The Kitchen Diaries - Nigel Slater

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of greens.

      floury potatoes – 500g

      butter – a thick slice

      kipper fillets – 440g

      dill – a small handful, chopped

      flour for dusting

      shallow groundnut oil for frying

      For the sauce:

      chopped dill – 2 heaped tablespoons

      a crushed clove of garlic

      mayonnaise – 6 heaped tablespoons

      Peel the potatoes, cut them into quarters, then boil them in salted water till tender. Drain the potatoes, tip them into a food mixer and beat with the butter to make a smooth but firm consistency.

      Put the kipper fillets in a jug or heatproof bowl and pour a kettle of boiling water over them. Leave them for ten minutes, till they have softened, then drain and flake the flesh. I tend to leave it in short pieces the size of a postage stamp rather than finely mashed.

      Fold the fish into the warm potato, together with the chopped dill and a generous seasoning of salt and black pepper. Leave the mixture to cool a little, then shape it into rough patties. I make twelve of them the size of large golf balls, then flatten them slightly. Leave them to cool and firm up.

      Dust the patties lightly with flour, then fry in shallow hot oil for five minutes or so.

      To make the sauce, simply mix the chopped dill with the crushed garlic and mayo.

      Enough for 4

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      February 13

      The cold and the wet have resulted in a week of ‘proper’ food; stuff to fill hollow tummies and make your ears glow with warmth. No dinky bowls of clear soup and noodles or plates of greens with shaved Parmesan and olive oil on the table this week. Rarely has our eating been so unapologetically old-fashioned. Today is no exception, and I fancy a chop, a big one with a margin of golden fat and a bone on which to gnaw. Twice this week I have used cream in the main course – a rare occurrence, but I need an iota of luxury right now to make me feel better about this endlessly grey month.

      pork spare rib or chump chops – 2 large, about 1cm thick

      butter – 25g

      olive oil – 1 tablespoon

      garlic – 2 large unpeeled cloves, squashed flat

      a glass of white wine

      double or whipping cream – 150ml

      grain mustard – 1½ tablespoons

      smooth Dijon mustard – 1½ tablespoons

      cornichons – 8, or half as many larger gherkins

      Rub the chops all over with salt and pepper. Put the butter and oil in a shallow pan set over a moderate to high heat and, when they start to froth a little, add the flattened garlic and the seasoned chops. Leave to brown, then turn and brown the other side. Lower the heat and continue cooking, turning once, until the chops are no longer pink when cut into.

      Lift out the chops, transfer to a warm serving dish and keep warm. Pour off most of the oil from the pan, leaving the sediment behind, then turn up the heat and pour in the wine. Let it boil for a minute or so, scraping at the sticky sediment in the pan and letting it dissolve. Pour in the cream, swirl the pan about a bit, then leave it to bubble up a little before adding the mustards and the chopped cornichons.

      Taste for seasoning; you may need a little salt and possibly black pepper. The sauce should be piquant and creamy. If you want, you can finish the sauce with a few drops of liquor from the cornichon jar to sharpen it up. Pour the sauce over the chops and serve.

      Enough for 2 with mashed or unbuttered new potatoes

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      February 14

      St Valentine’s

      Day

      I won’t eat out on Valentine’s Day, every restaurant filled with couples talking in whispers, the usual buzz and clatter reduced to a muffled sigh. Home is the place to be. More than that, there is something about cooking a special meal for someone you love that seems to mean more than simply sliding your credit card to a waiter.

      I can find no reason not to go over the top on this night of the year: candles, Champagne, a chocolate pudding. St Valentine’s is rather like Christmas, in that if you ignore it you always end up regretting it, feeling mean and cynical. Yes, it is more than a bit cheesy, but I think we have to go with it.

      small clams in their shells – 500g

      a glass of white wine or vermouth

      linguine or spaghettini – 300g

      garlic – 2 cloves

      olive oil – 3 tablespoons

      crushed dried chilli – a good pinch

      flat-leaf parsley – a small bunch

      Scrub the clams, throwing away any that are chipped or wide open. Leave them to soak in cold water for half an hour or so. This will clear some of their inherent grit.

      Put a large pan of water on to boil. Drain the clams and tip them into a medium-sized pan set over a moderate heat. Pour in the white wine or vermouth and cover them tightly with a lid. After two minutes, no longer, lift the lid and check their progress. If most of the shells are open, turn off the heat. If not, give them a minute or so longer.

      Generously salt the boiling water and lower in the pasta. Lift the clams from their liquor and pick out each morsel of clam flesh. Discard the shells, but not the cooking liquor.

      Peel the garlic and slice it thinly, then let it soften in a tablespoon or so of the olive oil over a low heat. It must not colour. Stir in the dried chilli, then roughly chop the parsley leaves and add them. Let them cook briefly, then strain in the cooking liquor from the clams and let it bubble down for a minute.

      Test the pasta for doneness; you want it to be tender but on the tacky side. About nine minutes should do it. Drain the pasta, tip it in with the clam liquor, then stir in the shelled clam meat. Grind over a little black pepper and pour in the remaining olive oil, then toss gently and serve in warm, shallow bowls.

      Enough for 2, with seconds

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      It is strange that, despite having a long and passionate love affair with the stuff, I so rarely cook with chocolate. I attempt to redress the balance with these little chocolate puddings – fluffy outside and molten within, a cross between a soufflé and a sponge pudding. I make them with the best chocolate I can get my hands on. Usually Valrhona’s Manjari or something from the Chocolate Society. The hazelnut spread, such as Nutella or Green & Black’s, sounds an odd addition, an intrusion perhaps, but in fact lends a lingering, nutty depth. If you feel the need to offer cream (and well you might), make it a jug of pouring cream. This recipe is too fiddly to do for two, so I make enough for four and eat the extra two cold the next day, with a drizzle of cream.

      dark, fine-quality chocolate – 200g

      caster sugar – 100g

      eggs – 3

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