A southern Italian summer stew of tomatoes and peppers like a ratatouille – serve with pasta, fried eggs or cheese

As I’ve mentioned before, our cooker is a 1972 GasFire Cucina 800. It’s the four-burner version of the five-burner model pictured in Sophia Loren’s book, In the Kitchen with Love, published in 1972, which just happens to be the year I was born, meaning that Sophia and I, our cookers, cooking and books are inextricably linked. However, her larger model had a different arrangement of burners, as well as a protective lip for a thermostat, while mine has a full hinged lid, which protects the wall; being white, it is also a canvas for splatters, meaning Sophia and I are not linked in wiping.

Tomato is the worst, and the best, especially when the sauce is simmering nicely: mostly steady, but every now and then erupting into a burp of a bubble that splatters like a crime scene waiting for pattern analysis. Today, there were also peppers and potatoes in what can only be described as a staggered recipe that demands the lid is on and off, causing fluctuating temperatures that invite splatters. It is worth it, though, for this almost velvety, summer braise, and also because I suggest making a double quantity, half to go with pasta, and the rest with fried eggs or slices of feta.

When life gives him lemons, Yotam gets busy with a classic Hong Kong-style chicken dish and a moreish salad of parsley, lemon and cannellini beans

For all the countless ingredients that are out there, the one I can’t imagine cooking without is the lemon. In fact, when asked what my desert island luxury was be a few years ago, my answer was a lemon tree. Put simply, lemons make me happy, and they make just about anything that bit more delicious. They cut through richness, and they lighten and brighten the load. So, when life gives you lemons, squeeze them, slice them, zest them, preserve them. Use them as much as you can, come rain or shine, whether you’re on a desert island or just at home.

A southern Italian store-cupboard staple in nine easy steps

Spaghetti puttanesca is one of those dishes that is far more than the sum of its relatively humble parts – designed around the store-cupboard staples of the Italian south, it can be knocked up (quiet at the back) in less than 15 minutes, yet will still knock your socks off every time. Keep the ingredients below in stock and you’ll always go to bed happy.

Prep 5 min
Cook 12 min
Serves 2

A clever, meat-free pasta sauce using soffritto, red wine, plus maybe a smidge of Marmite, to create a deceptively dense flavour

While today’s recipe is from Tuscany, it is also thanks to a girl who went to my school. She lived outside town, in a big house with both a swimming pool and chickens. I never actually saw the house, or jumped in the pool, but I did hear about the chickens that lived in a cage at the bottom of the garden and laid more eggs than the family could eat. There was also the story about how, one day, this girl stopped her uncle from killing one of the chickens, which meant that for Sunday lunch they had roast potatoes, fried eggs and gravy made from Marmite. I remember being thrilled by this story, the idea that she had put herself between an uncle (with a gun, knife, rope, his bare hands? I had no idea) and the hen, therefore saving its life; and that, while the family ate Marmite gravy, the chicken ran free.

Scappato means run away, escaped, scarpered. It’s a nice thought that this recipe for penne con pollo scappato, or pasta with chicken that has fled the coop, was the result of a feisty young girl and a fortunate hen somewhere in Tuscany. It is probably more likely, though, that it was the result of no chickens at all. Along with Sicilian pasta con le sarde al mare (pasta with sardines still at sea) and Neapolitan spaghetti alle vongole fujute (spaghetti with clams that have fled), penne con pollo scappato is part of a family of recipes brought about my resourceful necessity. I have a book about Tuscan food that calls such recipes cucina del’ inganno, which translates as “cooking of deception”, but I think the meaning is slightly different in Tuscan – cunning, and also protective, something you do in order to make something as good as you can with whatever you have to hand. This one is certainly a clever recipe, the well-cooked soffritto of carrot, celery, onion and wine, mixed with rosemary, tomato concentrate from a tube and a long cooking time result in a flavour so deep that it is every bit as good as meat.

Discover Rachel’s recipes and many more from your favourite cooks in the new Guardian Feast app, with smart features to make everyday cooking easier and more fun