Homemade stock paste in progress.

I’ve been eager to start posting recipes, combining my interest in “green” food (good for people, good for the planet) with thrifty but fun and delicious ideas for lockdown, and also hopefully helping to prevent a bit of food waste. But someone whose opinion I respect pointed out that she was finding all the social media pics of mouth-watering dishes and jolly recipes a bit insensitive, given that hunger has immediately become an acute crisis for so many. I saw this debate bubbling (courteously, for the most part) along on other pages: the general consensus, including from some pretty financially strapped families, was that food is also important as a form of connection in a time of physical distance. As well as the most urgent human need after air and water, it has a social role in sharing that can’t be discounted. Artist David Hockney, in lockdown in France at 83, announced that “The only real things in life are food and love, in that order” — according to his little dog, Ruby.

Meanwhile, there is no getting away from the exceptional morale-boosting effect that my personal superhero, Jack Monroe, is having in the UK simply by advising folk on Twitter what to do with their pantry contents (follow her on @bootstrapchef or #lockdownlarder). It’s not just clever combos: she tells people when they can and can’t ignore sell-by dates, how to check supplies for contamination, safety precautions (I had forgotten that dried kidney beans have to be boiled for at least 20 mins to prevent them from causing food poisoning). She’s protecting the health of families and keeping tons of food out of rubbish bins in a nation that’s taking a hammering. It’s a shocker that middle-class families have to be taught to cook, but then late capitalism has drowned us in those poxy over-packaged “ready meals”, rendering us helpless and wasteful. This is an opportunity to change that, for good.

So I hope there’s value to my idea of sharing larder contents to get ideas for dishes that are tasty, easy to make, and won’t leave you looking as if you spent lockdown in a darkened cupboard. I made Stalwart Sister and Delightful Niece send me a list of all their pantry staples and condiments, and a highlight of each day is concocting them a meal from these ingredients, which also means that Niece is learning to cook new dishes. It’s a lovely way of being “in their lives” while we’re apart.

But let’s please, please continue donating as much as we can to the now significant movement across the country to get food parcels to those who need them most. Please post details of your preferred means of donating in the comments: today, mine is the heroic PHA initiative: click here for details,

But first (bring on the trumpets): how to make the vegan stock paste I have been promising forever: an excellent way of using up any veg you panic-bought that is starting to look a bit droopy or gnarled.

I created this after much internet research because I needed a vegan stock that was hearty enough for punchy stews (like this one) or soups like minestrone, but also delicate enough not to overwhelm a risotto or creamy soup. (You can of course use this in any savoury dish, meat, fish, you name it. But I wanted that umami tang that often goes missing in vegetarian food, and which can’t always be replaced with a teaspoon of Marmite or splash of soy sauce.) The other trouble is that almost all manufactured veg stock tastes to me of celery, celery, celery and salt. I HATE cooked celery. It bullies out all the other flavours.

So here we go, the absolute rock-bottom basics. As a minimum, you will need one huge onion, two big carrots, a cup of loosely chopped or torn fresh herbs, half a head of garlic, a third to a half a cup of salt (more salt, and it keeps longer, but the flavours are less subtle), and the juice and zest of one big lemon. The herbs change all the time (I've used thyme, rosemary, sage, winter savory, basil, lemon grass, za'atar, garlic chives, parsley, marjoram, oregano — I tend to throw in the more robust herbs at the blending stage, and leafier ones like mint, basil, lovage and Italian parsley, finely chopped, right at the end of the simmering stage). To these cleaned and peeled veg, you can add: fennel (both the fresh bulb and the dried seeds — check first, some people dislike the anise/liquorice taste), leeks, spring onions, radishes, a small turnip or parsnip … to ring the changes, I’ve also tried this with the juice and zest of an orange (this is grand with fresh sage).

Once your blender jug is full, add just enough water to enable the blades to blitz the veggies to a fine mince. Now put a good glug of oil (I use olive or coconut oil, but any will do — just not butter or marge) in a heavy-bottomed pan and saute the veggie paste very, very slowly on low heat, stirring continuously, sweating out as much liquid as possible. It will slowly turn into this grainy paste, and should eventually be thick enough to stand a spoon in — it takes about 30-40 minutes, but I sometimes do it for an hour. Cool, spoon into a spotlessly clean jar, and refrigerate. Mine lasts months in the fridge, but to be safe, rather divvy into small portions and freeze, then defrost as needed. Use a heaped teaspoon wherever you would normally use a stock cube.

Other variations: chuck in a punnet of mushrooms for mushroom stock, half a cup of soaked sun-dried tomatoes or a small tin of tomato paste, a bag of fresh green beans. (Pick one of these options: they’re all quite robust, so use for heartier dishes.) You can do an Asian version: basic mix to which you add lemon grass, coriander/dhanya, green chillies, basil, extra garlic, juice and zest of a lime. Amounts don’t matter too much, which makes this a very good way of using up stuff. I often add kale, spinach or chard. (No one has complained, yet.) Oh, and rocket. SO much rocket (which forms half my veg-bed output). My favourite is my basic one, with lots of herbs, but I add an entire preserved lemon. The results are faint-worthy.

Here’s an extra idea from Jack, so good I have to share: if you have a bag of fresh salad that’s looking a bit sorry for itself, pick out any vrot/liquefying bits, wash/wipe the remains, and visit Jack’s website here for a brilliant solution: salad-bag pesto.

Nog ‘n piep: if you have any neighbourhood shops, market farms or food stands open nearby, and you have to venture out for supplies, support them rather than the big supermarkets right now. Small businesses are nose-diving everywhere we look — help if you can. Obviously, do your homework: find out if they’re open and when, what their hygiene and distancing measures are, and what they would like you to bring in terms of packaging, etc. I’d rather supermarkets used their resources (refrigerated trucks, depots, staff, etc) to deliver food to townships — looks like this is happening in some parts of the country. Once again, check online to see how you can be part of these initiatives.

Louise Ferreira’s banana bread, made with a recipe from a 1981 Huisgenoot recipe book. (Proof that rereading your ancient cookbooks is a good idea.)

My favourite person on the whole of Twitter is British food writer and anti-poverty activist Jack Monroe — simply the best at providing cheap, delicious, easy and nourishing recipes/ideas. Every night, in an effort to keep unproductive worry at bay, I check her #lockdownlarder hashtag, where folk tweet her pictures of what’s in their pantries, or supply her with a list of the weird things they’ve found in cupboards, and she tells them what meals they can conjure as a result. I’ve learned so much (including what pease-pudding REALLY is), and I’ve been itching to try something similar for my food posts.

At first I felt I couldn’t chirpily ask the middle classes about the contents of their kitchens in a situation as dire as ours: where desperate people are literally begging for food all over the country, as standstill wages and lockdown restrictions hit them like a freight train (I’ll get back to this).

But millions in this country are still undergoing house arrest, have odd things in their pantries, bought too much fresh stuff, and are a bit perplexed. You all know how I feel about food waste (also see journalist Karin Schimke’s excellent recent writing on this); and the only thing worse than regular food waste is food waste during a national disaster.

I’ve realised that while our water crisis felt like familiar territory for me (I was eight when the borehole on our farm ran dry), the only preparation I have for any of what we’re currently facing comes from all the World War 2 novels I read as a child: classics like Hester Burton’s In Spite of all Terror and Jane Gardam’s A Long Way From Verona; later, novels by Nevil Shute, Elizabeth Jane Howard, Rosamund Pilcher, Nancy Mitford, Mary Wesley. And they all went on at great length about food and rationing, and the importance of eating as a form not just of fuelling, but boosting morale. There was something comforting and encouraging about their accounts of how thrilled folk were to swop their turnips for a few eggs, the “victory” recipes, the hints on how to stretch food and make the butter ration last.

I’d like to visit that comforting space again, and I’d love your ideas. Eating and cooking together is nurturing, a kind of hugging we have no option but to practice. There’s also the role of community, even if it’s the tiny one of your family. As someone who LOVES to feed people but who is eating solo at the moment, sharing recipes has a resonance beyond the practical for me: yesterday, someone I love who hasn’t been in touch for ages wrote from another continent to say she was making one of my soup recipes. I was delighted — but also surprised — at the jolt of emotional connection I got.

I can’t do what Jack’s doing, but I was thinking of having days/times (announced in advance) when folk can post me pics of food they have or present lists of ingredients on Facebook, and I will TRY to come up with suggestions, or post recipes via this blog. It could also be a fun way to teach the entire family to cook (domestic science home-schooling), and when this is all over, hopefully we will be more mindful and frugal food shoppers, and less wasteful and decadent cooks. (Even before all this, I was rapidly losing patience with the preponderance of pre-prepared clementine-chevre-oyster-mushroom-stuffed-chicken meals the supermarkets were serving up.)

The trick here is simplicity, and a little relaxation of the rules. For instance, I don’t do sugar or jam; but here are two nifty ideas (well, I think so) for using jam as a means of pepping up regular meals and savoury dishes — condiments are going to be important, but you hardly want to risk your lives and those of others by popping into the supermarket for them. So make your own…

Cheat’s chutney: if you have one of those padstal jars of jam lurking with nice chunks of fruit in it, you can heat it gently (start with a cupful) with a heaped tablespoon of finely chopped raw onion (more onion is good, but I am rationing mine — didn’t get quite enough). Optional but good: add crushed garlic and a pinch of some warm spice — ginger, paprika, chillies. Now add a little bit of vinegar (a LITTLE — no more than a dessert-spoon [10 ml] to start with). Apple cider is best, but any will do, just not balsamic — too sweet. Simmer until the onion has disintegrated into the fruit mix. Keep checking; if it still tastes like jam but weird, add another teaspoon of vinegar. If you have lemon juice, add a modest squeeze. And if you have fresh lemons, grated lemon zest will do wonders for this (and almost anything else you’ll ever cook).

Sweet chilli sauce: if you have a tin of smooth apricot jam anywhere, put some of it in a saucepan with a little water and heat slowly. Add a very little vinegar (same principles as above) and a good pinch of chilli flakes or chopped fresh chilli. If it looks too thick, add more water; you want it a bit runny. Also good with ginger and lemon, as above.

Something else making me smile is that all of my friends seem to be baking banana bread. It’s a good way to cheer yourself up AND use up your rapidly ripening bananas. But if you’re too harassed to bake or don’t have the equipment, Jack has a wonderful recipe for a banana hot-pot that is super-quick and easy (as in it takes SECONDS to prepare and cook, if you have a microwave).

My favourite trick with ripe bananas: peel and freeze them to make smoothies with (you need a jug blender for this). Dig out hunks of frozen banana and combine with yoghurt, milk (in my case, kombucha because I make my own and always have masses of it), cinnamon and any other fruit you have around, if you like — I am partial to granadillas. This is also a clever way to give the kids “milkshakes” for breakfast: per person, half a frozen banana, half-to-three-quarters of a cup of milk or yoghurt, any extra soft fruit that needs using up, two tablespoons of breakfast cereal (I’ve done this with raw oats, All Bran, granola, and they’re ALL good) and blend until the banana is smooth. This is also a good way of disguising the taste of powdered or long-life milk, if your family is fussy.

I think it might be good to focus on soups and curries at first (I can’t wait to talk spices!), so all that rapidly wilting veg gets used up. And (I know I keep promising), I’ll post the Famous Vegan Stock Paste recipe soon; an excellent way of using up strongly-flavoured veg.

And now is the time to remember all those whose single food shelf is pitifully bare, whose supplies are sparse, who literally don’t know where their next meal is coming from. If you have ANY money to spare, and you try a recipe here, maybe could you put something in a “tip jar” to donate it to the many NPOS and community action networks (CANS) or education feeding schemes? They are killing themselves (quite possibly literally) to get food parcels to the desperate and the vulnerable — please help them. These are all location-specific, so I won’t post links, but please share resources you know of in your own neighbourhoods.