Fail-safe dishes to tempt you back into the kitchen

Telegraph

13 hours ago

It's not difficult to get sick of cooking. I've been testing recipes for five days on the trot. There are cooked and partly cooked doughnuts – three different types, most of them torn open – on my kitchen counter. I've had to judge for how long – and at what temperature – the variations need to be fried. When I'm cooking a fresh batch at two in the morning (it does happen), I curse myself for suggesting doughnuts at all.
But curiosity always gets the better of me. When I was able to recreate the beignets I ate in New Orleans 30 years ago, I danced around the kitchen even though nobody else was there. Popping another cloud in my mouth I heard myself say, 'Oh my God!' at the sugary lightness. I'd cracked the code. I would be able to make these again and again (and tell you how to do it too).
Even though I've now finished my doughnut recipes, I want to continue; to try another couple of types (there are spiced Indian ones, and I've read about some filled with honey and saffron cream). I'm in a zone where I'm excited by discovery, where making things is as much of a thrill now as it was when I was a child. I can get fed up testing recipes, but never for long.
It's the daily grind of family meals that kills enthusiasm. It's not acceptable to complain about cooking for your children. That makes you a bad mother. Your cooking keeps them alive, but it goes beyond that. I know that the meals I gave mine when they were 10 and 16 dictate what their health will be like long after I'm gone.
My sons are grown up now, they're not at the picky stage, but I can't make pasta, tuna and sweetcorn (their favourite childhood dish) ever again. There was a limited range of dishes they would eat, and I hate throwing food out. I only ventured beyond shepherd's pie when I was almost certain that an unfamiliar recipe would go down well. Cooking for children can be soul-destroying.
I was thinking about how much I cooked for friends when I was in my 20s (before children) – apple strudel made with my own pastry, pumpkin-stuffed tortelloni (I was still in my underwear when my guests rang the doorbell), a delicate fish terrine cooked in wafer-thin herb crêpes served with beurre blanc.
Every Saturday I made dishes I'd never cooked before. There was no internet to provide unusual ingredients; no Ocado to bring everything to your door. Instead, I went shopping to get the best fish and meat possible, took lengthy bus trips to find long Turkish peppers or belacan, a fermented shrimp paste used in Malaysian cooking. I was smelling and touching great produce, dazzling pink radishes, purple-tinged asparagus. And don't get me started on cheese shopping.
If you love food, shopping for it intensifies that love. To rekindle your love of cooking, give yourself a day to source ingredients, to sniff tomatoes and strawberries and look at creamy white rounds of burrata sitting in cloudy pools. The next thing is to invite one person – your partner, a close friend, maybe another food lover – so you can cook for only two people. You'll be under less pressure than when cooking for 12 and, more importantly, you can really notice what happens to the ingredients when they're subjected to heat – you have the head space to pay attention.
Finally, decide on a meal that's simple. If you're a good cook it's easy to add another side dish or do more than you need to (I used to think I had to make my own bread). This is a lovely menu made up of components that celebrate the slide towards summer. Take a couple of days, one for shopping and one for cooking, and immerse yourself. Feel your love returning in these fail-safe dishes.