Sexy Spanish mushy peas and urban kitchen wonders

The end of summer and rain in England.

A recent holiday back home to Australia ( http://www.takethefamily.com/features/long-haul-family-holidays-byron-bay-australia )  left us cashless and marooned in Manchester for the long six weeks of school holidays. One week - bare shoulders, properly warm and jubilant - I bought a paddling pool for the kids. It was the last day of sun. All the next week it rained and the grey blanket of sky wrapped us in a dreary embrace.

So I watched Rick Stein's Spain and yearned for the Mediterranean. The reliable heat: hot and hotter hours of long days. Finding that groove of holiday where everything tastes better and the light illuminates in a more flattering manner. I seem to cook better and look better in the Med. A stall of sunrich tomatoes and courgettes is enough to inspire a meal. I dress more simply - like my cooking, I need less faffing. It takes a week, but by week two, my husband Gareth and I  imagine ourselves to be kindred locals.

A local served up a great dish of broadbeans with mint and ham to Rick that got me cooking. Broadbeans have just come out of season, so use frozen if there is none to be found, just take their skins off after defrosting in some cold water. To keep things seasonal, I don't see why you can't use runner beans or french beans cut into 2cm lengths. I altered the recipe from the Spanish meat-medley - it had hock and black pudding - which I replaced with panchetta cubes as I never like to mix meats in one day let alone one dish. He used fresh garlic and included the green top part of the bulb - I found fresh garlic at the organic grocer - it's subtly different in flavour but has a really different texture, the cloves covered in a moist skin.

It was the technique of  cooking the beans down in stock with mint that I was curious to try. It was amazing, like sexy mushy peas all silky and minty and we mopped it up with toasted sourdough drizzled with some extra virgin olive oil.

Broadbeans with panchetta and mint

(Serves 2 for a rustic dinner)

2 tbs olive oil

150g panchetta cubes

2 white salad onions roughly chopped

3 big cloves of garlic chopped

2 cups of podded, skinned, fresh broadbeans (blanch the fresh beans for a few minutes then peel off the outer skin)

2 generous sprigs of mint

2-3 cups of veg or chicken stock

sea salt and  black pepper

Method

In a heavy-bottomed fry pan fry the panchetta on a medium heat in oil till golden, then add the onion and cook till softened before adding the garlic.

When the garlic has released it's scent and softened but not browned add the broadbeans and stir to coat with the flavours of the oil.

Pour in the veg or chicken stock, add the mint and season (be careful with the salt as panchetta and stock can be very salty already). Turn the heat to high and let bubble for a minute before turning the heat to the lowest temperature and putting on a tight fitting lid (or covering with foil).

Let cook for about 20 minutes unitill the broadbeands are really soft and almost collapsing. Serve hot on toasted sourdough brushed or drizzled with oil and a crispy salad and/or fried potatoes.

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I am amazed at how much food is growing in Manchester. It's like being pregnant and suddenly so is every other woman - once I saw one tree groaning with apples in a neighbours garden - I began to see fruit and food growing everywhere. Rosemary, apples, pears, wild mushrooms sprouting in moist parks, cabbages in council planters, green tomatoes destined for chutney.

Gareth and the kids love scrambling around the garden of the abandoned house next door to us. They usually come back screaming from bramble pricks or ant bites or nettle stings, but last week they came bearing a bucket of mottled skinned pears. River, our four year old boy, ate them peeled and cut up, one after another; loving them perhaps in that way that eating something you have grown or picked or even just seen growing makes the experience richer, better, fascinating - so removed from the source are we normally.

Eventually, he tired of pears and so I decided to make a cake. It's an Italian recipe and can be used with plums too. Speaking of plums, I MADE JAM!

In my effort to be more like Jane, I used the bag of damsons we picked from her tree at Rushall House and made my first ever jam. It was easy: cook the plums, strain the flesh from the stones, add equal quantities of sugar to fruit and cook again with some lemon zest till it's thick enough to resist sliding down a plate...nice.

Italian pear cake

About 5 pears peeled and quartered
150g melted butter plus some for greasing
3 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
150g castor sugar
250g plain flour sifted
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 cup milk

Method

Heat oven to 180 degrees Celsius.
Grease a springfoam cake tin with butter.
Put eggs, vanilla and sugar in a bowl and whip until voluminous, pale and fluffy, pour in melted butter and fold in.
Add flour and baking powder and mix gently with a wooden spoon to incorporate.
Put half the pears on the bottom of the tin, scrape cake mix over them, top with remaining pears.
Bake for about 1 hour or until golden and set.
Serve with pouring cream.