THE ART OF FRIDAY NIGHT DINNER

An indulgent dinner that would be nothing without a jar of pickles on the table

The top shelf of my fridge is laden with pickles. There are Mrs Elswood’s cucumber spears with dill, three half-eaten jars of cornichons and a Kilner jar of kimchi made in a fermenting class 18 months ago which should probably be treated much like one of those unexploded bombs that get discovered in back gardens in Enfield.

There are quick pickled radishes made for a spring dinner which have faded from fuchsia to Sulking Room Pink. An experimental pot of celeriac kraut looks as if it might have transitioned from health food to health warning. Then there’s the jar of fail-safe Zuni Café pickled onions – four years old and still going strong.

I attempted a cull last week, but there were some jars I couldn’t bring myself to chuck. An old Bonne Maman packed with pickled quince survived, prompting this dinner – my favourite sort, which ostensibly is about the fried potatoes, the ham and the wonderfully indulgent Gorgonzola cream, but in reality would be nothing without the jar of pickles in the centre of the table.

This is also a great way to eat quince, which is too tough and sour to eat in its raw state, but becomes fragrant and mellow when poached, roasted or pickled with lemon zest and a few spices.

Nigel Slater once wrote that you “cannot hurry a cooking quince”, and he’s absolutely right; they are ready when they feel like it, and may take longer than the 20 minutes of simmering I’ve stipulated here. Make them in advance if you can – they’re best served cold.