I often have in mind which cookbooks will suit which people, and Christmas allows me to play matchmaker.

Here are a few options for you:

For the person who is trying to eat better, or eat less meat
Supernatural Everyday Heidi Swanson

Heidi’s site, 101 Cookbooks, has been my go-to for interesting veggie meals for years. Having her recipes and gorgeous photography in print is a special treat. The approach here is taste first, worthiness second, and Heidi is always coming up with intriguing and tasty ways with tofu, beans and the like. Reading her cookbook I am inspired to make the food, not because I think I should, but because it looks amazing.

For the Londoner or food nerd who loves meat
Hawksmoor at Home Huw Gott, Will Beckett & Richard Turner

Londoners probably know this small chain of Hawksmoor restaurants. If you’ve not been, you have to go. Have to. For those of us not in London, we can only read the Hawksmoor cookbook and drool. Peppered with stories of British food history, this cookbook has everything one needs to know to make a seriously good roast beef, and all the sides you could wish for. Any book that includes a macaroni cheese recipe with an amount of cheese described as ‘more than you think feasible’ is okay by me. I’ve had that macaroni cheese, it’s to die for. I’ve already made the salted caramel ice cream from this book and again, incredible.

Home cooks who could use some new ideas
Comfort & Spice Niamh Shields

I have no compunction in including my friend Niamh’s book on this list because it’s a great collection of doable recipes, as the subtitle says – Recipes for Modern Living. I love her section entitled ‘Eight Great Big Dinners’ – a few good roasts, a ragout and a squash recipe, plus three or four excellent recipes to deal with the leftovers for each one. That’s exactly how I cook. She has an insatiable curiosity about new flavours and techniques, but doesn’t get hung up on the newest or most obscure. Her pork belly recipe is my favourite. Visit her blog, Eat Like a Girl.

Spelt and I don’t get on.

I tried to make a spelt bread recipe, twice, and both times it came out inedible. Proper inedible, not even butter and jam would fix it.

I went on my merry way, whistling in my head every time people mentioned how tasty it can be, how much more substantial it made baked goods. Whatever, I thought, spelt is just too worthy to be good.

Clearly I came around, as I made these pancakes. But this is not spelt in a carob-and-wheatgrass kind of way, it’s more of a tempering, grounding element. More guts, less blood sugar spike. Because the eggs are separated and the whites whipped, it gives these pancakes a light texture that takes away from the masonry tendencies of spelt. Plus you’re halving it with all-purpose flour here, let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.

Buttermilk spelt pancakes
Makes five big pancakes, double the recipe if you’re feeding more than two adults

100g all-purpose flour
140g spelt flour
1 tbsp baking powder
Teaspoon of sugar
Pinch of salt
2 room-temperature* eggs, separated
1 cup buttermilk
1/3 cup milk
2 tbsp butter, melted and cooled

Proper Canadian maple syrup for serving

1. Combine flours, baking powder, sugar and salt in a large mixing bowl. Set aside.
2. Combine egg yolks, buttermilk, milk and butter in a measuring jug and whisk until well combined. Set aside.
3. Whip egg whites in a second mixing bowl until soft peaks form.
4. Add wet ingredients to your flour mixture, stir until combined, but don’t overmix! Ten deep, bowl-scraping strokes should do it.
5. Fold egg whites into the batter, taking care not to lose too much of the air. Don’t panic about this, use big J-shaped strokes of the spatula and it will be fine.
6. Cooking pancakes is a form of alchemy, it requires vigilance and quite a bit of good juju, so be patient and stay by the hob. Stove, whatever. Make a cup of tea. Then heat a non-stick frying pan over medium to low heat. Spoon a good portion of the mix onto the pan – it’s not going to spread much, so coax it gently outwards with your spatula a little bit. When the edges look a bit dry, gently flip it. These don’t seem to bubble through the way plain old buttermilk pancakes do as the mix is a bit thicker, so don’t wait to see those bubbles. I find it’s about 3-5 minutes a side. Serve with proper Canadian maple syrup, and streaky bacon.

*Room temperature is key here, you will get loads more volume from the whites if they are not fridge temperature. If you forget to take them out earlier, put the eggs in a bowl of warm water for 10 minutes.

As I’ve just moved back to Vancouver after a seven-year absence, I missed the first year of the food trucks. I am embracing it whole-heartedly now though. I will be working my way through as many as possible.

What is a food truck, you may ask? Generally, it’s a mobile cafe with a menu that can be anything from tea, sandwiches and crisps to full-service operations with fish and chips, tacos or what-have-you. There used to be one around the corner from our old flat in east London, serving mainly cabbies and local dodgy characters (witnessed by the time we shared a toast of Jim Bean in styrofoam cups with a regular who had just gotten off his drink driving charge – trust me, you would have done it too had you been faced with a red-faced East End hard man looking to celebrate). Chips in paper and toasted cheese sandwiches, plus a cup of builders [tea] was his specialty.

The Vancover food truck scene is something else entirely.

Run by proper restaurant chefs generally and fuelled by love, Twitter mentions and gallons of coffee, this is proper food served by people looking to get closer to their customers. Yes, it costs more than the old-school greasy hot dog stand, but that’s because the food is that much better.

Case in point: Tacofino Cantina.

Parked back from the beach proper on a triangle of grass dotted with giant laughing sculptures, the Tacofino truck was without a queue when I showed up on a Sunday afternoon with my mum and my son. I chose two fish tacos and a pork gringas for $12.50. Approximately 5 minutes later I was handed a cardboard dish groaning under the weight of my food. I had felt slightly miffed at the price initially I admit, but not once I laid eyes on it. I doubt I could have eaten it by myself, as it was, my son Elliot and my mum split the gringas and I wolfed the two tacos. I shouldn’t have really… But I couldn’t stop myself, it was that good.

The tempura-battered fish was light and crisp, I admit I don’t know what the fish was, something white and gentle tasting. Piled into soft taco shells with a crunchy cabbage and fresh fresh pico de gallo, it was impossible to eat it cleanly. I gave up all dignity and let juices run down my wrist. The contrast between the crispy hot fish and the cold lime-spiked pico de gallo was moreish. Sitting on a log on the beach was the perfect place to eat it.

Incredibly, despite the stellar food mere steps away, the crap hot dog stand had a queue of ten people. What were they thinking?!

It does beg the question, if a food truck, with a kitchen smaller than most restaurant loos, can produce that kind of food, what is the excuse for mediocre dishes from your average brick and mortar place? None.

Follow Tacofino Cantina on twitter to find out where they are – @TacofinoCantina
Download the Streetfood Vancouver iPhone app to find out where all the food trucks are, and if they’re open, at any given time.

Actually that didn’t work so well, you could barely taste it, but did it ever taste amazing with tonic over ice. It’s even better than mint I’d say, as it has such a clean taste, borderline medicinal, that feels less cloying. I’m loving it.

Thyme syrup

2 cups sugar
2 cups water
A good fistful of fresh thyme

1. Pour the water into a saucepan, add the sugar. Stir over a low heat until sugar has dissolved. Bring to a boil for two minutes.

2. Take the pan off the heat and add thyme, pushing it down into the liquid. Leave to cool.

3. Decant into whatever is sterile and handy, keep in the fridge.

To make a thyme & tonic, pour two fingers of thyme syrup over ice in a highball glass, fill with tonic. I advise not to garnish with thyme flowers as I have in the photos, it just gets stuck to your tongue. Do enjoy sitting in the sun with your legs stretched out and a big, contented sigh.

I tend to plan meals according to protein, vegetable and carbohydrate. All those years studying the Canada Food Guide in school? Who knows.

I’m fine devising the protein and carb components but when it comes to interesting veg, I struggle. We’re aiming to have three vegetarian dinners a week, and that’s alright. Between hazy memories of my dark vegan past, 101 Cookbooks and the Ottolenghi cookbook, I do pretty well. But those veg side dishes. BORING.

So, the other night I was left with one slightly bendy courgette and some mint about to go slimy. One little courgette is not enough vegetable for two and a half people, so I rootled around in the freezer and came up with frozen peas. What followed formed a lovely base for a grilled chicken breast (Christopher), grilled prawns (myself) and some cheese (Elliot). I can imagine it would lovely with grilled halloumi, a nice piece of fish… The freshness was perfect in is hot weather. I’ve increased the quantities to make this a more robust amount of food, as ours was an exercise in necessity the first time. I specify the two different types of olive oil, as you shouldn’t waste your lovely expensive stuff on frying courgette, but definitely splurge on the oil you drizzle over the final product.

Minted courgette and peas
Serves 2-3

2 medium courgettes
100g frozen peas
1 tsp olive oil for cooking
2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil (the nice stuff)
Handful of fresh mint, chopped
Half a lemon

1. Grate the courgettes on a box grater using the large holes. Put the resulting pile into a colander in the sink, sprinkle with salt and leave it for 10 minutes.
2. Put skillet over medium heat, add the teaspoon of bog standard olive oil. Squeeze the moisture out of the courgette and add to your pan.
3. Cook the courgette for 5-8 minutes, pushing it around the pan some. It should turn a bright, vibrant green. You’re not looking to colour it, just to cook it and get rid of any moisture it’s hanging onto. Take the pan off the heat.
4. Meanwhile, microwave the frozen peas as per the instructions on the bag (or boil them). Drain.
5. Tip the courgette into a large bowl, add the peas, nice olive oil and mint. Give it a mix with your hands, or a spoon. Squeeze the lemon over it. Season to taste, and top with whatever protein takes your fancy.

I know, I know, I can hear your eye rolling from here. ‘You made marshmallows from scratch? You know they come in a bag, right?’

These are not the same creatures at all. Softer, gentler, altogether more beautiful – homemade marshmallows are something to behold. I promise you, they are not that hard. My pink ones are covered in freeze-dried raspberries pulverised in my trusty Kenwood minichopper. The colour is shocking pink and completely natural – when that powder touches your tongue it’s like a burst of the freshest raspberry you’ve ever had.

Now, I’m going to be cruel here and not post the recipe – you can find it in the April issue of delicious. magazine or when theBea’s of Bloomsbury cookbook comes out in September. As I didn’t change anything about it, posting it would just be inappropriate. However, if you’re dying to know, send me a note at erinerin [at] mac [dot] com and I’ll give you some tips.

If you thought you read this already over on Mummy & Monkey, you’d be right. It just happened to fit well over here too. 

I find myself coming back to my collection of Donna Hay books again and again. New Food Fast, Flavours, Instant Cook and Off the Shelf, with their large format, photo-heavy lay-outs and reassuringly thick paper stocks make me feel calmer, just thumbing through their pages. There isn’t anything radical in those pages, but there is good, interesting food to make a weekday supper something pleasant, not just a necessity. Her Australian sensibility, in particular the usage of many Asian ingredients in a straight-forward way rather than This Is Foreign Cooking Beware which seems to permeate so many magazines I read these days, feels very similar to the way West Coast Canadians approach cooking. I can relate.

I particularly love the little sections detailing simple side dishes or desserts, in a kind of giant sidebar. Ideas for flavoured salts, roasting onions like you do garlic and squeezing the puree into mash, quick parmesan risotto balls – none of these things warrant full independent recipes, but I love reading through them and getting inspiration. I’ve made things based on these little bits at least as often as I’ve made the full recipes.

Every week I have at least two of her cookery books next to my elbow as I do the weekly meal plan. Their reassuring presence have been part of this routine for over 10 years now, and I will pack them carefully for the journey back to Canada with us.

There was only one problem: who would it be for?

I’m at home full-time with an 18-month old, who is not quite ready for bentos yet. My husband works in an office with a subsidised cafeteria serving hot food. He’s never been one to like leftovers either. The idea of a packed lunch has always left him, er, cold. As it were.

When I moaned about not having anyone to make bentos for, he said quietly, “I’d like a bento lunch.”

I got a bit too excited, immediately ordered a manly bento box from Bento&co, that arrived yesterday. There is my first packed bento pictured above!

Top tier: Steamed green beans, soy-mirin dressing, roast chicken with spring onion
Bottom tier: Rice, cherry tomatoes, broccoli

I know wholemeal bread is better for you, and when I have a good slice of chewy, nutty, ever-so-slightly sweet wholemeal I am a happy woman. However, those moments are few and far between. More often it’s claggy, heavy, dry and above all, bitter. The bitterness has kept me away from wholemeal bread for years. This summer I had a picnic with my friend Catherine who brought a home-baked loaf of half wholemeal, half white. It was heavenly – light, tasty, chewy, and ever so slightly sweet. No bitterness. I harassed her until she emailed me the recipe and I have been making it ever since. She insists it’s nothing special, but it’s simple to make and very very good. I think that’s pretty amazing. Don’t be alarmed by the kneading and shaping instructions – it’s really easy once you get the hang of it.

Catherine’s bread (with Erin’s lazy edits)
makes 1 loaf

250g malted grain flour (Waitrose do a nice organic one)
250g white bread flour
300g room temperature water or whey (you might need a bit more)
1 tbsp oil (something flavourless, like groundnut or safflower)
1 tbsp honey
7g dry yeast
1 tsp salt

1. Add all the ingredients into a bowl, mix until it comes together into a sticky dough. You may find you need more water at this point – go slowly! Turn out onto a floured counter and knead until it becomes smooth and elastic. I find a good dough scraper is a godsend at this point. Clean out your original bowl, and oil lightly. Put your dough back in the bowl, and cover with a damp towel or oiled clingfilm.

2. Get a loaf pan out and oil it lightly, or lightly oil a baking sheet if you want a more rustic loaf. Catherine told me to let it rise until doubled, but what usually ends up happening in my house is I leave it in a corner of my kitchen for most of the day. Regardless, once you get to it, turn it out onto a floured counter and give it a couple business letter folds. What you want to do is gently press the dough into a rectangle, without tearing, with the long side parallel to your stomach. Fold in the edges like you were folding a piece of paper to go in an envelope, gently and without pressing down too hard. Do it again, starting from the top of the dough. Rotate your little package 90º and stretch it out again gently, and do the whole letter folding thing again.

You can now just transfer this to the baking sheet. If you want to use a loaf pan, I find a bit of gentle rolling so you have more of a log shape makes it fit the pan better. Gently does it, you don’t want any tearing. It doesn’t need to be as long as your loaf pan though, so don’t worry if it looks a bit like a small scaredy cat in there. You’re going to leave the dough to rest before baking.

3. Again, you could then go ahead and bake it half an hour later, but I tend to get wrapped up in putting my son to bed, picking up toys, and before you know it three hours have gone by. Slash the top with a serrated or Stanley knife (I admit I have given up on this because I can’t make it work). Bake in a preheated 200ºC oven for 10 minutes, then turn down to 180ºC for a further 20 minutes. Personally, I love a soft crust on my bread, so leave it at 180º for the full 30 minutes. And one less thing to check makes me happy. Let it cool in the tin for 10 minutes or so, then turn it out on a cooling rack.