Aromatic sticky rice, cheese and bacon soup, cannellini beans with aubergine – the perfect way to lift the spirits on a wintry day

T here is much joy to be had in holding a bowl of food in your hands, your fingers gradually warmed by the dish and its fragrant contents. Dinner in a bowl, be it thick soup or stew, spiced rice or creamy pasta, feels instantly informal and relaxed – always a good start. There is an intimacy, too: you feel closer to your supper than when eating from a plate with a knife and fork.

A bowl is particularly good for cold-weather food. This is the occasion for recipes where lamb or chicken is simmered until it can be effortlessly pulled from its bones with a spoon, and where there is as much broth to your dinner as meat and vegetables. I often stand, glazed stoneware in hand, eating with just a fork or soup spoon. A dish of rice for one, maybe – sticky rice seasoned with pickles and fresh herbs – or a thick soup of plump beans and bacon.

The fragrance of a dish – the warm, earthy scent of a stew, perhaps – is better captured in a bowl than on a flat plate. The steam is trapped by the high sides, increasing tenfold the pleasure of every mouthful. Dishes with deep sides also allow you to get out that most hospitable and generous of kitchen implements – the ladle. And there is a practical side to all of this, too; anything served in a bowl will keep hot to the last mouthful – no bad thing on a stone-cold winter’s night.

You need a receptacle for this slow-cooked chicken and its deep-brown, earthy broth. There is no thickening other than from the vegetables, so serve with a spoon to catch the miso-seasoned liquor. I use the dark, more piquant brown-red miso paste, but use the lighter, less beefy one if that is what you have to hand. I don’t feel any accompaniment is necessary here, but I probably wouldn’t refuse a spoonful of mashed potato if you were to offer it. Allow two large free-range thighs per person.

Serves 3 chicken thighs, bone in 1kg (about 6) olive oil 3 tbsp onion 1, medium carrots 350g swede 250g celery 2 sticks garlic 4 cloves thyme 8 sprigs bay leaves 3 chicken or vegetable stock 750ml butternut squash or pumpkin 500g red miso paste 2 tbsp

Season the chicken, warm the oil in a large, deep pan, then brown the chicken lightly on both sides. While the chicken browns, peel and chop the onion, carrot and swede, keeping the pieces quite chunky, then roughly chop the celery. Remove the chicken from the pan and set aside.

Return the pan to the heat and add the onion, carrot, swede and celery. Peel the garlic and add whole to the onions with the thyme and bay leaves. Continue cooking until the onions are soft and glossy (they should be sticky with the caramelised sugars left behind by the chicken), then return the chicken and any juices to the pan, pour in the stock and bring to the boil.

Immediately lower the heat to a simmer and let the chicken cook, partially covered by a lid, for 30 minutes. Peel, seed and thickly slice the squash or pumpkin, then add to the pan and continue cooking for a further 20 minutes till all of the vegetables are tender.

Stir in the miso paste, continue cooking for five minutes, then divide between bowls, ladling the broth over the chicken.

My go-to bowl of comfort. The rice is of the sticky sort, which is immediately satisfying. It is seasoned with a mixture of aromatics, ginger, garlic and chillies, all of which are fried until lightly crisp, then it is lent a little crunchiness with sesame and nigella seeds, pickled green peppercorns and, lastly, spiked with fresh lime. It is a bowl that both soothes and uplifts, especially if I introduce some pickled radish or sprouted seeds, chopped fresh mint leaves or basil. Beyond the cooking of the rice, there are no rules really, the dish is quite personal in that you can season it how you, and you alone, like it.

Enough for 2 sushi rice 250g ginger 35g fresh red chilli 1 large garlic 2 cloves groundnut oil 2 tbsp sesame seeds 2 tsp nigella seeds 1 tbsp green peppercorns in brine 1 tsp lime 1

Put the rice in a small saucepan, cover with enough water to come 2cm above the rice. Add a teaspoon of sea salt flakes and cover tightly with a lid. Bring to the boil then lower the heat to a simmer and leave for 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside, lid in place.

Peel the ginger and cut into thin slices. Stack the slices, then cut into thin matchsticks. Halve, seed and finely shred the chilli. Peel and very thinly slice the garlic.

Warm the oil in a shallow pan, add the ginger, chilli and garlic, and let them cook for a couple of minutes over a high heat, keeping them almost constantly moving, so they colour but do not brown. Add the sesame and nigella, let the sesame seeds darken a little and become fragrant, then add the green peppercorns.

Divide the rice between two bowls, put the aromatics on top then squeeze over a little lime juice.

I often also add a small amount of Japanese pickles, sprouted seeds (such as radish or mung beans), lumps of smoked cod’s roe, fried cashews or almonds, or chopped coriander and mint. You can also moisten the rice with ponzu or soy sauce or a little chilli sauce.

One of those deeply satisfying, silky soups, which I serve as a main dish.

Serves 4-6 onions 2, medium butter 30g smoked pancetta or bacon in one piece 200g carrots 2, medium celery 1 stick thyme 4 sprigs bay leaves 3 milk 400ml plain flour 45g chicken or vegetable stock 1 litre grain mustard 2 tsp butter beans 700g, bottled or tinned cheddar 350g chopped parsley a small handful

Peel and roughly chop the onions. Melt the butter in a deep saucepan over a moderate heat, then cook the onions till soft. Dice the pancetta and add to the onion. Scrub and finely dice the carrots, finely dice the celery, then add to the softening onion and continue cooking for 10 minutes or so till tender. Add the thyme and bay leaves.

Warm the milk in a small saucepan and set aside. Stir the flour into the vegetables and continue cooking for 2 or 3 minutes, then add the milk and stir to a thick sauce.

Pour in the stock, bring to the boil then lower the heat and let the mixture simmer for a few minutes. Stir in the mustard, check the seasoning. (It may want pepper, but probably very little salt.) Now drain the beans and add them to the soup.

Grate the cheese and stir into the soup, leaving it to simmer (it is crucial it doesn’t boil) for 5 minutes, until the soup has thickened. Add a handful of parsley as you bring it to the table and serve with bread.

A fragrant way with beans, the lemon, mint and basil bringing a delightful freshness to the party. I don’t cook my own beans, preferring the tinned or – even better, the bottled variety which tend to be plumper and softer – that is how you want them for this recipe. The labneh is spooned in at the table, so it melts into the beans and aubergines. Should you wish to, you can veganise this by making a non-dairy substitute for the labneh.

Serves 4 aubergines 500g olive oil 150ml garlic 3 cloves water 125ml cannellini beans 600g, bottled or tinned vegetable stock 125ml lemon juice of half parsley 10g mint sprigs 10g basil leaves 10g labneh 200g

Slice the aubergines thinly, no thicker than a pound coin. Warm the oil in a large, deep pan, add as many of the aubergines as you get in a single layer (a little overlapping doesn’t matter) and let them cook for 6 or 7 minutes until the underside is pale gold. Turn them and continue cooking till they are tender and lightly coloured. Remove and continue with the remaining aubergine. Peel and thinly slice the garlic, add to the pan, then return aubergine to the pan, add the water and cover with a lid and cook until the aubergines are really quite soft.

Add the beans and their canning or bottling liquid – the aquafaba – then pour in the stock and season with salt and black pepper. Bring to the boil, then lower the heat and leave to simmer for about 15 minutes. Stir in the lemon juice.

Remove the leaves from the parsley and mint, finely chop, then add, with the basil leaves, to the beans. Check the seasoning – it should be quite lemony – and serve with spoonfuls of the labneh.

A bowl to bring to the table as a glorious treat. Layers of sponge cake and fruit, custard and cream are nothing if not an indulgence, an occasional extravagance to make for others rather than yourself. Ginger and rhubarb are a very happy marriage, so I have not only added a trickle of syrup from the ginger jar, but used the dried variety to add spice to the sponge.

You need 350g of sponge cake, so there will be some left over from the recipe below. It is not hard to use up with a little jam and cream, but I like to freeze a slab of the cake to have ready for another day.

I find the slow stirring of custard a rather restful way to spend half an hour in the kitchen, but I am aware it isn’t everyone’s idea of fun. The ready-made versions in the supermarket chilled section are really rather good – you will need 500ml.

Serves 8 For the ginger cake butter 225g, softened golden caster sugar 100g light muscovado sugar 125g orange grated zest of 1 self-raising flour 225g ground ginger 2 tsp mixed spice 1 tsp eggs 4

For the rhubarb rhubarb 750g, trimmed weight blood oranges juice of 2 caster sugar 3 tbsp water 200ml preserved ginger 4 knobs, for decoration syrup from the ginger jar 5 tbsp double cream 400ml

For the custard caster sugar 4 tbsp eggs yolks 4 milk 400ml

You will need a 22cm square cake tin, lined with baking parchment. Set the oven at 160C fan/gas mark 4.

Make the cake: put the butter into the bowl of a food mixer, add the sugars and cream together until soft and fluffy. Add the orange zest.

In a separate bowl, sieve together the flour and spices. Break the eggs into a small bowl and beat lightly to mix yolks and whites. Slowly add the egg to the butter and sugar. If it curdles slightly, simply add a spoonful of the spiced flour to bring it back. Lightly mix in the flour.

Transfer the mixture to the cake tin and lightly smooth the surface. Bake for 30 minutes in the hot oven until a skewer inserted into the centre comes out without raw cake mixture attached. Remove from the oven and leave the cake to settle for 10 minutes, then turn out on to a cooling rack.

Cut the rhubarb into short lengths, then place in a shallow casserole. Add the juice of 1 of the blood oranges and sprinkle over the caster sugar. Pour in 200ml of water, then bake at 160C fan/gas mark 4 for about 30 minutes till soft to the touch.

The rhubarb lengths are ready when you can slide the point of a knife through the stalks effortlessly. Set aside to cool.

Weigh 350g of the ginger sponge, keeping the remainder for later. Crumble roughly into the bottom of a large serving bowl. Remove the knobs of ginger from the jar and set aside. Pour 200ml of the rhubarb cooking liquor into a jug or bowl, add the syrup from the ginger jar and the remaining blood-orange juice, then pour over the ginger cake. (It is essential the sponge is thoroughly saturated with juice, so pour over more of the rhubarb juice, if needed.) Place half of the cooked rhubarb on top, then set aside to chill while you make the custard.

If you are making your own custard, beat together the sugar and egg yolks. Warm the milk in a saucepan and, just before the milk boils, pour it over the eggs and sugar, stirring constantly. Wash the pan then return the custard to the pan and place over a low to moderate heat. Stir almost constantly until it has thickened a little.

Remove from the heat, pour into a jug or bowl, leave to cool.

Pour the custard over the rhubarb and return to the fridge for an hour. It shouldn’t set, but emerge soft and creamy.

Softly whip the cream, slice the reserved ginger, then spoon the cream over the surface of the trifle, decorating it with the coins of ginger and the remaining rhubarb. Instagram @NigelSlater