A warm salad for a rainy night

It doesn't sound entirely pre-possessing, does it, salad and rain not being best buddies, but stick with me. I've blogged before on the fabulousness that is Jerusalem artichoke soup and it does tend to be my reflex cooking method as it somewhat dims the side effects. However, last night I was in the mood for something punchier and more textured. Pace Nigel Slater, this is what I came up with.

Bung a couple of chicken thighs, legs, whatever, in the oven to roast with plenty of salt and lemon. That's the protein taken care of. Peel a big handful of Jersualem artichokes and dip into acidulated water. Steam them until tender - you may find it easier to cut the larger ones in half so they all steam equally. It takes about 15-20 minutes, but go carefully because they do have a tendency to turn to mush.

While they're steaming away, fry off some pancetta or streaky bacon with a sliced leek. Once golden and appetising-looking, remove from the pan with a slotted spoon. Slice your artichokes into pound coin thicknesses and add to the pan with a little more oil if needed. Sauté until golden brown and crisp then add the bacon and leek back in and season.

Whisk up a good mustardy dressing - I used a tbsp Dijon mustard, a squeeze of lemon and a lot of olive oil, then add a good handful of finely chopped parsley. On a plate arrange your chicken pieces and I put alongside a handful of pea shoots for the colour and sweetness. Then toss your artichoke mixture in the mustardy dressing and spoon on top of the pea shoots so they wilt a little. Sprinkle over a little more parsley and lemon if desired and tuck in.

Wings and other things

It's been a while since my last post and Summer seems to be sadly settling down into something more normal. But we soldier on - and I have to admit the garden is loving the rain - next post I promise some pictures of our curiously sudden Wildflower Corner with a plethora of brightest orange nasturtiums - suddenly, suddenly we have colour in the garden and it's ultimately cheering.

Anyway, back to what's been going on... The garden is springing along, with the second crop of rocket and spinach coming along. We're now digging up potatoes, cropping cavolo nero and picking green beans. The kale looks almost ready too. The pak choi sits there dispiritedly wondering if we're ever going to release it from its bed of pain. Sad, but we still can't get to it. Ooh and we have lots of orange tomatoes, which will stay thus and so could adorn a bacon sandwich on Sunday morning.

So, I'm still not buying any veg but I have made a discovery of a Farmers market in Penge just down the road from the Sibling (new character everyone - brace yourselves...). And whatever you can't get there, there is a really excellent butchers just round the corner. I bought some truly good chicken liver pate from Tom's Chickens as well as the most enormous wings you have ever seen - almost pterodactyl in size, but meatier and obviously less leathery... 8 to a pack and barely a couple of quid.

So what did I do with them? Well, for a start we could only manage 3 each but I heartily recommend them for lunch the next day so cook as many as you can fit in a tin. Cover with hearty amounts of olive oil, salt and paprika and roast for 40-45 mins at about 200C. Meanwhile, make a dressing of handful of parsley and sprig of rosemary, finely chopped with garlic. Stir in juice of a lemon, a drizzle of sherry (dry please) and enough olive oil to make it pourable. Chopped chilli, (about a tsp, but as much as you like, bearing in mind the paprika), salt and pepper and leave to sit. When the wings are golden and sticky, spoon over the dressing and leave for 5-10 minutes to cool. (I say this in retrospect - I have no fear of molten food but MCD squeals like a girl if anything is above room temperature, so burnt fingers were a minor issue last night).

With it: runner beans cut into aesthetically pleasing diamond shapes, lightly cooked, then turned in a dressing of finely chopped shallots, red wine vinegar and olive oil, all piled on top of shredded sorrel.