Vegan

Don’t be surprised by the texture of these preserved lemons—the inside is very soft and the outside has a bit of firmness. Use the lemons in vinaigrettes, with white beans, as a rub for steak or roast chicken, or in a marinade or sauce for chicken or seafood. They’ll keep for a week in the refrigerator.

Once veg burger and veg ball are in the sausage lexicon, why not include another offbeat member? In the spirit of having fun stepping outside the box, and for the love of my vegetarian son, Jenan, here is a cabbage leaf–wrapped brown rice, walnut, and dandelion green mix that simulates sausage without the meat. Dandelion greens are the surprise. No matter how young and tender you pick them, they retain a decidedly bitter pucker. But tucked into the brown rice, they cease to affront and instead demur to lending their healthful, herbal kick to the dish. The made-on-the-spur-of-the-moment tomato-caper sauce adds the acid element that brings it all together.

Rice, plainly steamed, is an underpinning, accompaniment, or ingredient for many dishes, both in this book and in kitchens around the world. In order to avoid the confusion that can result because of the many kinds of rice available, I have come to rely on a basic method for preparing steamed rice that works whether you need cooked rice for adding to a recipe or serving as a side dish. It is easy to do, though you must pay attention to when it comes to a boil and then promptly turn down the heat before it boils over, makes a mess on the stove, and turns out mushy rather than in beautifully individual grains. For other rice recipes in the book, see South African Sausage with Collard Greens, Ethiopian Spiced Butter, and Cashew Rice (page 69), Paella with Chorizo, Shrimp, and Baby Artichokes (page 130), and Brown Rice, Walnut, and Dandelion Green Veg “Sausage” Wrapped in Cabbage Leaves with Tomato-Caper Sauce (page 151).

Contrary to what you might think, making a fine vegetable broth is not a matter of tossing any vegetable matter into a pot and boiling it up. The vegetables you start with need not be picture perfect, but starchy vegetables, such as potatoes, should not be part of the mix or the broth will turn out murky, and brassicas, like cabbage and broccoli, are also not good to use or the broth will not be clear tasting. Then, don’t stint on the amount of vegetables for the amount of broth you would like to wind up with. One tomato and one chard leaf do not a tasty broth make. There should be enough water so that the vegetables barely float, but not any more. Cook the broth until the vegetables are very soft but not disintegrating; this helps make a clear broth. Following is a mix and method I use to make a good-size batch of vegetable broth that is rich enough to serve on its own as a bouillon or use as a base for any soup.

These are dead easy to make and have endless applications in the kitchen. Use them to baste or brown ingredients and they will add pizzazz and excitement to stews and roasts. Likewise, they will jazz up a panful of onions or other vegetables for a soup or sauce and impart character to fish dishes. Herb oils come into their own when drizzled over summer or winter salads; they are also excellent used in mayonnaises and dressings. The basic principle is to choose robust flavorings and leave them for long enough to impart their mighty characters to the oil. Always use a good-quality oil as your base (see pp. 30–31). In all cases, to prevent the oil from becoming rancid, store in a cool place and use within 6 months.

Season: more or less anytime. A good vegetable bouillon or stock can be the making of many a soup, risotto, or sauce. Preparing your own stock from scratch is easy enough–but it does take a little time, so an instant alternative is often welcome. The choice of vegetable bouillon powders and stock cubes on the market is pretty limited. There are one or two good products, but if you use them frequently, you might find an underlying uniformity creeping into your cooking. This is my solution. Whip up your very own souper mix–a concentrated paste of fresh vegetables simply preserved with salt. It’s quick and easy to make and the stock it produces is delicious. You can use just about any herbs or vegetables you like–the important thing is that they are fresh and taste as vegetable-y as possible. My preferred ingredients are indicated in this recipe, but you could also use young turnips, shallots, celery, rutabagas, beets, or peppers, as well as bay leaves, thyme, lovage, or mint–almost anything, really. Just bear in mind that the character of the stock will vary depending on the ingredients you choose. The following are prepared weights; i.e., the ingredients should be washed, trimmed, and peeled (where necessary).

Season: September to December. Hawthorn is a lovely tree that grows throughout the United States. Frothy white blossoms herald the beginning of summer, and the fading flowers later give way to clusters of blood-red berries, or haws. These swathe the trees from early autumn well into winter-sometimes even through to the new year. The peppery, lemony little berries are too tart to eat raw, but I love them cooked into this sweet-sour sauce. Hawthorn tends to fruit prolifically, so you should have little trouble gathering enough haws. Do avoid picking from roadside bushes, however, as these may have absorbed fumes and pollution (although, for some reason, they often seem to be laden with the biggest and juiciest berries of all!). Serve haw ketchup with rich meats such as venison or slow-roasted pork belly. It is also terrific drizzled over Welsh rarebit. My favorite way to enjoy this spicy sauce, however, is with a really good nut roast, served with a crisp green salad

Season: August to September. This is kitchen alchemy at its most exciting and rewarding: A mysterious-looking brew of dark elderberries, vinegar, and spices becomes a truly wonderful sauce, a secret weapon for the pantry that I don’t like to be without. According to tradition, pontack sauce is best used after 7 years, but I’m hard pushed to keep it for 7 months. Pungent, fruity, and spicy, it’s an unrivaled partner for winter stews, slow-roasted pork belly, or anything wild and gamy. Besides serving this sauce alongside meat dishes, you can add a couple of tablespoonfuls to sauces and gravies. The elderberry season is short and the berries are part of the hedgerow banquet for woodland birds, so don’t delay–gather them when you see them.

Season: July to September. Slow-roasted tomatoes provide a rich, intense base for this, my all-time favorite ketchup. The spices and seasonings I have used are good old-fashioned ones–those our grandmothers would have kept in their kitchens. However, if you like, you can fire it up by adding a couple of teaspoonfuls of ground chiles. Don’t expect the ketchup to be the same color as a commercial variety; it will be a warm orangey red color.

Season: May to June: Spotting the first tips of asparagus pushing their way above ground in late spring is one of the greatest moments of the growing year. Use a good but not really expensive olive oil (see p. 30). When the asparagus has been eaten, the flavored oil can be used to make a lovely salad dressing. You will need one jam jar that is about 8 inches high, with a capacity of about 16 ounces, and a second jar with a capacity of about 8 ounces.

Season: July to September: Harissa is a North African ingredient used to enhance many fish and meat dishes, as well as couscous and soups. I also like to use my version to make a fruity, fiery dipping sauce (see below) to serve with pork, fish, or prawns. The strength of the paste depends on the variety and quantity of chiles used. The chances are that this recipe, which I would describe as moderately hot, will merely tickle the palate of out-and-out chile freaks. But all you need do to make it more fiery is increase the amount of chiles, include more of their seeds (see below), or perhaps add one or two very hot little dried chiles.

Season: July to September. I love the gutsy flavor of these tomatoes and like to serve them as part of a crisp smoked bacon and beet salad or a hearty couscous salad with plenty of fresh cilantro. There are times, though, when I can’t resist eating them from the jar! Ideally, the fruit would be sun-dried, but slowly drying them in a very low oven achieves similar and very pleasing results.

Season: September to October. The raw flesh of the lumpy yellow quince is dry and disagreeably sour. However, once cooked, it becomes pink and highly perfumed. Lightly sweetened and combined with good fluffy cooking apples, such as Granny Smiths, it makes a delightful accompaniment for roast pork or duck. I also love this aromatic fruity sauce on a home-baked rice pudding.

Season: July to late October. This recipe comes from Liz Neville, a virtuoso preserves maker with whom I run the River Cottage Preserved courses. You can make it with any raspberry, but we particularly like to use the big autumn berries. Bottle a few and you can extend your raspberry eating well into the dark winter months. In an ideal world, the fruit for this preserve would be packed into the jars as you pick it from the canes. That may not be possible–but do make sure the fruit is in tip-top condition and handled as little as possible.

Season: August to September. For me, tomato passata is an essential pantry ingredient. I use it as a base for my roasted tomato ketchup (see p. 187), as well as for pasta sauces and curries. The best time to make this preserve is when tomatoes are at their cropping peak–smelling strong, sweet, and aromatic when picked from the vine. This recipe uses 4 1/2 pounds of fruit but, if you are using bought tomatoes as opposed to homegrown ones, I suggest you negotiate a good deal with your local grower and buy a boxful or two. You certainly won’t regret it. You can’t buy passata like this one!

Season: June to August. The rich, intense flavor of black currants is well preserved by canning, and I find it very useful to have a few jars on the larder shelf. Preserved currants are delicious served with hot steaming custard, vanilla ice cream, or good plain yogurt. When friends drop by, I often open a jar for an instant dessert.

Season: Late September to October. The shapely rosehip is the fleshy fruit of the rose. The orange-red berries that appear in the autumn contain a crowd of creamy-white seeds protected by tiny irritant hairs, which is why they should never be eaten raw. Rosehips are rich in vitamins A and C and have long been used for making jams, jellies, wine, tea, and, of course, syrup. This recipe is based on one issued by the British Ministry of Defence during the Second World War when rosehips were gathered by volunteers. The syrup made from the fruit was fed to the nation’s children. Use this rosehip syrup mixed with hot water as a warming winter drink. I also love it drizzled neat over rice pudding or pancakes. Or try this recipe of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s for a refreshing summer cocktail: pour 2 tablespoons of rosehip syrup into a tall glass. Add 1/4 cup of white rum and mix well. Add a few ice cubes and pour in about 2/3 cup of tart apple juice. Garnish with a sprig of mint and serve with a straw.

Season: October to January. Spices, onions, and a traditional malty ale give this robust, pub-style chutney plenty of character, while the natural sugars in the root vegetables help sweeten it. It is delicious served with farmhouse Cheddar, crusty bread, and a pint or two.

Season: winter. Onions are one of the most versatile ingredients in the culinary world, but they are not often given the chance to be the star of their own show. A recipe like this puts that right. Long, slow cooking turns a panful of red, white, or yellow onions into a fantastic rich sauce-cum-jam that’s brilliant served with sausages and mashed potatoes, and a heap of other dishes too. Try it with cheese on toast or with cold meat in sandwiches, or stir a spoonful into a creamy pumpkin soup.