The Modern Cook’s Year. Anna Jones

while usually edible, is never repeated. But I know that the kitchen can be a transformative place, and that goes for anyone – you don’t need to consider yourself a cook.

      When I centre myself and take in every little nuance of what’s going on, cooking becomes my solace, my meditation. Whether it’s the pleasing glide of my favourite potato peeler, taking in the intoxicating perfume of a bunch of mint or basil, or the searing splattering of juice that sprays up when I cut into a lemon, noticing these moments connects me with my food and reminds me of the wonder of where it has come from. Cooking is an offering: to me, to my body and to those I love – the people I cook for. And it is healing, not just through the nourishment it provides but in the very act and process of doing something physical and practical. It calms my mind and allows me to focus on just one thing.

      A big part of this grounding, nourishing practice has been lost in cooking. Sure, we all know that making a loaf of bread, or jarring up some jam from heavy-laden fruit trees will give us a deep sense of satisfaction. But I think that our everyday cooking can be as much an act of meditation, escape and dare I say it, mindfulness. This may be nothing new, and it is by no means groundbreaking information but if, like me, you tend to get caught up in the day-to-day of life let this be my encouragement to you to remember that even the simplest of tasks in the kitchen can be something to embrace and delight in.

      I truly believe that when we cook the emotions, thoughts and feelings of the cook get translated into the food. That may sound a little far out, but having cooked thousands of dishes, I know that when I’m paying close attention to what I am doing, giving each task and ingredient the reverence it deserves, the food tastes infinitely better. Equally sometimes I throw everything in a pan with a million other things going on as that’s all I can manage, and when I do I don’t give myself a hard time.

      For me, focusing on how I cook means turning off other things like TV or music, following each task with dedication, taking as much care as I have time to do. To appreciate and even, if I don’t sound like too much of a hippy, marvel at my ingredients, our natural treasures. Make sure you take time to smell, taste and immerse yourself in the amazing process of cooking, and then finish it by putting the food on each plate with care if you can. When I cook like this I find it soothing, rewarding and everything I cook tastes better.

      Our state of mind as we eat has a huge effect on how we digest our food and how we take in the nutrients and energy from it. Stress and anxiety around food and eating is something I try to avoid in my recipes and in my kitchen. I truly believe that a pizza and a beer enjoyed in good spirits, slowly and calmly with friends, can be as nourishing as endless green smoothies, which are inhaled on the run or sipped while reading emails at our desks with no real thought about the true meaning of nourishment. We’ve lost the connection with how we eat our food, the emotions going on around eating and the sense of offering that comes with feeding ourselves. I don’t manage it every time I eat but a couple of seconds to slow down and be thankful for the food on my plate before diving in seems to set a good tone for the meal and often allows me to appreciate the flavours, textures and sensations a little more.

      A few observations on cooking and eating mindfully and with grace

      — Turn off music, radio and phones, if you can, so that you can focus on all the sensations of cooking.

      — Try to notice the little things – the colour change in the skin of a peach, the tiny pores on the skin of an orange, the condensation on the lid of a pan.

      — Notice the sounds – the sizzle of frying, the bubbling of a pot. These tell you as much about what you are cooking and where you are in the process as anything you can see.

      — Follow the process with all your senses, smell the changes as ingredients are added, feel how a mixture firms up as you stir it, notice the change in colour as you fry or blanch. And notice how you feel, whether ingredients or smells bring up memories or emotions.

      — Try and keep your attention totally focused on your food and if your mind wanders, don’t worry, just bring it back to the food.

      — Tune in to even the most mundane parts of the job – peeling carrots, picking herbs – immersing yourself totally in the detail of each task will allow you to switch off from other pressures.

      Broken eggs with cavolo nero, ricotta and chickpeas

      Broken eggs are somewhere between scrambled and poached eggs. They cook gently in the pan with a couple of turns of the spoon, then finish their cooking at the table. A heavy or cast-iron frying pan is great here, as it holds on to the heat better.

      I first ate eggs like this at Raw Duck, a favourite breakfast spot near where I live. Cooking eggs this way means the last bit of cooking is controlled at the table, which means no overcooked, rubbery eggs, and that you can spoon them out when they are cooked just as you like, leaving some in the pan for people who like their eggs less runny.

      You can use kale or any greens you have, and any other beans would work in place of the chickpeas – if they are home-cooked so much the better. A scattering of toasted almonds or hazelnuts or even dukkah would be welcome here too.

      SERVES 4

      1 head of cavolo nero (about 300g)

      olive oil

      1 x 400g tin of chickpeas, drained (or about 250g home-cooked – see here)

      1 clove of garlic, thinly sliced

      1 red chilli, finely chopped

      the juice of 1 unwaxed lemon and the zest from half

      a good grating of nutmeg

      6 medium organic eggs

      4 rounds of toast or toasted flatbreads, to serve

      100g ricotta or thick Greek yoghurt

      Strip the leaves from the cavolo nero, shredding any larger ones. Finely chop the stalks, discarding any really thick sinewy ones.

      Heat a heavy, ideally cast-iron, medium frying pan (about 28cm) on a medium heat. Add a little olive oil, then the chickpeas, cook for a couple of minutes to crisp a little, then add the chopped cavolo nero stalks, garlic and chilli. Cook for another few minutes until the stalks are tender and the garlic has started to brown, then add the leaves. Add the lemon juice, zest, a good pinch of salt and pepper and the nutmeg, then cook for 4–5 minutes until the cavolo nero leaves have softened.

      Next break each egg into a bowl and get your flatbreads or toast ready. Spoon the ricotta into the pan, dotting it around, then pour the eggs one by one gently on top of the cavolo nero mixture. Keep the pan on the heat and gently stir the eggs a couple of times, just to break them a little. You want the whites and yolks to stay separate, not to mix them together as you would with scrambled eggs. Quickly take the pan off the heat and carry it to the table along with a wooden spoon; the residual heat of the pan will continue to cook the eggs. Use the wooden spoon and continue to stir until the eggs are set to your liking, I like mine to be soft and curdy. Serve right away with charred flatbreads or hot toast.

      Twice-baked potato skins with crispy buffalo chickpeas

      These double-baked potato skins bring back childhood memories of American diners but, rather than the inch-deep cheese, these are piled high with spicy baked chickpeas, which pick up a pleasing crunch in the oven, and a grown-up ‘sour cream’ dip. I make the dip using cashews, which I blitz to a cream, but you can use yoghurt instead of the cashews if you’d prefer. I serve these with a salad for dinner but they would be great as a party snack if you used smaller potatoes. Kids love them if you go easy on the spice.

      SERVES 4

      4 medium baking potatoes

      olive oil

      1 red onion, finely chopped

      1 stick of celery, finely chopped (reserving the inner leaves)

      1 teaspoon smoked sweet paprika

      1 teaspoon cumin seeds

      1 clove of garlic, finely chopped

      2 x 400g tins of chickpeas or