Greenfeast. Nigel Slater

GARLIC, SPICES

       FETTUCINE, SAMPHIRE, LEMON

       FREEKEH, AVOCADO, CHIVES

       POTATOES, WILD GARLIC

       PEAS, PAPPARDELLE, PARMESAN

       NEW POTATOES, GARLIC, PEPPERS

       SUMMER SQUASH, TOMATOES, SPINACH

       TOMATOES, CHICKPEAS, CASHEWS

       TOMATOES, COURGETTES, PEAS

       TROFIE, PARSLEY, PECORINO

       Pudding

       PLUMS, CROISSANTS

       BLACKBERRY, APPLE, MARZIPAN

       BLACKCURRANT, YOGHURT

       CHERRY, SWEET PASTRY

       LEMON RICE, MANGO, ICE CREAM

       CUCUMBER, BASIL, CREAM CHEESE

       FIG, GOAT’S CHEESE, HONEY

       CURRANTS, GIN, BREAD

       MERINGUE, APRICOTS, BLACKCURRANTS

       PEACH, BLACKBERRIES, ICE CREAM

       PLUMS, BROWN SUGAR, HAZELNUTS

       SPONGE FINGERS, CHERRY, CUSTARD

       PLUMS, CLOVES, BAY

       RICOTTA, ORANGE BLOSSOM, CHERRIES

       STRAWBERRIES, PASSION FRUIT, BALSAMIC

       PEACHES, BISCUITS, MASCARPONE

       WATERMELON, PROSECCO

      Index

      Acknowledgements

      A note on the brushstrokes

      A note on the type

      About the Author

       Also by Nigel Slater

       About the Publisher

       INTRODUCTION

      There is a little black book on the kitchen table. Neatly annotated in places, virtually illegible in others, it is the latest in a long line of tissue-thin pages containing the hand-written details of everything I eat. This is not one of the kitchen chronicles where I write down recipe workings and shopping lists, ideas and wish lists, but a daily diary of everything that ends up on my plate. If I have yoghurt, blackcurrant compote and pumpkin seeds at breakfast it will be in that little book. Likewise, a lunch of green lentils and grilled red peppers or a dinner of roast cauliflower and a bowl of miso soup. Each bowl of soup, plate of pasta and every mushroom on toast is faithfully logged. I don’t know exactly why or when I started noting down my dinner, but these little books are now filled in out of habit as much as anything else. The notes are often made at night, just before I lock up and go to bed. I suspect my little black books will be buried with me.

      I occasionally look back at what I have written, often as I change one journal for the next. One of the points that interests me, and perhaps this is the main reason I have kept the daily ritual going for so long, is that I can follow how my eating has changed, albeit gradually, over the years. There are of course unshakable edibles, (I seem to have started and ended each day’s eating with a bowl of yoghurt for as long as I can remember), but I also find marked changes in what I cook and eat. The most notable is the quantity, I definitely eat less than I used to, and there is a conspicuous move towards lighter dishes, particularly in spring and summer.

      But here’s another thing. Despite being resolutely omnivorous, it is clear how much of my everyday eating has become plant-based. Although not strictly vegetarian (the bottom line for me will always be that my dinner is delicious, not something that must adhere to a set of strict dietary rules), much of my weekday eating contains neither meat nor fish. I am not sure this was a particularly considered choice. It is simply the way my eating has grown to be over the last few years. I do know, however, that I am not alone in this.

      Greenfeast, like Eat before it, is a collection of what I eat when I finish work every day: the casual yet spirited meals with which I sustain myself and whoever else is around. The recipes are, like those in previous collections, more for inspiration than rules to be adhered to, slavishly, word for word. But unlike Eat, this collection offers no meat or fish. The idea of collecting these recipes together is for those like-minded eaters who find themselves wanting inspiration for a supper that owes more to plants than animals.

      HOW I EAT

      I rarely hand someone a plate full of food. More hospitable and more fun, I think, is a table that has a selection of bowls and dishes of food to which people can help themselves. And by that, I mean dinner for two or three as much as those for a group of family or friends. That way, the table comes to life, food is offered or passed round, a dish is shared, the meal is instantly more joyful.

      In summer there will be a couple of light, easily-prepared principal dishes. Alongside those will be some sort of accompaniment. There may be wedges of toasted sourdough, glossy with olive oil and flakes of sea salt. Noodles that I have cooked, often by simply pouring boiling water over them, then tossed in a little toasted sesame oil and coriander leaves, or an all-singing and -dancing Korean chilli paste.

      A dish of red pepper soup might sit alongside a plate of fried aubergines and feta. Crisp pea croquettes may well be placed on the table with tomato and French bean salad. Southeast-Asian noodles might be eaten with roast spring vegetables and peanut sauce and a mild dish of creamed and grilled cauliflower could turn up with a spiced tomato couscous. Two dishes, often three, are very much the usual at home. I find the thought of being able to dip into several dishes uplifting in comparison to a single plate piled high.

      Much of what I cook in the spring and summer is exceptionally light, by