Pork and coriander rissoles with sticky coconut rice

These rissoles are really easy to make and have a lovely, light flavour from the coriander and lemon. This amount makes 4 to 6 patties, depending how big you make them and how hungry you are.

What you need:
500g pork mince
1 shallot
2-3 cloves of garlic
handful fresh coriander leaves
zest of a lemon
seasoning

For the rice:
50g basmati rice
50ml slightly sweetened coconut water

What to do:
Blitz the shallot, coriander and garlic in a food processor or chop very, very finely. Put into a mixing bowl with the pork mince, lemon zest and seasoning, then work it all together. Shape into burger patties and chill in the fridge for at least 30 minutes. To cook, fry them in a little vegetable oil for about 6 minutes on each side.

To make the rice, put the basmati is a sieve and rinse well under the cold tap until the water runs clear. Put in a pan and add the coconut water. Bring it to the boil, then put a tight lid on it and turn the heat right down until is just simmering. It should take about 12 minutes for all the liquid to be absorbed and for the rice to be plump and sticky.

Cook's tips:
Uncooked rissoles can be frozen - wrap well in cling film, separately, then pop them in a container or freezer bag. They need to be thoroughly defrosted before cooking.

Coconut water is widely available now. Most supermarkets stock it and you can also find it in Asian grocery stores and health food shops. I like the plain version to drink but the slightly sweetened variety, which often has coconut shreds in it, is my preference for the rice. Add a small pinch of sugar to the coconut water if you only have the unsweetened sort. If you can't find coconut water, a mix of about 30ml low-fat coconut milk and 20 ml water works well.

It's a good idea to start the rice before you start frying the rissoles - it needs time to come to the boil and if it's ready before the rissoles, just take it off the heat and leave the lid on to keep it hot until you're ready to plate up. 

Lemon and ginger pork skewers

Lemon and ginger are natural bedfellows, providing a blast of heat and sweet-sour contrast. I used to buy a ready-made marinating paste when I lived in France but on my last couple of trips back I've not been able to find it. I've been experimenting for some time with a homemade version.

It's nice to be back, by the way. I've not been living on takeaways in my absence (well, ok, one or two) - it's just that life got in the way.

What you need:
125g fresh ginger
2-3 very thin-skinned lemons
Vegetable oil
Sea salt
2 slices belly pork

What to do: 
Make the lemon and ginger paste. Peel the ginger and cut it into small chunks. Chop the lemons and discard all the pips. If a lot of juice runs off, set it aside. Put the ginger and lemons into a food processor, with a generous pinch of salt and a good glug of the oil, then blitz into a smooth paste. Thin it with a little lemon juice if very stiff.

Cut the pork into bite-sized chunks, put into a bowl and rub a heaped tablespoon of the paste in. Leave in the fridge to marinate for 2-3 hours minimum, overnight if possible.

Thread onto 2 metal kebab skewers and grill for about 10 minutes, turning frequently. Serve with sweet potato and coriander mash.

Cook's tips: 
The easiest way to peel ginger root is to scrape the skin off with the tip of a teaspoon. It comes off very fast. The lemons need to be very thin-skinned because they have almost no pith and this uses whole lemons. If you can't find thin-skinned ones, you could use preserved lemons, but the paste will be much sharper in taste. Don't be afraid to tinker with the proportions if you want more heat or more lemon. And you may need to add more salt to taste.

This makes about two jam jars' worth of paste. It'll keep in the fridge for up to 2 weeks and it freezes well. You can stir it into tagines and curries, or pretty much anything where you want a hit of heat and sour. It's also very nice with chicken, either grilled fillets or rubbed into slow-cooked thighs (slash the meat to get the paste right in). I've even rubbed it over a whole chicken for roasting.

Use pork fillet if you prefer a leaner cut, just be sure to reduce the grilling time so the meat doesn't overcook and turn dry.

Lemon and dill lamb

I love the aniseed tones of dill but it's a herb usually only associated with fish. It does have an affinity with other things - it's used in cures for pickled gherkins for example and also turns up a lot in dishes from Poland, Russia and other east European countries. It also partners really well with lamb and goat meat - not the obvious choice but trust me, it works.

This is a really tasty and easy casserole to sling together - it takes only 5 minutes to prep - but it needs about an hour on the hob. When I buy dill for fish I always seem to have masses left over and that's when I might make this.

What you need: 
150g cubed lamb
1 large shallot, finely diced (or a small onion)
1 large potato, cut into bite-size chunks
250ml vegetable stock
Dill, chopped, about 2 handfuls
1 bay leaf
1 lemon, juiced
Flour
Seasoning

What to do: 
Fry the onions in a sauteuse in a little vegetable oil until they soften and turn translucent. While the are cooking, dust the lamb cubes in a little plain flour then add them to the onions. Brown the meat, stirring all the time to stop the flour sticking and burning. Pour over the stock and lemon juice, add the dill and bay leaf and some black pepper. Simmer gently for about half an hour. Add the potatoes and simmer for another half hour or so until they are tender. Add salt to taste then dish up.

Cook's tips: 
The acid in the lemon juice helps to really tenderise the lamb, although tough cuts such as neck will need more than an hour. I usually go for the best lamb available. It should be melt-in-the-mouth tender when ready.

The lemon also produces quite a tart gravy. I like to hold back a little of the dill and stir it into some plain yoghurt for a creamy relish on the side that takes the edge off any sourness.

Larder larks no. 1

A combination of a foot fracture, a trip away for a dear departed friend's wake and a mountain of work - all in the past fortnight - have meant I've been surviving on a combination of dining out, ordering in takeaways and flinging together the quickest of quick meals in my tiny kitchen so as not to stand on my poor foot too long. Cooking's not very easy, anyway, when your dominant hand is more occupied with a walking stick...

However, I've not stopped thinking about food. Both the things I like to cook and eat and also the things I buy and store. The latter, particularly, have been on mind after I volunteered to take part in a food photography project.

I stumbled across @storecupboards some weeks ago on Twitter and was intrigued - this blog is a delicious combination of the owner's own culinary adventures and his nosiness. In short, he likes snooping in people's larders to see what they eat. I couldn't resist the challenge and promptly trotted off to photograph my own cupboards.

What's in my larder, then?

Lots, it would appear. Possibly too much. I must admit that listing almost everything I keep in my kitchen cupboards and fridge (but not the freezer) quite shocked me. It shocked others too - I had a lot of feedback on Twitter, mainly along the lines of "why do you have so much food? What are you going to do with it all?" In fairness, a lot of it is just ingredients - things you can cook with but not necessarily eat on their own. Plus, I'm a bit of an apocalypse hoarder - one of my parents grew up with wartime rationing and couldn't bear an empty pantry. That's clearly been passed on to me! Also, because I have a disability I have days when I'm simply too ill to cook, which is what the emergency soup tins are for. (And the fridge was over-crammed as I'd just done a shop.)

But it got me thinking and I resolved to use up much more of my larder contents. I've made a start on that already, finishing up two almost-empty jars of chutney and a packet or two of noodles.

I also decided I should write about some of the more exotic ingredients I've picked up on my travels. So here are a couple, in the first of an occasional series.

The pomegranate molasses came from a trip to Turkey a few years ago, when it was almost impossible to find outside London - I mainly use it to coat meat before roasting, but it also finds its way into dressings and dips occasionally. That's a half-litre bottle, by the way - a little goes a long way and I still have half a bottle left.

I found the citron confit on a shelf in a Parisian supermarket - oddly, because I'd never seen it during all the years I lived there. It's a thick paste made up of about 50% lemons and 25% ginger, the rest being oil, alcohol and salt, and it has a pleasingly sour and fiery taste. I use it to flavour chicken and fish or add to tagines. I love cooking with lemons - I get through several fresh ones a week, plus the north African preserved variety. When this jar (alas, almost empty now) is finished, I'm going to figure out how to make my own. Unless I can get back to Paris again soon, obviously.

The herb mix came from a shop in Bardolino, on the shore of Italy's Lake Garda. I forget all the ingredients as it came in a huge bag with a tag on it and had been made by a local producer. It contains parsley and chilli, and I think marjoram, and one other herb. I use it as intended - for stirring through pasta, with nothing else but olive oil to dress it.

Keen to discover more interesting things to eat, I signed up a couple of months ago to Larder Box, which for a modest fee posts a box of interesting British artisan foods to you every month. April's box (in the photo) contained a bottle of pontack, which I'd never heard of but is a deep, slightly spicy and quite sharp sort of vinegar made from elderberries. I've used it a fair bit already, mainly to marinate sticky ribs, and when it's gone I'll definitely be buying more. (The smoked cheese was consumed fairly quickly (!) with the chutney, the chipotle chillies are earning their keep and the parkin, incredibly, is almost untouched - stashed in a cake tin on top of the cupboards, for those days when only cake will do.) I'm now eagerly awaiting the next box, which promises to contain smoked sea salt and banana ketchup. See, I'm hooked already...

Greek-style goat stew

If you've never eaten goat meat, you are missing a real treat. It has a wonderfully deep flavour that is similar to mutton, yet it is far leaner than anything butchered from a sheep or lamb. Like mutton, though, it requires long, slow cooking to get the best out of it - apart from the chops, which are best marinaded in olive and lemon juice before being grilled quickly over charcoal, goat meat can be tough if not treated with the time it needs.

Goat is eaten around most of the Mediterranean - aside from the ubiquitous chicken it may be the only native meat available, particularly in areas that are arid with inhospitable terrain where only goats can graze. It's harder to find in the UK, as goat herders tend to farm them for their milk rather than the meat - much of what is sold as Caribbean goat curry, for example, is in fact mutton.

This dish is common across Greece and its islands - in the tourist resorts it's more likely to be made with mutton, but on islands like Crete, which has little farmland, goat meat reigns supreme. It's quick to prepare but needs plenty of cooking time, so it's probably best made on a weekend.

What you need:
200g lean goat meat

1 onion, roughly chopped
4 large tomatoes
Tomato purée, a generous squeeze
Oregano
2 cloves of garlic, crushed
Half a lemon, cut into quarters
A few baby aubergines, halved
Olive oil

What to do:
Trim any fat off the meat and dice it. Fry the onion gently in the olive oil until it's translucent. Turn up the heat, add the meat and brown it. Transfer to a casserole or slow cooker and add everything else. If you're using fresh oregano, you'll need a few sprigs otherwise a generous pinch of the dried variety will do the job. You can add a splash of red wine at this stage too.

If you're using an oven, it should be heated to around 130-140C, but at a pinch you could also cook it very gently in a heavy-based sauteuse on the stove top. Whatever you choose, it needs a good 3 hours. Check it occasionally to ensure it's not drying out - top up with hot water from a kettle if needed. Test the meat after 3 hours - it should be meltingly tender.

Cook's tips:  
The best place to find goat meat is in a market or butcher's shop in the kind of neighbourhood that has a large Afro-Caribbean and Middle Eastern population. It's quite likely to be sold on the bone though, so you'll need double the weight. Otherwise, try a farmer's market or buy it online - many goat farms have diversified from cheese and yoghurt and started selling the meat too, usually trimmed and diced. If you're struggling to find it, mutton is the best alternative.

The oregano is essential - it is the one herb that distinguishes Greek cuisine from other Mediterranean styles. 

You can use tinned chopped tomatoes instead of fresh. The acidity of the tomatoes helps to tenderise the meat, as does the lemon. The wine just helps the process as well as adding another note of flavour. This recipe provides 3 of your 5 a day - add a side salad if you want more.

In Greece, casseroled goat is usually served with rice or chips. I prefer rice as it soaks up the lovely rich sauce, which you could mop up with pitta or crusty bread.