Flash the walnuts through the oven at the same temperature for about 5 minutes until roasted, but not darkly coloured. Roughly chop when cooled.
To make the dressing, reduce down the orange juice by boiling it in a small, ideally stainless steel pan until it is about one-fifth of its original volume. Allow to cool a little, then add a generous pinch of salt, the grain mustard and olive oil to taste – probably about 200ml or so. Further acidulate with a squeeze of lemon juice and check the seasoning. If it is blandly sweet, add more salt, lemon juice and mustard, if liked.
Halve each anchovy lengthways. Thickly slice the beetroots and season well – it is essential that they are adequately seasoned. To assemble, arrange the beetroot slices evenly between the four plates. Break up the ricotta over the beetroot and this too will benefit from a little sea salt and pepper. Dress the seasoned lamb’s lettuce with the chopped shallot and a tiny trickle of olive oil (remembering that the orange vinaigrette is still to come) and add to the plates. Distribute the anchovies and chopped walnuts around and finally, at the last minute, add the chives to the dressing and spoon over the salad. You may not need all the dressing and any leftovers can be used for another recipe (it is good with tuna or mackerel).
Fennel salad
This could not be simpler and takes seconds (well, a few minutes) to prepare. Choose fennel bulbs that are bright with nice green tops and perky fronds. They should not be bruised, greying or with a leathery appearance. This is also a raw salad and so, unlike many of the things in this book, it is actually rather good for you.
For this to reach its potentially elegant heights, a mandolin on which to slice the fennel very thinly is essential – otherwise, use a sharp, serrated knife to achieve the thinnest possible slices.
Serves 1
1 small bulb of fennel
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
good-quality olive oil
½ lemon
If the fennel has feathery fronds, remove these, chop them and set aside. Remove the tough outer layer together with the tubes of the fennel and discard, or ideally use in a fish or chicken stock. Remove the conical-shaped core with a small, sharp knife – imagine coring a pear, a similar process. Trim the base of the bulb flat so that it will slide easily on your mandolin. Taking care not to add fingertips to your salad ingredients, slice the fennel very thinly. Place the sliced fennel (together with the chopped fronds, if you have them) into a small bowl and season with sea salt, pepper, olive oil and a generous squeeze of lemon juice. And that’s it – this needs to be eaten immediately, as the fennel will soon lose its colour and crispness.
This is excellent on its own or as a garnish for grilled fish and meat. With orange segments tossed through, it also works well with roast duck or pork.
Petits pots de Provence, radishes and fleur de sel
I apologise for the rather self-conscious title of this dish – it is simply that I can’t think of another. It is basically and conceptually a lift from a very large, heavy and glossy cookery book by the great Burgundian chef Georges Blanc. The book was produced a good few years after the Nouvelle Cuisine craze and it is one I studied frequently as a novice with both awe and envy, as the impossibly beautiful photographs accompanying the recipes only served to put the food even further from my clumsy reach. I have adapted the recipe and it is definitely one for high summer, when tomatoes and other salad vegetables are at their best. The salad looks good layered, rather like a trifle, and served individually in small, ideally glass, ramekins. Perfect for a posh picnic.
Serves 4 as an elegant starter
4 large ripe plum tomatoes
4 fresh medium eggs
1 heaped tsp Mayonnaise
1 heaped tsp crème fraîche
salt and freshly ground black pepper
200g stoned black olives, preferably from Provence
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
1 dsp fine capers
8 anchovy fillets
good-quality olive oil
1 large shallot, peeled and finely chopped
about 8 fresh basil leaves, chopped
1 big bunch of fresh, red breakfast radishes, washed and cut with 1cm of the green stalk still attached
sea salt flakes, preferably the softer fleur de sel
Blanch the tomatoes by plunging them into boiling water for 10 seconds, then refresh in iced water or under a cold running tap. The skins should then come off easily. Quarter them, remove the pulp and discard or use elsewhere. Cut the tomato flesh neatly into 5mm dice. Reserve this concasse.
Hardboil the eggs by simmering for 10 minutes and refreshing under a running cold tap. Peel the eggs and chop. Put into a food processor with the mayonnaise and crème fraîche and blend briefly. This can be done by hand, if preferred, by mashing with a fork in a bowl. This will give a lumpier texture, which is different, but nice all the same. Season well with salt and pepper.
To make the tapenade, simply blend the olives with the garlic, capers and anchovies in a food processor, adding a steady trickle of olive oil until the consistency of a thin paste is achieved – it should not be too oily and runny, though. Adjust the seasoning. The anchovies will probably make it salty enough but some pepper will be a welcome addition.
Put the tomato concasse into a bowl with the shallot and basil. Season lightly (not forgetting the saltiness of the anchovies in the dish), add a moistening of olive oil and mix well.
To assemble the pots, first spoon the tomato concasse into the ramekins. Ensuring each layer is as level as can be, add the tapenade, then the egg mayonnaise and a few dressed leaves, if you like. It is better to have slightly less tapenade than the tomato and egg mixtures. These little pots do not really welcome accommodation in the fridge, as the flavours will deaden significantly – think Mediterranean room temperature here. The egg mayonnaise can be made beforehand, but once the dish is assembled, ideally it needs to be served straight away. If refrigeration is unavoidable, make sure that the pots are returned to room temperature before serving.
Place the chilled radishes on a separate white plate accompanied by a little container of the fleur de sel – the two go extremely well together. Aficionados eat the radishes by cutting them in half lengthways and introducing the moist white side directly to the fleur de sel. Alternatively, simply scoop up all three layers of the pot in a (possibly ungainly) spoonful, top with a radish and place the whole lot in your beak. This is the very essence of summer.
Asparagus and ham hock salad with sauce gribiche
It is no exaggeration to say that, in the kitchen at work, during the short six-week or so asparagus season around the month of May we gorge on the stuff. There is no other ingredient that signals so abruptly and pleasingly the passing from one season to another. It is brilliant all on its own, up front as a star striker, or equally happy combined with any number of more workmanlike players in a culinary midfield. A couple of likely and fitting teammates are ham and eggs, as enjoyed in this perky little recipe. I make no apology for including two asparagus recipes in this book and feel that it is one of those lovely ingredients that should be sprinkled liberally over the best spring menus.
Serves 4 as a starter
1 hock or knuckle of ham (or 2, if you would like to make some ham sandwiches the next day), rinsed
1 leek, washed and chopped
1 onion, peeled and chopped
1