After last week’s particularly demented blog post, even by my imposing standards, rest assured that I’ve kept this edition relatively on the straight and narrow, perhaps because I’m heroically commencing writing at the prudent hour of 10pm instead of my usual midnight or 1am. To match this rare mood of shrewd practicality, this recipe for pasta with harissa, beans, and feta is equally pragmatic and functional, relying largely on storecupboard and long-lasting ingredients whose processes of preservation capture enormous flavour in, well, the process, meaning you have to do little more than nudge them together while half-sentient to achieve a fairly exquisite dinner.

The stars — pasta, feta, beans, harissa — align here in a combination just mildly left-field, though I am a strong believer that condiments are welcome anywhere, culinarily, regardless of (though with respect to) their provenance. In this case, the brash chilli component of the harissa brings welcome verve and head-clearing properties, while the faint citrus notes in the coriander seeds and the almost icy aniseed of the caraway adds a gauzy lift, dovetailing beautifully with the saltiness of the feta, and the feta’s creaminess calmly tempers the hot chilli, while itself dovetailing with the creamy denseness of the beans — you see how it all works.

I started with a circumspect tablespoon of harissa, which is an aromatic chilli paste known across the Maghreb but particularly claimed by Tunisia — it comes bearing not just heat, which is more of the sparkling than vicious variety anyway — but also an intricate tangle of spices, pungent garlic, and more often than not, a groundingly sour splash of vinegar. Finding that to be not nearly enough, I increased the quantity to three tablespoons — the beans, in their infinite mellowness, have a quieting effect on the chilli, not unlike Patrick Swayze calmly de-escalating the hired goons in Road House. I expect most of you reading this already know your way around harissa, and indeed, the cuisine of its origin regions, but if you’re not heat-confident, start slow and work your way up.

I initially wanted fudgy, rosy-pink borlotti beans for this but couldn’t find them anywhere — yet still recommend them — while the butter beans pictured here have a certain staunch presence, squaring off amid the snarls of pasta, I think I prefer the smaller cannellini beans, coyly merging into the background. Both have their merits.

As we’re in high summer I know I should be championing seasonal produce — for what it’s worth, I’m eating a homegrown plum while I finish writing this — but though I might assume that you’re already long au fait with harissa I assume neither geographic proximity nor access to fresh, affordable produce from any readers, not on this internet and in this economy!

And for further pantry-reliant recipe inspiration, I recommend my Oven-baked Pearl Couscous with Pumpkin, Sundried Tomatoes, and Feta, my Pipérade for All Seasons, my Chickpeas Diabolique, and if the season and mood fits, my adaptation of a Nigella recipe for Roasted Plum Harissa.

Pasta with harissa, beans, and feta

A storecupboard stunner, using preserved and long-lasting pantry ingredients to create a punchy, practical, yet plush pasta repast. Recipe by myself.

• 75g long pasta of your choice
• Plenty of salt, for the pasta water
• 1 x 400g tin of cannellini, navy, borlotti, or butter beans
• 2-3 tablespoons harissa, or to your taste
• 2 tablespoons butter
• 50g feta
• 2 tablespoons capers, drained

1: Bring a large pan of water to the boil — I always boil the jug first, then pour that into the pan, which probably only shaves off a few minutes but feels like I’m doing something efficient — and once it starts to bubble properly, add a good amount of salt. I just use my hands and don’t measure, but a couple teaspoons should be sufficient.

2: Cook the 75g pasta in the boiling water until tender. Meanwhile, drain the can of beans in a sieve over the sink. Once the pasta is cooked, turn off the heat, drain the pasta into the same, bean-filled sieve — thus helping to warm through the beans — and return the contents of the sieve to the pan.

3: Stir in the two or three tablespoons of harissa, depending on how punchy you want it to be, along with the two tablespoons of butter. Continue stirring in the still-hot pan until the beans are well-warmed.

4: Crumble in the 50g feta and add the two tablespoons of capers, stir briefly then upend the pasta onto a plate. Perhaps crumble over more feta, if you have it, and if you have rosemary, the needly leaves of a sprig or two are welcome here.

Serves 1 — the beans are so fulsome that for once I don’t need the usual 100g pasta I’d allow for a single serving. However, for two people, I’d keep the beans the same, up the pasta to 200g, and increase the feta, harissa, and butter generously — if increasing the pasta to feed any more people than this, then add another tin of beans. This reheats ok, but not spectacularly — I’d recommend adding a little more butter while doing so.

music lately:

Strange and Unproductive Thinking by David Lynch. If you haven’t listened to his music, it’s somehow exactly what you’d expect and entirely unpredictable; the section of this musical monologue where he addressed access to dental services made me oddly emotional.

Don’t Delete the Kisses by Wolf Alice. Is she in my brain? There’s simply no other explanation!

I Cried for You (Now it’s Your Turn to Cry Over Me) by Carmen McRae, the song may be jaunty but the lyrics are metal.

Headache by Frank Black, his voice is like a machete that is blunt on one side and jagged on the other and it sounds so beautiful here.

PS: ReliefAid’s Gaza Appeal continues to work to deliver water to people in Gaza who desperately need aid and is worth donating to if you’re looking for somewhere to put your spare money.