After the largesse and luxury of the festive season, many of us approach January as a time of parsimony and privation. While it's wise to recalibrate one's cooking after a period of indulgence, Idon't find extended periods of self-denial very productive. They can make me resentful, so I tend to think about eating better, rather than eating less.
For me, that means lots and lots ofveg, quite a bit of fruit and some generous helpings of seafood. I'm after ingredients that are vibrant, vital and easy on the eye. I don't believe in banning anything entirely – if my gratins or soups cry out for adash of cream, they'll get it – but, generally, the more you can pile the lean, the green and the clean on to your plate, the less room there will be for the naughty stuff.
My recipes this week are designed to showcase seasonal ingredients that may not be on everyone's radar. Alongside spuds, carrots, parsnips and cabbage, then, consider those beautifully flavoured little roots salsify and scorzonera. They're wonderful peeled and roasted, or boiled until just tender and dressed with a mustardy vinaigrette. Jerusalem artichokes are another seasonal favourite of mine, with their earthy-sweet flavour and waxy texture. I love them mashed or roasted, but today's gratin is particularly hard to beat.
When it comes to seafood, British farmed mussels are a great bet at this time of year. For classic moules marinières, sizzle three roughly chopped garlic cloves in agenerous knob of butter and, before it browns, throw in a glass of wine. When that'sbubbling, in go the mussels (1kg is a feast for two) and on goes the lid. After three minutes, give them a good stir and pop the lid back on for one more minute, by which time almost all of them should be open; if quite afew aren't, just give them another stir and another minute. Finish with adash of cream and a handful of chopped parsley, if you like.
And don't stop there. Cider, bacon and leeks isanother good mix in which tosteam mussels; finish with ablob of mustard and a little cream. And today's recipe with coconut milk, chilli, ginger and lime is a lip-smacking Thai-style approach of which I'm particularly fond.
We don't really think of January as a fruit month, though stored apples – including good old cox's and bramleys – are still in good nick. But the most exciting "fruit" at this time of year is technically a vegetable: British forced rhubarb is at its peak in January and February. These shocking pink stems are gorgeous when spiked with a squeeze of citrus and lightly sweetened with sugar or honey. My go-to method for a simple compote, in which the rhubarb is yielding but still holds its shape, is to chop the stems into 5-10cm lengths, spread them in a single layer in a roasting tray, splash with orange juice, trickle with honey, then bake gently until just tender.
I've also been experimenting with serving rhubarb raw, or nearly raw. Finely chopped, combined with diced carrot and onion, and mingled with a little cider vinegar and sugar, it makes a light, zingy pickle to go with cold meats or good cheddar.
With colours, flavours and textures such as these, the post-festive kitchen can be bursting with goodness and vitality without the need for hair shirts, or even tight belts.
Jerusalem artichoke and kale gratin
This hearty winter gratin makes afantastic meat-free main course, or serve it in small portions as a starter. Serves four to eight.
100g kale leaves (no stalks)
1 tbsp sunflower oil
1 knob of butter, plus extra forgreasing
2 onions, peeled and finely sliced
3 garlic cloves, peeled and sliced thin
500g jerusalem artichokes, peeled and cut into 3mm-thick rounds
1 tsp thyme leaves, chopped
Sea salt and freshly ground blackpepper
100ml double cream
200ml vegetable stock
For the topping
50g porridge oats
3 thick slices stale bread, tornintosmall pieces or made intobreadcrumbs
About 50g hazelnuts or walnuts, lightly toasted and roughly chopped
25g butter, melted
30g cheddar or hard goat's cheese,grated
Heat the oven to 190C/375F/gas mark 5 and lightly butter a gratin dish. Bring a pan of water to a boil, salt it and add the kale leaves. Cook for two to three minutes, until just tender, then drain in a colander.
Heat the oil and butter in a frying pan, add the onions and garlic, and cook gently until soft and starting to take on a little colour. Add the artichokes and thyme, season generously and cook, tossing occasionally, for five minutes. Add the cream and stock, and simmer gently, stirring once or twice, until the liquid has reduced a little.
Squeeze any excess water from the kale and chop roughly. Stir into the artichoke mixture, then transfer to the gratin dish. Mix together all the topping ingredients, sprinkle over the gratin and bake for 25-30 minutes, until golden and bubbling.
Mussels with lime and coconut
A fresh, zesty and slightly spicy way to serve these delicious shellfish. Serves two.
A knob of butter
A trickle of sunflower oil
1 small onion (or 2 shallots), peeled and chopped
1 clove garlic, peeled and chopped
1 tsp finely chopped root ginger
Finely grated zest of 1 lime
1 medium-hot red or green chilli, deseeded and finely chopped
200ml coconut milk
1kg mussels, scrubbed and debearded (discard any open or damaged ones)
Freshly ground black pepper
Lime juice
Chopped coriander leaves, to serve
Heat the butter and oil in a large frying pan or wide saucepan for which you have a lid. When foaming, add the onion and cook for a few minutes, until it starts to soften. Add the garlic, ginger, lime zest and chilli, and cook for a further four or five minutes.
Add the coconut milk and turn up the heat. When it's simmering, add the mussels, cover and cook for three minutes. Give the mussels agood stir and cover again for aminute. They should almost all be open by now, but if quite a few aren't, just give them another stir, cover again and cook for another minute. Discard any that don't open.
Scoop out the mussels with aslotted spoon and transfer to two warmed dishes. Taste the coconutty liquor and add black pepper – you're unlikely to want to add salt – to taste, then tip the contents of the pan over the mussels. Spritz with lime juice, scatter with chopped coriander and serve straight away, as a soup with a spoon for sipping up the liquor, or with boiled rice if you want to make a main course of it.
Orange and rhubarb salad
Raw rhubarb, sliced thinly and very slightly softened with a hot, sweet syrup, is a revelation. Serves four.
2 oranges
200g rhubarb
100g caster sugar
2-3 star anise
1 good pinch of saffron strands
2 tbsp honey
Carefully pare the zest from half of one orange, taking care to take just the zest with none of the bitter white pith. Set aside.
Slice the rhubarb thinly (just 2-3mm) on a slight angle, and put into a heatproof bowl.
Cut the base and top off each orange, stand them on a board and cut off the peel and pith with asharpknife. Working over a bowl to catch the juice, slice the segments from between the membranes and add to the bowl; squeeze the juice from the orange membranes into thebowl, too.
Strain all the orange juice into ameasuring jug and, if need be, add water to make up the quantity to 100ml. Tip this into a small pan, add the sugar, star anise, saffron, honey and pared orange zest, and bring to asimmer, stirring to dissolve the sugar and honey. Once the sugar is dissolved and the mixture hot, pour over the sliced rhubarb in the bowl, stir and set aside to cool.
Once completely cool, stir in the orange segments and leave to sit until you are ready to serve. (Or, if you're making this in advance, refrigerate, in which case remove from the fridge an hour before serving.) Serve in dishes with the syrup spooned over. This is lovely with thick yoghurt; if you want to make a greedy pud of it, add a tuile or shortbread biscuit.
