The Food Almanac: Volume Two

By Miranda York

The Food Almanac II is an annual, seasonal collection of recipes and stories celebrating the joy of food – a dazzling, diverse mix of memoir, history, short stories and poems alongside recipes, cooking tips, menus and reading lists.

Following on from The Food Almanac, which was shortlisted for the Jane Grigson Trust Award and the Fortnum & Mason Food & Drink Awards and received a tranche of stunning reviews, the second in the series offers another fascinating collection of recipes and stories.

Prepare to go on a seasonal and joyful journey of food and what it means to different people. This curation is a dynamic, diverse mix of history, memoir, stories and poems, alongside recipes, cooking tips and techniques, menus and reading lists – from Caroline Eden describing the dining car on the Siberian Express to Diana Henry honouring the softness of autumn, from Simon Hopkinson discussing the glory of puddings to Russell Norman celebrating bitterness in the beautiful form of chicory and its many Italian varieties. Each month includes a seasonal three-course menu from food writers such as Jeremy Lee, Tommi Miers, Emily Scott and Calum Franklin, plus additional recipes from the likes of Mary Berry, Asma Khan, Darina Allen and Gill Meller – there is an abundance of thought-provoking, hunger-making food writing for you to tuck into, whatever the season.

This book is an inspirational companion in the kitchen and an enriching, comforting read for the armchair cook. Join Miranda York, editor of At The Table, as she guides you through the year, accompanied by legendary food writers, lauded chefs, up-and-coming poets and award-winning novelists.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins UK
• Release date: Oct 27, 2022
• ISBN: 9781911682967

Miranda York

Miranda York began her career as a food, travel and culture journalist, writing for publications such as the Financial Times, Vogue, How To Spend It and Harper's Bazaar before founding At The Table, a creative platform that explores and celebrates food culture. She has since curated over 100 events, published an independent food magazine, recorded a podcast series, produced short films and launched an artisan food market in London.

Book preview

January

A month for staying put, slowing down and revelling in the rituals of the kitchen. The fields and hedgerows may look bare but January can be surprisingly abundant. Delight in the colourful citrus fruits and bitter leaves – fresh and vibrant flavours after weeks of festive indulgence. Marmalade on toast for breakfast, lentils for good luck, tonics and teas for cold days, and a cake fit for kings.

IN SEASON

Black mustard leaves

Blood oranges

January King cabbage

Jerusalem artichokes

Kale

Lemons

Radicchio

Seville oranges

Seville Oranges

MORE THAN MARMALADE

Bitter oranges arrived at our tables long before their sweet cousins. Early cookbooks calling for oranges in both sweet and savoury recipes referred to the bitter orange right up until the beginning of the nineteenth century. Far too sour to be eaten fresh, they were prized for their sharp juice and aromatic peel, their elegant tartness often appreciated above lemons.

While bitter oranges still feature in Latin American and Middle Eastern cooking, it’s only in Britain that Seville oranges are obsessively sliced, squeezed, de-pipped and boiled into marmalade for a few short weeks at the beginning of the year. We are devout marmalade-makers, importing almost the entire crop (some 4 million kilograms) grown around the southern Spanish city. It has even been suggested that Sevilles would fade into obscurity if it wasn’t for our bittersweet addiction. Perhaps this far north we’re more in need of the warming glow of these little pots of preserved sunshine – an annual celebration of citrus to brighten our kitchens and lift our mood.

Delicious as it is spread on buttered toast, there are more inventive ways to use marmalade – try it in a bacon sandwich, alongside cheese or swirled into a Swiss roll. Look beyond preserves to make the most of the fresh fruit, too. Nothing equals the perfumed juice in baked orange creams, jellies, fools and ice creams, and the zest makes cakes and tarts sing. Turn to the past for sharp takes on familiar recipes: squeeze into sauces for white fish, such as turbot or brill; add to marinades for duck, pork and lamb; steep the zest in alcohol to make ratafias or shake up your cocktail repertoire with Seville orange margaritas.

MAKE AHEAD

Vin d’orange

If you’re buying Sevilles for marmalade, save a few to make this elegant Provençal aperitif. Mix rosé or dry white wine with sugar, vodka, vanilla pods and sliced bitter oranges, then leave to infuse in a cool, dark place for a few weeks. Strain, bottle and let the flavours mellow for as many months as you can resist. A silky, bittersweet aperitif to look forward to in summer.

A VERSATILE FRUIT

The fragrant blossoms are harvested for orange flower water, used for millennia in sweet and savoury dishes throughout North Africa and the Middle East. The aromatic oil extracted from the thick peel flavours liqueurs such as Cointreau, Curaçao and Grand Marnier.

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WHAT TO DO WITH SEVILLE ORANGES

Whisk the juice and zest into a dressing with olive oil, honey and garlic, then drizzle over broccoli or thinly sliced raw kohlrabi.

Pickle sliced red onions in the juice for topping tacos.

Use your homemade marmalade as a glaze for roasting ham, or make a traditional Cumberland sauce for gammon or game.

Try a different citrus preserve – a bittersweet Seville orange curd is a delight.

Switch lemons for Sevilles in the classic Sussex Pond Pudding.

Make mini jellies – bright and sharp – to serve after a hearty meal.

Squeeze into rum punch or make a refreshing homemade orangeade.

Add a little juice to dark chocolate ganache and roll into truffles.

Preserve in salt using the same method for preserved lemons.

Freeze the zest and juice – or even the whole fruit – for use later in the year.

Bitter

by Russell Norman

It is no coincidence that when Italians want something to wake up their taste buds and sharpen their appetites they reach for a bottle of Campari, Cynar or Fernet Branca. These aperitivi all share the essential quality of bitterness that is so important to the national palate, the elusive agrodolce theme that defines much of Italian cooking. The Venetian classic sarde in saor, combining sweet onions with sardines and vinegar, is the perfect example of an everyday route to bitterness and sweetness. Serving salsa verde with grilled meats has the same purpose. And nowhere in the vegetable kingdom is this more pronounced than in the thrilling chicories of northern Italy.

Radicchio, as the humble chicory is known in Italy, comes in many varieties, shapes and colours. But the unifying quality is bitterness. In my mind, there is a kind of pecking order, a hierarchy of flavours, that rises like a glorious crescendo.

We start with Castelfranco, a pretty radicchio from the region of the same name. Its delicate leaves give it the appearance of a flower, butter-yellow with subtle pink and red striations. I always think it looks like a Missoni pattern, and it wouldn’t surprise me if the Milanese fashion house took its inspiration from this beautiful plant, sometimes fancifully known as winter rose or orchid lettuce. Castelfranco works wonderfully well with toasted hazelnuts and a light dressing of extra virgin olive oil and lemon juice. I find it irresistible whenever I see it on the market stalls of enlightened greengrocers.

On the next rung of the ladder is the round, red Chioggia radicchio, the size of a small melon, the leaves curled tightly around the central ball. It’s a great addition to big, crunchy salads, shredded and tossed with a heartier dressing of olive oil, red wine vinegar and a large teaspoon of Dijon mustard. Chioggia is the radicchio that’s easiest to find outside Italy, and it has the longest season, gracing the shelves from October to March.

The flavour profile of the torpedo-shaped Treviso radicchio is even more pronounced. Deep red with pale, creamy veins, the best way to prepare Treviso is to slice it in half lengthways, drizzle with olive oil, salt and black pepper, roast in a medium-hot oven for 20 minutes and then shower with microplaned Parmesan and chopped flat-leaf parsley. It’s wonderful as an accompaniment to grilled red meat or game, or eaten as a hearty starter.

But at the top of the class, revered for its beauty and subtlety, is the Tardivo (meaning late), so called because it grows and is harvested much later in winter than its siblings. Tardivo is a joy to behold, with long purple fronds that look, to my fanciful mind, like a small octopus in flight, shooting through the water to avoid a potential enemy. The vegetable requires careful husbandry to produce those distinctive vertical leaves, picked after the first frost to guarantee optimum bitterness. It is miraculous in a red wine risotto, though often I simply eat it raw with olive oil, salt and a little lemon juice. Of course it is more expensive, but worth every extra euro.

Intensely bitter flavours may not be to everyone’s taste – I have seen the confused expressions of those who try Campari for the first time, or eat my signature dish of puntarelle with anchovy dressing – but I’m a teacher by trade, a restaurateur by profession, and an educator by nature, and I’ll continue to fight the agrodolce fight until I’ve converted everyone I know and love.

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Tonics and Teas for Cold Days

by Rachel de Thample

TAHINI COCOA

Comforting as a down feather duvet, this version of hot chocolate is also stress-soothing. The magnesium in cacao calms the nervous system, while the herb brahmi, a staple of Ayurvedic medicine (easily sourced online), provides additional mental health benefits and lends an earthy undertone. A touch of hygge to embrace on a chilly winter’s day.

Serves 2

4 tbsp tahini

4 pitted dates

3 tbsp raw cacao or cocao powder

1 tsp brahmi powder (optional)

1–2 tsp rose or orange blossom water (optional)

1 tsp ground cinnamon

A fresh grating of nutmeg

500ml (18fl oz) plant-based milk, organic dairy milk or water

Blend everything together until smooth. Pour into a saucepan and gently warm through. Pour into mugs, cradle and sip.

LEMON DROP ELIXIR

A tonic to support the immune system. Limonene, a compound found in the peel of citrus fruits, helps reduce inflammation, and the gentle aromatics of cardamom and cinnamon pull their weight therapeutically too: cardamom supports the liver in eliminating toxins, while cinnamon is antibacterial and antiviral.

Makes 500ml (18fl oz)

1 whole unwaxed lemon, quartered

6 cardamom pods

½ tsp ground cinnamon

500ml (18fl oz) filtered water

Place the lemon quarters (zest, pith and all) in a high-speed blender with the cardamom, cinnamon and water. Blend until smooth. Scrape through a fine-mesh sieve into a jug to remove any fibrous, pulpy bits and pour into a clean bottle. Store in the fridge for up to a week. To stave off colds, you can drink this either gently warmed or topped up with fizzy water as a tonic.

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BLOOD ORANGE AND GINGER TISANE

Like Sevilles, January is the season for blood oranges. Including these vitamin-C-rich fruits in our diet boosts the immune system. Ginger aids digestion and also increases blood circulation, which in turn keeps you warm. The fresh bay leaves accentuate the aromatics and complement ginger’s digestive powers.

Serves 2

1 blood orange, cut into 1cm (½in) slices

2 tbsp freshly grated ginger

2 fresh bay leaves

300ml (10fl oz) freshly boiled water

Add everything to a teapot and let it steep for 5 minutes before straining into teacups.

DANDELION OAT LATTE

Dandelion root has the most incredible smoky, coffee-like flavour notes and it’s a great caffeine-free alternative to a shot of espresso. It’s also a brilliant source of antioxidants, vitamins A and C, and minerals including potassium and zinc – rich, vital nutrition for the winter months.

Serves 2

2 tbsp ground dandelion root

½ tsp ground cinnamon

250ml (9fl oz) freshly boiled water

250ml (9fl oz) oat milk

Add the dandelion root and cinnamon to a cafetière and pour over the freshly boiled water. Brew for about 5 minutes. Warm the oat milk in a saucepan until steamy. Pour the dandelion coffee into mugs and top up with the milk.

Couronne des Rois

by Caroline Craig

France celebrates the feast of Epiphany on the 6th of January with dessert – a Galette, a Gâteau or a Couronne des Rois to mark the arrival of the three kings in Bethlehem. A tiny porcelain figurine, known as the fève, is hidden inside the cake before it is baked. When the cake is cut, the youngest person in the room slides under the table and calls out the name of the person who should receive each slice, and whoever finds the fève becomes king or queen for the day.

In Provence, we opt for a Couronne des Rois over a galette. The lesser-known couronne (meaning crown) is an orange blossom-flavoured brioche, decorated with candied fruit and crunchy pearls of sugar. Its soft, light texture is most welcome after the indulgences of Christmas, and one I much prefer to the frangipane-filled puff pastry of the galette.

This couronne recipe is my great-aunt Edmée’s. She will double or even quadruple the quantities, making multiple couronnes at a time to give away to friends and family. Is there anything lovelier than gifting someone a homemade cake? I once cycled the fifteen kilometres home from her house with one precariously tied to the back of my rickety bike.

Serves 8

For the couronne:

20g (¾oz) fresh yeast or 7g (¼oz) dried yeast

5 tbsp tepid milk, plus extra for brushing

300g (10½oz) plain flour, plus extra for dusting

Zest of 1 orange

1 tbsp orange blossom water

60g (2¼oz) caster sugar

2 eggs, lightly beaten

80g (2¾oz) butter, softened

40g (1½oz) chopped candied peel

1 porcelain fève (or whole almond)

For decoration:

3 tbsp apricot jam

1 tsp orange blossom water

8 candied fruit pieces

8 glacé cherries

2–3 tbsp pearl sugar

First activate the yeast: crumble or sprinkle into a bowl containing the milk. Mix in 50g (1¾oz) of the flour, then cover with a clean tea towel. Leave in a warm place for an hour or so, until the dough has risen a little and bubbles have formed: your ‘starter’ is now ready.

Grate the orange zest into a large mixing bowl containing the sugar and orange blossom water. Mix, then sift over the remaining flour. Add the beaten eggs, softened butter and prepared starter. Mix with a spoon, then take over with your hands. Knead for a few minutes. The dough will be quite sticky.

Transfer the dough to a clean surface sprinkled with flour and continue to knead for 15 minutes. If after 8 minutes the dough is still very sticky, add a little extra flour.

Shape the dough into a ball and put it back in the mixing bowl. Cover the bowl tightly with the tea towel and place in a draught-free, warm spot. Leave until the dough has doubled in size. This will take between 2 and 3 hours in a toasty place.

Once risen, depress the dough and allow the air to escape. Knead for a minute on a lightly floured surface, then roll into a circle about 2cm (¾in) thick. Transfer to a baking tray lined with baking paper. Stick a finger in the centre of your dough and make a hole, then move your finger around to increase the aperture so that you make a shape like a giant bagel with a central hole about 5cm (2in) in diameter.

Sprinkle the chopped candied peel on the dough immediately around the hole and nestle the fève or almond among it. Fold the outer edges of the dough inwards, over the candied fruit, and press to seal with the inner edge, forming a sort of giant stuffed bagel: your couronne.

Carefully flip the couronne upside down (the bottom side is generally prettier), then cover and prove once more in a warm place for 2 hours. Towards the end of the proving time, preheat the oven to 180°C/350°F/gas mark 4.

When you’re ready to bake, brush the cake with a little milk. Bake for 15–20 minutes until the top is a lovely deep, golden colour.

Once out of the oven, decorate the couronne while it’s still warm. Put the apricot jam in a small saucepan with the orange blossom water. Gently heat for a minute, then brush over the cake to glaze. Top with glacé cherries and candied fruit, followed by a generous sprinkling of pearl sugar.

A Menu for January

by Emiko Davies

WINTER GREENS CROSTINI WITH BOTTARGA

In her 1954 cookbook Italian Food, Elizabeth David introduced her readers to crostini as part of a hot antipasto in a way that still holds true today: ‘These little dishes are comforting in the cold weather, are good at lunch or supper and facilitate life for the cook. But they should, I think, remain simple and small. Enlarged to the size of hefty Welsh rarebits or club sandwiches, they lose their point and their charm.’ Simple is key. There is no need to take longer than 10 minutes to make crostini, and these, with garlicky winter