26 March: Seed day
A fortnight later than I had intended, the day on which I sow the majority of the vegetables for the kitchen garden. Lilac, purple and white sweet peas (Flora Norton, Cupani's Original and Mrs Colville), French pumpkins, rare broad beans from Chelsea Physic Garden and the more pedestrian Red Epicure are all tucked into tall, thin pots full of seed compost and Vermiculite, labelled and watered. This year I do it in the sun, the leaves on the fruit trees slowly unfurling in the spring sunshine. To be honest, it is one of those days you can't quite believe, all blue sky and white damson blossom. Lunch is bread, serrano ham and Manchego cheese at the garden table. Supper is more bread, this time with dishes of olive oil to dunk it in, followed by tomato salad with basil and sea salt. Then we get extraordinarily drunk because I am over-tired and no one has really had enough to eat.
27 March: A new leaf
Baby leeks the thickness of a pencil, still with mud on their white roots; tiny, very early tomatoes from the Isle of Wight; curly kale by the bagful; field mushrooms the size of a side plate; and bags of spear-shaped spinach leaves - these are the stars of today's trip to the farmers' market. The kale is for a side dish to go with a roast chicken stuffed with lemon and tarragon and served with baked onions with Parmesan and cream. The stalls are all good spirit-lifting stuff. But nothing quite prepares me for the salad stall. Box after box of greenery in fine fettle: quivering leaves of tender claytonia, hot gutsy red mustard, earthy red chard, boisterous celery leaf and pepper-hot rocket all begging to be taken home. Then there are bundles of coriander, chokingly spiky mizuna and rare and exceptionally tart bundles of sorrel. I buy four bags, keeping the stir-fry leaves separate from the chard, claytonia and rocket, which will end up in the week's salads. There are also manageably sized heads of frisée, the frilly lettuce that is normally too big for my needs. I only want enough for a couple of frisée and bacon salads, which I still regard as one of the world's best lunches.
I am not an obsessive or even especially passionate foodie, but finds like this do excite me. A stall devoted to the art of the salad, where the shopper can pick and nibble and help themselves to whatever they want. Such places make the supermarket pillow pack of 'bistro-mix' salad almost laughable.
Chinese broccoli with oyster sauce and ginger
Any Chinese greens will do for this, or indeed purple sprouting or European broccoli, or spring greens. What matters is the freshness and vitality of the greens. Time-wise, 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 over-cooking the greens. They are what it is all about.
Enough for 2
steamed rice - enough for 2
coriander - a small bunch
garlic - 2 large, juicy cloves
ginger - a piece as big as your thumb
groundnut oil - 1 tbs
Chinese broccoli (gai lan), choy sum or other Chinese greens - 12 stems
oyster sauce - 6 tbs
When the rice is cooked, keep it warm in a covered colander over a pan of simmering water.
Roughly chop the coriander and fold it into the rice with a few grinds of black pepper. Boil a pan of water for the greens.
Peel the garlic and slice each clove 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 till soft and nut brown.
Cook the greens in plenty of furiously boiling, lightly salted water. They will need three to five 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.
29 March: A stir-fry for a spring day
Green-in-snow is just one of the leaves I bought at the farmers' market last Sunday. Hotter than watercress or rocket, it has a rough edge to it, as if someone has cut round each leaf with pinking shears. The larger the leaf, the more potent it is. It was great with a smoked salmon sandwich, rather like having a thin spreading of wasabi. But there are too many to put in the salad tonight, to which I want to add torn mozzarella and strips of serrano ham. Instead I stir-fry the leaves with mushrooms. The result is a clean and fresh little vegetable dish. No rice. I can't be bothered.
Stir-fried mushrooms, spring leaves and lemon grass
Enough for 2
garlic - 3 cloves
small, hot red chillies - 2
lemon grass - a fat stalk
spring onions - 4
chestnut mushrooms - 250g
groundnut oil - 3 tbs (and maybe more)
tender green leaves (mizuna, spinach, mustard greens et cetera) - 4 handfuls
sugar and salt - a good pinch of each
light soy sauce - 2 tbs
toasted sesame oil
Get everything ready before you start to cook. So, peel and finely chop the garlic; halve, seed and finely chop the chillies; discard the outer leaves of the lemon grass and finely shred the inner leaves. Cut the spring onions into short lengths and the mushrooms into quarters.
Get the wok hot. By which I mean smoking hot. Pour in the groundnut oil, then immediately add the chopped garlic, chillies and lemon grass. Stir and fry for a few seconds, then add the chopped spring onions. Once the onions have started to wilt, add the mushrooms and let them colour, tossing and stirring until they are golden and soft. Add a little more oil if you need to, but remember that it will bring the temperature down considerably. Throw in the leaves, then stir and toss until they have wilted but still retain their bright green colour. Add a good pinch of salt, another of sugar and the soy. Drizzle over a very little sesame oil (I think a teaspoon is about enough) and eat immediately.
· To order The Kitchen Diaries by Nigel Slater (4th Estate) for £15.99 with free UK p&p go to observer.co.uk/bookshop or call 0870 836 0885
