Choy sum with oyster sauce

Any Chinese greens will do for this, or indeed purple sprouting, spring greens or European broccoli. What really matters is the freshness and vitality of the greens. Timewise, everything happens at once in this recipe. I get round this by getting the rice ready first, keeping it hot over boiling water, then preparing the garlic and ginger. It is better to let the hot oyster sauce mixture wait off the heat for a second or two than risk overcooking the greens. They are what it is all about.

serves 2

steamed rice for 2

coriander - a small bunch

choy sum, Chinese broccoli (Gai lan) or

other Chinese greens - 12 stems

garlic - 2 large, juicy cloves

ginger - a piece as big as your thumb

groundnut oil - 1 tbs

oyster sauce - 6 tbs

When the rice is cooked, keep it warm in a covered colander over a pan of simmering water. Chop the coriander and fold it into the rice with a few grinds of black pepper. Put a pan of water on to boil for the greens.

Peel the garlic and slice the cloves thinly. Pare the ginger, then cut the flesh into matchstick-thick shreds. Warm the oil in a medium-sized saucepan, tip in the sliced garlic and shredded ginger and fry until soft and nut brown.

Cook the greens in plenty of furiously boiling, lightly salted water (the oyster sauce is quite salty so I tend to go easy on the salt).They will need about 3 to 5 minutes, depending on the thickness of their stalks.

Stir the oyster sauce into the browned ginger and garlic and leave to bubble briefly. Drain the greens and tip them immediately into the oyster sauce. Toss the vegetables around gently in the sauce and aromatics, then serve with the coriander rice.

Smoked salmon and bacon salad

I am not fond of surf-n-turf, but I do have space for smoked salmon and bacon. What sounds an odd pairing actually turns out to be one of the great unsung marriages of all time, like hot sausages and cold oysters. I serve this either as a salad or on toasted bread.

makes 2 sandwiches

streaky bacon - 4 rashers

small broad beans, podded - 25g (a small handful)

thick white bread - 2 slices

parsley - a lush sprig

gem lettuce - 6 crisp leaves

smoked salmon - 4 slices

dressing:

olive oil - 2 tbs

lemon juice - 2 tsp

grain mustard - a scant tsp

Grill the bacon till crisp. Cook the beans in salted water till tender - about 4 or 5 minutes - then pop them from their skins. Meanwhile remove the parsley leaves from their stalks, chopping them (unless they are very small and tender) and wash the lettuce.

Make the dressing by whisking together all the ingredients (or shaking them in a tightly lidded jam jar).

Lightly toast the bread. Toss the lettuce and drained, cooked beans in the dressing. Pile all the ingredients on the bread (elegantly or devil-may-care as the mood takes you) and drizzle with any leftover dressing. Eat while the bacon is hot.

Five spice quail

Quail, the most diminutive bird we can roast, demands to be picked up at the table, its bones nibbled and sucked almost clean. If you can't bear such table manners and attempt to go at it with a knife and fork, you will miss the most toothsome of feasts. It is difficult to know exactly what to serve on the side with something you eat in this manner. My first choice would be a simple rice pilau.

serves 2

oven ready quail - 4

garlic - 1 large clove

hot ground chilli powder - 1 tsp

Chinese five-spice powder - 2 slightly heaped tsp

the juice of a lemon

groundnut oil - 2 tbs

Set the oven at 200°C/gas 6. Peel and mash the garlic. Put it in a bowl then stir in the ground chilli, the five spice powder, lemon juice and the oil. Season generously with sea salt - a good half teaspoon. Dip the quail in and toss them gently round. You can leave it like this for several hours if it suits you, though just one will do.

Put the birds and any marinating juices into a small roasting tin. They should be close, but not actually touching. Roast them for 15 to 20 minutes, depending on their size, turning once. The little birds will look quite dark after the full cooking time, but this is fine. Serve them piping hot with orange or lemon wedges to squeeze and some crusty bread.

Roast pork loin with lemon potatoes

I usually roast my pork on the bone, a sure way to get some succulence on everyone's plates. But during the week I sometimes want something neater and easier to carve. In that case I usually go for a boned loin, ready-tied and scored by the butcher. Roasted on a bed of sliced lemons and new potatoes, you have a gorgeously sticky, citrus-scented little roast. I serve this as it is, with a plate of rocket or watercress salad to follow.

serves 4 with second helpings

boned, rolled pork loin - about 1.3kg, scored and tied

new potatoes - 12

lemons - 2

fennel seeds - 1 tsp

olive oil - 3 tbs

Set the oven at 220°C/gas 7. Wipe the new potatoes, cut them in half lengthways then drop them into a mixing bowl. Cut the lemons into thick wedges, 8-10 to each fruit, then add them to the potatoes together with the fennel seeds, a tablespoon of the olive oil and generous grinding of sea salt and black pepper.

Rub the pork with salt. Warm the remaining olive oil in a roasting tin and place it over a high heat. As soon as it starts to shimmer, lay the pork in the tin and let it colour before rolling it over and continuing until all sides are sealed.

Tip the potatoes and lemon into the tin with the pork. Roast for 20 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 200°C/gas 6 and continue roasting for 25 mins per 500g, until the juices run clear when the meat pierced with a metal skewer.

You won't need to baste the meat as it cooks, but it is a good idea to toss the potatoes around half way through cooking, so that they turn golden and sticky on both sides. Carve the meat and serve on warm plates with the roast potatoes.

Toasted chocolate brioche

Brioche is both rich and featherlight. Toasted, and served with a cappuccino, it is a tender mid-morning pick-me-up, but is wonderfully decadent when stuffed with shavings of chocolate and toasted till the filling melts. Brioche loaves are not as easy to track down here as they are in France, but most major supermarkets have them. I found mine at Waitrose.

per sandwich:

dark, smooth chocolate - 60g

brioche - 2 thin slices

Heat a ridged, hob-top griddle or toasted sandwich maker. Lay the bread flat on a work surface. Grate or shave the chocolate so that the pieces are small and thin enough to melt quickly. Spread them over one slice of the bread, almost to the edge.

Toast the bread on the hot griddle until the underside is toasted, then carefully turn it so that the filling doesn't escape, and toast the other side. It is ready when the chocolate has melted and is starting to ooze out.

The wine list

Choy sum with oyster sauce

2002 Gooseberry Patch Sauvignon Blanc, Touraine ( £5.99, Oddbins)

This sounds as if it hails from New Zealand or South Africa, but it's as French as a baguette. This is as crisp as a starched shirt with notes of elderflower and gooseberry and perky acidity.

Five spice quail

2001 Chteau Maris, Minervois La Livinière (£7.99, Waitrose)

You need a fairly chunky wine to stand up to the strong flavours in this dish, and this organic Carignan from one of the south of France's best appellations delivers punchy, aromatic flavours of blackberry, liquorice and thyme.

Roast pork loin with lemon potatoes

2001 Tim Adams Clare Valley Semillon (£8.03, Tesco)

Often overlooked in favour of Chardonnay and increasingly Riesling down under, Aussie Semillon can be great with food. This toasty, honeysuckle-scented white lingers on the palate like a warm, midsummer evening.

Toasted chocolate brioche

Warre's Otima 10 Year Old Tawny Port (from £9.49, widely available)

This is one of the few wines that can cope with a full-frontal chocolate assault, and very tasty it is too, with flavours of figs, dates and raisins bound up in a sweet, richly alcoholic coating. Serve chilled.

Smoked salmon and bacon sandwich

2002 Saint Véran Les Monts, Georges Brichon (£7.50, Marks & Spencer)

There's some very good value to be had from lesser white Burgundy areas in 2002. The Mconnais has no right to produce wines as good as this creamy, unoaked, pear and lemon fruity Chardonnay, but it did in 2002.
Tim Atkin