It's that time of year when the vegetable garden needs to be turned into things so we can start planting the winter salads. And, as is the case in all home gardens, we find ourselves with a glut of tomatoes at the end of the summer. 

While you can always make enough passata and tomato sauce to keep the freezer stocked throughout the winter, my daughter likes to celebrate the beginning of autumn with a day spent in the kitchen making soup. Below is her recipe for roast tomato and garlic soup. She says 'it's an absolute doddle, and you can hide away in the kitchen with a book and pretend you're busy cooking because the house smells of things roasting'.

olive oil
garlic (I use a whole head, but you might prefer less. No fewer than 4 fat cloves.)
tomatoes (lots, probably 650g - 800g)
750ml - 1l vegetable stock

1. Pre-heat oven to 180 degrees C.
2. Remove the tops from the tomatoes, and break the garlic into cloves but do not peel. Put the tomatoes and garlic in a roasting tin with enough olive oil to coat, and then roll them around till they're covered. Roast them for around 25-30 minutes, and shaking the tray occasionally to stop the tomatoes from sticking. They're ready when they've slumped, and the skins are beginning to catch. Bigger tomatoes will mean a slightly longer cooking time, but keep an eye on them.
3. Put the tin on the side to cool while you prepare the stock. If you are too busy to make your own stock, Marigold Swiss Vegetable bouillon works brilliantly. Aim for 750ml of stock made to 1l strength, as you want to be able to add water without diluting the flavour if the soup comes out too thick.
4. Once the tomatoes are cool enough to handle, pick out the garlic cloves. Add the tomatoes and the cooking oil to the stock, then squeeze in the roasted garlic clove by clove. It should come out of the skins like toothpaste.
5. Blend the mixture in batches, then return to the pan by passing it through a sieve. (This is to get rid of skins. You can skip the sieving and call the soup rustic if you think life's too short.) If the blended soup is too thick, add small amounts of water while stirring until it reaches the right consistency. Add salt and pepper to taste, then either set aside and reheat when needed or serve immediately.

Serves 4ish, and is even nicer with a drizzle of pesto.

My neighbours would have kittens if they knew I was passing on an Australian truffle recipe. But they can't speak English, so this is between us.

While searching online for truffle recipes to use as literary inspiration - authors call it 'effective procrastination' - I stumbled across an Australian website called The Truffle Man which featured a simple recipe for truffle souffle. I've written about cultivated Australian truffles before, and The Truffle Man appears to be an online retailer and knowledge source.

The below recipe comes from his site, although I've added a few explanatory notes of my own. Souffles have the reputation of being difficult to cook, which couldn't be further from the truth. They can be hard to do for a dinner party, as the timing isn't easy, but for a simple supper which you eat the moment it's ready? A doddle.

If you're worried about getting the souffle to rise, my daughter has an excellent tip. Butter your souffle dish, and then line with either breadcrumbs or grated parmesan. The textured edges give the souffle something to 'climb'. She uses deep metal cake tins for her souffles, and puts the lined tin into the freezer while she makes the souffle mix (apparently known as a panade). She tells me that she's only ever done it that way - it was a tip in the first recipe she used - so she doesn't know what the freezing does, but she does know that all her souffles rise.

Another tip is to not over-beat the egg whites. If in doubt, medium-stiff peaks are better than over-beaten egg whites. When folding the egg white mixture - and this applies to all recipes that involve folding - use a metal spoon.

250ml milk
70g butter
50g flour
50g grated cheese [a Cantal or Tomme would work well]
4 eggs, separated (whites, stiffly whipped with a little salt)
1 tbls crème fraiche
40g truffle
Nutmeg, salt, pepper

1. Prepare a béchamel sauce. [If you have not made one before, melt the butter into a medium saucepan over a medium-low heat. When melted, add the flour and stir until it balls together, forming a roux. Slowly add the milk, stirring or whisking constantly, until it becomes a thick sauce. Taking the pan off the heat while you add the milk helps to avoid lumps. Lumps will form, but with enough stirring they will also disappear, so don't lose heart. There's always a moment where you think you've ruined it, and that's usually seconds before it all comes together. Then add the cheese, and stir until it's melted. I have been known to chuck the cheese in before all the lumps have disappeared. There's something about the melting cheese that takes the last of the lumps with it - I assume it's some sort of chemical reaction.]
2. When [the béchamel] is lukewarm, add egg yolks (one at a time), salt, pepper, grated truffle, cream, nutmeg and grated cheese.
3. Gently, [fold in] the stiffly whipped egg whites.
4. Pour the mixture into a buttered soufflé mould. Cook in a medium warm oven for 25 minutes.



Recipe via www.thetruffleman.com.au, although the text in [square brackets] is my own addition.

While the bulk of rillettes you can buy in the UK is made from pork, shops in the Dordogne have a much wider range. Pork is still popular, but given the importance of duck and geese to the local economy, it's hardly surprising that the birds are used to make this coarse pate.

Summer lunches always feature a bowl of some variety of rillettes, to be eaten on torn baguette and topped with cornichons. The best lunches feature rillettes, the local duck salami, kilos of cheese, and piles of fresh strawberries from the market, all washed down with a chilled rose or some Normandy brut cider.

If you have access to a supermarket or delicatessen that sells duck fat and confit duck legs, it is actually quite easy to pull together duck rillettes. They are best served as you would  a pate, on fresh baguette or thinly-sliced toasted rounds of a hearty country loaf.

6 confit duck legs
175g duck fat
2½ tsps ground white pepper
¼ tsp ground cloves
¾ tsp ground ginger
¾ tsp ground nutmeg

1. Preheat oven to 100°C.
2. Mix the four ground spices together in a bowl or jar and set aside.
3. Place duck in a roasting pan and cook for 5 minutes or until fat has melted. Drain and reserve fat. Remove skin from duck legs and finely slice, using a sharp knife. Remove duck flesh from bones and finely shred using a fork.
4. Warm duck fat and reserved fat in a shallow pan until it has just become liquid, add shredded duck meat, season to taste with spice mix and sea salt and cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes or until duck meat is soft. Spoon rillettes into a terrine or pot and pack down firmly, cover and refrigerate until set.
5. Serve at room temperature.



Recipe via gourmettraveller.com.au, with some slight modifications to the order of the instructions.

In the woods near my house, the floor is covered with so many spiked chestnut shells (or are they skins?) that I'm loath to take the dog in that direction on his walks. It can't be comfortable to walk on what is essentially a carpet of thorns.

But the chestnuts aren't all bad news - while I've altered my walking habits temporarily, it does mean that the nuts themselves are back in season and ready to eat.

My daughter, who recently came back from a weekend in South Korea, told me that one of the unexpected things she'd seen on her travels was street food vendors dealing solely in roasted chestnuts. In England and much of Europe, roasted chesnuts are linked to Christmas. But in South Korea - if Mokpo is anything to go by, that is - roasted chestnuts are sold and eaten as snacks during rock concerts and on the beach.

Roasted chestnuts also form the cornerstone of this recipe, a creamy - but cream-free - and delicate soup that can be put together in very little time. It first ran in the New York Times around ten years ago, and has been part of the family repertoire ever since.

10 large chestnuts, peeled or unpeeled
2 tbsps extra virgin olive oil or butter
2 sticks chopped celery
1 small onion, finely diced
salt and freshly ground black pepper
900ml - 1l good chicken stock
chopped celery leaves or parsley for garnish

1. If you have peeled chestnuts, proceed to Step 2. Otherwise, preheat oven to 180C. Using a sharp paring knife, make an X on the flat side of each chestnut. Roast in an open pan for 10 to 15 minutes, or until the skins begin to open away from the meat. Remove both outer and inner skins while chestnuts are warm.
2. Place olive oil or butter in deep skillet or casserole, and turn heat to medium. A couple of minutes later, add celery, onion and a good sprinkling of salt and pepper, and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is translucent, about 10 minutes. Add stock and chestnuts, bring to a boil and partly cover. Lower heat, and simmer until chestnuts are mushy, about 30 minutes.
3. Carefully puree soup in a blender, or cool and then puree. Measure and add water to total 6 cups of liquid. Reheat, adjust seasoning if necessary and serve, garnished with celery leaves or parsley.

Serves four.

Recipe via The Minimalist at The New York Times and converted from cups.

Given that the campaign to ban foie gras is gathering pace - California has banned both sale and production from 1 July - I thought it would be timely to reproduce some of my favourite recipes for the Dordogne delicacy.

The simplest way is often the best, which is why I always choose foie gras poêlé when I see it on sale at the local night markets.

You will need slices of goose or duck liver that are ready to be seared. You can buy these from a high-end butcher in much of the world, or from the majority of markets in the Dordogne.

1. Check each slice for veins and carefully remove any with a bamboo skewer. Score the top of each slice by lightly running a knife twice horizontally and twice vertically across the surface, then sprinkle with a bit of salt and pepper.
2. When you’re ready to start searing – this should be done almost immediately before serving – set a small, shallow pan on high heat for about 2 minutes, then reduce the heat to medium/high and place one of the slices in the centre of the pan (scored side down) and cook for about 90 seconds. Do not add anything else to the pan. If the pan smokes, reduce the heat some more. Within 60 to 90 seconds, the first side of the foie gras will be cooked. You can tell by gently pushing against the slice with a silicon spatula; if the foie gras no longer sticks to the bottom of the pan and can be pushed away from the middle, it is ready to be flipped.
3. Once you flip the foie gras, turn off the heat and remove the pan from the element. Tilt the pan on a 15-degree angle so the fat from the liver collects in the edge of the pan and, with a soup spoon, baste the cooked side of the foie gras with the fat continuously. The residual heat of the pan and the hot duck-liver fat will be enough to cook the second side of the liver within about 90 seconds.
4. You will know when its done by gently pushing your thumb against the top of the cooked side. It should give a little and then bounce back toward you.


Recipe via www.eatertainment.net.

The richness of the meat means that this is sensational with fruit - apples and figs are a firm family favourite - but if you're feeling both decadent and simple, a drizzle of honey mixed with balsamic vinegar is another fantastic accompaniment.

Serve the foie on a slice of toasted rustic bread that is hardy enough to withstand the juices without falling apart. You want to keep an element of crunch to the dish to prevent it being too soft in texture.

One of the highlights of life in the Dordogne is the lunches eaten outside. My last al fresco meal of 2010 took place in late November, while the first of 2011 was in early February. Supper is still eaten inside by the fire, but at midday the sun is warm enough to sit outside in a teeshirt, so lunch happens in the courtyard. There's nothing better than a simple lunch of bread, homemade rilettes, and cornichons to cut through the richness of the coarse meat.

This recipe comes from Nigel Slater, whose no-nonsense instructions always work, and usually with less fuss than you'd think possible.

The recipe

Put 1kg of skinned and boned belly pork in a roasting tin, rub a 1 tbsp of salt over, drop in 3 bay leaves, 3 sprigs of thyme, 3 whole garlic cloves and 250ml of water. Cover, then leave in the oven at 160C/gas mark 1 for 3 hours or until the pork is tender. Lift the meat from its juices then tear into very fine shreds with a couple of forks. Pack tightly into a china or earthenware bowl. Pour the liquid in the roasting tin through a sieve over the rillettes and mix lightly. Leave to cool, then refrigerate until the fat has set. Serve with toast and cornichon, or perhaps a few pickled green chillies. Serves 8.

Tips

Choose pork with plenty of fat. Long, slow cooking is vital. Removing the meat from the bone with a fork will help keep the fibres separate. Don't use a food processor, as the texture will end up too smooth.

Recipe from The Observer.

[Note: This recipe involves seven hours' chilling and preparation time for the dough. You can buy a pack of good butter-based puff pastry from the supermarket and skip the first three ingredients and four steps, turning this from a day's work to a quick snack. That's what I did...]

500g flour, chilled (or replace with pack of good puff pastry)
2 tsp salt (or replace with pack of good puff pastry)
500g unsalted butter, chilled (or replace with pack of good puff pastry)
250g Tomme cheese, cubed
160-200g cooked ham, thinly sliced
freshly ground black pepper
1 egg, beaten
1 tbsp Dijon mustard
3 tbsp groundnut oil (I used olive oil, as it's what I had to hand)
50 ml soured cream
1 tbsp white wine vinegar
rocket and lettuce salad
crushed walnuts
sesame seeds

1. Combine the flour and salt in a mixing bowl and gradually add 290ml of water, stirring to form a dough. Wrap in cling film and chill in the refrigerator for 4 hours.
2. Roll the dough into a long thin rectangle about 45cm long and 18cm wide. Flatten the chilled butter into a small rectangle one-third the size of the dough rectangle and place it in the middle. Fold up the sides of the dough to cover the butter.
3. Turn the dough parcel 90 degrees and use the rolling pin to press around the edges to seal them. Roll out the dough into another long rectangle, then fold it up into a square parcel again. Wrap in cling film and place in the refrigerator to chill for 1 hour.
4. Repeat the rolling and folding process another two times, chilling the pastry for 1 hour between each rolling.
5. Preheat the oven to 200C/gas 6. Roll out the pastry to a depth of about 8mm and cut out 13cm circles. Fill each circle with 20-30g of the cheese and 10-20g of the ham. Season with black pepper. Fold over the pastry to seal in the filling and crimp the edges. Brush with a beaten egg and bake for 10 minutes.
6. Meanwhile, make the vinaigrette. Whisk the mustard with the oil then add the cream, vinegar and 2 tablespoons of water, then season to taste with salt and pepper. Make a salad with ripped rocket and crisp lettuce leaves. Drizzle with the mustard vinaigrette, top with crushed walnuts and sesame seeds and serve with the hot pastry parcels.

Recipe from Market Kitchen (unadapted).

Despite the historical links between France and Scotland, Burns' Night suppers are not well-known on this side of the Channel.

The French appreciate Scotland's rugby team, and my neighbours certainly appreciate a good single malt, but Scottish cuisine has a reputation for being deep-fried and hardly haute. During the last Six Nations, a contingent from the village visited Murrayfield Stadium to watch the French and Scottish rugby teams battle it out. They were less than impressed by the pies on offer, and it took a lot of persuading to get them to try home-cooked versions of some Scots classics upon their return.

The undoubted winner of the evening was a whisky and onion soup, designed to pander to childhood memories while still keeping a sense of Scotland. It would make an excellent Burns' Night supper for the haggis-shy.

1kg large onions
50g butter
¼tsp brown sugar
1 litre stock (use vegetable if serving to vegetarians)
½ tbsp (heaped) plain flour
75ml cider or dry white wine
2 tbsp good whisky (single malt if possible)
salt and pepper to taste

Croutes
25g butter, melted, plus extra for greasing
½ small, day-old baguette
½ garlic clove, peeled and halved
85g Gruyère, grated

1. Preheat the oven to 220°C.
2. Peel, halve and finely slice the onions. Melt 30g butter in a large, heavy-based lidded pan over a low heat. Add the onions. Cover and sweat very gently, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes. Uncover, turn up the heat, sprinkle in the sugar and cook for at least 45 minutes, stirring regularly, until the onions are tender, golden brown and quite dry.
3. Meanwhile, make the croutes. Rub the outside of the baguette with the cut garlic clove. Cut into 8 slices and lay closely together on a buttered baking sheet. Drizzle over the melted butter, strew with most of the cheese, and bake for about 15 minutes until golden and bubbling. Leave to cool. When the cheese is hard and the bread crisp, you will need to carefully separate the slices as they will be stuck to each other with the cheese.
4. Bring the stock to a simmer in a pan. In another, small pan, melt the remaining 20g butter. Stir in the flour, add two ladlefuls of hot stock and whisk until thick. Stir this into the remaining hot stock. When the onions are ready, add the cider or wine. Cook until the liquid has evaporated. Pour the thickened stock over the onions. Stirring constantly, bring to a simmer. Cook, uncovered, for 30 minutes. Add the whisky and season well.
5. To finish, preheat the oven to its highest setting. Decant the soup into heatproof bowls and arrange the croutes on top. Cover the croutes with the remaining cheese. Bake until the cheese is bubbling and serve immediately.
Serves four.

Recipe adapted from www.waitrose.com.

While the rest of the world sits under a picturesque blanket of snow, life in the Perigord is somewhat damp. Brief flurries of snow have been sighted, but nothing has fallen and stuck. Fifty miles north, it's a very different story - the train lines south from Paris are dusted with white, and the fields stretch out under their blanket, reflecting a shimmering pastel of blue and pink under the rising sun.

But despite the cold and seemingly endless rains, life goes on in St Denis. The market traders are a hardy sort, and can be found hawking their wares whatever the forecast.

One of the most popular stalls in St Denis market is that of the Vietnamese nem sellers. What the rest of the world knows as spring rolls, southwest France calls nem.

450 g (1 lb.) ground pork
125 g (4 oz.) chopped peeled shrimp
1 carrot, peeled and grated
250 ml (1 cup) bean sprouts
75 g (3 oz.) glass noodles (bean thread)
2 wood-ears (black tree fungus)
1 small yellow onion, finely chopped
1 egg
1 tbsp. nuoc mam (fish sauce)
1/2 tsp. each salt, pepper and sugar
oil for deep frying
rice paper wrappers for spring rolls
Nem Sauce
180 ml (3/4 cup) water
60 ml (1/4 cup) nuoc mam (fish sauce)
2 tbsp. lime juice
2 tbsp. sugar
thinly sliced red chili to taste

1. Soak the glass noodles in hot water until softened. Rinse them in cold water and cut into short lengths with scissors.
2. In another bowl, soak the wood-ears in hot water until softened. Rinse in cold water and cut into very thin slices.
3. In a bowl, thoroughly combine the first 12 ingredients to make the filling.
4. Dip a sheet of rice paper into warm water just until softened and lay it flat on your work surface. Place a line of filling near the edge facing you. Fold in the two sides and roll up into a tight roll.
5. Continue until the filling is used up.
6. Deep fry the rolls in hot oil until golden and crispy.
7. Combine the ingredients for the dipping sauce, stirring until the sugar is dissolved. Serve the spring rolls hot, with the dipping sauce.


Recipe via www.theworldwidegourmet.com

Summer in the Perigord sees an abundance of fruits and vegetables in the markets, and St Denis is no different.

Tourists throng the morning markets, cooing over the variety of strawberries available. For strawberry is no catch-all term in France. Each variety, from Seascape to Marras des Bois has its own characteristics, its own uses in the kitchen.

But while the tourists pile their baskets high with berries, shining aubergines, and slim green courgettes, the locals crowd around the fromagerie, queueing for trays of cabecous.

Cabecous are the small round disk of pungent goats' cheese popular in the Perigord. You will see them in lunch baskets, on assiettes des fromages, and being nibbled slowly over glasses of Ricard.

When cooked, the strong flavours of a cabecou sec mellow. Served with an onion chutney and a glass of Bergerac red, tarte cabecou is the perfect end to a morning spent patrolling the market for EU inspectors.

375g puff pastry (good shop-bought is fine)
4 cabecou of your choice
onion chutney or jam
beaten egg and milk for glaze (optional)

1. Preheat oven to 180º C.
2. Roll out the pastry to the thickness of a 1 euro coin.
3. Cut the pastry into four circles. The circles should be big enough for each cabecou to sit inside, leaving a 1 centimetre border.
4. Using a sharp knife, score a border around the cabecou, making sure not to cut all the way through. Remove the cabecou and use a fork to prick the area inside the border.
5. Put the pastry disks on a baking tray and bake for 7 minutes. When you take them out of the oven, the centres will have puffed up. Wait for the steam inside to cool, and press the centres flat. Take care – any remaining steam will be hot.
6. Spread a layer of onion chutney inside the border, and place the cabecou on top. Season as desired. If you have chosen to glaze your tarts, brush the border before baking.
7. Return to the oven and bake for 12 to 15 minutes.

Serve with a mixed leaf salad dressed in walnut vinaigrette. If you have chosen young cabecous for your tarts, a hazlenut vinaigrette would be a better match.