Considering Shrove Tuesday's pretty heavy, somewhat dismal religious origins, it is funny how the day before lent has come to be an almost festive occasion in most households. Presumably this is because giving something up, let alone fasting, has diminished in popularity and so 'pancake day' is just an excuse for gorging on fried batter.

T.B and I made batches of some sort of Savoyarde-inspired crepe, which developed from (could we call it a starter?) basic folded crepes with ham, cheese and grainy mustard, to a perfect two-crepe surprise: cutting open the pancake broke the yolk of an egg, which was stuffed in between more ham, more cheese, more mustard, and some garlicky parsley mushrooms.

I would like to say that we finished here, subverting most people's pancake conventions and sticking to savoury. However, dessert had to be made from the few pancakes we had leftover. In keeping with the French style, it had to be a citron/sucre affair, but there were some diversions in the form of melted mars bar, peanut butter and ice cream.

Zucca, Old Town Edinburgh

Zucca sits adjoining the Lyceum Theatre. This is both fortunate and unfortunate for them: it would be easy to pass off average food and still remain busy simply because of the location. However, perhaps because of the expectation of their clientele on a special evening out, they might be wary of slipping to the standard of other ‘pre-theatre’ offers.

When I arrived at 6.15pm I was obviously one of the first. There is a café on the ground floor which one enters into, reminiscent of a late-night Italian bar – sadly, Edinburgh locals have not yet adopted an all day dining/drinking tradition so there was a lack of smoking cronies in the dark corners. Luckily I spotted some fantastic looking cheeses at the deli counter that remedied the discouraging entry.

The menu is not too large but still varied, with a fair amount of vegetarian dishes that certainly did not look boring: beetroot and Dolcelatte risotto would have been my choice if I were not such a meat lover. My braised pork and vegetable terrine mixed Italian and English tastes with the addition of a pear and apple chutney. The grilled polenta with sautéed mushrooms, leeks and rocket, was lacking in strong flavour but did feel comforting and home-made.

We had to try Zucca’s signature dish: potato gnocchi cooked with duck confit and pistachios. It looked plain but tasted rustic – I imagined it to be very authentic. Warm, countryside flavours were spruced up by plenty of truffle oil. Our other main, braised shoulder of lamb with mushrooms and pancetta was also delicious. Perfectly cooked meat in a winey sauce over extremely smooth mashed potato: it seemed we’d chosen the best of Italian comfort food. Generous portions meant we were feeling stuffed when we came to order desserts, so settled for the ‘lighter options’ of grapefruit panna cotta and ice creams. These were disappointing after such a great meal. The ice creams were slightly melted when they arrived and the four flavours of blackcurrant, chocolate, vanilla and lemon sorbet did not mix at all well.

Zucca serves delicious Italian food, but the atmosphere and space felt too much like a chain for me to want to make it a regular haunt. This sort of food merits more than to be served in an average airy space adorned with theatre posters.

Read a slightly altered, intensely complimentary version of this review in the Edinburgh Student newspaper

A night at the taverna

R pointed out a small Greek restaurant in Tolcross to me the other day - "I've been thinking we should go there together," she said. Whether this suggestion was made on the grounds that my vague Greek heritage would have caused me to feel a terrible longing for some feta, or simply because R thought 'My Big Fat Greek Restaurant' looked pleasant, is irrelevant now. What matters is that spurred on by this misunderstanding the girls at Melville Terrace decided it would be best to prepare something Hellenic just in case I really was forgetting my roots.

C and I arrived with a dessert in tow, and the door buzzer was answered by what sounded like a Greek island grandmother. Up the stairs and into a dimly lit taverna replica, the only thing lacking was a sea breeze and a glimpse of the small grandmother topping and tailing okra at the back of the kitchen.

Plates of taramasalata and tzatziki adorned the table, with a pile of home-baked pitta breads (!) for dipping. Alongside this we ate grilled aubergine-wrapped parcels of feta and tomato or red pepper, all made by R. Perhaps now she and I will have to try the local Greek joint if only to compare with her own triumphant spread. The dessert I had brought was from a favourite recipe of my mum: spicy greek yoghurt cake. Despite for some reason completely overflowing in our oven, causing quite a bit of mess, it is a great cake made with lots of dark brown sugar, cinnamon and allspice and a chewy dessicated coconut topping. To the readers at Melville Terrace, let us make Greek Night a regular happening. I'm starting to feel a craving for fried cheese...

The past week has been one of our best yet for food at 3F2. T.B, having recently returned from the Central African Republic within days decided to replicate the eating experience he'd had there. So, off he went to find some manioc and a huge amount of peanuts. For so few ingredients, the meal turned out superbly and despite not eating on the floor with our hands as T had encouraged us to, it felt very authentic. Unfortunately none of the Edinburgh grocery shops stocked the 'bitter manioc' grown in the CAR, but given that it contains cyanide the process of cooking it might have taken more effort than we could muster on a Tuesday night.

C.A.R peanut stew

1 whole chicken, cut into pieces (alternatively porcupine, or duyka, a small forest antelope if you can get your hands on it)

3 cloves garlic

4 onions

250g (?) peanuts

1.5l stock or water

a few plantains

a bunch of kale or spinach

Place the peanuts in a frying pan over a low heat to gently roast them. Take them out when the skins have coloured. Brown the chicken in some oil in a big heavy pan. Remove it, then cook the garlic and onions until soft. Meanwhile, in another pan or large pestle & mortar crush the peanuts and as the skins fall off, blow them out of the pan onto the floor. Continue to pulverise them until they form a pastey peanut butter. When this is ready, add to the pan along with the stock or water. Let it simmer for a while - it will be very beige and thick. Add the sliced plantains after about half an hour and when almost ready to eat, let the kale or spinach wilt in the pan for a few minutes.

Serve with rice and eat with your hands.

Into South-East Asia - J cooked up a classic 'nasi goreng' which she learned from her mum. I had seen it served at Stravaigin's in Glasgow as a breakfast dish with an egg on top, so we tried that. It worked really well with some crispy onions sprinkled over. Glad to be making use of the 'poach pods' my sister bought me for Christmas. They look a bit like something you'd pull out of a bra, but are really easy to use and clean.

The final highlight: taking advantage of J being away in France to cook some lamb (which she doesn't like - sorry J). C mentioned that she wanted to roast a leg and have it with some creamy flageolet beans and I remembered having read that Tamasin Day-Lewis had copied her idea in her Kitchen Bible. I don't need to say much because despite the weirdly unflattering picture it's obvious the lamb was perfectly pink (for me anyway).

Monday Alpine Macaroni Cheese

Tuesday CAR stew

Wednesday nasi goreng

Thursday Leg of lamb with flageolets and sweet potato

Friday Butternut squash soup

Saturday slow-roast pork and apple butter

Sunday a party table of leftovers and some fresh houmous

"Slimy Stuff"- A Japanese New Year's Breakfast

お餅

I was full of anticipation for this breakfast because I had so little idea of what we would be eating, only that it would be fairly slimy. Before eating, I was told to beware not to choke on my 'mochi' (spelling?) as a lot of old japanese women apparently do. I was wondering why until I tried it and had to keep cool at the table with a large gelatinous lump in my mouth unable to be quite swallowed. After this initial encounter I found myself eating more and more.

It was first hidden within a miso soup, then on its own with soy sauce and then with a sort of sweet soy powder called 'kinako'. I went crazy and tried mixing the two which proved to be equally yummy. Mochi is essentially rice pound into square cakes. Keiko (who prepared the meal) told us about the traditional mochi-pounding ceremony that happens in Japan. It sounds great - I love the idea of rituals based around food. Perhaps more of the food we eat should be symbolic of certain things, or maybe that should just stay with ceremonial meals. It might be time to get out Nigella's 'Feast' and see what festivals are coming up.

The other dishes were sweet potato and chestnut with sherry (Keiko had run out of sake), very salty preserved roe, those white/pink circular pieces of processed fishyness which look like rubbers, and a carrot salad. Thank you to 6 Hestercombe for this feast!

Orange Weekend

I was having trouble thinking of ideas for a birthday present for my dad when I saw a marmalade recipe in the newspaper. Suddenly I knew exactly what I would do and it would be the perfect present. My local veg shop was doing 2 for £1 on blood oranges so along with my Sevilles I bought six of these, with the image of beautiful jewel-like red jelly in my mind.

The recipe I used didn't request preserving sugar or added pectin so the process was done thoroughly in order to draw out the needed pectin. I peeled the zest off of about 5 oranges in strips and tied it up in muslin, and then thinly sliced the rest of the fruit, pith and all. This was all bubbled and reduced with about 750 ml water for 2 hours - great for producing a nice orangey fragrance throughout the flat. After 2 hours I drained this liquid through moor muslin and used this syrup to finally make the marmalade with. I made a whole second batch using the same method with the blood oranges I'd bought.

The blood oranges were unfortunately not quite as bloody as I'd hoped, making for quite an average coloured marmalade, although cloudier. The standard Seville one looked and tasted exactly how I thought marmalade should - hooray. It was much appreciated by my dad who received the parcel just in time for breakfast.

The weekend continued to be somewhat orange themed with the decision to make Ottolenghi's celebratory-looking Orange Polenta Cake for R's 'Sunday Best' twenty-first birthday. With only a couple of hours before we were expected, I was determined to make it, although succeeding with the caramel topping proved tricky under time constraints. The cake is made upside down, with a layer of caramel at the base, followed by sliced orange and then the cake mixture. I had never really made caramel before, but went about it calmly following the recipe and it turned out perfectly the first time - however I wasn't quick enough to spread it over the entire base. Casually, I scrapped it and started again not thinking that both second and third attempts would fail. This made for a slightly less relaxed baking process than normal but with the only downside of a slightly over-moist base, the cake was perfect for a glamourous birthday girl.

Pizza pilgrimage

I finally went to Franco Manca,a pizza place in Brixton that has acquired general recognition of its brilliance through the kind of people who told me about it, who had heard - been - and passed it on. I just never went until now. But I knew it would be good, there was no question. So when I went it was not to 'see what all the fuss was about' it was because pizza was going to be the right kind of lunch for that day, and that was it.

On a very cold day I travelled down to Brixton for this lunch - a birthday lunch, but a very informal one with only three attendees. I arrived early, and walked around the covered market for a few minutes before deciding to settle and wait at the restaurant with my book - this gave longer time to think about my pizza choice. The place was packed (obviously) but there was a table in the outside area where I was able to wait. It being such a cold day, the waitress had her eye on me and as soon as opportunity came, almost forced me to move inside to warm up. Water was immediately brought out for me to somewhat quench my hunger in the 20 minute wait for my fellow diners.

Already the experience was what I knew it would be - I just couldn't wait for my pizza. The table we had was placed with a view of one of their ovens, herby chunks of potato being popped in and out making us all the more hungry. Sadly we were informed these were an ingredient for one of tomorrow's specials, 'something hearty for the cold'. Indeed. All pizzas come on a sourdough base, so even though it is doughier than I expected, doesn't seem overly bready. I chose number 2 out of 6 on their 'Autumn menu': Mozzarella, Buffalo ricotta and wild mushroom. At 50p extra I asked for tomato sauce - I just think if I came for a pizza I should probably have it, sorry Franco Manca to ruin your creation. After the time I had waiting, luckily my friends knew immediately what they would order (they had looked at the website online; it's always fun) and with one Gloucester-old spot ham and one chorizo we had a good range to try.

The pizza was unforgettably good, but I knew it would be. I didn't make the trip down to Brixton to test the place, and this certainly isn't a review but more a document stating how glad I am to have made the journey. I'll say this now before I mention that having ordered a bottle of their house red and drunk all but a couple of glasses, a member of staff's swift elbow came out of nowhere on passing with a pizza order and knocked the bottle on its side. Aside from a splash of red on denim, there really was no need for them to apologize by giving us another open bottle containing more than the amount we'd lost. Between two and a half people then (one left early) our lunchtime consumption was more than usual but in no way is the reason why I thought the pizzas were so excellent.

www.francomanca.co.uk

4, Market Row, Electric Lane, Brixton, London. SW9 8LD. Monday to Saturday 12-5