• 1 duck breast, scored on the skin side
• Coleslaw (white cabbage, carrots, julienned with simple mustard dressing)
• 1 fennel bulb
• 1 stick of rhubarb
• 2 or three ripe strawberries
• 1 small tomato

Set a pan of water boiling for the fennel which should be roughly chopped. Boil until al dente and drain. Put back in pan.

Preheat oven to 180C and set a small frying pan – that you don’t mind putting in the oven! – on high heat. Season the duck skin and place skin side down in hot pan. Cook for 3 or 4 minutes until the skin colours and crips.

Meanwhile, chop the rhubarb, strawberries and tomato, diced small. Add to the frying pan when duck skin crisped, stir and then turn the duck over onto the flesh side and place the pan into the hot oven for 7 minutes.

Remove the duck from the pan and leave to rest for a couple of minutes whilst putting the compote of fruit on high heat (remember that the frying pan handle is now very hot!!). Put the pan of fennel on low heat and add a generous knob of butter. Keep the contents of the frying pan moving until bubbling then share between two plates. Slice the duck and sit atop. Stir the fennel and heap alongside, adding a dollop of coleslaw.

It really is much nicer than this looks. Honest.

Fortunately, this week’s delivery was of pretty young beans, so I chose to use them immediately and balance what bitterness there was with other flavours. It worked better than expected and set the Beloved and I up in the nick of time for the England vs Ukraine game.

• Half a cup of broad beans or so (once podded)
• Knob of butter
• Olive oil
• Three slices of Proscuitto or Serrano ham
• Two chicken breasts
• Two large, ripe tomatoes
• Parsley
• Juice of half a lemon
• Feta cheese

Place a pan of water on to boil then add a glug of olive oil to a frying pan under a three-quarter heat, season the chicken on both sides with salt and pepper and begin to fry. Place the broad beans in the hot water.

Turn the chicken regularly until the flesh is browned then place a lid over the frying pan, removing temporarily to turn the chicken every minute (the lid speeds cooking by helping steam the chicken and keeps the flesh moist, whilst also meaning the flesh is not overly browned and tough).

After two or three minutes, the beans will be cooked. Drain and return to the pan, off the heat, immediately adding the lemon juice, butter and two half inch slices of feta cheese, diced. Tear up the ham and leave to one side; dice the tomatoes and roughly chop the parsley.

By now, the chicken will be nearly cooked – add the tomatoes to the pan and stir around the chicken, picking up the caramelised flavours with the tomato liquor.

Stir the beans whilst adding in the torn ham, bits at a time, then share between two warmed plates (don’t stir too roughly – the feta should be beginning to collapse and dissolve but should still remain in pieces). Place the chicken on the beans then add the parlsey to the remaining tomatoes, turning off the heat and quickly stirring. Share over the chicken. Season with black pepper if required.

Successful food and something I’ll certainly make again.

Successful football, too, although that was considerably more stressful. I couldn’t understand why Andy Carroll was not playing from the start – I don’t think he’s a great player but he looks really up for it and if we are going to play wingers, and an attacker like Rooney who makes unpredictable moves and passes, surely we want a strong header of the ball? Rooney’s miss seemed to underline the point. Welbeck was OK but I fear he fancies himself as better than he is, especially after his goal in the previous match, which I suspect will have him making unwanted backheels and other tomfoolery.

Milner was a revelation. Like Revelations is: apocalyptic. I appreciate he is on for his defensive capabilities but, really, if he can’t pass the ball, is there really any point? Ironically substituted after first good pass of the game.

Ukraine denied a definite goal (what does the guy on the line do? I could see that was in as it happened on TV; why couldn’t he, scant yards away?). England, however, denied one or possibly two penalties to my eyes – it appears that grabbing shirts wilfully and tugging players to the ground in the penalty area is not being penalised in the Euros (it’s not just the England game this has happened in).

Rotten yellow card for Cole; surely a warning was justified at that point in the game? He can blame his teammates for not giving him a target to throw the ball at. Hart looking a bit more secure in his catching. As with the first two games, plenty of effort, which is all I would ask, even if little real skill. We’ve already done better than anticipated and will probably beat Italy just so that Germany can dump us out because that always hurts more.

All in all, the result was probably just about fair – Ukraine played with more energy but England somehow had the more clear chances. A draw may have been merited, but still wouldn’t have been enough. Gutted for them, though, especially in light of France’s result.

And the French couldn’t win the group, so now we play on Sunday instead of Saturday. Bloody French.

For Beloved and I, however, the problem with a whole chicken is the leftovers. On occasion, roasting whole breasts with frequent basting can manage a reasonable fake but the real thing is better. Carve the breasts and scoff with everything else. Then pick over the carcass and remove the meat, making a stock of the remains. The following day, the choice of what to do with the remaining chicken is the problem.

A curry or a risotto are obvious options, and sometimes ones I take, but the main thing, I find, is to do something that really only needs the chicken to be warmed at the end. Otherwise it develops a strong taste of “old chicken”. It’s not inedible but it is preferable to avoid.

Last night, whist fancying rice, I didn’t really fancy the clagginess of risotto (unusually for me) and we had some fresh coriander that was edging towards bin time. So:

•  Two healthy handfuls of basmati rice
• Leftover roast chicken
• Good fist of fresh coriander, including stems
• 1 Lime
• Sesame oil
• Frozen peas
• Seasoning

Just cover the rice with water, add a pinch of salt and boil gently until all the water is absorbed (no further salt will be needed other than that used in the water, unless you prefer to drain rice; the slight stickiness of keeping all the starch rather than rinsing is better here, I think).

Reduce the heat to lowest and add a little olive oil, a small knob of butter and a twist of black pepper. Stir in throughly then add the cold, leftover chicken. Keep moving, then chop and add all the coriander, a capfull of sesame oil*, juice of a lime and a tablespoon or two of pease, depending on your preference.

Keep the whole thing moving gently until the peas are just warm; that’s a good indicator the chicken will be, too. Serve immediately.

Amazingly simple, and utterly delicious. Surprisingly so, in fact, which is why I didn’t have a useful picture. So it’s the aftermath, instead…

*sesame oil is often used as a flavour rather than as a heat medium; that’s the case here. Be careful not to add too much as it’s potent!

I understand this; as the cook in the house, it’s limiting – but I get it.

And then she heads off on a hen party, for the glorious Al, and with the excellence of Suzi and Roselle. I feel that I should warn the town, but there doesn’t appear to be a central contact for such. It leaves me, however, with all the options of food that I could want. And other ways to fritter time away. Crossword and pint;  great – also with additional value of SkyGo giving me the cricket in one ear and visual when fun happens. Maybe Moon, finally? It’s Eurovision as well, for all of the soft lark that brings – though really, that’s only fun with other peeps and I appear to have run out of anyone who gives a toss. And the first England friendly since Roy Hodgson took over.

Well, options, then.

Perversely, the thing that has knackered most of my waking days for seven of them now, is what I should “treat” myself to… a hotter curry? Liver? Steak and kidney pudding?

There were so many options: I like the sense of spice beyond reason. But I also like food across the whole gamut – from crisp sandwiches, through a pub’s lasagne and all the way to Michelin starred marvellousness. In the end, I went with hot dogs. Princes’, not some clever variation. A hot dog isn’t a hot dog unless it’s an inherently processed, slightly rubbish thing.

But that allows for a  little leeway. Firstly, with hot dogs, one must have fried onions (which are a bit burnt, regardless of the opinion on that phrase). Cheese, mustard, ketchup and such are all optional but if you don’t have fried onions, you are de facto, a nitwit. Fact.

Spice was the thing for me. So, herewith, is a way to make ketchup EVIL (this is for one lovely tin of 8 hot dogs):

• 1 tbsp olive oil
• 4 hot green chillies, or other sense of HOTness. You know best.
•  1 clove garlic
• fresh ginger, about a teaspoon, sliced and diced
• 1 cap fish sauce
• squeeze of lemon juice
• pinch salt
• pinch black pepper
• 3 level tablespoons of good ketchup; your choice.

Chop garlic and chillies and ginger; pan fry lightly in the oil, just until you sneeze, then add fish sauce, salt (be careful on this – fish sauce is salt, essentially) and pepper. Turn heat off and add lemon juice. Mix together in heat of the pan, give a minute and then tip into the ketchup. Leave for 2 hours minimum for all the heat and madness to spread and mungle.

Use in the usual way you might any sort of ketchup.

I went with larger bread because it was better bread – should have been finger rolls really. But it just meant it was two dogs per bun. No major loss!

Until this point in this post, it was all predictive, because I was “cooking” as blogging. I’ve now tried and eaten. One word and some accurate grammar: yum!!! Also, ran out of ketchup.

I can have chilli extremely hot, whereas curries I tend to prefer at the Madras or Jalfrezi (where the inclusion of fresh chillies allows a choice of heat per spoonful!) level. That, of course, depends on what you’re used to and what takeaway defines your base level – my base level was defined by the Royal Benghal in Stockton and its Madras was rather hotter than any Vindaloo I’ve had anywhere since, so it’s perhaps not useful as a general reference…

Anyway, whilst Indian food, for a particular generation,  perhaps, defines one’s heat limits, it’s not the only curry: Chinese curries have a particular flavour and heat that is sometimes just the right thing. Oddly, as generic across the country as a Chinese takeaway curry tastes, it’s remarkably difficult to find a reliable recipe. This might be because most of us don’t have MSG sitting in the cupboard or because a purchased paste is used as base. I’m not sure. But I found one that needed tweaking for my tastes and it looks and tastes close enough – I think it needs a little more ginger and a certain something else I haven’t put my finger on. But I’ll get back to it another time…

So, the sauce (adapted from this), which will serve two hungry hectors quite happily:

• 2 tbsp oil
• 3 cloves garlic
• 1 inch ginger, peeled
• 2 tbsp plain flour
• 2 tbsp hot curry powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp chilli powder
• 2 cups water
• 1/2 medium onion
• 1 tbsp tomato purée
• 1 apple

(Note: major changes are addition of apple, which is usually used for “chip shop” curry sauce, and removal or paprika – I only had “posh”, good smoked paprika and it nearly spoiled the entire thing. Additionally, I suspect making the curry powder/spice mix may be the way forward with this.)

1. Mix curry powder and flour.

2. Heat oil, add chopped ginger, finely chopped garlic and diced onions. Stir until sweated then add peeled, chopped apple pieces. Give another minute or so, stirring continuously.

3. Add flour mix, salt and chilli powder, stir for 30 seconds or so until flour bound in to the pulpy mix (this will aid it binding with the water), then add the water and stir briskly whilst bringing back to the boil.

4. Add tomato purée and then cover on very low heat for 20 minutes.

5. Blend the resultant mix and check seasoning; this is the base sauce that can be frozen or left for a day or so in the fridge.

For a standard curry chop up chicken* (one breast per person) into smallish chunks and drop in the sauce with some large pieces of roughly sliced onion. Gently bring the sauce to the boild and simmer for 15 minutes or until the chicken is poached (pre-fry and brown chicken for a stronger flavour and texture). Add some frozen peas a few minutes before serving, just to defrost and warm through. Fling onto rice and add as much soy sauce as you prefer. Yum!

You could fancy this up with some chopped coriander but I really don’t think this sort of food needs garnish or smart presentation!

*Or prawns! But don’t chop those…

But the restaurant itself is welcoming – friendly staff and nicely understated, crisp decor with good natural light – you don’t feel as though you’re expected to be anything other than yourself.

And then there’s the food, of course.

Flavours are, obviously, a must – but I admit to being a sucker for great presentation; happy claps are difficult to suppress when a truly marvellous looking plate of food is placed in front of me, before I get anywhere near trying it. And Loves present plates that one is tempted to leave alone. But this is not food to revere; it’s food to eat.

My starter was described as “Sashimi tuna, beetroot – raw, cooked, pickled, jelly and sorbet”.

I mean, good God: look at that!!! The number of styles of beetroot are underestimated in the description. As well as raw, cooked, pickled and jelly, there was additionally a pureé, an espuma*, in the glass and with a magical texture, some powder (that can just be seen, looking like dropped blusher on the plate) and what I believe was a Ferran Adria-like spherication. The latter popped on the plate when I prodded it, to my annoyance; had I gone with my hunch it would have popped in my mouth where it belonged!

After that, I opted for the beef:

This consisted of beef rump (presumably cooked in a water bath), with braised ox cheek and crispy tongue, carrot purée and smartly carved mushrooms. The braised beef was sat on smoked mashed potato (smoked mashed potato!); the rump on a shallot purée and dusted with carrot powder, which was rather marvellous. At the bottom of the plate was a saki jelly, which whilst good, was the only thing I thought a little incongruous.

We had opened with an amuse of a foamed parsnip soup and before dessert came a pre-dessert; a lemon custard with a light tuille. These were both little freebies, something else I’m a sucker for. The desserts themselves were exceptional but since I have no pictures, I shall leave these as a tease (clue: well worth making sure you have space in your tummy!).

Open less than 2 years, Claire and Steve Love have created a gem here – they already have 3 AA rosettes and surely a Michelin star, should this matter to them, can’t be far behind. Having eaten in the last 12 months (ooh, la di da!) at the Nut Tree, Hand and Flowers and the quite fabulous Olive Branch Pub, I don’t see Loves as being behind these in quality. Different in style, perhaps, but not quality.

Considering this was the same day that was followed by Batman Live! and fine drinkies into the evening as Beloved and I hooked back up with birthday boy Thom and Faith, it’s says something that it left such an impression. Looking forward to going again…

*or “foam”, as I’ve now realised these are the same as

 [Thanks to Thom for the photographs!]

I was rattled, not knowing some of the people there so didn’t persist as I usually would.

The point being, I didn’t say “this thing you cooked is lovely”, I commented on the thing itself being lovely, which is perhaps where the detail was missed. As much as sourcing a good lamb steak, succulent tomatoes or fresh scallops is a thing that cooks enjoy so that they can then cook, so is sometimes realising that all the hard work has already been done, and done well, so why bother. Like croissants. Worth making once just so you know exactly why you’ll never bother again.

Tonight was of that ilk: bought pasta cooked and then just rolled with some tomatoes, chopped celery leaf and a dash of cheap truffle oil. Served with courgettes cooked with butter, garlic and black pepper – I like courgettes cooked like this so that they, like the pasta are almost al dente – the outer edges get a little translucent and they burst with moisture. Yummy.

Cooking time for two: 12 minutes from arriving home to sat on lap.

Carrots, celery and apple to go with it, pan-fries in stages, with a touch of chilli oil and celery leaf garnish.

Surprisingly yummy!