In many families, chestnut puree is one of those mystery ingredients found at the back of the store cupboard. Either received as a gift or bought on a whim it's one of those things you know can be used in a variety of recipes, if only you could remember what any of them are.

In my family, however, chestnut puree is stirred into yogurt, spread onto walnut toast, or used as the basis for a creme brulee, depending on the size of the sugar kick my daughter is looking for at the time. On occasion, she will use it to tweak a classic chocolate torte, or swap it for the buttercream in a less than classic Victoria sponge. If you're feeling lazy, you could always use the chestnut puree as a starting point for a homemade Mont Blanc. Just top the puree with some whipped cream and there you have it.

Eating that much chestnut puree can get expensive, but making your own is very easy.

800g chestnuts
225g sugar
425 ml water
1 tsp vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 210C.
2. To prepare the chestnuts, score an "X" into the flat side of each shell. Cover a baking sheet with a single layer of chestnuts and roast for 15-20 minutes, checking often. They will be ready when the skins begin to peel back where you have scored them. Once roasted, set aside until they are cool enough to handle. Peel the chestnuts.
3. Put the chestnuts, water, and sugar in a heavy-bottomed saucepan over a medium heat, and bring them to the boil. Reduce the heat to a gentle simmer and let the pan bubble away - uncovered - for around half an hour. Around three-quarters of the liquid should have evaporated or been absorbed.
4. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the vanilla extract.
5. Keeping the liquid to one side, put the chestnuts in a blender or food processor and pulse until smooth. Slowly add the liquid, blending often, until the mixture in the blender is a smooth, shiny paste.
6. Allow the mixture to cool completely before storing it in a sealed jar in the fridge.

La galette des rois, or king cake, is a French pastry traditionally served on Twelfth Night (5 January). Versions of king cakes can be found in a number of Christian countries; the cake is named after the three biblical kings who travelled to Bethlehem for the birth of Jesus, arriving on Twelfth Night.

In France, two versions of king cake predominate, one from the north and one from the south. The northern version is puff pastry filled with frangipane, while the southern king cake contains dried and candied fruits in a brioche pastry. But what all king cakes have in common is a small trinket - often a representation of the baby Jesus - which confers special powers on the person who finds it, much like the lucky sixpence in a British Christmas pudding.

A low-effort recipe (using ready-made puff pastry) can be found below, courtesy of the BBC's Good Food website. As Twelfth Night is tomorrow, life really is too short to make homemade puff pastry in the week the world returns to work.

400g ready-made puff pastry
2 rounded tbsp apricot jam
100g softened butter
100g caster sugar
1 lighly beaten egg
100g ground almonds
2 tbsp cognac or dark rum

1. Heat the oven to 200C/fanC180/gas 6.
2. Divide the ready-made puff pastry in half, roll out each piece and cut into a 25cm round. Put one round on a baking sheet and spread with the apricot jam to within 2cm of the edges.
3. Beat together the softened butter and caster sugar until light and fluffy, then beat in the egg. Stir in the ground almonds and cognac or dark rum.
4. Spoon the mixture over the jam, spreading it evenly. Brush the edges of the pastry with water, then cover with the second piece, pressing the edges to seal. Mark the top of the pastry from the centre to the edges like the spokes of a wheel or in a zig zag pattern, then brush with beaten egg.
5. Bake for 25-30 mins until crisp and golden. Serve warm or cold.

Earlier this week, I timed a visit to a neighbour just as she was pulling what I thought were biscotti from the oven. I was hastily set to rights. No Italian biscuit would grace her Perigord kitchen - these were, in fact, croquants du Périgord.

While the hard walnut biscuits certainly made me think of a local take on the Italian classic, I wasn't brave enough to tell my neighbour as much. Especially not when I was hoping she would give me the recipe.

Eat these with a cup of strong, sweet black coffee. Italy, via the Dordogne.

4 eggs
125g icing sugar
125 plain flour
125g ground walnuts
1 tsp orange flower water
2 tbsps creme fraiche

1. Pre-heat the oven to 160°C. Using either a hand-held or electric whisk, beat the eggs and sugar together till pale and creamy.
2. Sift in the flour, then stir in the creme fraiche, walnuts, and orange flour water.
3. Bring the dough together into a ball and leave to rest for fifteen minutes.
4. On a floured surface, roll out the dough till it is around 2cm thick. Cut into sticks (or shapes of your choosing) before baking for 30 minutes.
5. Cool on a wire rack and serve with coffee.

It was Valentine's Day yesterday, and the lovers among you may well be reading this post with a half-eaten box of chocolate truffles by your side.

I was taken aback yesterday when my daughter rang to ask whether the box of truffles she'd sent me had arrived. Having spent years in the Dordogne, I'd half-forgotten the existence of the chocolate variety and thought she'd bought a box of the Perigord's black diamonds.

Cue a few hours of fatherly concern as I tortured myself trying to work out where on earth she'd got the money to buy not one truffle, but an entire box! When the postman did arrive with a box of chocolate truffles, I was relieved, but also mildly disappointed.

At least,  was disappointed before I realised that the chocolates were all handmade.

280g of your favourite chocolate (minimum 70% cocoa solids)
284ml double cream (this is the standard 'large pot' size)
50g unsalted butter

1. Chop or break the chocolate into small pieces and put aside in a medium-sized mixing bowl.
2. Combine the butter and double cream in a heatproof bowl. Put the bowl over a small saucepan with a small amount of water in it - making sure the water does not touch the bottom of the bowl - and melt the butter into the cream over a gentle heat, stirring regularly.
3. When the butter-cream mix is simmering gently, remove it from the heat and pour the mixture over the chopped chocolate, stirring until the chocolate has been melted by the heat of the mix.
4. Chill the mixture for at least 4 hours.
5. Using a standard teaspoon, scoop out the chocolate mix and roll it between your hands to create a ball. This gets quite messy - you can coat your hands with a flavourless oil to stop the chocolate from sticking to you. Pop each ball onto a plate or baking tray covered with a sheet of greaseproof paper and repeat until the mixture is finished.
6. Once shaped, you can cover the truffles in anything you like - desiccated coconut, chopped nuts, edible glitter, sprinkles, etc. - by rolling them in your choice of coating and returning to the sheet of greaseproof paper.
7. Keep the truffles refrigerated; they should keep for up to four days in a sealed container.


[Note]: If you want to flavour your truffles with liqueurs, fruit juices, or the like, add 2tbsps of the liquid of your choice (I recommend Chambord raspberry liqueur and Frangelico hazlenut liqueur, either together or separately) at the end of step 3.

It's been unseasonably warm in recent weeks, with afternoon temperatures climbing into the 30s. It's not quite too hot to eat, but it's certainly time to put aside the heavier foods of winter and think of more summery fare.

Last summer, my daughter discovered a fantastic Jamie Oliver recipe for elderflower and prosecco jelly with summer fruits. It uses beef gelatine, so is not suitable for vegetarians as-is, but a vegetarian gelatine substitute should work as a replacement.

The jelly makes for a perfect spring or summer pudding, with the fruits altered in line with what's ripe. It's light and sweet, but the bubbly prosecco makes it feel like a real treat.

The recipe below has been copied unedited from www.jamieoliver.com.

8 punnets of mixed soft fruit (blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, blueberries)
4 leaves of beef gelatine
140ml elderflower cordial
2 heaped tablespoons caster sugar
425ml prosecco (sparkling Italian wine), chilled
First of all, decide whether you want to make one big jelly or small individual ones. If you are making a big one, it's a good idea to line the bowl with clingfilm first. Put your ripe fruit into your mould or moulds and refrigerate. Put your gelatine leaves into a bowl with a little cold water to soak for a minute, then drain and add the gelatine back to the bowl with the cordial. Rest above a pan of water over a medium heat and stir constantly until the gelatine and cordial become a syrup. At this point you can add your sugar, stir till dissolved, then remove the bowl from the heat and let it sit at room temperature for a minute or so.

Take your fruit and prosecco out of the fridge. The idea being that your fruit, moulds and prosecco are all chilled, so the bubbles stay in the jelly when it sets and they fizz in your mouth when you eat it - beautiful! Pour the prosecco into your cordial mix, and then pour this over your fruit. Some of the fruit might rise to the top, so using your finger, just push the fruit down into the jelly mix so that it is sealed and will then keep well in the fridge. Put back into the fridge for an hour to set.

To serve, dip your mould into a bowl of hot water to loosen the outside of the jelly, then turn it out on to a plate. Great served with a little crème fraîche but just as good on its own.

I have grown rather forgetful of late, and keep finding cold pots of coffee dotted around the kitchen that I had made and abandoned hours earlier. But there is no need to grow concerned for my health - I am currently immersed in writing the next Bruno novel, and find that hours disappear in front of the keyboard.

Because reheated coffee is terrible, but disposing of good coffee such a waste, I have taken to repurposing all of my abandoned coffee into a refreshing espresso granita, a trick my elder daughter taught me last summer.

Simply decant a full-sized cafetiere of abandoned (or freshly-brewed) strong coffee into a plastic container suitable for the freezer, and mix in two tablespoons of sugar. Increase the sugar to taste, especially if you are adding more than one cafetiere's worth to the container. Cover, and stick in the freezer. Every few hours - or when you remember - drag the tines of a metal fork through the freezing coffee, separating the granules. If you start the process at breakfast, your granita should be ready come supper.

This traditional Perigord dessert was first cooked for me by a neighbour, who would be horrified to know that I now prepare the dish using ready-rolled puff pastry from the supermarket. But as long as you get a brand that has been prepared using real butter, pre-made puff pastry is one of life's great shortcuts.

Pompe aux oommes du Perigord is a hand-formed layered apple puff that screams of autumn. If you own a mandolin, and use that to prepare the apples, this is a pudding that can be ready to eat within 40 minutes of work beginning, provided you don't mind burning your tongue when you tuck in.

2 cooking apples, peeled, cored and thinly sliced
250g slivered almonds
200g muscovado sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
75ml sunflower oil
2 beaten eggs, separate (one to be used as an egg wash)
350g puff pastry made with butter
pinch of salt

1. Preheat oven to 190C. Set aside 1 tbsp each of the almonds and sugar for decorating, plus one beaten egg to use as a wash.
2. In a large bowl, mix together all remaining ingredients bar the pastry. If you use your (clean) hands, you can ensure a more even mixture.
3. Roll the pastry into a rectangle about the thickness of a pound coin, and cut into four equal rectangles.
4. Spread the mixture onto one pastry rectangle, top with a second, and then repeat. Do not put mixture on the top layer; instead cover it with an egg wash then sprinkle it with the almonds and sugar held back in the beginning.
5. Pinch the edges together to form a seal, and bake on a greased baking tray for 25-30 minutes. It is cooked when the top is golden.

Recipe via www.traditionalfrenchfood.com

It might seem like heresy to have a recipe for traditional Italian biscuits (cookies?) on a website celebrating France. But that's only because you've never tried them. Once you've eaten a warm, almondy, meringue-based biscuit not long from the oven, you will want to claim it as part of your own cultural heritage, wherever in the world you might come from. 

Ricciarelli originate in Siena, where I believe they are sold around Christmas and given as gifts. My daughter found an old River Cafe recipe in a Sunday newspaper magazine several years ago, and has tweaked it with practice. Below is the recipe in her own words; it has been emailed to nearly everyone who's ever tried them. 

1. Blanch and peel 300g almonds. I put them in a bowl, boil the kettle, cover them with hot water, and leave for around 5 minutes before draining and squeezing off the skins. Some will be stubborn; put these to one side and pop them back in the bowl, covering them in the hottest water your kitchen tap will supply for a minute. Repeat until all almonds have been blanched. If you're super lazy, you can skip this step by using sliced almonds (in which case reduce the roasting time and keep an eye on them as they can't go brown) or pre-blanched almonds. It's a lot more expensive, though, and almonds aren't the cheapest of ingredients.
2. Roast the almonds in an oven for 12 minutes at 180C. (I prefer to roast them in three goes of 4 minutes apiece, shaking furiously between each go.) Allow to cool, but leave the oven on.
3. Bung 8 tbsps plain sugar, the cooled almonds, and the zest of half a lemon into the food processor. Blend till it looks like sand.
4. Beat 2 egg whites to firm peaks. Add 60g sugar to the beaten egg whites, and beat back to firm. You can do this by hand, but it's a million times easier with an electric whisk. But if you do it by hand, you've earned the right to eat more biscuits. Your call.
5. Dump the blender mixture into the beaten egg white. Before folding with a metal spoon, add half a teaspoon each of vanilla and almond extracts. Fold, but not too much. You want to introduce the mixes to each other, not marry them off.
6. Cover a baking sheet with greaseproof paper.
7. Wet your hands, then scoop a normal eating spoon of mix into your hands. Roll into a ball, pop on the baking sheet, then smash flat. But not too flat. This is not the time for your best Incredible Hulk impression. The batch should make 20 ricciarelli, so I usually find myself making some huge ones to start with, and then stealing mix off them so I can bulk up the weedy ones at the end. I end up re-wetting my hands about every five.
8. The recipe says bake 20 minutes, but I say 16 – I cook them in two lots of 8 minutes, rotating the tray 180-degrees at the end of the first 8 minutes. I have a fan oven, so you might want to adjust based on your equipment. You may as well spend the cooking time watching the ricciarelli to ensure they don't burn - it's not *that* long.
9. Allow to cool – but only enough that the icing sugar won’t melt – and then dust with icing sugar. They keep for about 4-5 days in a sealed box, but they’re nicest eaten still warm.

While pear and frangipane tart is a firm family favourite, I must confess that I've never made one. Nor has my daughter, the hobbyist baker. It's not uncommon in France to cook for a dinner party but buy the pudding from a local patisserie, and that's what we've always done when any of us have a hankering for soft pear and sweet frangipane. My wife - who has been known to bake them on occasion - swears by Angela Hartnett's recipe, which I have copied in full below.

For the pastry
225g plain flour, plus extra for dusting
110g butter
110g caster sugar
3 medium egg yolks, lightly beaten

For the frangipane
125g butter, softened
125g caster sugar
2 eggs
125g ground almonds
1 tbsp plain flour

For the poached pears
250g caster sugar, plus 2 tsp extra
4 good-sized pears
1 cinnamon stick, broken in half
3 cloves
1/2 lemon
2-3 strips thickly pared orange zest
1/2 vanilla pod

1. Make the pastry. Tip the flour onto a work surface. Cut the butter into cubes and dot over the flour. Sprinkle with the caster sugar. Using your fingertips, rub the butter, flour and sugar together until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Make a well in the centre, add the egg yolks and, using your fingers, gradually draw in the flour. Knead lightly, until it comes together in a smooth ball – you might need to add 1 teaspoon cold water if the dough is very crumbly. Wrap in cling film and chill for at least 30 minutes. (Angela Hartnett’s tip: I make the pastry on a floured work surface in the traditional Italian way, but feel free to do it in a bowl if you prefer.)
2. Make the frangipane filling. Cream the butter and sugar together in a large bowl until light and fluffy. Gradually beat in the eggs, one at a time, then fold in the ground almonds and flour. Mix well and chill until needed.
3. Make the poached pears. Put the sugar in a saucepan, pour in 500ml water and place over a medium heat. Stir until the sugar has dissolved. Peel the pears and add to the pan, along with the cinnamon and cloves. Squeeze the juice from the lemon into the pan and add the squeezed lemon and orange zest. Split the vanilla pod in half, scrape out the seeds and add to the pan with the pod. Add some more water to just cover the pears.
4. Cut out a circle of baking paper large enough to fit inside the pan, and lay on top of the pears. Weigh down with a saucer or small saucepan lid so that the pears stay submerged in the poaching liquor. Simmer for 20 minutes, then remove the pears to a plate with a slotted spoon and discard the liquor and solids. Set aside for 15 minutes, or until cool enough to handle. (Angel Hartnett’s tip: Don’t overcook the pears – a knife should just pierce them easily. Remember – they will continue to cook in the oven.)
5. Preheat the oven to 190°C/fan170°C/gas 5. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out the pastry to a circle large enough to line the tart tin. Don’t worry if it breaks up, as this is a very short, crumbly pastry – you can just patch it together in the tin and mould it up the sides, making sure it is even all over. Trim off any excess pastry and spread the frangipane evenly on top.
6. Cut the pears in half length-ways and, using a teaspoon, scoop out and discard the core from the centre. Cut each pear half in slices, width-ways, then lift onto your knife and push down on the pears slightly to fan them out. Lift into the pastry case and arrange in a circle. Fill in the gaps between each pear half with a few more slices and arrange some in the centre. Bake for 55 minutes to 1 hour, until the pastry is golden and the filling is set. Sprinkle with the extra 2 teaspoons caster sugar and bake in the oven for a further 15 minutes to finish off the browning. Cool in the tin slightly, then remove and transfer to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature with a dollop of crème fraîche.

Recipe via delicious magazine, and originally by Angela Hartnett.

Last month, a neighbour lent me her school cookery book from the 1950s.  It is a wonderful guide to the basics of French cooking, and contains dozens of recipes that should be preserved for posterity. The book builds on previous recipes, assuming that students will work their way through from start to finish. Flipping through, the recipe for friands caught my eye - it requires a portion of puff pastry (covered earlier in the book), some ham, and a half portion of mornay sauce (also covered in a previous chapter). Later in the book, basic preparations for preserves, tarts, pâtés, and stews all build on the skills learned earlier. To cook your way through the book, from start to finish, is to get an education in traditional French home cooking. Unfortunately, I won't have access to the book for long enough to copy it out - and translate it - in full. I do, however, have time to present some of the greatest hits in the form of forgotten classics.

I'm not quite sure what makes this cake Mexican, but I suppose you could always add a few chili peppers to the icing...

4 eggs, separated, plus 1 yolk
125g sugar
90g flour
80g melted butter
35g cocoa powder
chocolate buttercream icing (make a standard buttercream, but add cocoa powder)
chocolate icing
3 tbsps apricot jam, melted

1. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C. Grease and line a sponge tin.
2. In a large bowl, beat the egg yolks and sugar together until the mixture is pale and fluffy. Sift the flour and cocoa powder into the mix and stir.
3. In a separate clean and dry bowl, beat the egg whites to stiff peaks. Using a metal spoon, fold the whites into the yolk mixture.
4. Finally, stir in the melted butter.
5. Bake the mixture for 40 minutes before turning out onto a wire rack and allowing to cool completely.
6. Once the cake has fully cooled, slice it across the mid-section so you have two layers of cake. Fill the cake with the chocolate buttercream icing and stack the layers on top of each other.
7. Using a pastry brush, cover the cake in the melted apricot jam.
8. Once the apricot jam has dried, cover the cake in chocolate icing.