Rosie Lovell - Spooning with Rosie

Chop the balsamic onions (or pancetta) and scatter over the potatoes. Season with lots of pepper and salt, and then pour in the egg mix. This should be just enough to bind the tortilla, which is much lighter on the egg front than an omelette. Continue to cook on a very low heat until it begins to come away from the edge of the pan. Using a flat plate, turn out the tortilla so that it can then be returned to the pan to brown the top side. This will take 5 minutes, much less time than the first side. When you are happy with the golden colour, remove from the pan, and slice like a cake.

1 red pepper

4 garlic cloves

2 chillies

lots of olive oil

1 teaspoon smoked paprika

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon caraway seeds

3 tubes of squid

1 teaspoon golden caster sugar

juice of 1 lemon

1/ 2bunch of fresh parsley

For the squid dish, deseed the pepper and cut into hunks. Whiz them up with the peeled garlic and the chillies to make a purée, using a hand-held blender or Magimix. Warm some olive oil in a pan and fry the paprika, cumin and caraway seeds. This is the best way to release the aromas of spices. After a few minutes’ frying, add the pepper purée. Cook at a very low heat for about half an hour, or until the juices are a little reduced. If it begins to dry out, add a tablespoon of water at a time to loosen and continue breaking down the flavours. During this time, rinse the squid under a cold running tap and chop into rings 1cm wide (you may need to remove the cartilage, which lies inside the white squid sac. See Feasting Fiestas, page 121). Add this to the pan at the last minute, along with the sugar, lemon juice and parsley, which should be roughly chopped. It will need a minute or two to combine all the flavours and cook the squid, which will go from milky clear to white, but not rubbery please. You may need to add another teaspoon of sugar to balance the flavours, so taste to check.

6 garlic cloves

1 fresh chilli

a big knob of butter

12 large king prawns

1 glass of white wine or rosé

To cook the prawns, heat the butter in a pan, peel and finely chop the garlic and chilli and throw them into the pan. Allow them to fry long enough to smell but not turn brown; a few minutes. Add the prawns and then the wine, so that they have just enough time to turn from translucent to pinky-white, and the alcohol from the wine has had time to evaporate. You will need to turn over the large prawns so that each side gets well cooked. It will take 3 to 5 minutes. Then take off the heat. Roll up your sleeves, and enjoy the mess.

For 2

This salad will always remind me of a summer date, in the early throes of romance. We’d been to a private view at my friend Piero’s gallery, and when we finally hailed a taxi back to Brixton it was much later than expected. Luckily for my date, I’d thought ahead: the fresh, crunchy flavours of the Vietnamese salad had been marinating all afternoon, and so we were at the table in minutes, devouring this awesome Asian feast.

I mix and match the salad ingredients according to my mood: sometimes heavy on the carrots, sometimes lighter on the coriander. With noodles. With poached chicken pieces. It’s an endlessly evolving prototype, so feel free to experiment. Whatever you decide on, this dish is full of colour and texture and abundance and is really impressive.

I cannot stress enough how much I love my mandolin slicer. It makes everything that comes under its knife look seriously svelte. And where a grater releases a lot of the juices, a mandolin is sharp enough to leave the vegetables unbruised. There are few things that are imperative in a kitchen, but I would say that the mandolin is one. So…

4 medium carrots

1 red pepper

1 yellow pepper

3 spring onions

3 tablespoons slightly salted peanuts

a big handful of fresh coriander

a big handful of fresh mint

juice of 1 lime

2 teaspoons fish sauce

2 tablespoons peanut oil

2 1/ 2tablespoons rice vinegar

1 dessertspoon soy sauce

1 teaspoon sugar

With a mandolin slicer on the fine setting, slice the peeled carrots over a nice big salad bowl. Slice the peppers and spring onions lengthways into matching shards. If you have a Magimix, pulse the peanuts to crumbs, but not dust. I usually put them into a plastic bag and attack them with a rolling pin, which can look a little crazed if someone unexpected finds their way into the kitchen. Finely chop the herbs and then mix everything together in the bowl with your hands. Finally mix up the remaining ingredients with a fork and pour over your salad.

2 fillet steaks, weighing about 180g each

5 tablespoons soy sauce

freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon soya paste (which can be bought at Korean and Japanese supermarkets: see My Favourite Places to Eat, Drink & Shop, page 338)

2 tablespoons peanut oil

Now for the steak: first, don’t hold back on the price, especially if you like it rare, because if it is not good quality it will be tough. Although I don’t advocate big spending, it really is worth it here. Marinate the steaks in 3 tablespoons of the soy sauce and lots of black pepper for an hour at the least. Meanwhile, thoroughly mix the remaining soy sauce with the soya paste. This will be the accompanying dipping sauce for rare steaks.

In a heavy-bottomed pan, heat the oil so that it is piping hot. Add the steaks and turn down to a medium heat. Fry them for just long enough so that they are sealed and browning in parts, which will be about 4 minutes on the first side. Flip and do the same on the other side, adding any leftover soy sauce to the pan. For rare steak, when you press it, it should feel like the flesh between your thumb and index finger, when spanned and relaxed. Remove quickly from the pan, and serve up with the salad as a vibrant feast.

For 2

The fattiness of a duck breast is amazing, and anyone who removes it is insane. The best duck I have ever eaten was with Pat, in the heart of the Gers. We were staying at his parents’ beautiful home, in the shadow of the Pyrenees. They fried it on their open fire and we all huddled around to ward off the January frosts. It was a rare and wonderful moment. The skin of the bird became sweet and crisp, but the flesh was still rare and tender. Sheer indulgence, and possibly the best way to eat this game.

In this recipe, the aim is to have really crisp skin on top and tender, rare flesh underneath. When you carve the breasts, a fair amount of juice will run out. Catch this, and pour over the champ after plating it all up. This meal is great for real meat lovers, with wonderfully conventional tastes. I tested the recipe out on the lovely Miranda and Mr Smiley, and even converted him to the merits of fruit with meat, so was very satisfied indeed. The fruit against the tangy champ is yet another great dynamic on the plate. Serve with a little broccoli or wilted spinach leaves or green beans.

500g King Edward potatoes, or any other British floury variety

6 spring onions

50g butter

100ml double cream

freshly ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

Peel the potatoes and cut them into quarters. Place in a large saucepan of water and bring to the boil. Put a lid on top, and simmer on a medium heat until they slip off a sharp knife (up to half an hour). In the meantime, finely chop the spring onions, using as much of the green parts as you can. Drain the potatoes and return them to the pan. Add the butter and the cream. Mash thoroughly, until creamy and smooth, then season with pepper and salt. Champ is much more velvety than its English brother mash, so really put some elbow grease into it. You could even use a hand-held whisk. Finally, add the spring onions.