cheese until about six years ago, when Patricia did a similar tasting at the River Café, where I was working. But the great thing was watching their faces light up when they realized they’d never tasted a Brie or a Cheddar like that before. Or seeing them really tucking into some of the more unusual ones, like goat’s cheese with truffles or rolled in ash, going back for seconds of the humming Taleggio and Torta Gorgonzola. Or watching their total amazement when they tasted the difference between buffalo mozzarella and rubbery cow’s mozzarella. And, yes, some of them did say that they still preferred the more predictable Bries and Cheddars they’d grown up with, but it was a real pleasure hearing some of the others say their favourite was one of the more obscure cheeses, which shocked even them.
To me the perfect cheese plate encapsulates as many sensations as possible — fresh, mild, strong, hard, soft, crumbly, smelly or fragrant, tangy, oozy, grainy ones rolled or rubbed in this, that or the other — and ones made from different milks — goat’s, cow’s, buffalo and sheep. My perfect cheese plate would be a mixture of all these things, depending on what I could get hold of at the time. Always eat the milder, fresher cheeses on the board first and then build up to the climax of the strongest blue and gorgonzolas. I’d be really excited if I was given a cheese plate like this at a dinner party or a restaurant.
With regards to what you eat with cheese, some lovely fresh bread or lightly grilled sourdough is my favourite. I’ve never been a fan of biscuits or crackers to be honest but if it makes you happy, go for it. Sometimes you can really complement a cheese by eating little dried fruits with it. It’s hard to say what’s right and wrong here. All I would suggest is that you try things, and if they don’t suit you then there’s your answer.
I was really interested to find out that grapes and celery are used between cheeses to clean the palate, so that you can taste the full potential of the next cheese. At home I serve bread, 6 or 7 cheeses ranging from a mild fresh goat’s cheese to a strong blue, some nice organic apples from the farmers’ market, grapes, celery and, even better, some peeled baby carrots, fresh peas and, around early summer, beautiful thin-skinned cherry tomatoes. I love the way you can leave the board in the middle of the table and as the conversation flows you can return to your favourite cheese after you’ve tasted them all.
Stage 1: Dissolve the yeast and honey in 325ml of tepid water.
Stage 2: On a clean surface or in a large bowl, make a pile of the flour and add 1 level tablespoon of sea salt. Make a well in the middle and pour in all the yeast mixture. With 4 fingers of one hand, make circular movements from the centre moving outwards, slowly bringing in more and more of the flour until all the yeast mixture is soaked up. Pour another 300ml of tepid water into the middle and gradually incorporate all the flour to make a wet dough.
Stage 3: Kneading! This is the best bit, just rolling, pushing and folding the dough over and over for 5 minutes. This develops the gluten and the structure of the dough. If any of the dough sticks to your hands, just rub them together with a little extra flour.
Stage 4: Flour both hands well, and lightly flour the top of the dough. Make it into a roundish shape and place on a baking tray. Score it deeply with a knife, allowing it to relax and prove with ease until it’s doubled in size. Ideally you want a warm, draught-free place for the quickest prove, for example near a warm cooker or in the airing cupboard, and you could cover it with clingfilm if you want to speed things up. This proving process improves the flavour and texture of the dough and should take around 40 minutes, depending on the conditions.
Stage 5: When the dough has doubled in size, you need to knock the air out of it by bashing it around for 1 minute. Now you can shape it into whatever shape is required — round, flat, filled, trayed up, tinned up or whatever — and leave it to prove for a second time until it doubles in size again. Don’t rush through this, because the second prove will give you the lovely, delicate, soft texture that we all love in fresh bread.
Stage 6: Now it’s time to cook your loaf. You want to keep all the air inside, so gently place in the oven and don’t slam the door. Bake according to the time and temperature given in the recipes that follow. You can tell if the bread is cooked by tapping its bottom (if it’s in a tin you’ll have to take it out). If it sounds hollow it’s cooked, if it doesn’t then bake for a little longer. Put it on a wire rack to cool before slicing up and tucking in!
I’ve been a big fan of focaccia for a long time, and this is my favourite this year, using fantastic little cherry tomatoes — green, red and yellow — and of course their best mate, basil. It makes a fantastic picnic sandwich or main course bread which everyone seems to love.
Make up the basic bread recipe and allow to prove for 40 minutes. Meanwhile, prick the tomatoes with a knife and drop them into boiling water for around 30 seconds (see page 110). Drain, cool them under cold water, and remove the skins, keeping them whole if possible as they’re nice and small. Put the tomatoes in a bowl, cover with 150ml of olive oil and put to one side.
Take the proved dough and bash the air out, then put it on a clean floured surface and roll it out so it’s 2.5cm thick. Transfer it to a floured baking tray and push the dough out to fill the tray. Pour over the olive oil and tomatoes, then sprinkle over the basil. Use your fingers to gently push down and, importantly, create lots of dips and wells in the dough. Leave to prove until it has doubled in size again. Preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F/gas 7. Sprinkle the dough with sea salt and black pepper, then carefully place in the oven. Bake for 20 minutes, or until crisp and golden on top and soft in the middle. Drizzle with extra virgin olive oil when you take it out of the oven.
This is such a fantastic combination — and really works well as a table bread served with anything. It’s especially good with a little ploughman’s lunch and even better in a Cheddar cheese sandwich with pickle. The sweetness of the raisins makes it absolutely fantastic, so give it a go.
Start making the basic bread dough, adding the rosemary and raisins at the start of Stage 3. You may want to add a little more flour if the dough is too sticky. Continue with the basic recipe until the dough is nice and elastic, then allow it to prove for 30 to 60 minutes. Divide the dough in half and knead it with a little extra flour — you can shape it any way you like, but I like to make 2 long sausage-shaped loaves. Place on a tray, dust with flour, and leave to prove again until doubled in size. Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Score down the length of the bread with a really sharp knife (sometimes I poke a stick of rosemary into each loaf) and bake in the oven for 25 minutes, or until golden and crisp. Leave to cool before eating.
Calzones are little stuffed folded breads. I’ve made them really small and I’ve made them really large, and I’ve served them on the menu at Monte’s as a dessert with some nice vanilla and rosemary ice cream. These small ones would be just as at home with a nice cheese plate (see page 310).
Start making the basic bread dough and work through the recipe until the first prove. While the dough is proving, mix the grapes, cinnamon, rosemary, Vin Santo, sugar and pine nuts in a bowl (the sugar will draw all the lovely syrupy juice out of the grapes). Allow the grapes to marinate until the dough has doubled in size.
Preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Divide the dough into 2 pieces, roll each of these out 1cm thick, and dust with flour to stop it sticking. Using a 15cm pastry cutter or a saucer as a template, cut out circles. Of course you can do any size you like, but small ones are quite cute for desserts. Put a heaped tablespoon of filling in the middle of each circle, fold in half, then crimp the edges together (see the pictures here). You don’t want any cracks, so just pinch them together if you see any appearing. Drizzle the calzones with a little oil and spike them with some extra rosemary leaves, if you like. Bake in the oven for 20 minutes, or until golden.
Try this: Add 100g of crumbly ricotta to the grapes. This is nice and makes it a bit more cakey.
This is a genius little bread and, to be honest, served warm it’s almost like a meal in itself. Great in lunch boxes or for picnics or barbecues.
Make the basic bread recipe. While it’s proving, preheat the oven to 190°C/375°F/gas 5. Put all the other ingredients apart from the flour in a small roasting tray with 4 tablespoons of oil and bake in the oven for 30 minutes. Allow to cool, then finely chop. Turn the oven up to 220°C/425°F/gas 7. Bash the air out of the proved dough and roll out in a roundish shape about 1cm thick on a floured surface. Spread the sweet onion and garlic mixture over the bread, then roll the bread up, folding in the sides and pushing it roughly into the shape that you want. Place it on an oiled baking tray, dust with flour, and score with a sharp knife. Leave to prove until doubled in size, then bake in the oven for 35 minutes, or until the bread is crisp and golden and sounds hollow when tapped on the bottom.
This is a lovely intense sweet bread. It’s brilliant for lunch, toasted with some mozzarella cheese and a little basil, or served simply with dinner. You can make a large loaf or smaller ones as I have here, using some old tomato tins which I have washed out and lined with greaseproof paper.
Preheat the oven to 150°C/300°F/gas 2. Prick the tomatoes with a knife — you can leave them on the vine. Toss into a roasting tray with the garlic — you want the tomatoes to fit nice and snugly so you only have one layer. Rip in the basil, season well with sea salt and black pepper and even a little dried chilli crumbled over, if you like. Add 2 or 3 lugs of oil, then roast in the oven for 1 hour.
When the tomatoes are done, remove and allow to cool. Squeeze the sweet garlic out of its skin and throw the skins away. Choose 8 really nice tomatoes and put them aside to use on top of the bread. Remove all the stalks from the remaining tomatoes, then mash with the garlic, scraping up all the lovely, sticky goodness from the bottom of the tray. Start making the basic bread dough, and when it comes to adding the water, at Stage 2, pour the mushed tomatoes into a measuring jug and just top up with water to give you the same amount of liquid as in the basic recipe. Carry on with the rest of the recipe, adjusting the amount of flour so you end up with a non-sticky, elastic, shiny bread dough. Allow it to prove for 30 minutes.
Shape the dough into a large loaf or smaller rolls. If you’re using tins, like I have, oil them well and divide the dough between them, then push the remaining tomatoes into each one. Leave to prove again until doubled in size (about 15 minutes). Meanwhile, turn the oven up to 180°C/350°F/gas 4. Bake for 20 minutes, or until golden and crisp. A larger loaf will need an extra 10 to 15 minutes. To check if the bread is ready, tap the bottom of it. A dull thud means it’s done.
Try this: As a quick alternative, you could work through the basic bread recipe and simply add sun-dried tomatoes. Just tear them up and squeeze them into the dough at Stage 5.
And this: Push some pieces of mozzarella into the bread with the tomatoes before baking.