Nigel Slater's recipes for the changing moods of spring

Photographs by Jonathan Lovekin

I made a dressing for pasta with green olives, lemon and basil. Thankfully I made too much, so there was some left for the next day, when I used it in place of butter on baked new potatoes the size of birds’ eggs. There were peas in the shops this week too, plump Italian pods on which to feast before our own harvest gets underway. I kept some whole, others I mashed into thick cream to slather on toast, which we ate with long-stemmed broccoli, lightly steamed.

There is a fine choice of cabbages around at the moment. The crinkled plumes of cavolo nero left from winter, but also spring greens as bright as a button that need only a few minutes’ cooking. The sweetest of the cabbage family, I recommend spring greens lightly cooked and chopped with something darker and more bitter such as cavolo nero or savoy, then stirred into a softly spiced dal.

As well as lentils and pasta, I have married up the season’s green bounty with beans. I started off with a crisp white cabbage, hard as rock, and softened the leaves in melted speck. (Any smoked bacon or ham would have added the aromatic quality I was after.) I ended up with a hotpot of sorts, warming enough for a chilly spring evening, but full of the effervescence of the season too, with a last minute addition of spring leaves.

Available pretty much all year now are the long-stemmed broccolis, though with their thin stems and tight florets, they make me think of spring, the sort of vegetable to eat as you might asparagus, with a butter sauce or an anchovy and olive vinaigrette. Fingers, not forks. I prefer them and their tender stalks to the fat posies of the more classic version. Eat them with peas, either tossed in a salad with spring onions and a thick oil, vinegar and mint dressing, or with a pea puree.

A dish in which to use the new season’s garlic. By which I mean plump, spring heads, those with flashes of mauve on their snow-white skins, the cloves within waxy and mild. As the olive paste coats the warm ribbons of pasta, the scent of the new, sweet garlic and basil wafts up – a recipe for sunny spring and summer days.

I chose the ribbons of pappardelle, as wide as a tape measure for this, but you could use the finer fettuccine or tagliatelle, should you prefer. You could include a couple of anchovy fillets if you like. I appreciate the additional salty, piscine depth, but it is not for everyone. Your choice. A simple, fragrant dish, it needs no last-minute scattering of basil leaves, just a few rivulets of olive oil and a fork to tuck in.

This recipe makes a generous amount of olive paste. It will keep for a week or more, tightly covered, in the fridge. A useful dip for raw vegetables, a luxurious spread for hot toast and a first-class accompaniment for roast vegetables or grilled lamb.

Serves 2

green olives 200g, stoned
new garlic 3 plump cloves
thyme leaves 1 tbsp
parsley 10g
basil 20g
anchovy fillets 2 (optional)
olive oil 100ml
lemon 1
brandy 1 tbsp
pappardelle 200g

Put the olives into the bowl of a food processor. Peel the garlic and drop into the olives together with the thyme leaves. Pull the leaves from the parsley and add to the olives together with the basil leaves and stems. (Should you wish to add anchovies, then this is the moment.)

Switch on the food processor, then introduce the olive oil, letting the ingredients break down into a coarse green paste. Add a pinch of salt, unless you are taking the anchovy route. Finely grate the lemon zest, taking care not to include any of the bitter white pith, and stir half into the paste together with the brandy. Reserve the remaining zest for later. If the paste seems thick – it should be able to slide off the spoon – then blend in a tablespoon or two of warm water. Let the paste stand for half an hour.

If you wish to make your olive paste by hand, finely chop the olives, garlic and herbs then pound together using a pestle and mortar, pouring in the oil once everything is reduced to a coarse puree.

Bring a large, deep saucepan of water to the boil and salt it generously. Drop the pappardelle into the water, stir gently, so the nests of pasta untangle, and let it cook for about 7 minutes – check the suggested timings on the packet, brands vary – until al dente. Drain, leaving just a tablespoon or two of water in the pan, then return the pasta to the warm pan, add half the sauce (keeping the rest for another day) and the reserved lemon zest and toss together. The ribbons of pasta should be glossy, lightly coated with the dressing.

As I pile this on to deep plates, I sometimes trickle over a little more olive oil.

I first made this cabbage dish without the speck, to sit alongside a grilled pork chop. A later version saw the pork cooked with the cabbage, so the leaves would soak up the meat juices. I chose a smoky and aromatic cut, a dice of Tyrolean speck from the deli counter (though pancetta will work too) and let it braise with the cabbage and a little thyme and juniper. The haricot beans were introduced simply to make the dish more suitable for a chilly spring day.

There are two cabbages involved, a crisp, round white and the softer, bright green leaves of “spring” cabbage, both left to steam with the aromatics until tender. If you have a diffuser pad, and keep the heat low, you could use an earthenware casserole. If not, I suggest a large, deep stainless-steel pan. A lid is essential as the ham and cabbage should steam rather than fry.

Serves 4

speck or smoked pancetta 150g
olive oil 2 tbsp
onion 1 medium
carrot 100g (1 medium)
celery 50g (a small stalk)
thyme 1 small bunch
bay leaves 3
juniper berries 5
crisp, white cabbage 500g
white wine 175ml
haricot beans 1 x 400g tin
spring cabbage 200g

Cut the speck or pancetta into 2cm cubes. Warm the oil in a large, deep, heavy-based saucepan over a low to moderate heat. Stir in the speck and let it cook while you peel and finely dice the onion. (The low heat will encourage the ham fat to melt rather than to brown.) Mix the onion with the speck and continue cooking, still on a lowish heat. Thinly slice the carrot into rounds. Slice the celery into 1cm pieces and stir, together with the carrot, into the speck and onion. Check that everything is softening without browning, adjusting the heat if necessary.

Remove the leaves from the sprigs of thyme – you need 1 tablespoon of leaves. Stir these into the onion, add the bay leaves and a generous grinding of salt and black pepper, then lightly crush and add the juniper berries.

Cut the white cabbage into wedges and then into pencil-thick slices, removing the hard central core as you go, then stir into the vegetables. Continue cooking for a couple of minutes then pour in the white wine and cover tightly with a lid. Leave to simmer, gently, stirring occasionally, for 15 minutes. Check the pan occasionally – everything should be moist and glossy – adding a splash more wine should it appear dry.

Drain the haricot beans and lightly mix into the simmering vegetables. Shred the spring cabbage, including the stems, into ribbons of a similar thickness to the white cabbage. Once the white cabbage has been in for 15 minutes, stir in the shredded spring cabbage. I  like to bring the entire pot to the table, lift the lid and ladle the cabbage, beans and juices into shallow bowls.

The sour, salty nuggets of salted ricotta here are something I treat as a seasoning rather than an ingredient. Its piquancy is dazzling with the sweet, young peas.

Serves 2

peas 250g, freshly podded or frozen
garlic 1 clove, peeled
olive oil 75ml or more, plus another 50ml or more
mint 12 large leaves
lemon juice 1 tbsp
long-stemmed broccoli 200g
toast 2 large slices
olive oil 4 tbsp
salted ricotta 25g, crumbled

Cook the peas in boiling, lightly salted water (3 or 4 minutes for frozen, a little longer for fresh), then drain them and set a small handful aside for later. Using a food processor or blender, puree the rest of the peas to a smooth cream with the garlic, the 75ml of olive oil, mint and lemon juice, to form a softly spreadable paste.

Cook the broccoli in boiling, lightly salted water for 4-5 minutes until the stems just start to bend, then drain in a colander. Take care not to damage their tender heads.

Have your hot toast ready. Trickle olive oil over the toast, about 2 tablespoons over each piece, then spoon a mound of pea puree on to each. Place the broccoli on top of the pea puree, then scatter with the reserved whole peas and the crumbled ricotta. A last trickle of olive oil and you are done.

A silky, creamy dal scented with coconut, with a mound of chopped greens and crisp curry leaves. Cavolo nero and spring cabbage are merely suggestions – you could use any green leaves you have to hand, such as chard or beetroot greens. Use a couple of small bird’s eye chillies if you like a hot rather than purely aromatic dal.

The texture of the dal is up to you. I like mine quite soupy, but if you prefer a thicker version, then cook it for a little longer. It is not essential to whisk the lentils when you add the coconut cream, but I like the smoothness that whisking brings, and it only takes a few seconds.

Serves 2-3

onion 1 medium
groundnut or vegetable oil 3 tbsp
ginger 1 x 50g piece
garlic 4 cloves
small red chilli 1 or 2
cardamom pods 5
ground coriander 1 tsp
black mustard seeds 1 tsp
ground turmeric 1 tsp
split red lentils 120g
cavolo nero or savoy cabbage 100g
spring cabbage 100g
coriander leaves a good handful
curry leaves about 20
groundnut or vegetable oil 2 tbsp
coconut cream 4 tbsp

Peel and finely chop the onion. Warm the oil in a medium-sized saucepan, stir in the onion and let it cook for about 10 minutes over a low to moderate heat until it has become translucent and pale gold in colour.

While the onion cooks, peel and finely grate the ginger then stir into the onions. Peel the garlic and crush to a paste using a pestle and mortar, then stir into the onions (you could grate it if you prefer). Seed and finely chop the chillies (either 1 or 2 depending on how hot you like your dal to be), then add them to the onions, letting them soften, stirring regularly.

Crack open the cardamom pods, extract the little black-brown seeds within and grind them to a powder using a spice mill or a pestle and mortar. Stir the cardamom and ground coriander, black mustard seeds and turmeric into the onions, cook for a couple of minutes then add the red lentils and 750ml of water. Bring to the boil, add a generous half teaspoon of salt, then lower the heat and leave to simmer, partly covered by a lid, for about 20 minutes. Keep an eye on it, checking the consistency and introducing a little more water if necessary.

Wash the greens thoroughly. Bring a pan of water to the boil, salt it lightly, then add the cavolo nero or savoy cabbage and let it boil for 2 minutes, then add the spring cabbage and continue cooking for a minute or two, then drain both in a colander.

Roughly chop the cooked greens and the coriander leaves. Remove the curry leaves from their stems. Warm the oil in a shallow pan over a moderate heat, then add the curry leaves – they may crackle and pop – and let them cook for a couple of minutes until they are lightly crisp. Remove the leaves from the pan with a draining spoon, stir half into the dal and set aside the rest on a piece of kitchen paper.

Stir the coconut cream into the lentils, or a little more if you like your dal on the creamy side. Whisk briefly to encourage a creamy texture, then ladle into bowls. Spoon the chopped greens on top, together with the chopped coriander and the reserved crisp curry leaves.

• The recipe for creamy coconut lentils, spring greens, was amended on 20 May 2025. An earlier version gave the incorrect quantity of split red lentils. This should read: split red lentils 120g

@NigelSlater