Baking

I have never been a fruit guy, but my girlfriend is a fruit bat – we have a fig tree in the backyard and she’s out there every morning. Now I really appreciate eating a fig that is ripened straight from the tree, which has never come in contact with a fridge. The senses are different in this situation and the smells really kick. This recipe is about trying to capture that point of harvest, hence the use of the fig leaf to really heighten the scent that is almost reminiscent of green tea and coconut.

To anyone who will listen, I am often heard banging on about the importance of mastering basic techniques. Often we will come across a recipe that will interest us but may be scant on instructions, or even a picture of something delicious on a picture-only social media site. It is here that the understanding of basic techniques enables us to apply our knowledge of these techniques and cook something beautiful without too much stress.

Blood orange season encourages me to make a fool. Fools are synonymous with the English summer, but the lush creamy texture has a comfort factor that is right at home in any season. Here, I have paired it with a Madeira cake, another plain English classic.

Pumpernickel is a curious beast. A dark, soft loaf hailing from the Westphalia region of Germany, traditionally, it was cooked in a sealed container in a steam-laden oven. This more modern version hails from the United States, where it is a little lighter and is allowed to bake with a crust.

Crème brûlée is not really a difficult recipe and not overly challenging to master. Understanding the temperature of your oven helps, as does removing the custard from the oven just as it sets. Left too long in the oven it will slowly start to curdle. The most challenging thing at home is caramelising the thin layer of sugar on the top of the set cream.

I don’t know where the idea for upside-down things came from in the kitchen, but there is magic and theatre about it, inside out and upside down. I like the way you almost make something backwards and then it reveals itself at the end.

The real name for this is castagnaccio, which I can’t pronounce responsibly so I call it chestnut cake. It’s a recipe I first encountered in Italy quite a few years ago and enjoyed immensely.

A timeless classic – just don't open the sun-dried tomatoes.

A delicious cake with an extra special edge.

Live like a tycoon with this little slice of heaven.