This is the kind of meal that encapsulates the real joy I get from cooking; picking out a few random bits and bobs from the fridge, using up leftovers, rescuing something that was once fresh but is about to become very much the opposite… And ending up with a really tasty dish that’s all of my own making.

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No idea what you’d call the result of this particular combination of ingredients (a deconstructed Spanish omelette, maybe, if I felt like being poncy? Or fried eggs and fried potatoes, if I was going to be basic), but it consisted of a pile of boiled purple potatoes left over from my pre-birthday fish supper the other night, half a red onion from the tomato salad with the same meal, some verging-on-very-floppy baby sweet peppers and a tomato that really had seen better days.

Some herby seasoning, a couple of eggs, and here is a frying-pan-full-of-delicious-randomness. There are pretty much unlimited variations on this dish, depending on what you have, but I’ve listed a few suggestions below.

Serves 1
olive oil
1/2 red onion (or 1/2 brown onion, or 1 shallot, or even a couple of spring onions), roughly chopped
leftover boiled potatoes (as much or as little as you have), cut into bite-sized pieces
1 clove garlic
2 baby sweet peppers (or 1/2 red/yellow/orange bell pepper), roughly chopped
1-2 medium tomatoes (or a handful of cherry tomatoes, halved), cut into quarters and core removed
1 tbsp basil leaves (or 1 tbsp parsley), chopped
pinch of cayenne (optional)
2 eggs (or more, or fewer, depending on your appetite)

1 Heat a good glug of olive oil in a frying pan (preferably one with a lid). When hot, add the onion, and cook over low heat until soft. This can take up to 10 minutes.

2 Add the boiled potatoes. You can turn up the heat to make sure the potatoes crisp up a bit, but keep an eye on it and don’t let the onions burn. When the potatoes have started to brown, turn the heat down and add the garlic and a pinch of salt. Stir and put the lid on.

3 Add the peppers, stir, put the lid back on, and cook for 4-5 minutes, until the peppers are soft. Then add the tomatoes and most of the basil (or parsley), stir gently to combine, then put the lid back on. Cook for just a couple of minutes. You want the tomatoes to cook through, but not break up, so don’t move them around too much.

4 Make a well in the middle of the veg mix, tip in the eggs, then put the lid back on. Make sure the heat is quite low, and cook for 3-4 minutes. Check the eggs and if the whites are set and the yolks still soft and runny, sprinkle over the last of your herbs, season with a little salt (and pepper, if you haven’t used the cayenne) and serve.

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After a rather long hiatus, I’m back, back, back. Over the next few weeks, as I try and settle myself back into UK living, I’ll be staying with various obliging friends around London. And, in return, I’ll be doing my best to cook some delicious meals for them. So, I’m kickstarting the blog again, by giving you a sample of my cooking using ingredients that are available in other people’s cupboards.

So, here I am at my friend Claire’s lovely house in Peckham. And oh boy, does she have a kitchen after my own heart. Huge five-burner cooker, double oven, well-stocked with Le Creuset and Sabatier, and, best of all, a great big dining table in the middle of the room. My dream set-up – you can cook for friends while they’re in close enough proximity to chat and drink with.

However, right now, I’ve got the place to myself, while Claire and her kids are on holiday, so my soft return to blogging is a dish for one. And, surprise surprise, it involves pork. (Yeah, something tells me it was never going to work, me living in Muslim country.)

Being a party of one on a Sunday is no reason, in my eyes, not to have a roast. And the small piece of pork tenderloin I found myself with is perfect for that. Because it’s small, it cooks very quickly, and a decent piece gives you a wee bit of leftovers for lunch the next day.

In the fridge were a few bags of herbs (remainders of a lamb shank dish I’d cooked the week before, but had too much red wine by the time I took photos of it, and they turned out to be far from bloggable quality…). I chopped up a big handful of rosemary, thyme, sage, fennel seeds, chilli and garlic, and rubbed it all over the tenderloin, along with a good glug of olive oil and plenty of salt and pepper.

One of the vegetables I missed most in Istanbul was fennel – you get the dried seeds very easily, but no one seemed to have heard of the fresh vegetable part of it. It’s something that seems to go with everything, but it tastes particularly good with pork. So, I quartered a bulb and chucked it into the roasting pan.

Into an oven of about 190ºC (gas mark 5) it went, for about 35 minutes (the two pieces pictured were about 150g each). It’s long been the belief that you have to blast the hell out of pork – not a hint of pinky-ness allowed. But after eating very rare pork in a Spanish tapas restaurant a few years ago, I have well and truly disabused myself of that notion. And, in fact, a report came out recently in the UK that said it was perfectly fine to cook pork to à point.

So that’s what I did with my tenderloin. A couple of boiled tatties and some peas on the side, and this was a very tasty return to a traditional(ish) Sunday lunch.