Once in cooking mode, I might just as well continue

I admit it: I am a devout foodie. Which probably explains why I have chosen to live in France. Few things cheer me so much as when I come up with another recipe that works.

This is important because I almost never use cook books. When I first started to cook, I couldn't make head or tail of them. It seemed so much easier to make it up as I went along. These days I do occasionally try to make someone else's stuff, and I'm not averse to flicking through a tome or two for good ideas.

But I remain, essentially, an improv cook. Give me a few oddments lurking in the bowels of a disreputable fridge, and I love the challenge of seeing what I can come up with. I seem to be on a roll today. Having already scored with the Coquilles St Jacques with basil and pasta, I then turned my attention to some pork.

For some reason, we get periodic gluts of pork chops here in France. You get to buy boxes of 12 at about 2€/kilo. I kid you not; it's ridiculous. I just bag them up and freeze them. However, given so great a surfeit of terminated pig, you really do have to ring the changes to avoid boredom.

Thus I have been toying with the idea of Chillied pork with figs and cider. This intriguing concoction came to mind after some munificent guest presented girlfriend Claire and myself with a couple of bottles of organic cider.

Now it might seem dangerous to stage a head-on crash between the cuisines of northern France and the Mediterranean, but the essential principle is sound: Pork just loves it hot and sweet. So here goes:

Chillied pork with figs and cider

Slash up an onion and three cloves of garlic, fry in olive oil in an iron casserole on the top of the stove.

Add one or two pork chops per person, according to size of chop and known appetites and fry until meat is all white.

Add a mug-full of dry cider, six chopped up dried figs, vegetable stock cube, two bay leaves, chopped fresh basil and oregano, teaspoon of paprika, ground black pepper and chopped hot, fresh red chillies to taste.

I'd say basically the hotter the better, but make sure you can still enjoy it. This is, after all, the point of the exercise . . .

Bring to boil, cut heat to simmer, and add a bit more cider if needed. You don't want the meat to be swimming, but you do need enough liquid for the meat to cook in.

Adjust heat to low flame, put the top on the casserole and cook for about an hour. If necessary, remove lid and simmer to reduce sauce.

You could equally do all the frying in a frying pan, transfer the mixture to a ceramic casserole and cook it in the oven. The choice is yours. Personally I don't, because I've got a crap oven.

We served ours with boiled red potatoes in their skins with chives and fresh butter, plus garden peas. It seemed to work.