Veganuary Over Fire - A Plant-Based Feast That Is Not an Apology

I cook meat for a living and I shoot some of it myself, so I understand if you did not expect a Veganuary post from me. But I have been cooking for mixed tables for years, and here is the honest truth about it: the plant-based plates are the ones people ask about. Not the vegetarians. Everyone.

That is because fire is the best thing that can happen to a vegetable. Fierce, dry heat caramelises the outside while the inside steams in its own moisture, and smoke gets into everything. A whole celeriac out of the embers has more going on than most steaks. So this is a full January feast from the fire with no meat, no dairy and nothing pretending to be either. If you are doing Veganuary, or cooking for someone who is, it is a menu to cook with some pride.

To Start, by the Fire

• Ember-roasted beetroot with a smoked almond cream and dill. The beetroot buried whole in the coals for an hour, the almonds toasted on the grill and blended with a little of their soaking water
• Charred leeks with romesco. Leeks blackened completely on the embers, outer layers peeled away, the sweet insides dressed with a sauce of fire-roasted red peppers, almonds and sherry vinegar. The Catalan calcotada, done in Sussex
• Flatbreads from the grill with a smoked aubergine dip: the aubergines collapsed in the coals, scooped, mashed with garlic, lemon and tahini

The Centrepiece

A feast needs something carved. In January that is a whole celeriac, the biggest you can find, scrubbed, oiled, salted and buried in the embers for two hours until a skewer slides through. The skin goes black and leathery; the inside is soft, sweet and smoky all the way through. It comes to the table whole, gets carved like a joint, and is dressed with a hot oil of rosemary, garlic and chilli poured over at the last second. People talk about it for weeks.

Alongside it, a whole squash, split and roasted cut side down on the grill and then filled with a warm salad of farro, roasted grapes and toasted hazelnuts. Two centrepieces, two very different textures, and nothing on the board that is standing in for something else.

The Sides

• Hispi cabbage, quartered and charred hard on the embers, dressed with miso and a little maple
• Potatoes from the embers, split and crushed with olive oil, flaky salt and the burnt bits left on
• A pot of white beans with tomato, rosemary and smoked paprika that has been at the edge of the fire for two hours
• Mushrooms on the grill, big flat ones or clusters of oyster, cooked hot until the edges crisp, finished with thyme and lemon
• Something pickled and sharp to cut through: quick pickled red onion, or a bowl of the fermented cabbage we make in autumn. I have written about why fire and ferment belong together

Pudding

Pears poached in a pot on the fire with red wine, star anise and orange, served warm with a crumble of toasted oats and brown sugar. No dairy needed; the wine syrup is the sauce. Or roasted apples from the foil, filled with dates and walnuts, which is the pudding my own children ask for.

I used to put the vegetable dishes on the menu for the vegetarians. Now I put them on for everyone, and I cook more of them than the couple asked for, because they go first. The celeriac has outsold the venison at three weddings this year. Fire does not care what it is cooking.
- Cai

Cooking It at Home

Every dish above works on a fire pit, a kettle barbecue with the lid off, or a bag of lumpwood in a metal tray in the garden. The embers do the work; the only technique is patience and a willingness to let things go darker than feels right. My guide to vegetables straight in the embers has timings for most of them.

And if you are planning an event in January with a lot of plant-based guests, or a whole plant-based event, this is the menu we start from. It is not a compromise. Ask me about it.