Sides are so often the best part of a meal – the bits you go back for. Just think of the classics: boulangère potatoes, cauliflower cheese, bread sauce, caponata, even a simple gem lettuce salad dressed in lemon and olive oil – more often than not they’re the highlight.
And yet, time and time again, trimmings are left as an afterthought. Who among us can say we’ve never served a pile of once-green, now overboiled and grey beans; claggy, flavour-sucking rice; a rushed and clumpy potato mash; or roast root veg squashed in a tray like sardines so that they’re not crisp and sweet, just sad, bland and stewed? Madness. These bits make up the bulk of any meal. It’s time to rethink our priorities.
Let’s flip the thought process on its head and use side dishes as the starting point. There’s a much broader spread of ingredients to choose from if you take this approach: from multi-coloured rainbow chard and heritage beetroot, through the reds and greens of tomatoes, peppers and kale, to the monotone browns and off-yellows of wholegrain rice and polenta. Each of them needs just a little extra effort to ensure they’re worthy of having a meal constructed around them, and maybe a fancy piece of protein to match.
Good sides are versatile as well as inspirational. Each of these recipes works with a variety of meats and vegetables, and across multiple cooking styles. The chopped kale salad below is as comfortable in a cold lunch buffet as it is when left to mop up the juices of a chicken thigh or sausage tray bake. The beetroot gratin has roast beef written all over it, although it would accompany baked mushrooms or a mutton or goat stew, too.
Sides should also fit around the practical reality of your kitchen and free time. It’s never, to my mind, worth expelling effort on more than one or two things at once. Just choose something seasonal to go alongside and cook that simply. There’s enough going on in the mangal salad below, for example, to require only the addition of flatbreads or a bowl of fluffed grains. And, in terms of logistics, the vermouth-braised onions will work well if the rest of your meal is involved – they’re happiest when left to sit quietly in an oven while the other components come together.
Of course, there are occasions when you’ll be driven by the centrepiece. You can’t shake the desire for, say, a whole fish baked with south-east Asian aromatics, or a Moroccan tagine? Fine: stick with that. But at the outset don’t think merely of sides that might go well, but of ones that’ll actually make your meal better. Which vegetables are in season? What grain or root will be good as the “bulk”? Which textures, colours and tastes will both balance and contrast? And do I fancy that more than the creamed chard recipe below?
Creamed chard
Oh my. While I feel sure this recipe is about right for 4–6 people as a side, I know from experience that it’s entirely possible that the cook will eat it all in one go and then have to rustle up a quick salad for everyone else. This is very good with rich meats, chicken, root vegetables and mushrooms.
Serves 4–6
800g swiss or rainbow chard, or large-leaf spinach
20g butter
½ onion, finely diced
1 garlic clove, very thinly sliced
4 salted anchovies, roughly chopped
400ml double cream
80g parmesan, grated
Nutmeg, grated
Juice and finely grated zest of ½ lemon
Salt and black pepper
1 Put a large pan of salted water on to boil. Prepare the chard by cutting the stems off the leaves. Trim any gnarly bits off the ends and discard, then cut the stems into 5cm lengths. Blanch them in the boiling water for 1 minute. Meanwhile, if the chard leaves are bigger than your hand, cut them in half. Add them to the boiling water and blanch for 30 seconds. Drain, rinse until cool, then squeeze the water from the leaves with your hands. Unravel each leaf and spread them out on a clean tea towel to dry.
2 Return the pan to a medium heat. Add the butter, a pinch of salt and the onion and cook for 3–4 minutes to soften before adding the garlic and anchovies. Cook for about 90 seconds, or until the anchovies have started to melt, then add the cream and parmesan. Stir until the cheese has melted. Turn off the heat and season with plenty of black pepper and a couple of gratings of fresh nutmeg.
3 Stir the chard stems and leaves into the cream. Season with the lemon zest, juice and some black pepper; you’ll find it’s fairly salty already, thanks to the anchovies and parmesan. Serve immediately (although it’s still pretty good if reheated).
This dish goes well with:
Chicken and guinea fowl
Cold smoked fish
White flaky fish
Mushrooms
Pies and suet puddings
Pork
Beetroot gratin
The sugary nature of heirloom beetroot varieties softens and mellows over the relatively long cooking time, but it remains a pleasingly sweet dish. The startling, bright colours also dull as the dish cooks but, as with any gratin, this is ultimately all about the dual joy of a crisp, brown, baked top and meltingly soft, cream-soaked vegetables underneath.
Serves 4-6
1kg heirloom beetroot, equal parts candy-striped and golden
2 garlic cloves, very thinly sliced
20g horseradish
Leaves picked from 15-20 sprigs fresh thyme
100ml milk
300ml double cream
Cold-pressed rapeseed oil, for drizzling
Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 Preheat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Peel the beetroot and cut it into 3–4mm slices, ideally using a mandolin or a sharp knife. Layer the beetroot in a gratin dish that will hold it in about 5 layers. Use smaller pieces in the bottom of the dish, then sprinkle with salt, a little pepper, a few slices of garlic, a pinch of horseradish and about a fifth of the thyme leaves. Repeat until all the beetroot is used, saving the best, most uniform-sized slices for the top layer or two, and finishing with a final sprinkle of the aromatics.
2 Pour the milk and cream into a small saucepan and heat until just simmering. Pour this over the beetroot. Drizzle a little oil over the top, ensuring each beetroot slice gets a coating, then set the dish on a small baking tray (in case the cream bubbles over). Bake on the middle shelf for about 75 minutes, pressing the top layer down with a fish slice or palette knife every 15 minutes or so. The gratin is ready when a fork can be easily pushed through to the base of the dish and the top is golden with the odd crisp edge. Leave to rest for at least 5 minutes before serving – it will be very hot, and that time allows the bubbling cream to settle.
This dish goes well with:
Roast beef
Chicken and guinea fowl
Duck legs
Grouse, snipe, woodco*ck and teal
Hare
Lamb and hogget
Mushrooms
Mutton and goat
Kale, romanesco, parmesan and pine nut salad
If you need something that’s fresh, verdant, lively and zesty, but also works well with warm meats and fish, consider this. It’s raw and cool, but sturdy enough to counter something hot, such as roast chicken, fatty pork belly or whole baked white fish.
The pine nuts, parmesan and lemon remind me of pesto (obviously without the basil, though feel free to add some), and little nuggets and crumbs of romanesco add colour and crunch. This is great as part of a banquet – not least because you can prepare it in advance and it requires no last-minute cooking.
Serves 4–6
300–350g kale
A pinch of salt
4 tbsp cold-pressed rapeseed oil
1 tsp golden caster sugar
Juice and finely grated zest of 1 large lemon
Black pepper
400g (about ½ a head) romanesco
30g pine nuts, toasted
35g parmesan, grated
1 Wash and dry the kale. Tear the leaves from the rib of each leaf, discard the ribs and roughly chop any leaves if they’re bigger than 4–5cm. You should end up with around 200–250g leaves. Add the salt and massage it into the kale with your hands for 2–3 minutes. The leaves will soften and become wet.
2 Make the dressing by mixing the oil, sugar, lemon juice and black pepper until they have emulsified. Stir in the lemon zest, then pour the dressing into the kale and mix well.
3 To prepare the romanesco, trim the florets off the stalk, then cut the little buds off each floret to end up with lots of fingernail-sized pieces, reserving the stalks for another occasion. Add the buds, any romanesco crumbs, the pine nuts and most of the parmesan to the kale. Mix well, then sprinkle the remaining cheese over the top.
4 It’s good if there’s still a bit of bite to this salad, so it’s best eaten within an hour, as the kale will continue to soften. It’s still fine if left in the fridge for a few hours.
This dish goes well with:
Souffle, pies, fondue
Chicken and guinea fowl
Fish
Pizza
Quiche and tarts
Mangal chopped salad
This warm chopped salad is inspired by two types of side dish served at the Turkish ocakbasi restaurants near where I live in northeast London: sweet onions charred over a mangal (charcoal grill) yet still a little raw, which are drenched in lip-puckering pomegranate molasses and sprinkled with aleppo chilli flakes; and light green Turkish peppers, which are grilled and sometimes served whole, or otherwise chopped into a salad with raw tomatoes and cooked red peppers.
Few of us have the charcoal grill, let alone the extraction facilities of one of these restaurants, but you can get a similar black-edged and crunchy effect in a blisteringly hot oven. Once charred, all the ingredients get roughly chopped and tossed together with a sharp and deliberately aggressive helping of the molasses.
This has become an essential side when I’m cooking a roast leg of lamb; it’s also excellent with falafel, grilled chicken skewers, fish and offal-heavy dishes, too.
Serves 4–6
4 onions
2 medium-large red bell peppers
6 long green Turkish peppers
2 mild red chillies
2 tbsp sunflower or vegetable oil
3 large tomatoes
5 tbsp pomegranate molasses
1 tsp aleppo chilli flakes (pul biber)
Leaves from 7–8 stems flat-leaf parsley, roughly chopped
Salt
1 Preheat the oven to its highest temperature (about 260C/500F/gas mark 10). Peel and quarter the onions. Cut the red peppers in half and remove the seeds, then cut each half into quarters and put them in a roasting tin with the onions, whole Turkish peppers and whole red chillies. Add the oil and toss to ensure all the vegetables are well glossed. Sprinkle with a few heavy pinches of salt. Roast on the top shelf for 15–20 minutes, shaking the tin after 10 minutes, until the vegetables are charred at the edges, but not soft (the onions, in particular, should retain some crunch).
2 Transfer the vegetables to a chopping board and very roughly chop them, then scrape them into a large bowl or serving dish. You’ll need to do this in stages. I like to do it one vegetable type at a time, but I suspect that’s a personal thing. Try to keep any juices and seeds that burst out, transferring them to the bowl as you go.
3 Chop the tomatoes into large chunks and gently stir them into the warm vegetables along with the pomegranate molasses, chilli flakes and parsley. Taste and add more salt, chilli flakes or molasses, if you wish. Sprinkle another pinch of chilli flakes over the top and serve warm or at room temperature.
This dish goes well with:
Chicken (drumsticks and thighs)
Falafel and hummus
Kebabs and mixed grills
Roast lamb
Liver, kidney and heart
Tripe, brains and sweetbreads
Vermouth braised onions
Perhaps because we use it as the base for so many of our dishes, we forget that the humble onion can play a more prominent role. I personally love picking at any (and all) of the onions that have been used as a trivet under my roast meats; they’re caramelised, tender and juicy. These braised red onions derive from that treat, and they’re a natural fit with any roast meat, or offal like flash-fried beef heart or a kidney pie. Mushrooms, too.
In addition to caramelising at the edges and becoming ever sweeter as they soften and collapse in on themselves, they take on the gorgeous vermouth and thyme flavours and become a treat for everyone to enjoy, not just the cook.
Serves 6
6 medium red onions
8–10 sprigs of thyme
40g butter, sliced
100ml sweet vermouth
Salt
1 Preheat the oven to 200C/400F/gas mark 6. Peel the onions and trim the base of each one just enough so that they will sit flat, but the root will still hold the layers together. With the onions resting upright on a chopping board, cut each one in half from top to bottom, stopping two-thirds of the way down. Make two further cuts so that the onion opens up into six even-sized “petals”.
2 Sprinkle a little salt over the base of an ovenproof dish that holds the onions snugly in one layer. Sit the onions on top, push a sprig or so of thyme and two slices of butter into each one, and add a few flakes of salt. Pour in the vermouth and bake for 50‑60 minutes, basting the onions with the cooking juices every 10–15 minutes. They’re done when that liquid has been mostly absorbed and the onions are sweet, soft and just a little charred on top. Serve each one with a spoonful or two of any remaining cooking juices.
This dish goes well with:
Roast beef
Roast chicken
Roast lamb
Liver, kidney and heart
Meat-based stews, casseroles and tagines
Vegetable-based stews, casseroles and tagines
- Ed Smith is a food writer and author of On the Side (Bloomsbury, out now). He blogs at rocketandsquash.com; @rocketandsquash
