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The slices part-cook in the cream and bring their own binding. Rinse them first and you wash away the one thing that can thicken it.

A batter stiff enough to hold apple halves, and cuts that send the steam upwards instead of the juice down.

A whole head, cut straight through and roasted in a very hot oven right to the edge. Underneath, yoghurt with so many herbs it turns green.

Sliced fine and fried hard instead of braised for an hour. The vinegar goes in last — otherwise the cabbage stays tough.

Thick wedges with room to breathe on a very hot tray, finished with crumbs of stale rye bread fried with garlic and sage. No purée.

Twenty minutes, one pan, and still nothing that tastes like leftovers. The trick is getting the pan hotter than feels sensible.

The rye makes the base drier and sharper, so the fruit keeps its own sweetness. Coarse crumble on top and a great deal of fruit.

An hour and a half in the oven, wrapped in coarse salt. It comes out tasting of root vegetable rather than pickling jar.

Eighteen hours of time replace ten minutes of kneading. A lidded pot replaces the baker's oven.