Sophie Dahl - From Season to Season - A Year in Recipes

During the summer I was in Los Angeles, far, far away from the thought of rain, tights or cosy autumnal food. I stayed at my aunt’s house, which was filled with kids home from college for the summer and her menagerie of animals, including a bowl of violently coloured jellyfish and Frances Bacon, her pot-bellied pig. Frances is of variable temper, enormous and partially blind, she hates babies and cats in no particular order. She is very fond of strawberries, bed and sitting on the dogs, who live in mortal fear of her. We have always got on reasonably well. This all changed when my aunt went away for a week. Although I did all the things Frances likes – scratching her ears, rubbing sunscreen on her broad scaly back, feeding her banana skins and tucking her in at night – I think she connected my arrival with my aunt’s disappearance and decided, like an errant stepchild, to make my life complicated. She crept stealthily into the larder (my favourite place) and trapped me there daily, blocking my exit with her two hundred pound bulk, trying to bite me if I attempted to get past her. We engaged in a ridiculous game that involved me holding a spoonful of strawberries aloft, and dancing from the kitchen into the garden like a pig Pied Piper, depositing the fruit into her open milky mouth, and running as fast as I could to lock the door behind me to the sound of porcine fury. In defeated distress, I called my aunt’s assistant Sharon and explained the situation.

‘Here’s the thing,’ she said, in dulcet Zen tones. I took a deep breath and wondered what Doctor Dolittle trick she was going to impart, ‘It’s very simple. Frances doesn’t like change.’

In the spirit of change, I give you the following. It’s for leaf-sodden days and misty mornings.

Autumn Breakfasts

Tapioca with stewed apples and apricots

Tapioca, like semolina, is one of those things that a school kitchen could have turned you off for life. I couldn’t eat it for years, having been force-fed it at primary school aged six, with tinned jam, as it oozed like frogspawn out of the bowl, and I wept and retched. For years I had the same malicious feeling towards beetroot and mashed potatoes, which were instant and came in lumpy granules. My teacher and I had a silent war every lunch time; a war that eventually came to an end after my parents removed me from the school. Made to your own wont, in your own kitchen, tapioca is ambrosial, and worth being a grown-up for, as is semolina. This could also be a pudding not a breakfast, just don’t serve it with dog food-like tinned jam. Try a lovely home-made compote instead.

SERVES 4

70g/½ cup of tapioca (soaked overnight in plenty of water)

350ml/1⅓ cups of milk

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

A knob of butter

2 tablespoons of runny honey or agave syrup or brown sugar

For the apple and apricots

12 dried apricots (like the tapioca, soaked overnight, but in about 250ml/1 cup of orange juice)

250ml/1 cup or so of water

1 cinnamon stick

A few tablespoons of orange juice

1 tablespoon of agave syrup or honey

2 eating apples, peeled, cored and sliced

Having soaked the tapioca overnight, drain and place it in a saucepan with the milk, vanilla extract and a knob of butter. Bring to the boil, turn to low and simmer, stirring in the honey, agave or sugar, for another 10 minutes.

Cut your overnight magically plumped apricots into halves or quarters if desired. In another saucepan, place the water, cinnamon, orange juice, agave or honey and apple and bring to the boil, giving it a good stir now and then. Simmer for about 10 to 15 minutes or until the apple is tender.

Now, here you can do one of two things. Serve the stewed fruit as is on top of the tapioca or put the tapioca in a small ovenproof dish with another knob of butter, pour the apple and apricot on top and bake at 180°C/160°C fan/Gas 4 for 15 or so minutes. The choice, Cilla, is yours.

Argan oil, almond and honey smoothie

Argan oil comes from the Argan tree, a Moroccan tree with magical properties. The oil is now easy to obtain through mail order or online, or if you live in a city, at your local health food shop. I get mine from Wild Wood Groves, www.wildwoodgroves.com. If you can’t access it, use a cold-pressed oil instead, something like an almond oil. I eat Argan, put it on my face and in my bath. It’s also great for babies with eczema. Frozen bananas are perfect for adding to smoothies, so have some in stock. Chop up the banana and put it in the freezer in a Ziploc bag or Tupperware.

SERVES 1

½ a frozen banana

8 or so blanched almonds

1 glass of soy milk

1 teaspoon of Argan oil

1 tablespoon of runny honey

Put your banana, almonds, soy and Argan in the blender with your honey. Blend until smooth and drink and be joyful.

Crab cakes with poached eggs and spinach

Perhaps the thing I miss most about living in the US is the ubiquity of brunch, or the ready availability of breakfast foods in a restaurant, long after breakfast is normally finished. Crab cakes are such a thing, perfectly so with eggs on top. If the mountain can’t come to Mohammed…

SERVES 2

For the crab cakes

450g/1lb of cooked crab meat – white and brown

1 tablespoon of home-made or good mayonnaise

1 teaspoon of mustard

A few drops of Tabasco sauce

A small handful of fresh mixed herbs – dill, chervil and parsley

Salt and pepper

1 egg

2 tablespoons of olive oil

A handful of spinach

A dash of vinegar

Salt

2 eggs

Get the crab cake mixture ready, by mixing all the ingredients, bar the egg and olive oil, and forming into little cakes. Beat the egg and brush the crab cakes with it, then heat the olive oil in a non-stick pan. Throw on the crab cakes and cook them for a few minutes on each side until golden. You can also wilt the spinach in the same pan for a few minutes. Plate, with the spinach around the crab cakes.

In another pan, boil some water with a dash of vinegar and some salt. When it is simmering away, carefully add your eggs and poach for 3 minutes. Drain and put the eggs on top of the crab cakes. Eat immediately.

Spelt French toast with smashed blueberries and blackberries

Another very happy childhood food memory. French toast is as comforting as a feather-filled bed.

SERVES 4

A day-old spelt loaf

4 eggs, plus 1 egg yolk

125ml/½ cup of milk

1 teaspoon of vanilla extract

2 tablespoons of agave syrup or brown sugar

Pinch of salt

1 tablespoon of butter

For the smashed blueberries and blackberries

2 generous handfuls each of blackberries and blueberries

1 tablespoon of water

3 tablespoons of agave syrup or honey

4 heaped tablespoons of Greek yoghurt

Put the berries in a saucepan with the water and agave or honey. Bring to the boil and simmer for a few minutes, or until they begin to split into a big jammy autumnal mess.

Slice the stale loaf into manageable toast-sized pieces. In a mixing bowl, beat together the eggs and egg yolk with the milk, vanilla, agave or sugar and the pinch of salt. When well incorporated, pour this mixture into a shallow baking dish. Start putting the bread in it, making sure it’s fully dunked. You need to let the bread sit in this eggy bath for at least 20 minutes, so it can really soak it up. If the bread needs help, prick it with a fork to help the egg mixture permeate.