Rose Prince - The New English Kitchen - Changing the Way You Shop, Cook and Eat

Serves 2

8 heaped tablespoons of cooked lentils (see here)

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 teaspoon red wine vinegar

3 sprigs of coriander, chopped

4 semi-soft-boiled eggs (see here), peeled and halved lengthways

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Put the lentils in a bowl and add the oil, vinegar and three-quarters of the coriander. Season with salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Spoon on to a flat dish and arrange the eggs on top. Scatter the remaining coriander leaves over them.

You can use a few pinches of a good curry powder to devil up the eggs a bit.

Scoop this rich, green stew up with strips of hot flat bread – either bought naans or bread made using the recipe on here 22.

Serves 4

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

1 white onion, chopped

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground coriander

1 teaspoon turmeric

1/ 2teaspoon cayenne pepper

12 heaped tablespoons of cooked lentils (see here)

150ml/ 1/ 4pint water or stock

150g/5oz unsalted butter, melted

480g/1lb frozen spinach leaves, defrosted, the water squeezed out

salt

Heat the oil in a saucepan, add the onion and fry over a low heat until it turns the colour of fudge. Add the spices and heat through, then add the lentils and cook for 1 minute, stirring slowly. Add the water or stock and bring to the boil. Simmer for 5 minutes, then remove from the heat and season with salt.

Melt the butter in a large frying pan. When it foams, add the spinach and cook for 1 minute, until it wilts. Pour the spinach on top of the lentils, with the butter, and take it to the table without stirring.

A meal in itself – soft hulled red lentils, citrus, lots of spice as for dal and lumps of fresh, lemony ewe’s milk cheese – feta is best – added at the end. Serve in big bowls and abandon forks, giving everyone a big spoon instead. It can also be stored in the fridge for a few days and successfully reheated.

Serves 4–6

240g/8oz red lentils

1 onion, chopped

a pinch of ground turmeric

3 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 garlic cloves, chopped

2 hot green chillies, chopped

2cm/ 3/ 4inch piece of fresh ginger, peeled and finely chopped

juice of 1 lime

2 kaffir lime leaves, slightly torn

240g/8oz feta cheese, broken into lumps

Put the lentils in a pan with the onion and turmeric, cover with water (or stock) and bring to the boil. Simmer for 45 minutes, then strain.

Heat the oil in a large frying pan, add the garlic, chillies and ginger and cook over a medium heat until singed light brown, but not burnt. Stir in the lentils, lime juice and lime leaves, then bring to the boil and add the cheese. Take to the table when very hot – the cheese will soften as it heats through.

Beans are the pasta of Spain and the Latin American countries where they come from, but they do not share pasta’s convenience-food factor – unless bought in cans. Dried beans bought in the UK take a seeming age to cook and there is a reason for this. In countries where beans are really valued, they tend to be fresher even when dried, since they are taken from the new-season crops. Ageing beans, dry as can be and probably years old, are sent to those who care less about them – to, er, places like Britain, where everyone happily consumes chicken breasts and tiger prawns for their protein fix. So we get the old beans – the ones that take ages to cook. No wonder everyone prefers pasta. Chick peas are the worst – I once waited seven hours for a pan to produce a batch soft enough to eat. The energy cost must have run to the price of a rib of beef. You can buy better beans (there are specialist varieties in Spanish groceries), and patience – or a pressure cooker – will deliver nice tender beans eventually. It’s not that you have to do anything while they go through their eternal simmer, just that you have to be around – and most people would prefer to be doing something else.

It’s because of this that I am a fan of canned beans. I buy my haricots, cannellini, flageolet and black-eyed beans in cans. They still go a long way – averaging 30 pence per helping – and are perfectly cooked and ready to use. They keep for ever and, apart from being damned heavy to carry back from the shop, are a practically perfect food.

Not the oriental sprouts but mung bean sprouts, left on damp paper. This is a lovely, crunchy little sprout that gives its liveliness to open sandwiches made with cold meat and mustard. Children can be put in charge of production – the biology lesson alone is healthy stuff.

Use an old wooden or plastic seed tray with drainage holes and put it on something leak proof. Cover with four layers of kitchen roll and dampen with water. Scatter mung beans on top and leave to germinate, moistening the paper again if necessary. When the sprouts are about 2cm/ 3/ 4inch high, after about four days, they are ready to eat.

You can do the same with herb seeds, and slavishly follow the current fashion for pointless but fun infantile plantlings. Frankly, bigger leaves have far more oomph. But there’s no harm in them, and buying big packs of coriander seeds will produce coriander babies in a matter of days, to chuck on to green salads, open sandwiches and shut ones.

To eat with cold meat, such as ham, pork, chicken or beef.

Serves 4

6 shallots, sliced

6 tablespoons olive oil

2 cans of butter beans, drained

the leaves from 2 bunches of watercress (the stalks can be

reserved for soup)

sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

In a saucepan, stew the shallots in the oil for about 2 minutes to remove their raw aroma. Add the beans, remove from the heat and leave to steep in the shallot-flavoured oil until cold. Season to taste and add the watercress, stirring the salad well.

This salad will keep in the fridge for a week – the watercress will wilt but it will still taste lovely. Again, this goes against standard food-safety advice but I check it, smell it, and look for any bubbles or bad signs.

Add canned tuna to this recipe (see here).

Another one-pot standard to keep in the fridge for busy weeks when you don’t want to cook. The yoghurt sauce will brighten it, and it’s good alone or as a side-of-the-plate number.

Serves 6–8

3 teaspoons ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

1/ 2teaspoon salt

4 tablespoons vegetable oil

2 onions, sliced

2 red peppers, cut into strips

2 cans of chick peas, drained

20 cherry tomatoes, or 6 small tomatoes, halved

2 sprigs of thyme

600ml/1 pint chicken, vegetable or beef stock

1 tablespoon butter

For the yoghurt sauce:

8 tablespoons plain yoghurt

1 tablespoon olive oil

a pinch of salt

1 teaspoon black onion seeds (nigella)

Preheat the oven to 200°C/400°F/Gas Mark 6. Mix the spices, pepper and salt together in a small bowl – you will need them as you layer the dish.

Heat the oil in a large casserole and add the onions and red peppers. Cook them over a medium heat until they soften, then add a layer of sliced potatoes and season with the spice mixture. Add a layer of chick peas with half the tomatoes and a sprig of thyme, then season again. Repeat the layering process, finishing with a layer of potatoes and using all the spice mixture. Pour over the stock, dot the surface with the butter and bake for 1 hour, or until the potatoes are tender. Leave for half an hour before you eat, to let the flavours merge.