Yotam Ottolenghi’s recipes for an outdoor summer feast

There’s something delightfully bonkers about having a full-on outdoor feast. The set-up is impractical, the weather unpredictable and the logistics of keeping the food warm and the drinks cold unworkable. The only option, when the chance to eat under the open sky presents itself, is to go all-out Mad Hatter’s tea party.

One such opportunity presented itself a couple of years ago, when I was invited to the Glyndebourne opera festival. I knew the evening involved singing, picnics and polished shoes, but the reality was even more eccentric than I imagined. This was a full-scale white dinner jacket, black bow tie, wicker hampers and straw hats affair. Tables were set with silver cutlery, porcelain plates, butter dishes and candlesticks. Butter and wine were kept chilled thanks to buckets of ice. This was different-league outdoor eating. So I pulled my tie straight, picked a handful of wild flowers to dress our slightly wobbly table and embraced the scotch egg moment.

In three weeks, I’ll be serving up an outdoor feast of my own with a Long Table Banquet at the Wilderness Festival, Oxfordshire. There will be fewer bow ties, but the set-up is equally crazy, not least because we’ll be feeding about 700 people over two sittings. Our menu, naturally enough, is equally impractical: burrata with chargrilled grapes, confit squid and a host of salads as a meze course, slow-roast lamb with apricots and figs, baked minty rice and rolled pavlova. The logistics involved are epic, but that moment when the sun sets, and all you can hear is the sound of friends sharing a meal outdoors, is special enough to make it all worthwhile.

Polenta with summer greens and lime

Getting flavour into polenta usually requires a tonne of butter and cheese. Here, I’ve done so with a teaspoon of onion granules (OK, and a good chunk of butter). Serves four.

65g unsalted butter
4 garlic cloves, peeled and crushed
2 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp onion granules
Salt and black pepper
1 litre vegetable stock
160g quick-cook polenta
2 limes – 1 finely zested, to get 1 tsp, then juiced, to get 1 tbsp, the other cut into four wedges, to serve
¾ tsp ground cumin
1 green chilli, deseeded and finely chopped
100g spring onions (ie, about 10), cut thinly on a diagonal
1 hispi cabbage (aka pointed cabbage), quartered, cored and cut into 1cm-wide slices
150g baby spinach
5g mint leaves, roughly chopped
150g soured cream

Melt 50g butter in a medium saucepan on a medium-high heat. Add half the garlic, half a teaspoon of ground coriander, the onion granules, three-quarters of a teaspoon of salt and a good grind of pepper. Fry for about two minutes, until the butter is foaming and the garlic starting to brown, then add the stock and bring to a simmer. Turn down the heat to medium, then slowly pour in the polenta, whisking continuously, until the mix is smooth and starting to thicken. Turn the heat to low and cook for eight to 10 minutes, stirring often, until it is the consistency of thick porridge, then take off the heat and stir in the lime zest.

Melt the remaining butter in a large saute pan on a high heat. Once it’s foaming, add the remaining garlic and coriander, with the cumin, chilli, three-quarters of a teaspoon of salt and plenty of pepper, and fry for a minute, until the garlic starts to brown. Add the spring onions and cabbage, and cook for a minute more, stirring continuously. Add the spinach in two batches and cook, stirring, for two minutes, until it has just wilted and the cabbage is starting to soften but still remains a vibrant green. Take off the heat, squeeze over a tablespoon of lime juice and stir in the mint.

As soon as the greens are ready, return the polenta to a medium heat to warm through; if it has thickened too much, thin it down with a few tablespoons of water. Divide between four shallow bowls, top with the greens and finish with a generous spoon of soured cream. Serve with a wedge of lime.

Beef shin cooked in pomegranate and beetroot juice

Buy the shin in one large piece, rather than pre-cut, and cut it to the right size and shape at home, because pre-cut beef shin will be too thin and fatty here. The better the ingredients you use, as always, the better the results will be, so your oil should be extra-virgin, your pomegranate juice should not be diluted, and your salt should be sea salt flakes. Serves two as a main course alongside some bread and a peppery rocket salad.

500-600g piece boneless beef shin, cut into three 10cm x 4cm pieces
80ml extra-virgin olive oil
Flaked sea salt and pepper
8 garlic cloves, peeled
550ml 100% pomegranate juice
550ml beetroot juice (most beetroot juice is sweetened with a bit of apple juice, which is fine)
20g pistachio kernels, roughly chopped
2 tbsp pomegranate seeds, to serve

Season the beef shin with three tablespoons of oil, a teaspoon of salt and a generous grind of pepper.

Heat a deep, heavy-based, 28cm-diameter pan for which you have a lid on a high flame. Lay in the beef pieces – space them well apart – and fry for seven minutes, turning regularly, until seared and well browned all over. Transfer the meat to a bowl, leaving any juices in the pan, then add the garlic cloves to the pan and fry for a minute, until golden. Return the beef and any resting juices to the pan, turn down the heat to low, and add the pomegranate and beetroot juices. Cover and leave to bubble gently for an hour and a quarter, turning the beef every 15 minutes or so, until it’s tender and the sauce is the consistency of thin gravy and reduced to about 170ml (you may need to remove the meat and reduce the sauce for an extra 10-15 minutes to get it to this state).

Turn off the heat and leave to rest, still covered, for 15 minutes before serving. Using a very sharp knife, cut each piece of meat widthways into 0.5cm-thick slices. Divide between two plates and spoon four tablespoons of sauce, including some of the softened garlic cloves, over each portion, pouring half over the meat and letting the rest pool around it. Drizzle two teaspoons of oil over each plate of meat and sauce: if you do this slowly, this will add a beautiful marbling effect to the sauce. Finish with a sprinkle of pistachios, pomegranate seeds and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt.

Roast peaches with kaffir lime, sabayon and raspberries

If possible, use perfectly ripe peaches for this; if you can’t get any, add a few tablespoons of water to the pan when roasting the fruit. If you can’t get fresh kaffir lime leaves, don’t substitute them with freeze-dried ones: the finely shaved skin of one lime (about six strips) is a much better alternative. Serves six.

3 egg yolks
70g caster sugar
65ml sauternes (or another sweet dessert wine)
6 ripe peaches, pitted and quartered
8 fresh kaffir lime leaves, roughly torn
2 limes – zest finely grated, to get 2 tsp, then juiced, to get 3-4 tbsp
120g raspberries, crushed
100ml double cream

Heat the oven to 180C/350F/gas mark 4. Whisk the egg yolks, two tablespoons of sugar and the wine in a medium heatproof bowl, then set the bowl over a saucepan of gently simmering water (make sure the base of the bowl is not in contact with the water). Whisk for four or five minutes, until it looks like a thick, foamy cream, then take the bowl off the pan and leave to cool, whisking once or twice as it does so.

While the sabayon is cooling, put the peaches, kaffir lime leaves, lime juice, a teaspoon of lime zest and two tablespoons of sugar in a 20cm x 20cm high-sided baking dish. Stir everything together to combine, then roast for 15-25 minutes, until the peaches are soft but still hold their shape (the timing will depend on how ripe they are), then leave to cool.

While the peaches are cooking, mix the raspberries with the remaining teaspoon of lime zest and two teaspoons of sugar.

Put the cream in a medium bowl, whisk to soft peaks, then, using a spatula, fold into the cooled sabayon. If you’re not dishing up straight away, put it in the fridge and take out 15 minutes before serving. Spoon the peaches and any juices into four bowls, and serve with a generous spoonful each of sabayon and raspberries on the side.

Nigel Slater’s strawberry recipes

Years after removing the strawberry bed, the occasional, persistent plant appears through a crack in the path, as if to tease me about my decision. I admire their resilience and leave them be, wolfing the cheeky little intruders if I can get to them before the blackbirds.

All too often strawberries deceive us by smelling better than they taste. I find it helps to introduce another element that will bring a bit of life to the berries – a squeeze of orange juice perhaps, the merest dash of balsamic vinegar or the subtlest grinding of pepper. The most successful additions I have found to date are passionfruit and raspberries. You need to get the balance right, but either will make the berries sing that bit louder once you involve cream, crème fraîche or sweet, soft cheese.

This week I made a vast trifle, a massive crowd-pleaser, baking my own sponge, crunchy with poppy seeds and flecked with orange zest. And then a couple of days later, strawberries appeared again, this time marinated in passionfruit juice and mint.

Strawberry and poppy seed trifle

Serves 8
For the cake:
butter 225g
golden caster sugar 225g
orange grated zest of 1
lemon grated zest of 1
plain flour 110g
baking powder generous ½ tsp
ground almonds 115g
eggs 4
poppy seeds 20g

For the syrup:
water 250ml
caster sugar 50g
ginger 40g, fresh
lemon juice of ½
strawberries and raspberries 250g, mixed

For the cream:
mascarpone 500g
eggs 3, separated
caster sugar 3 tbsp
vanilla extract a few drops

For decoration:
mixed berries 500g
double cream 250ml

You will need a deep-sided cake tin, 22cm x 12cm x 7cm deep, lined with baking parchment.

Set the oven at 180C/gas mark 4. Using a food mixer, cream the butter and sugar until soft and fluffy, then add the citrus zests. Sieve together the flour and baking powder, then stir in the almonds.

Break the eggs into a bowl and beat lightly with a fork. With the beater at a moderate speed, add the egg, a little at a time, to the butter and sugar. If the mixture appears to curdle slightly, then introduce a spoonful of the flour and almond mixture. Continue adding the flour until the batter is thick and creamy. Mix in the poppy seeds.

Transfer the mixture to the lined cake tin, gently smoothing the surface. Bake for 45-50 minutes until a skewer, inserted into the cake, comes out without any raw mixture attached. Leave the cake to cool.

Make the syrup: put the water and sugar into a saucepan and warm over a moderate heat until the sugar has dissolved. Cut the ginger into thin coins and drop into the syrup. Pour the lemon juice into the syrup and set aside to infuse.

When the cake is cool, cut into 1cm thick slices and place in the base of a serving bowl. Pour the syrup over the cake, holding back the ginger, and let it soak in. Slice the strawberries, mix them with the raspberries and scatter over the layer of sponge.

Put the mascarpone, egg yolks and sugar into a mixing bowl and beat until thoroughly combined. Stir in the vanilla extract. In a clean bowl whisk the egg whites until almost stiff then fold in. Spoon over the strawberries then cover the dish in kitchen film and refrigerate for an hour.

Decorate the trifle: process half the berries to a purée in a blender, sieving out the seeds if you wish. Whip the cream until thick, then smooth it over the surface of the trifle, leaving peaks and hollows where the purée can sit. Pour the purée over the surface, then decorate with the remaining fruits. Chill for a good hour before serving.

Vanilla cream with passionfruit and strawberries

Serves 6
crème fraîche 250g
fromage frais or natural yogurt 250g
vanilla pod 1
passionfruit 8
orange 1, small
mint leaves 10
strawberries 400g

Place a fine sieve over a mixing bowl and line it with a piece of muslin. Spoon the crème fraîche into a bowl then add the fromage frais. Split the vanilla pod in half lengthways with a sharp knife, then open it flat and scrape out the dark, sticky seeds within. Fold the seeds through the crème fraîche then transfer to the lined sieve. Leave in the fridge overnight, during which time the vanilla cream will thicken to cheesecake-like texture.

Cut the passionfruit in half and squeeze them into a sieve or tea strainer set over a bowl. Let the juice run through, then press the pulp and seeds with the back of a teaspoon, until you have more or less only dry seeds remaining. Discard the seeds. (I return a pinch of them to the juice for their crunchy contrast.) Halve and squeeze the orange then add the juice to the bowl together with the mint. Halve the berries then stir them into the passionfruit and orange juice, cover and chill in the fridge for an hour.

To serve, upturn the sieve on to a plate and let the muslin and cream slide out. Carefully peel away the muslin. Serve the vanilla cream with the marinated strawberries, and with a spoonful of the gorgeous juice trickled over its pure white dome.

Yotam Ottolenghi’s avocado recipes

My uncle used to have an avocado tree in his garden, and my hazy childhood memories are of an ever-fruiting tree, stooped in the middle of the lawn, with clusters of hefty fruit permanently threatening to bring it down. The bunches lay so low that, even as small children, we could reach them pretty easily. I am not sure why we bothered, though: avocados don’t really ripen on the tree, and the fruit was so bitter that any we tasted were instantly spat out; the edges of my uncle’s garden were dotted with damaged avocados, hidden from our parents’ watchful eyes.

With age, though, came a certain degree of wisdom, and with it an understanding that the avocado is the most marvellous thing, so long as you eat it when it is ready. I always have at least a couple in my fruit bowl, waiting patiently for that moment when a gentle squeeze just yields to my thumb’s pressure. The attraction of a ripe avocado, for me, lies both in its wonderfully grassy taste and velvety texture, but perhaps even more so in the fact that you don’t need to cook avocado to transform it into a wholesome dish. It can be turned into a salsa, spread, soup or dressing with hardly any trouble at all, as long as you get the timing right.

Avocado butter on toast with tomato salsa

The butter needs to be very soft, so it blends properly with the avocado. Don’t melt it, though, because that will cause it to separate; instead, leave it at room temperature for a few hours. Serves two generously, or four as a snack.

2-3 very ripe avocados, flesh scooped out (you need about 250g in total)
80g unsalted butter, softened and cut into 2cm cubes
3 limes – finely grate the zest, then juice, to get 1½ tbsp of each
Salt and black pepper
10g tarragon leaves, finely chopped
10g dill, finely chopped
200g cherry tomatoes, cut into halves or quarters
2 tsp capers, rinsed and finely chopped
2 tbsp olive oil, plus extra to serve
4 slices sourdough bread
½ small garlic clove, peeled
¼ tsp cumin seeds, toasted and crushed

Put the avocado and butter in the small bowl of a food processor with half the lime zest, half the lime juice and half a teaspoon of salt (or use a stick blender). Blitz smooth, scraping down the sides of the bowl if need be, then transfer to a small bowl with two-thirds of the herbs. Fold in, then refrigerate for 10 minutes.

In a small bowl, mix the tomatoes, capers, remaining lime zest and juice, oil and a good grind of pepper, and set aside until needed.

Grill or toast the bread, then rub one side of each piece with the cut side of the half garlic clove. Leave the toast to cool down a little, then spread each slice with the avocado butter and top with salsa. Sprinkle on the cumin and remaining herbs, add a final grind of pepper and a drizzle of oil, and serve.

Avocado soup with garlic oil

This refreshing summer soup will keep in the fridge for up to a day. The garlic oil can also be made ahead of time, and will keep for about two days in a sealed jar, so make extra for drizzling on toast, salads or noodles. Serves four as a first course.

60ml olive oil
½ tsp cumin seeds, lightly crushed
½ tsp coriander seeds, lightly crushed
2 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
Salt
180g frozen peas, defrosted
2 very ripe avocados, flesh scooped out
½ cucumber, peeled (about 160g net weight): 120g cut into rough chunks, the rest finely diced
1 lemon, zested and juiced to get 1½ tsp zest and 1½ tbsp juice
1 small green chilli, deseeded and finely chopped
80g soured cream
1 tbsp chopped dill

Put two tablespoons of oil in a small saucepan with the cumin and coriander seeds, the garlic and a good pinch of salt. Cook gently on a low heat for eight minutes, stirring often, until the garlic softens when mashed with the back of a spoon. Take care that the oil doesn’t get too hot or the garlic will burn (if it does start to bubble, just take off the heat until it’s cooled down a bit).

Put the peas in a blender with the avocado, cucumber chunks, lemon zest, remaining two tablespoons of oil, three-quarters of a teaspoon of salt and 400ml cold water. Blitz until very smooth, then chill.

In a small bowl, mix the diced cucumber with the lemon juice, chilli and a pinch of salt.

Divide the chilled soup between four bowls, top with a spoonful each of soured cream and salsa. Drizzle generously with garlic oil and scatter over the dill, and serve.

Gem lettuce with fridge-raid dressing

This dressing came about when I had a load of herbs in the fridge that needed using up. Don’t be too precious about the weight of individual herbs: so long as the total net weight is about the same, you’ll be fine. It’s worth making extra, because it keeps for a day in the fridge and is lovely spooned over all sorts of things, from chicken salad and tuna niçoise to roast root vegetables and tomato and feta salad. Serves four as a side dish.

½ very ripe avocado, flesh scooped out (90g net weight)
3cm piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped (20g net weight)
1 small garlic clove, peeled and crushed
2 lemons: finely grate the zest of 1 to get 1 tsp, then juice both to get 3 tbsp
1 green chilli, roughly chopped (deseeded if you don’t like much heat)
1 tbsp tahini
85ml olive oil
Salt
10g basil leaves
10g tarragon leaves
10g dill
10g parsley
10g coriander
4 gem lettuces, trimmed and cut lengthways into eighths
2 tsp black sesame seeds, lightly toasted

Put the avocado, ginger, garlic, lemon zest and juice, chilli, tahini and five tablespoons of oil in the small bowl of a food processor. Add a third of a teaspoon of salt, blitz to a smooth paste, then add the herbs. Blitz again and, with the motor running, slowly add 60ml water until smooth.

Mix the lettuce with two teaspoons of oil and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt, then transfer to a platter. Spoon over the dressing, scatter on the sesame seeds and serve at once.

Avocado with curried prawns and lime

Retro, yes, but no less delicious for that. Serve with toasted sourdough to make a starter or a snack. Serves four.

100ml groundnut oil
1 banana shallot, peeled and halved lengthways, then each half cut lengthways into quarters
1 red chilli, deseeded and thinly sliced
20 fresh curry leaves
2 tsp coriander seeds
1 tsp black mustard seeds
2 limes, 1 finely shaved and juiced, the other cut into four wedges, to serve
Salt
300g sustainably sourced raw king prawns, peeled and deveined (cooked peeled prawns are a perfectly acceptable shortcut)
20g mayonnaise
80g Greek-style yoghurt
1½ tsp mild curry powder
1 tsp honey
2 ripe avocados, cut in half lengthways and stoned

Heat 85ml of oil in a small saute pan on a medium-high heat, then fry the shallot and chilli for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the shallot is golden and fragrant. Add the curry leaves, fry for 20 seconds, until crisp, then take off the heat and stir in the coriander and black mustard seeds, lime skin and a pinch of salt. Set aside for 20 minutes, to cool and infuse, then discard the lime skin.

Put the remaining tablespoon of oil in a medium sauté pan on a high heat, then fry the prawns and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt for a minute or two, stirring, until the prawns are cooked through and fragrant. Transfer to a plate to cool.

Mix the mayonnaise, yoghurt, curry powder, honey, two teaspoons of lime juice and an eighth of a teaspoon of salt in a small bowl. Finely chop half the prawns and stir into the sauce; toss the remaining prawns in the infused oil.

To serve, put an avocado half on each of four small plates and sprinkle with a small pinch of salt. Spoon in the creamy sauce, then top with the whole prawns, allowing some to fall off around the avocado. Drizzle each portion with a tablespoon of infused oil and sprinkle with the crisp aromatics. Serve with a lime wedge.

How to Cook on a Charcoal Grill

We’ve tested gas grills at Consumer Reports for decades, and we find huge differences in heating patterns, pre-heat times, and the level of control they provide when cooking. We haven't tested charcoal grills as regularly, and each time we do, it confirms our long-held belief that the results are largely dependent on the skill of the user, who has to be ready to adjust dampers, monitor cooking temperatures, and handle coals to get outstanding results.

Despite all the oversight, charcoal grill enthusiasts think it's well worth the effort. “Smoke is a byproduct of combustion, and the smoke from burning gas and charcoal are different," says Craig "Meathead" Goldwyn, a celebrated grilling expert and judge on the professional barbecue circuit, on his website, Amazingribs.com. "Charcoal makes more smoke than gas, with a broader range of tasty flavor molecules, because it's burning complex organic molecules.” In other words, the smoke from charcoal makes food taste better.

Here's a step-by-step guide to how to cook on a charcoal grill. Try it and see if you can taste the difference.

The Charcoal
Choose the right coals. Novice grillers should start with charcoal briquettes. In our tests, they heat more evenly than irregularly shaped lump charcoal. Seasoned grillers can give lump hardwood charcoal a try. It burns slightly hotter, which makes it a good choice for searing.

How much to use. One charcoal chimney’s worth, give or take. Charcoal starter chimneys hold about 3 pounds of coal, a good amount for most grills 16 to 26 inches across. If you want to be precise, check to see if your grill has a maximum fill line—otherwise, consult the manual.

How to light the charcoal. Fill the chimney to the top and rest it on a level, heatproof surface, like an asphalt driveway—or directly on the grates of your grill. Place a single, natural fire starter under the chimney—crumpled newspaper will suffice—and light the starter with a long match or electronic igniter. Allow the starter to ignite the coals and let the flames travel to the top of the chimney, burning until all the coals are lit and slightly ashed over, a process that takes about 20 minutes.

Controlling the Heat
How to arrange the coals. For foods that cook quickly without much risk of burning, like hot dogs, burger patties, and cut-up veggies, dump the coals in the center of the grill and distribute them evenly across the grill’s lower grate.

For foods that require a hot sear, like a steak, or that take a long time to cook through, like a bone-in chicken breast, you’ll want to build a two-zone fire. Arrange all the lit coals on one half of the grill’s lower grate. That creates a searing surface over the side with coals, and an indirect cooking area on the side without. With either method, add coals continuously every 30 to 60 minutes to roughly maintain the quantity that you started with.

When to close the lid. There’s no hard and fast rule about when to use the lid, so you’ll need to take clues from what you’re cooking. Generally, most foods that cook quickly, over a single-zone fire, can be cooked without the lid in place. You’ll want the lid for foods that take longer to cook because it helps trap hot air, producing indirect convection heat, which cooks foods through without scorching the surface from direct contact with flames.

Adjusting the dampers. Most charcoal grills have two sets of dampers, one near the bottom and the other on top of the lid. Both can be opened or closed, as needed, to control the flow of air through the grill and, in turn, the heat inside. Opening the dampers makes the coals burn hotter, and closing them does the opposite.

Grilling and Smoking
Monitoring the temperature. When grilling, there are two temperatures worth tracking: The internal temperature of your grill and the internal temperature of your food. For food, we recommend an instant read digital thermometer, like the Polder Stable Read THM-379, $18.

For monitoring the temperature of your grill, you can use any leave-in digital meat thermometer. Just make sure to choose one like the Oregon Scientific Wireless BBQ/Oven AQ131 Meat Thermometer, $40, which has a braided steel sleeve over its wires, designed to prevent crimping or melting where it touches the hot surfaces of the grill. Position the probe on the grates, without the tip touching metal, so that it measures the temperature at the cooking surface.
Adding smoke. Pros of the barbecue circuit use smoke the way chefs use salt—to develop deeper flavor profiles of whatever they're cooking without overwhelming the senses. Whole muscle cuts of meat, like pork ribs or lamb shoulder, tend to take smoke best. To get that smokey flavor, use one to two handfuls of wood chips for every chimney of charcoal.

We won't weigh in on what wood varieties to try—it's purely a matter of preference learned best through trial and error—but whatever you choose, soak the chips for 20 minutes in water to help them burn slowly and minimize flare-ups. Don't add the chips until you add your food. Meat is best able to absorb smoke flavor in the first few minutes of cooking, so you don't want chips to burn away before they've worked their magic.

Getting Rid of the Coals
When you're done with the grill, close the lid and shut both sets of dampers. That will tamp down or extinguish the coals. Anything unburned can be transferred to a metal can and saved for future use.

To get rid of any residual ash or embers, place them in a waterproof metal can, saturate with water, and allow them to sit overnight or longer before throwing them away. Char-Broil recommends wrapping the cooled ash in aluminum foil and throwing the packet in a noncombustible garbage bin.

7 Tips for a Better Picnic

Marnie Hanel, Andrea Slonecker and Jen Stevenson are the authors of “The Picnic: Recipes and Inspiration From Basket to Blanket,” and members of the Portland Picnic Society in Oregon, which meets about once a month to dine together outdoors. Here are a few of their tips for a less hectic, more delicious outing:

PACK YOUR OWN seasoning kit of herbs, lemons, salt, pepper and olive oil. This way you can taste and adjust food on the site, and refresh any dishes that need to be perked up.

DON’T BRING DISHES that could be damaged by a bumpy car ride or walk. You can always finish up — fill deviled eggs, dress delicate salad greens, cut fruit and sandwiches — at the picnic site.

IF THERE IS NO TIME to cook, you can put together a fine picnic with sandwiches, fancy groceries or prepared foods, and still make it an occasion by using colorful unbreakable plates and silverware.

REMIND EVERYONE to bring water. It’s a heavy but necessary item, and no one person should be responsible for bringing all of it.

DROP A PIN in a map app on your phone and text your location to guests.

DON’T FORGET trash bags, a wine opener, a washable blanket, a sharp knife, a cutting board and serving utensils.

TAPE A THERMOMETER inside your cooler, and return dishes there between servings to keep them fresh and cool, and prevent spoilage.

How to make courgette and sorrel soup

We’ve been loving or loathing sorrel in England for hundreds of years. Before citrus was readily available it was a handy way to add an acidic flavour to foods.

That acidity – thanks to the oxalic acid in sorrel – isn’t to everyone’s taste. But used judiciously, it’s a boon in the kitchen.

It’s also simple to grow and since it’s a perennial, it conveniently pops up year after year. Here at home, we like sorrel in soups or cream sauces or paired with fatty fish like salmon.

But you’ll find sorrel in Nigerian cooking where it’s used in teas, stews and salads. It’s also popular in Russia and the Ukraine.

Food writer Olia Hercules has several sorrel recipes in her book Mamushka (Mitchell Beazley) including a sorrel broth and moreish Moldovan breads with cheese and sorrel.

Sorrel pops up in Eastern European cooking, Indian, Vietnamese and Greek.

The bright green, arrow shaped leaves can be eaten raw in salads or cooked but be warned that heat turns it a rather unappetising brown colour.

For this soup, I add the sorrel in at the last minute and can depend on hefty amounts of courgette to keep the soup lovely and green. And you don’t need a huge amount of sorrel either to get that punchy, sour, fresh taste. Best yet, this soup is perfect hot or cold – a definite benefit in the hot summer weather.

Courgette and sorrel soup

Serves 4

1 medium yellow onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
2 Tbsp olive oil
3 medium courgettes, approximately 600-700g total weight
​500ml chicken or vegetable stock
50g sorrel
Salt an pepper
Heavy cream
Micro sorrel leaves or minced chives to garnish

Heat the olive oil in a medium sized pan. Add the onion, stir and cover with a lid. Sweat the onions until they’re soft but not brown. Add the garlic and cook for a further minute or two. While they’re cooking, top and tail the courgettes and slice into discs. Add the courgette slices and stir to coat with the oil and onions. Add the stock, cover and cook over medium high heat until the courgettes are just cooked through.

While the soup is cooking, remove the leaves from the sorrel, discarding the stem. When the courgettes are ready, remove the soup from the heat and stir in the sorrel leaves. Using a blender or stick blender, puree the soup. Taste and add salt and pepper as needed.

Serve in soup bowls and garnish with a healthy drizzle of cream and garnish with the micro sorrel leaves or minced chives. The soup can be served warm or cold.

How to cook Swedish-style baked leeks and beef rydberg on an open fire

Before the arrival of the electric cooker, fire, wood and iron were the holy trinity of the Swedish kitchen. I grew up in Järpen, a small village in the north of Sweden. My parents would take us to the mountains, and we’d cook over a fire pit. As a young chef, though, I became passionate about Italian olive oil, French braised chicken and molecular gastronomy – serving dishes, in my first restaurant, such as “asparagus clouds”. I could hardly have got any further away from the rustic slow cooking of the Jämtland forests.

And then I spent the summer of 2011 with my family in a cabin on the island of Ingarö in the Stockholm archipelago. My wife Katarina had just had our first child, our son Vinston. I wandered around on the island and pondered, like a gloomy character from a Bergman film staring at the trees, and remembered the open-fire cooking of my childhood. I chopped down some of the birches I had stared at and made a fire pit. For the whole summer, it was our family kitchen – it never went out. Most of the time we grilled in the usual way, on a grate, but one day I didn’t have enough patience and just whacked a cast-iron pan straight into the flames. The fire sizzled and sparked around the pan; the force of the heat knocked me back; and the flavours of the food … what depth! The image of an analogue fine-dining restaurant developed in my mind, a place where everything was cooked over fire, like in the old days.

Back home in Stockholm, I devoured 18th-century cookbooks, researching how Swedish food was prepared before the advent of electricity. Despite what the trends might have you believe, Nordic cuisine can be summarised by a few techniques and tricks that are easy to get the hang of. Anyone can make their own pickles, anyone can handle a cast-iron pan: it works in everyday life – both inside and outdoors – because that is where it belongs. Here are a few recipes that, I hope, will show you how.

Ember-baked leeks
If you can get really young, slim, fresh leeks, this recipe will be even better. Soaking the leeks in cold water will help them to cook without burning, but don’t worry if the outer layer burns, as it will be peeled off.

Serves 4
2 leeks or 4 large spring onions 
85g butter, at room temperature

For the seasoning
1 tsp pink peppercorns
3 tbsp sea salt

1. Light the fire, using enough wood to create a bed of embers.

2. To make the seasoning, roast the peppercorns in a dry pan for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Set aside to cool, then combine the salt and peppercorns in a mortar and grind together. Store in an airtight container.

3. Keep the roots on the leeks. Clean them in cold running water, then transfer to a bowl, cover with cold water and leave for 20 minutes.

4. Dry the leeks with paper towels. Put the leeks in the embers and cook for about 6-8 minutes, turning once or twice, until tender all the way through.

5. Remove from the fire and peel off the burnt layers. Serve with butter and the rosé pepper salt.

Beef rydberg (main picture)

A luxurious variation of pytt-i-panna, a classic Swedish dish made from leftover meat, pan-fried with onions and potatoes. This, made from tender beef and served with a mustard cream sauce, is believed to have originated at the (now closed) Hotel Rydberg in Stockholm in the 19th century.

Serves 4
4 tbsp sour cream 
2 tsp dijon mustard
1 tbsp wholegrain mustard 
900g waxy potatoes 
900g beef fillet (tenderloin or sirloin)
2 onions, chopped
200g butter
5 tbsp vegetable oil
Salt and black pepper
1 bunch of parsley, chopped
4 egg yolks

1. Combine the sour cream and both mustards in a bowl. Cover and chill until ready to serve.

2. Cut the potatoes into 2.5cm cubes. Rinse in cold water two or three times, then leave to dry on paper towels.

3. Cut the beef into 2.5cm cubes and allow to come to room temperature. Put the onions and 6 tbsp of the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Fry for 30 minutes, or until caramelised.

4. Heat 4 tbsp of oil in a large cast iron pan. Add the potato cubes and fry to lightly colour all over. Add 4 tbsp of butter, then keep cooking until the potatoes are golden and soft in the middle. Remove from the pan and season with salt.

5. Add 1 tbsp of oil to the pan and return to a high heat. Sear the meat one side for about 2 minutes. Add the remaining butter and cook until medium–rare. Remove from the pan and leave to rest for 3 minutes.

6. Put the meat and potatoes back in the pan, add the onions and heat through. Season with salt and pepper. Sprinkle with parsley and serve with raw egg yolks and the mustard cream.