BLACK FIG SALAD

Over the past week my flat has been turned upside down. Once resembling a relatively tidy place of calm, it has now car-crashed into a cave of creative chaos.
Sitting room has transformed into slap-dash studio - canvases half or unpainted on the floor, paintbrushes in jam jars and a faint sniff of white spirit. Kitchen surfaces are a-clutter with fruit and vegetables aside tubes of heavy autumnal oils. The sewing machine has taken up most of my dining room table as napkins sit in a pile waiting to be hemmed.

An eager start to the stitching season.

With very little room for wooden spoons and chopping boards, cooking has become a four-flavour affair. Simple salads, quick porridge and warmed up soups. And the leftovers of my patient paintees.

This recipe was made for me by Clara - our wonderfully talented cook at Books For Cooks. With just a few, perfectly formed ingredients she threw together a plateful of pure goodness - ideal for clutterists like me.

BLACK FIG AND CAVOLO NERO SALAD

SERVES 2 as a main

ingredients

3 large cavolo nero leaves, shredded

1 small radicchio, shredded

2 tbsps olive oil

1 tbsp white wine vinegar

1 large ball of good buffalo mozzarella

3 black figs, quartered

handful basil leaves

salt

Bring a pan of salted water with the cavolo nero and radicchio to the boil. Blanche for 4 minutes. Drain. Heat olive oil in a large saucepan and add the white wine vinegar. Follow with the veg. Season well with salt and pepper and fry for a further 3 minutes.

Arrange the cavolo nero and radicchio on a large serving dish, tear over the mozarella and throw on the figs. Drizzle with a little more olive oil, scatter with the basil leaves and a sprinkling of salt.

GEORGIE'S SNOBROD

Has Autumn officially struck do we think? Wake up and it's sunny; go home and you wish you'd brought your woolly jumper? Leaves get stuck to the bottom of your shoe, your leisurely stroll unexpectedly skids into an awkward run, that excruciating laugh 'It's fine! Ha ha ha...', an autumnal shade of burnt umber rising up to your roots? I'd say it has.

Which is why I've chosen to cook Georgie's recipe for her Snobrod: the perfect nibble for those days when we're just not sure which season we're in. This authentic Danish recipe is originally cooked over the fire in the great outdoors, but can just as easily be baked in the oven for a bit of warmth if the weather's turned all umbrella.

Just before I left for life int smoke, I cooked this for friends on the beach. Not only did it cuddle our cockles then, but it's warming mine now just thinking about that first stringy bite.

SNOBROD

SERVES 4
200g flour
100ml water
1tbsp sugar
pinch salt
secret ingredient of your choice
(I used up some of our last Isle of Wight green figs, roasted and wrapped round with the dough)

'This is a recipe I used to cook with my sister as a little girl in Denmark...it is called 'Snobrod'.

'All you need is 200g flour, 100ml water, 1 tbsp sugar and some salt. Knead all the ingredients together to make a dough, divide into 4 portions and roll each portion into thin sausages.


'Wind each sausage securely around a stick (any stick that is lying around, normally best to pull the knobbles off them first!), and cook by turning the stick over the open fire until the Snobrod is brown and crispy.

'It is very basic, but it is tres rustique...you can add any bit of magic to make it more exciting. Perhaps chop olives, raisins and cinnamon or parma ham into the mixture for extra flavour...'

A wonderful one. Thank you my dear Georgie.

FIG OF THE DUMP.

The figs are just coming into bloom on the Island now; the flesh soft, sweet and earthy.
Breaking into them raw seems risky, clenchingly persuading oneself that the pink giblets in the centre are not worms, just the fruit. 'Whatever's in there will have only been eating fig anyway': words that are thrown confidently across the table. Oh what a relief we are eating by candlelight.


Few and far between the figs fall: some already eaten, and still being eaten by god-knows-what, some picked unripe from the tree by little hands trying to help harvest the sparing yield. Every year they are savoured. They'd be wasted on jam; 'FRESH AND FRESHLY BAKED ONLY'.

Apart from eating them as they come - unwashed, unpesticided, unchecked - there is another way to eat the figs that, in a whisper, taste better than the original. Eaten for breakfast with fried bread and bacon, or for pudding with marscapone, I welcome whole-heartedly the season for...

MUM'S BAKED BALSAMIC FIGS

Serves 4.
INGREDIENTS:

2 large GREEN figs
1 tsp granulated sugar
1 1/2 tbs balsamic vinegar

Preheat the oven to a low-medium heat - about 100 degrees C.

Slice the figs long-ways and lay them on a baking tray. Sprinkle evenly with the sugar, then drizzle over about 1 1/2 tbs worth of good balsamic vinegar. You don't want to drown the flavour of the figs - there should be just enough tang to complement the natural flavour without ridding it altogether.

Place in the oven and cook for 5-7 minutes until the balsamic turns sticky. Turn the figs over, and cook for another minute. The figs will be soft in the middle, slightly sticky and truly scrumptious.

We ate ours with smoked streaky bacon on fried white bread - toasted in the bacon juices - and a dollop of creme fraiche for a second breakfast at midday... Ever so naughty.