Forever Summer (22 page)

Authors: Nigella Lawson

1 lemon to serve

Pre-heat the oven to 180°C/gas mark 4.

Mix the ricotta with the beaten egg whites and add most of the chopped thyme, the lemon zest and salt and pepper.

Brush a 20cm Springform tin with oil, and pour in the ricotta mixture then drizzle with olive oil and scatter a little more chopped thyme over the top. Don’t be alarmed at how shallow this is; it is not intended to be other than a slim disc.

Place on a baking sheet and cook in the oven for about 30 minutes. The baked ricotta will rise a little and set dry on top, but will not turn a golden colour like a cake.

Let the tin cool a little before springing open, and removing to a plate. Leave to cool a little longer, then cut into wedges and eat, still warm, with the radicchio.

Talking of which, you should get on with this just before serving, which really means preheating the grill while the ricotta-cake is cooling. Mix the olive oil and thyme in a shallow bowl, and then wipe the radicchio slices in the herby oil before grilling them for a few minutes, turning them as necessary, until slightly wilted and golden at the edges.

Add a squeeze of lemon at the end before serving with the baked ricotta.

Serves 4–6.

CORSICAN OMELETTE

Bear with me – as telephonists like to say – while I gush for a bit. This has to be the world’s best omelette. I call it Corsican not because it stems from any in-depth research into, or indeed intimate knowledge of, the food of Corsica but because it is the adaptation, from memory, of the best thing I ate there on a holiday now nearly 17 years ago. Also, to be fair, the key ingredient is itself Corsican,
brocciu
, a soft goat’s whey cheese that’s left to drain and shape in woven baskets; think ricotta with an edge. You sometimes come across this omelette in a sweetened version, with sugar sprinkled along with the mint (a herb that the Corsicans use much more in their cooking than the French) but I like it sharp and savoury. I’m not pretending that you can get brocciu here, but that hasn’t ever stopped me making it: I just use that goat’s cheese – chèvre – that comes in a log and which is incredibly easy to come by. Cut away the soft-kid skin and crumble the white sharp cheese into the eggs in the pan: the salty sharpness contrasts exquisitely with the rich fattiness of the eggs; against which, too, the fresh hit of mint is positively exhilarating, though to tell the truth, I make this just as often (just because it’s easier to keep both chèvre and eggs in the fridge on constant standby) without it.

Think of this more as a lunch or supper dish, although I wouldn’t turn it down at any time of day.

3 eggs

salt and pepper

15g butter

leaves from 3–4 good-sized sprigs fresh mint, shredded

approx. 100g thick slice of a chèvre log

Beat the eggs and season with salt and pepper. Melt the butter in a frying pan approximately 25cm in diameter.

When the butter has melted and is bubbling, throw in most of the shredded mint, saving some for sprinkling on top at the end. When it has sizzled in the butter and become vibrantly green, pour in the beaten eggs and tip the egg around the pan. Crumble the cheese over the omelette and cook, lifting the sides and swilling the pan around to let any runny egg cook in the heat underneath.

When the top of the omelette looks nearly set but still gooey, fold into three lengthways – in other words, fold in two sides, leaving a strip of white-blobbed omelette facing up in a strip in the middle – and slide on to a plate. Sprinkle with the reserved mint and eat.

Serves 1.

POTATO AND PEA FRITTATA

A frittata is an Italian omelette: thick, unfolded and cooked on one side in a pan on the hob, then, to make sure the whole’s cooked through, placed still in its pan under the grill for a few minutes. At least I find this the easiest way: I am not sanguine about flipping the thing over unless I make mini ones (as I often do) in my blini pan. But actually, none of this is hard. And you may find it difficult to believe me, but it actually tastes at its best cold. Not fridge cold, just completely cool. Of course you can use anything to go in: I just love the sweet meatiness of the oniony peas and potatoes. And of course, in this respect, fresh peas would be best, or at least more authentically summery, but I’d be a vile and lying monster if I didn’t confess that I make this myself with frozen…

100g new potatoes, diced

75g frozen peas, thawed, or 150g fresh peas, podded

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 medium onion, finely diced

8 large eggs

salt and pepper

4 tablespoons freshly grated parmesan

Bring the diced potatoes to the boil in salted water and boil briskly for 5 minutes, then drain. Put the peas into a bowl, pour over some boiling water from the kettle and leave them until you’re ready to add them to the frittata, later. If you have more energy than me and are using fresh peas, then cook them along with the potatoes.

Turn on the grill – you want it to be good and hot later – and heat the oil in a heavy-based or non-stick frying pan of about 25cm diameter, and fry the onion until it begins to soften, then add the potatoes and cook for about 10 minutes or until the mixture’s cooked, but don’t let it burn or turn too brown. You want to emphasise its sweet softness, with nothing crisp about it.

Add the drained peas for the last couple of minutes of cooking, then transfer this mixture to a large bowl and let cool slightly.

Break the eggs into the bowl, and beat to mix. Season with salt and pepper and add the parmesan.

Put your frying pan back on to the heat; it should still be nice and oily. Then pour the egg mixture into the frying pan and cook over a medium heat for about 8 minutes, or until the frittata is set more or less, save for a still-gooey top.

When you think you’ve got to this stage – remembering that the frittata will continue cooking as it cools, and moreover you want an element of oozy interior – take the pan off the hob and put it under the grill until the top’s golden and just set and beginning to puff up slightly. Ease around the edges of the pan with a knife or spatula to loosen the frittata but don’t dig at it too much or the frittata will not keep its crisp borders and smooth shape. Place a large flat plate on top of the pan, then up-end them both, so the plate’s underneath and the pan’s on top. Remove pan and – hey presto – you’ve got a beautiful, golden flecked omelette staring up at you. Leave to cool (or eat warm if you prefer). Cut into wedges to serve.

Makes about 6 wedges.

GARLIC BREAD

You won’t find me turning my nose up at even the most unreconstructed, baguette-bound garlic bread, but I happen to be particularly besotted with this version, made cross-culturally, with small, puffy-tummied, spindle-tipped Indian breads to form almost gondola-shaped individual loaves for greedy people.

The stipulation of unsalted butter followed by the addition of salt is not as mad as it seems: unsalted butter just has a better taste; and nothing gives a more desirable saltiness than Maldon (and no, I am not on the payroll).

175g unsalted butter

4 cloves garlic, minced, preferably by microplane

sprinkling of Maldon salt

2 Barbari nans

Mix the butter and garlic with some salt – you can do this in the processor if that helps – and slash the Barbari nans at angles; about 4 cuts per little loaf should be about right. Spread the butter generously into the cuts you have made, then wrap the nans in foil and put them on a baking sheet.

When you are ready – and you can sit them thus prepared for hours if you want – pre-heat the oven to 200°C/gas mark 6, and cook the foil-wrapped breads for about 15 minutes, then open the foil loosely and let the breads crisp up a bit on the top for about 5 minutes before you take them out of the oven.

Give each person their own, semi-unwrapped loaf, still in its foil. Children, who seem to love both garlic bread and individually portioned food (sharing not being a strong point with them) tend to be mad about these – or mine are (at time of going to press at least).

Serves 2.