It is a universal truth that after the hardest day’s work, we seek solace in our food. These are the nights that a piece of toast or a boiled egg won’t cut it, the nights when your body is crying out for a steaming bowl of, well, comfort.

But these days of high intensity and nights of deep hunger can be hard to predict: you arrive home late and the last thing you want to do is think. Shopping is out of the question, as is too much time or labour. These are the nights I rely on my pantry to get me through.

A full pantry provides a feeling of security, of preparedness. Contrary to its sleepy appearance, a full pantry is the beating heart of your kitchen.

Of course, in a previous life, these ingredients were all alive and vibrant themselves: perfectly ripe tomatoes, sprightly herbs and sparkling little fish. These are the little gems that bring the fire, spice and umami to your cooking. They will be nestled alongside the pasta, rice, beans and lentils, humble workhorses that are affordable and long-lasting; and finally the sauces, vinegars and oils.

In that cupboard are all the ingredients necessary to warm your soul, patiently waiting to be brought back to life.

Some of my favourite home-cooked meals have been born from these late-night pantry raids. I remember one so excellent it immediately slid into my top 10 home-cooked dishes, and then, when I woke in the morning, it was gone. All attempts to recreate it in the daylight have fallen flat. It still haunts me. I know there was spaghetti and sizzled garlic; I remember tomato paste, a spoonful of fresh goat’s cheese and an egg yolk. It sounds odd, even to my ears, but the result that night was something very special. I just may never be able to recreate it!

On another occasion, a pasta dish came together in that fog of hunger and fatigue. Perhaps scarred by the former experience, I took notes and have happily made “my sardine pasta” many times since. It is so good it has been immortalised within the pages of my new book, Recipes for a Lifetime of Beautiful Cooking, which I have written with Libby Travers. I can now see the shades of a traditional “pasta con le sarde” – typically made with fresh sardine fillets, olive oil, onions, wild fennel and raisins – in the dish. Yet this was made with nothing “fresh”.

On that late night, I turned to canned sardines for my pasta, adding a lovely can I had been saving (I hoard special cans in the way many hoard precious wines), along with some sultanas and salted capers to play up the Sicilian sweet, salty and umami love affair. Garlic and onion went into the pan with lemons (these are three staples I always have on hand), alongside some anchovies, olive oil, a little dried oregano, and a hint of dried chilli. It was finished with toasted breadcrumbs, as on that night there was no cheese. There is a glow that comes from making something so good when the fridge is completely bare.

The idea for my latest book was born from that place of making do with what I had on hand, specifically during those early COVID days when grocery trips were limited, and many ingredients were unavailable. Within its pages, you will find dishes such as flatbreads made with baking powder and yoghurt instead of dried yeast, and a one-pot pasta made with lentil sugo instead of meat. In hindsight, I think the constraint bred some of my best recipes – creativity is funny like that. In a country where we can access almost anything at any time, it was actually inspiring to say, “What can I do with what I’ve got?”

As with everything in the kitchen, quality is important, and this is particularly true for the pantry. In Recipes for a Lifetime of Beautiful Cooking, Libby Travers and I discuss where you should really spend your money – olive oil, vinegars, dried pasta, tinned tomatoes, good anchovies – and where the cost is not always an indicator of quality – dried and tinned beans, salt, spices.

These are shopping decisions that may not break the budget – it might mean spending $4 on a can of tomatoes rather than $1 on the home-brand variety. But sometimes the ingredient’s age, rather than cost, is the most important consideration. Olive oil and spices will become stale or rancid, for example, and dried beans will become harder to digest (and take longer to cook).

In Australia, we have incredible culinary diversity. Some of the ingredients in our pantries will have travelled the world to be there. These are long-lasting and environmentally friendly travellers that bring not just their previous life, but also a taste of their previous home: dried peppers from Spain, artisan soy sauces from Japan. How amazing to be able to cook Indian food one day, Chinese the next, and following on, Italian. A well-stocked pantry enables this kind of kitchen escapism.

The world feels particularly fragile and precarious right now. The ability to feed ourselves well and economically is a skill that should be learned by all. I hope this book gives you a few tools and ideas to make cooking at home a bit easier, a bit less fussy and just that bit more beautiful.

My sardine pasta

Sardines, like anchovies, can get a bad rap. The problem is that fresh sardines are only good when they are spectacularly fresh – still stiff in rigor. This is very hard to find. On the other hand, you can find excellent tinned sardines, quite different to the fresh ones. This is the best example of how small tins and salted things can create something utterly delicious.

INGREDIENTS

• ½ cup (55g) dried sourdough breadcrumbs (or ½ cup/30g panko breadcrumbs)
• 3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil, plus an extra 4 tbsp
• ½ cup (80g) diced brown onion (about a quarter of an onion)
• 2 garlic cloves, minced
• pinch of chilli flakes (optional)
• 4 anchovy fillets, roughly chopped
• 2 tbsp chopped fresh oregano (or 1 tsp dried oregano)
• scant ¼ cup (40g) sultanas, chopped
• 2 tbsp salted capers, rinsed
• 1 tbsp tomato paste
• 1 x 400g can whole peeled San Marzano tomatoes, crushed
• 250g dried spaghetti
• 1 x 120g can sardines in olive oil
• zest and juice of half a lemon
• freshly cracked black pepper
• fine sea salt

To finish

• parmigiano reggiano, for grating

METHOD

1. To toast the breadcrumbs, heat a small saute pan over a medium heat. Add the 3 tablespoons of olive oil, along with the breadcrumbs, and cook, tossing often, until golden brown all over. Scoop the golden breadcrumbs out of the pan and onto a plate to cool and become crunchy. Set aside.
2. Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil for your pasta (see note).
3. Place another large pot over medium heat and add the extra 4 tablespoons of olive oil, together with the onion, garlic and a pinch of salt. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the onion starts to brown, about 10 minutes.
4. Add the chilli flakes (if using), anchovy fillets, oregano, sultanas, capers and tomato paste and fry for a further minute. Follow with the crushed tomatoes and stir to combine. Cook the sauce on a low heat while you boil the pasta.
5. Drop the spaghetti into the boiling water and cook until al dente.
6. While the pasta is cooking, split the sardine fillets and remove the backbone. Add the fillets to the sauce.
7. When the pasta is cooked, use tongs to lift it out of the water and drop it directly into the pot with the sauce. Add 2-3 ladles of starchy pasta water. Stir vigorously to combine, using a wooden spoon or tongs, and cook over medium heat for another minute or two to coat the pasta in the sauce. Finish with the lemon zest and juice, a drizzle of olive oil and a good crack of pepper.
8. Divide the pasta between two bowls and top with grated parmesan and the toasted breadcrumbs.

Serves 2

Note:

A ladle or two of pasta water is the magic ingredient in almost all pasta dishes. That starchy water has wizard-like properties: loosening the sauce, bringing a creaminess without cream and, perhaps most importantly, providing a bridge for the pasta to meet the sauce. Pulling out a mug of the cooking water before you drain the pasta is one of those culinary habits that will change your cooking forever. However, your new habit necessitates revisiting an old habit – the way you salt your pasta water. “As salty as the sea” is out – too much salt and you’ll send the seasoning for the whole dish over the edge; not enough, and the pasta will be insipid. So, to clarify, when I say “pot of salted water” for cooking pasta, I’m imagining about 1½ tablespoons of salt for 500g of pasta in a pot with just enough water to cover your pasta by 2-3cm. Less water equals more starchiness, which is the goal with pasta water, so don’t be too generous when you’re filling your pot.

Salsa verde butter roasted chicken thighs

Tomato to basil, salt to an egg, butter to anchovy, and tarragon to chicken – there are fireworks when these two get together. Here, the butter is smoothed under the skin, while a hard roast ensures crisp skin and juicy chicken. I like this served with buttery steamed white rice, but you can’t go wrong with roasted potatoes or steamed asparagus … or steamed potatoes and roasted asparagus, for that matter!

INGREDIENTS

• 8 small chicken thighs, bone in, skin on

Salsa verde butter

• 85g soft unsalted butter
• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled
• ½ cup (10g) flat-leaf parsley leaves
• ¼ cup (7g) French tarragon leaves
• 2 tbsp salted capers, rinsed
• zest of 1 lemon
• fine sea salt
• freshly cracked black pepper

To serve

• 1 lemon, cut into 4 wedges

METHOD

1. Season the chicken thighs with salt and pepper on both sides. Place on a baking tray lined with baking paper so they’re not touching (you may need two trays). Allow them to come to room temperature while you make the salsa verde butter.
2. Place the butter, olive oil, garlic, parsley, tarragon, capers and lemon zest in the bowl of a food processor with a pinch of salt and blend until well combined. Stop and scrape the sides of the bowl every so often to ensure it blends evenly.
3. Preheat your oven to 210C fan-forced (230C conventional)
4. To place the butter under the skin of the chicken thighs, you need to first loosen it, creating a little pocket. Wiggle your index finger under one edge of the skin until it’s free from the meat but still attached around the edges. Divide the butter into eight portions and slide one under the skin of each chicken thigh.
5. Bake the chicken thighs for 35-40 minutes, or until the skin is crisp and well-browned. Allow the chicken to rest for 5 minutes before serving. Drizzle the melted butter from the tray over the chicken and serve with the lemon wedges.

Serves 4

Pissaladiere

A classic pastry-based pissaladiere was one of the first things I learned to make at Chez Panisse. The dish made several appearances throughout my time there – a rarity, as the menu changed every day. While I relished the seasonal spontaneity of cooking in that kitchen, I did love the opportunity to experiment by adding the thyme to the onions or on top of the tart (I preferred it on top because it kept the flavours cleaner); to cook at a consistently high temperature or not (I like a high temperature to start to help the pastry puff a little, before turning it down for a lengthy baking time, allowing maximum caramelisation).

My most recent revelation, regarding the humble yet ubiquitous onion, followed a trip to Nice. Rather than being caramelised before baking, these onions were stewed much more gently. The caramelisation, instead, happened only while the tart baked, resulting in a more unctuous, savoury and juicy layer of onions, rather than a thin, dried-out layer of sweetness. It’s another reminder of why the details and technique matter.

INGREDIENTS

• 1 round flaky pastry (see below), rolled out to a thickness of 3-4mm
• ¼ cup (60ml) extra virgin olive oil
• 3 brown onions, thinly sliced
• 1 tbsp plain flour
• 1 egg, beaten with 1 tsp water (egg wash)
• 8-12 good quality anchovy fillets, cut lengthways down the middle
• ¼ cup (35g) pitted black olives (preferably Nicoise)
• 1 tbsp thyme leaves
• fine sea salt

METHOD

1. Prepare the round of flaky pastry and leave it, rolled out, in the fridge on a baking tray lined with baking paper.
2. Preheat the oven to 200C fan-forced (220C conventional).
3. Begin by placing a saute pan (or a pot) with a tight-fitting lid on the stove over a medium heat. Add the olive oil, onions and a good pinch of salt.
4. Cover the pan with the lid and allow the onions to sweat and steam until fully cooked, about 20 minutes; open the lid and give them a stir every couple of minutes. You are not looking for caramelised onions here, just sweet, juicy soft onions. Remove them from the pan and allow to cool.
5. Take the pastry round from the fridge and spread the flour over the pastry (this will absorb the moisture from the onions). Top with the onions, leaving a 4cm clean edge all the way around. Fold the clean edges up and over the onions to create a crust.
6. Use a pastry brush to brush the crust with the egg wash, then transfer it to the oven. Immediately turn the heat down to 180C fan-forced (200C conventional) and bake for 40-45 minutes, until the crust is deeply golden, and the onions have started to caramelise.
7. Remove the tart from the oven. Carefully lay the anchovy fillets in a lovely lattice pattern across the onions and place one black olive in the centre of each lattice diamond. Return the tart to the oven for a further 5 minutes to allow everything to become perfumed with anchovy and olive.
8. Remove the pissaladiere from the oven and slide it onto a cooling rack without the baking paper underneath. Top with a sprinkle of thyme leaves and allow to cool slightly before serving. This is best served warm or at room temperature but after no more than a few hours out of the oven.

Makes 1 galette, enough for 8-10 slices

Note:

Make the flaky pastry a day ahead to give yourself a head start. It’s not necessary, but it’s helpful. If you’re making the dough on the day, prepare it an hour before starting this galette so it has time to rest in the fridge. You’ll need a 30cm round pizza tray and a pastry brush for this dish.

As an apero snack, I like to cut the pissaladiere into thin slices so people can eat this standing up with their hands. If you want to serve it as a simple lunch or dinner, I suggest a slice of pissaladiere with a green salad made with lots of raw, thinly sliced radish and dressed with a simple Dijon and French shallot vinaigrette.

Flaky pastry

This is the only flaky or shortcrust pastry recipe that I use: tarts, quiches, pies, flans, it does them all. The ratio of butter to flour is important, as is not overworking the dough and keeping everything as cold as possible while you work. The moisture in the butter steams as the dough cooks, lending the pastry a rich flavour and a delicate, slightly crumbly texture.

The only variable is the water needed. This depends on the flour you’re using (flours around the world are all so different) and the humidity in the air, thus the varying measurement. This recipe yields enough for one large galette, plus some trim, which can be frozen to be used later. I keep a collection of trim in my freezer, and when I have enough, I thaw it all and press it together to form a new galette. It works a treat.

INGREDIENTS

• 340g plain flour, plus extra for dusting
• 1 tbsp white sugar
• 1 tsp fine sea salt
• 250g cold unsalted butter, diced
• 120-160ml ice-cold water

METHOD

1. Place the flour, sugar and salt in a mixing bowl and stir to combine. If it’s a hot day, put the bowl in the fridge or freezer to chill for 5-10 minutes.
2. If your hands are very warm, dip them in ice water before proceeding. Add the cold, diced butter and use your fingertips to break it up. You’re not looking for an even consistency here, you want some large chunks of butter as well as some little pieces. Flatten the chunks of butter by crushing and smearing them between the palms of your hands to create little sheets. (Alternatively, you can dump everything onto your bench and press the butter down into the bench.)
3. Make a well in the centre of the mixture. Pour 120ml cold water into the well and use your hands to mix the water into the flour, bringing the dough together to form a ball. If it still has some dry, floury spots, add another 20ml (1 tablespoon) water, and work the dough until it sticks together without feeling sticky and wet.
4. Cut the dough in half, stack one piece over the other and press down – this creates layers in your pastry. Repeat this once more, then press the dough into a disc. Wrap the disc in baking paper followed by aluminium foil (to ensure the dough doesn’t dry out) and leave it in the fridge for at least 2 hours, but up to 48 hours. If you’re not using the dough straight away, pop it into the freezer instead (you will need to thaw it in the fridge overnight before using).
5. Pull the dough out of the fridge and place it on a well-floured bench. When it has warmed enough to be slightly pliable, use a rolling pin to roll it from the centre, turning as you go, to create a rough circle. Use a liberal amount of flour to prevent the dough from sticking to your bench. Continue rolling and rotating until the dough is about 3mm thick. Trim the dough and leave it on a baking-paper-lined baking tray (ideally a 30cm round pizza tray), rolled out, in your fridge until you’re ready to assemble and bake, or use it straight away.

Makes: Enough dough for 1 large galette

Notes:

To make a great flaky pastry, you want to see pieces of butter in the dough when you roll it out. If the butter is diced too small, the pastry becomes short and crumbly, rather than flaky. Layered pieces of butter become the pockets where steam expands and pushes the sheets upward, creating a puff-pastry- like quality.

Keeping everything – ingredients, bowl and your hands – as cold as possible while you work is crucial here. This is much easier in winter; in summer, you’ll need to work faster and move the ingredients and bowl in and out of the fridge or freezer throughout the process, right up until the pastry goes in the oven.

Grilled asparagus with pine nut salsa

At first glance, this is grilled asparagus tossed in pesto, but by changing the traditional proportions of the pesto, increasing the amount of pine nuts and decreasing the amount of basil and olive oil, you get a delicious nutty salsa that works wonderfully well on asparagus.

Before you begin, heat your outdoor charcoal grill. If using an indoor grill pan, make sure it’s hot before grilling the asparagus.

INGREDIENTS

• 2 bunches fat asparagus

Pine nut salsa

• heaped ⅓ cup (60g) pine nuts
• 1 cup (30g) basil leaves loosely packed
• ¼ cup (60ml) extra virgin olive oil, plus extra for brushing
• 1 garlic clove, grated on a Microplane
• heaped ¼ cup (30g) freshly grated parmigiano reggiano
• zest and juice of half a lemon
• freshly cracked black pepper
• fine sea salt

METHOD

1. Trim the woody asparagus ends by holding each spear in both hands and snapping it wherever it wants to break naturally. It should be the bottom third of the spear. Do this with all the asparagus, then set aside.
2. For the salsa, toast your pine nuts in a dry skillet over a medium heat until golden all over, then set aside to cool. Crush the cooled pine nuts in a mortar and pestle, then remove and set aside. Crush the basil in the mortar and pestle with a pinch of salt until it makes a paste. Add the crushed pine nuts back into the mortar, along with the olive oil, garlic, parmesan and a crack of pepper and stir to combine (or mix everything together in a mixing bowl if your mortar isn’t large enough). You should end up with a thick salsa. Set aside.
3. Heat an outdoor grill or a cast-iron grill pan on your stove to a high heat. Brush the asparagus spears with olive oil and grill until nicely charred on all sides, but still crunchy and not flimsy.
4. Place the asparagus and the pine nut salsa in your serving dish and toss to combine. Finish with the lemon zest and juice. Taste for seasoning and serve warm.

Seasonal adjustment: When asparagus is not in season, I love to toss this salsa through warm cooked butter beans (both tinned cannellini-style beans and the long, yellow beans that look like yellow green beans).

Serves 4 as a side dish

This is an edited extract from Recipes for a Lifetime of Beautiful Cooking by Danielle Alvarez with Libby Travers, photography by Alan Benson. Murdoch Books RRP $49.99. Buy now