A Sunday lunch for the end of spring

Four of us for lunch, all boys, and a rather boozy affair it was, too. As people arrived, we all sipped at a gin and tonic, and what better to go with that pre-lunch gin and tonic than a bowl full of home made crisps? I am lacking a mandoline, so i sliced potatoes by hand, trying to keep them thinner than a one pence coin and I also took thin slithers off a parsnip using a vegetable peeler. Dunked into cold water to remove some starch, they were then deep fired until golden, drained, and sprinkled with salt. Alarmingly simple, unhealthy and rather moreish. My only concern is that some were left in the fryer a little too long. Maybe I should have been a little slower with my gin.



I am well aware that I haven't cooked much asparagus this spring which is such a shame, as it's a real favourite of mine. I always think that it's a vegetable that cries out for simple cooking, and that's what I did here, taking a cue from Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall. The asparagus was drizzled in olive oil, seasoned with salt and pepper and roasted for 10 minutes at 180 and at the same time, I soft boiled four eggs. At the table, everyone got to chop the top off their egg, add a little butter and cider vinegar, and plunge spears of asparagus into the runny yolks. The butter and vinegar combine to make an impromptu hollandaise. And an awful lot of mess. There's a certain theatre to serving this as a starter, which I usually tend to shy away from, but this time we all revelled in it, sipping cava as we ate and reminisced about eating boiled eggs with toast soldiers as children. Then I had to wash the egg yolk off my face.


Feeling rather lazy, I opted to roast the loin of pork I'd picked up from the butchers in the same tin as the potatoes. The idea being that the the pork will provide just enough fat for the potatoes roast nicely, whilst also meaning no par-boiling and less washing up. Fantastic. I dried the skin of the pork and rubbed a decent amount of salt in since I don't believe there's any more of a secret to getting good crackling than this. The pork then sat in the middle of the tin, it was surrounded by waxy little new potatoes, sliced in two if they were on the large side, a couple of lemons cut into wedges, a sprinkle of fennel seeds and a handful of lightly crushed garlic cloves. All this went into a hot oven for half an hour, which was then turned down for the rest of the cooking time (about 2 hours in total for 1.5kg of pork). I'm very keen on cooking like this, as I like being able to sit and chat to people that have come round to eat with me, rather than spending half my time slaving in the kitchen. As the pork finished cooking, it came out to rest for 15-20 minutes, allowing enough time to make some gravy with the pan juices and cook some greens. For the gravy, I added a glass of white wine to the pan, scraped the tasty bits off the bottom, and let the mixture bubble for a few minutes. For the greens, I cooked some broccoli and peas together in the same pan for four minutes. As I said, I was feeling lazy. How did it all turn out? The pork was juicy, the crackling close to perfect. The lemony potatoes would have been too much by themselves, but cut through the pork really well. The gravy managed to be a touch overpowering due to the lemon, though this was almost offset by the last minute addition of a touch of honey. Most importantly, people dived in for second helpings without asking. Always such a compliment.


Pudding was an old faithful Nigel Slater recipe. I'd picked up some of the first peaches I'd seen this year the previous day, knowing they'd be a little ropey to eat by themselves but that they could be brought alive with a little cooking. Taking a peach per person, I halved and stoned them, placing them skin-side-down in a little roasting tin and each half got a little dot of butter in the centre, a dollop of honey, and little squeeze of lemon juice. Grilled until the edges were just catching and the honey was bubbling in the bottom of the pan, they were done. I stirred a little chopped stem ginger into some crème fraiche to serve with them. My house mate laughs about how unhealthy this is every time I make it, but then finishes the leftovers from everybody else's plates. I think he approves.