If You Don't Like Lemon or Garlic...

I have been one of Yotam Ottolenghi's fans ever since he started his column in the Saturday Guardian colour supplement although, sadly, I have not yet made it to 'Ottolenghi' [food shop, patisserie, deli, restaurant, bakery] in Notting Hill. This is sacrilege for a foodie like me, especially as W2 is our old stomping ground but, in my defence, I have to say that it's because we no longer have a flat in London. Times are much tougher than they used to be and our flat got sold just after Ottolenghi began his inspiring experiment with food in July 2002. It remains on my pilgrimage list.

I love everything that they stand for, not least the history of the owners. Yotam is Jewish and from Jerusalem. Sami Tamimi, his partner in the restaurant, is from old Jerusalem and is Palestinian. Not only does their food symbolise a meeting of cultures, they themselves represent that great hope for peace and reconciliation that the great Daniel Baremboim and the late Edward Said so eloquently expounded. I'm not sure that Yotam and Sami would see themselves in this light but food is the essence of giving and sharing. It always seems to me that food is the keystone of any culture and that people who are interested in the food traditions of others are well on their way towards understanding the way a given culture functions.

We live in exciting times. Mostly, we can get the ingredients we want relatively easily. There is a plethora of cookbooks or websites to instruct us in how to prepare them. Less happily, our television screens are forever full of competitive cookery programmes. So why, I ask myself, do so few people really understand the way flavours work with each other? I suspect that it's because most people use books and TV programmes rather than their own tastebuds and instinct. We do not need to follow the crowd. With a few well chosen staples, a decent spice cupboard and pots of fresh herbs on the windowsill, we are all capable of improvising our own unique dishes.

Knowledge is the key and if you haven't felt inclined to move away from the latest Jamie Oliver book [nothing wrong with Jamie, I hasten to add!], I thoroughly recommend spashing out on 'Ottolenghi, The Cookbook' or 'Plenty', or both. I have been reading it as avidly as a thriller. This is cooking after my own heart, from their hearts, and it's a great read. "If you don't like lemon or gartlic....skip to the last page," they say, and they are right. They continue, "Unfussiness and simplicity are, for us, the only way to maintain the freshness of a dish. Each individual ingredient has a clear voice, plain characteristics that are lucid and poweful - images, tastes and aromas you remember and yearn for." I couldn't put it better myself!

For me the smell of pine nuts toasting, of cumin and coriander seeds popping in a pan, of coriander, basil, marjoram or mint from the 'potager' being freshly chopped or chilli, garlic and ginger being gently fried, to name but a few, is the stuff of my home. Would Christmas be the same without the smell of nutmeg, cinnamon and cloves? Would winter be the same without the smell of butternut squash or a whole chicken roasting? Would summer be the same without the smell of salty sardines or new season's lamb on a barbeque? I'm talking simple stuff here but, oh, the most evocative smells imaginable.

My key ingredients begin, of course, with lemon and garlic. I make a salsa for fish with them, adding in some flat leaf parsley. I make a salad dressing with them, adding in fresh marjoram, thyme and chives and lots of salt and pepper. I stuff a chicken with them, adding fresh tarragon if I've got it, dried if I haven't. I add freshly roasted ground cumin and coriander seeds for North African dishes, honey, freshly grated ginger and soy for oriental ones. I always keep a jar of pickled lemons in the fridge for a charmoula or tagine and some sweet, marinated garlics from the market to jazz up a tomato salad. And if my liver's in danger of playing up, I down a whole squeezed lemon, minus the garlic, in a tumbler of cold water!

Good olive oil and the best vinegars you can afford are essential, especially Balsamic vinegars [don't by the ones sweetened with caramel syrup], although I'm spoilt by my friend Helen, who regularly gives me a litre of her very own, home grown Tuscan oil. I always buy good local honey from the market in St Girons - there is nothing like it and I swear it keeps colds at bay. One day we'll have our own, I hope. Good 10% fat yoghurt, feta and halloumi cheese are another essential, as are chick peas and tahini, black olives, capers, cornichons, bayonne ham and 'mi-cuit' tomatoes. When there is a glut of tomatoes at the market in late summer, I gently roast them in olive oil with fresh thyme and use them in everything that I can. Fresh basil, parmesan and pine nuts are the stuff of high summer too, and a 'pesto' takes only a minute ot two to make.

With some flour in the cupboard, you can always throw together a quick quiche [fresh tomatoes, a camembert and some thyme is an easy lunch one]. Cous-cous can be stretched to accommodate lots of guests, and is a great way to use up vegetables. Dried linguine or spaghetti is a good standby for a 'pasta puttanesca', as long as you have some capers, anchovies and black olives tucked away. You really don't need very much more than your imagination to ring the changes but the 'Ottolenghi' cookbook will certainly up the 'ante'. I had intended to write down a couple of my favourite recipes but the book is at Bardies instead. You could, of course, buy your own. Go on. Spoil Yourself. It's really, really worth it, I promise.