oup is so often the answer. Only a fortnight ago there would have been bowls of brown bean broth with sweet onions and thyme on the table, or maybe a golden butternut laksa with coconut and coriander leaves, leaving turmeric stains on the kitchen counter. This sudden flash of spring has shifted the spirits a bit. I am leaning towards lighter stock-based soups, clear and bright with green beans, herbs and tiny mushrooms that seem be straight from a book of fairytales. If time is tight I will squeeze miso paste into a bowl, pour in boiling water and sip the result. But given half an hour longer, I have a chance to boil and pop early broad beans from their skins, pick mint and Thai basil leaves from their stems, and trim spoon-shaped pak choi to make a rather more substantial supper. You could add white or matcha green noodles, or a thick wedge of bread, toasted and dunked deep into the shining, hot broth. You could steam fat dumplings and drop them in, too. Fifty years ago, the only clear soups in British kitchens would have been consommés, made with roasted beef bones, boiled for hours then strained through sheets of fine muslin. My gran would have preferred a cup of beef tea, the instant version of which is Bovril. I can’t think who would want to go through that malarky now that we have miso paste to hand and so many alternative vegetable stocks and dashi readily available. Clear, sustaining soups as bright as a box of jewels. I also feel the need for a lighter pudding, a dessert without dairy or dough. Earlier this week I pressed bananas, sliced lengthways, into brown sugar – one side only – and toasted them till the sugar melted and smoked. We dipped the sticky fruits into pots of passion-fruit juice and some of us sprinkled them with rum. Miso soup, spring vegetables I buy my miso paste, white and the more aromatic and earthy brown variety, in tubs and keep them in the fridge. They last for ages. When the paste isn’t being used for soup, I mix a couple of tablespoons of it with groundnut oil and brush it over thick slices of cooked aubergine before browning them under the grill. It is also worth looking up the miso paste icing for fruit buns that I gave you in February. Serves 2 broad beans 150g (shelled weight) peas 100g (shelled weight) chicken stock 750ml (or vegetable stock) white miso paste 4 tbsp pak choi 125g spring onions 3 small mushrooms, such as shimeji or small buttons 100g Thai basil a small bunch mint leaves 12 lime 1 light soy sauce Put a pan of water on to boil in which to cook the beans and peas. Add the shelled peas, leave to boil for 3 minutes or so, then remove the peas to a bowl and add the broad beans to the water. When the beans are tender – a matter of 5 to 7 minutes depending on their size – drain them in a colander. Squeeze each broad bean between your thumb and finger to pop it out of its papery skin, then set them aside. Warm the chicken or vegetable stock in a large saucepan. When the stock is hot but not boiling, add the miso paste, stirring until it has dissolved. Separate the pak choi leaves. Finely slice the spring onions and add half to the stock, along with the pak choi. Trim the mushrooms, then add to the stock, along with the peas and beans. Tear or slice the basil and mint leaves. Squeeze the juice from the lime. Divide the soup between deep bowls. Add the remaining spring onions, along with the lime juice, basil and mint. Shake in a little soy to taste (just a few drops at first, letting everyone add more if they wish.) Caramelised bananas, passion fruit and rum Use a non-stick pan here, as the sugar sticks like toffee to a stainless steel or aluminium one. I keep the heat low to moderate, so the sugar slowly melts and caramelises. You have better control of its progress over a low heat. You will need a palette knife to lift the bananas on to dishes. Ripe passion fruit should be heavy for their size and lightly dimpled. Serves 4 passion fruit, ripe and dimpled 6 bananas, not too ripe 4 light muscovado sugar 40g rum or brandy a little Slice the passion fruit in half. Using a teaspoon, tease out the seeds and pulp into a small sieve placed over a small bowl. Push as much of the juice and pulp as you can through the sieve, leaving the seeds behind. You should have a little bowl of orange juice. Peel the bananas and slice them in half lengthways. Put the muscovado sugar on a plate in a single layer making sure there are no lumps. Press each banana into the sugar, cut side down, so that the sugar adheres to the fruit. Warm a non-stick frying pan over a low to moderate heat, lay the bananas in the pan and leave them to cook for 3 or 4 minutes, until the sugar starts to caramelise. Avoid the temptation to move the bananas until the underside is deep gold in colour. Remove the bananas from the heat with a palette knife – there is no need to turn them over – and place them on a serving plate together with the bowl of passion fruit juice and a little bottle of rum or brandy. As you eat, sprinkle a little of the rum over each banana, followed by a spoonful of the passion-fruit juice.