Fish stew in the south of France doesn’t have to mean a complicated bouillabaise: bourride is a simpler and equally perfect match for a summer’s evening

Much as I love bouillabaisse, I’ve never come across rascasse, the spiny Mediterranean rockfish that’s the backbone of Marseille’s signature dish, outside its homeland. Bourride, another southern French fish stew, is a simpler affair that’s much easier to recreate here. Enriched with garlicky aïoli, it’s a lovely thing for a summer’s evening, and can be prepared ahead up to the end of step 7.

Prep 20 min
Cook 1 hr 10 min
Serves 2, generously

This simple Spanish classic will convince even staunch fava-phobics to give beans a chance

I always feel sorry for broad beans, the lumpy cousin perpetually overshadowed by the charms of slender, elegant asparagus and sweet, bouncy, little peas. They’re in season at roughly the same time, but asparagus in particular gets all the glory, perhaps because so many of us are scarred by childhood experiences of large, grey wrinkly beans served in a floury white sauce (my own parents are so averse to the things that I vividly remember the first time I came across them on a Sunday roast as a teenager and had to ask a friend what they were).

Unsurprising though it is, given our general scepticism with regard to pulses, the British lack of enthusiasm for the broad bean is a particular shame, because it’s been an important part of the European diet since ancient times. As the Oxford Companion to Food explains, however, they are also linked to a “superstitious dread” possibly associated with “a general belief that the souls of the dead might migrate into beans”. Having eaten a lot of the things in the process of writing this piece, I can reassure nervous readers that no haunting has yet taken place, and that this Spanish way with them is all but guaranteed to convince even the staunchest of fava phobics. Go on: give them a try.

A fun, shareable Tunisian chickpea soup for a party, a one-pan moussaka, and a fragrant, layered, chocolate viennetta

Traditionally, this would be a Tunisian breakfast, and it’s not a million miles from one of my favourites, Egyptian ful medames. But here I’m proposing it as an evening offering: make a big pot of delicious flavourful chickpeas, then lay out a spread of accompaniments (pickles, olives, capers, boiled eggs). Second, a good traditional moussaka is a wholesome but time-consuming process, but that’s not the case with this simplified version, which you can easily make on a weeknight. Finally, you might not be surprised to learn that this basil viennetta was one of the most popular recipes when we were testing dishes for my new book, MEDesque. First, of course, because it tastes unreal. Second, because everyone got a huge tug of nostalgia, and third, because everyone became giddy with excitement, trying to figure out what the flavour was.

This Spanish-style stew is a superb midweek dinner – it’s effortless but looks special

This Spanish-inspired stew is a great weeknight dinner, particularly if you are having a few friends over, because it feels a bit special while actually being effortless and easy. If you want to take that effortlessness to the next level, make the potato base in advance, then finish off with the spinach and prawns just before serving (I like to do as little cooking as possible in front of guests, leaving me free to chat and pour drinks). Serve with a peppery, lemon-dressed salad on the side and hunks of crusty bread to mop up the juices.

This marvellous staple of the Portuguese kitchen is a rich bean stew with pork and sausages that makes an excellent one-pot feast. You might find it’s perfect for midweek …

If you are trying to incorporate more beans and pulses into your diet, as I am, then this robust, one-pot feast, which food writer Edite Vieira describes as “a marvellous standby of the Portuguese kitchen”, is one to bear in mind. Though each region has its own variations, “basically”, she explains, “feijoada is a rich bean stew with pork and sausages”. The Brazilian version, often cited as that country’s national dish, is the product of the West African “love of beans”, according to the Oxford Companion to Food, with some suggesting that it’s a South American creation that travelled to Europe along with returning colonisers. Others insist with equal fervour that the dish was “born in the north of Portugal, and imported and adapted to what was available in Brazil”. Like so many such homely favourites, its precise history will probably ever remain a mystery; what’s important is that it’s simple to prepare, easy to adapt according to taste and budget, and very satisfying.

It’s wild garlic time again! Try this pesto with an aromatic chicken, fennel and potato stew, then dive into a fudgy banana cake with a tantalisingly crunchy top

I love Mexican chillies for the subtle flavour they give to cooking. Take the ancho, with its sweet, earthy notes of chocolate and plum. That adds immense depth to dishes traditional and avant garde alike, and is now readily available online and in shops. In today’s one-pot, which is a near-perfect way to cook a whole chicken, the ancho adds character to a classic sofrito, while in the pudding the savoury notes and touch of heat complement the dark caramel, helping to create a banana cake that is anything but bland. If you can’t find ancho, try any other medium-heat chilli flake in its place (nora, aleppo), or simply leave it out. The results will be delicious either way.

This hearty, slow-cooked soup is a celebration of all things Welsh, and its versatility makes it a year-round favourite

Cawl is Wales’ gift to the world of thrifty, slow-cooked broths and, like all great peasant dishes, it’s seasonal, versatile and immensely practical. A few years ago, Food & Drink Wales invited me to create two food sustainability toolkits, one for hospitality and one for the public, with both celebrating Welsh produce and recipes. This led me to explore Wales’ national dishes and discover cawl (or lobscows, the northern Welsh name for the dish) properly for the first time. Inspired by Welsh culinary legends Dudley Newbery and Tomos Parry’s recipes, it’s the perfect way to turn lamb leftovers, or even just a bone, into a hearty meal.

A comforting, rustic roast chicken and saffron casserole with a knockout hazelnut mojo verde

Chicken and beans are two of the foods I grew up with, and were often cooked in one pot and designed to be shared. It’s the kind of cooking we do at my restaurant Lolo: generous, relaxed and made to be eaten together. March sits between the seasons, when we still need comfort, but also start to look for freshness, too, and this stew feels just right for the moment. As the days get longer and spring starts to show itself, it is warming without being heavy, while the mojo verde lifts everything and gives the dish energy.

This classic dish needs no deviation from its time-honoured traditions – but mastering it does require some skill

The first time I dared to write a recipe for Irish stew, I was invited on to the national broadcaster, RTÉ, to discuss my choices live on air. And, to my considerable relief, it was eventually decided that I had not dishonoured the memory of my ancestors. It’s tempting for modern cooks to meddle with such resolutely plain classics. Do not! It’s delicious just as it is.

Prep 20 min
Cook 2 hr
Serves 6

A comforting and rustic plate inspired by trip to a traditional Roman trattoria

The benefit of soaking and cooking (or, better still, pressure cooking) your own beans are many: less packaging; money saved (a 500g bag of dried beans costing £2.50 will yield 1.5kg cooked beans, while some 400g tins can cost more or less the same); the suspiciously coloured but flavourful and starchy bean cooking water; and some personal satisfaction that you actually remembered to soak the beans in the first place. The benefits – and joy – of tinned beans, however, are almost instantaneous. That is, just a ring-pull away – unless, of course, said ring-pull comes off prematurely, turning the tin into a door without a knob and leaving you two options: searching for the tin opener that is somewhere in the miscellaneous drawer (or among the picnic equipment, which is on top of the wardrobe), or puncturing the tin at exactly the right spot on the seam with a pointy parmesan knife, which is somewhere in the same drawer.

Fortunately, the ring pull didn’t come away prematurely on any of the three tins – two borlotti beans and one plum tomatoes – required for this week’s recipe, which came about thanks to a meal at Dal Cordaro, a hard-working and decent trattoria just behind Porta Portese, a 17th-century city gate (arch) in the Aurelian wall on the right bank of the river Tiber. Everything we ordered – whole braised artichokes, slow-cooked oxtail stew, flash-fried rags of beef (straccetti), pasta and chickpeas – was pleasing and could have made its way into this column. However, my plate of beans in a rich, orange-tinted tomato sauce with poached sausages and greens (escarole) stirred in at some point was the satisfying idea that came home with me.

A fuss-free, comforting supper to see you through the last days of winter

This is everyday cooking, the kind that comes naturally in winter. Carrots are always around and often forgotten, but they give a lot when you treat them properly. The saffron brings warmth and colour, and always makes me think of home. February can feel quiet and grey, and this stew suits that mood. It is comforting without being heavy, made for evenings when you want something ready on the stove and bread on the table, eaten calmly and enjoyed without any fuss.

Aromatic snacks stuffed full of flavourful chicken mince, and a comforting Korean stew

I use a lot of rice paper and always have plenty at home, because it can be used in a wide variety of ways. It’s delicious fried, as are most things! These half-moons are filled with an aromatic chicken mince, while tteokbokki is a Korean dish of chewy rice tubes that are often cooked in a stew. They are not always easy to find, but I love them, so I make my own.

A versatile, one-pan dish to which you can add pretty much whatever seasonal vegetables you like and whatever side suits, and all ready in about half an hour

This is a one-pan dinner at its finest: elegant and full of flavour, something that feels as if it has taken more effort and time than it actually has, and versatile in its finish – serve with creamy mash, fluffy rice, boiled potatoes; even hunks of fresh baguette would be wonderful for mopping up the creamy mustard sauce. I use whatever veg is in season: purple sprouting broccoli is at its best right now, but you could add stalks of rainbow chard, shredded cavolo nero, even halved baby carrots. Play around with whatever veg you have and love.

A warm, silky soup and a nourishing and flavourful stew to help get you through the colder weather

bowl of creamy red lentil soup feels like pure comfort – warm, silky and deeply satisfying. The lentils cook down into a smooth, golden blend, their gentle sweetness enriched by sauteed onions, garlic and a touch of spice. A drizzle of dukkah oil brightens things up, making it perfect for January. Then, a Levantine chickpea stew with aubergine and tahini, which is so nourishing and full of flavour. Tender chickpeas simmer slowly in a rich tomato base until they absorb the sweetness of onions, garlic, and the gentle warmth of cumin. Fried aubergine melts into the stew, and its smoky softness gives each spoonful a lush texture.

Swerve the stress on New Year’s Eve and serve up a buffet comprising one big dish with plenty of sides, like this chicken and rice with amba, an amazing, tangy Iraqi condiment

New Year’s Eve has always struck me as the most treacherous of nights. Not because of the drink, or the fireworks, or the pressure of staying awake past midnight (although that alone should qualify as an endurance sport). Like Valentine’s Day and your birthday, what makes New Year’s Eve perilous is the collective insistence that this night has to deliver: the best meal, the best party, the best version of ourselves. High expectations that will inevitably lead to disappointment, and haven’t we had our fair share of that already?

There was one year in the restaurant when we convinced ourselves that the only way to rise to the occasion was a set menu of showstoppers. We thought we had predicted everything, and we assumed (boldly, wrongly) that everyone would choose the chocolate dessert. It made sense: who wouldn’t want chocolate on the most celebratory night of the year? So the tarte tatin went on the menu as a polite alternative, a back-up singer, not the star. Except, of course, everyone wanted the tarte tatin.

The temperature has truly dropped, so get a pot of something warming and delicious going on the stove. Plus: Amy Poon’s perfect post-pub fare

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At the risk of sounding like a British cliche, can we take a moment to discuss the change in the weather? This week’s sudden drop in temperature has our house excited for potential snow (the children are giddy), with everything suddenly feeling a lot more wintry. New coats are on the hooks, thermals are being dug out and a casserole dish filled with some sort of soup, stew or stock seems to be permanently ticking away on the hob. These range from quick, warming weeknight dinners to leisurely, slow-cooked weekend meals.

Whatever the time of year, I always have speedy packets of wontons and gyozas in the freezer, and cook them depending on how I feel (fried and steamed versus boiled and soupy). At the moment, I am craving warmth and nourishment, and Meera Sodha’s quickish vegan wonton soup hits all the right spots; an added bonus is that it is a soup my children can get on board with, too. I rely on my brothy braised chicory and beans (pictured top) to get me through working-from-home lunches, when I don’t have much time, as well as Rukmini Iyer’s spiced black bean and tomato soup, which is equally speedy and comforting.

This warming casserole is melt-in-your-mouth tender, and comes with velvety white beans to soak up the rich meaty juices

My mum, Isabel, has always cooked slowly. Life on the family farm was busy, so a pot of lamb would often be bubbling away while she worked and, by the time we all sat down for lunch, the whole house smelled incredible. November takes me straight back there. It is the month for food that warms you, dishes made to sit in the centre of the table and to bring everyone close. Lamb shoulder loves a slow cook, turning soft and rich, especially when cooked with alubias blancas (white beans) to soak up the sauce, while a good splash of oloroso gives it a deeper, rounder flavour than any red wine ever could.