
Cook once, eat well · 1 hour
The Sunday pot that becomes Monday lunch
White beans, sausage, and a whole bunch of greens simmered into one generous pot. Serve it with bread on Sunday and pack the rest for the week.
The simple supper · 35 minutes
Cherry tomatoes roasted until they collapse, spooned over thick toast with olive oil and a little ricotta. Supper in half an hour, most of it hands-off.

This is the supper we make when the day has gone on longer than it should. It asks for one roasting dish and one skillet, and most of the time is spent waiting for the oven, which is exactly the point.
Good bread matters more than good tomatoes here. Sourdough with a real crust holds up to the juices; a soft loaf will turn to pudding. Buy the best loaf you can find and let the tomatoes do the rest. A green salad with a sharp vinaigrette is the only thing worth adding.
Heat the oven to 425°F (220°C). Put the tomatoes in a roasting dish that holds them in a single layer, then add the olive oil, garlic, thyme, a generous pinch of salt, and plenty of pepper. Turn everything over with your hands.
Roast for 20 to 25 minutes, until the skins split and the juices in the dish look glossy and a little jammy. Don’t stir them; you want some to blister.
While the tomatoes roast, brush the bread with olive oil and toast it in a hot skillet or under the broiler until the edges are deeply golden. Rub each slice with the cut side of a spare garlic clove if you like.
Take the tomatoes out and shake the vinegar over the dish while it is still hot. Tilt it and taste the juices; add salt if they need it.
Spread the ricotta over the toast, then spoon the tomatoes and every bit of the juice on top. Tear the basil over and finish with more olive oil and a last pinch of flaky salt.

Cook once, eat well · 1 hour
White beans, sausage, and a whole bunch of greens simmered into one generous pot. Serve it with bread on Sunday and pack the rest for the week.

Something sweet · 55 minutes
A plain, sharp, buttery loaf soaked with lemon syrup. It sits under a cloth on the counter and disappears one slice at a time over a few days.