GREEN curly kail was a commonly eaten vegetable in Scotland for centuries – so much a staple, the word "kail" became synonymous with taking a meal together and the bells which chimed in the 18th century from St Giles Cathedral in the Royal Mile were known as the Kail Bells, denoting dinner time at 2pm. The kailyard was a small plot of land or kitchen garden usually attached to rural cottages, providing cabbage and other vegetables for the household throughout the year. The sharing of kail became so stereotypical of domestic village life, its meaning grew to represent a kind of sentimental Scottishness in literature of the day. Scotland was referred to as The Land O’ Kail in Meg Dods’s The Cook And Housewife’s Manual in 1826 and there are numerous references in old cookery books to its use in broths and soups, as well as Lang Kail, a popular way of serving it chopped, boiled, strained and beaten with melted butter as an accompaniment to roast mutton or boiled beef with onion or caper sauce. Apparently, the ancient Sheip’s Heid Inn in Duddingston Village, on the outskirts of Edinburgh, served this to hungry curlers, looking to warm up after a match on the frozen loch nearby.

It is difficult to understand why this delicious ingredient lost its attraction. As a hardy winter vegetable, which improves after the first frost, it is an invaluable source of nutrients during the harsh Scottish winter. Perhaps it is because we ceased to grow our own at home, preferring the convenience of shop-bought produce? Kail has no heart as a plant, but grows as a long stem with curled, tightly indented leaves. The greenest leaves are plucked from the plant's central stem as they develop. In days gone by, the coarser leaves would have been used for animal feed, providing another answer to its decline in popularity, as perhaps it was regarded as rather an unsophisticated ingredient. I can assure readers, it is a delicious vegetable when eaten fresh and I believe we should begin a revival for growing more of it in our gardens and allotments. It is highly nutritious, very quick to prepare and like most good, simple food, it tastes great and is inexpensive.

Unfortunately, like so many ingredients, kail is better known to most of the population as sold in sealed supermarket bags, roughly pre-chopped, with too much stem left annoyingly in the centre of the clumsily sliced leaves. It is usually a very dark, sullen green, unlike the earthy fresh and fragrant leaves that you may be very lucky to find in a farm shop or farmer’s market at this time of year. I set off especially to find kail for these recipes and photos and was thrilled to find just enough in a local farm shop in East Lothian. In my past, I used to crave a huge stem of kail from a Skye crofter, John the Kail, as I called him, who would present me with stems and leaves that resembled huge can-can dresses. How I loved to use it in the restaurant, even though it entailed a trip to Portree to collect it, on a Thursday, when the local horticultural association ran a market stall for a few months each year. I was so proud to put curly kail back on the menu.

The recent shopping trend of selecting pre-prepared vegetables confounds me, as it is so much cheaper to buy them whole, loose rather than packed, and it takes so little time to prepare them for cooking. My trip to the farm shop filled a shopping bag with earthy, loose, floury King Edward potatoes, carrots and a decent-sized turnip, all devoid of plastic wrapping, a string of French onions and some garlic too. When I remarked about my childhood memory of Onion Johnny knocking on doors at this time of year, riding a shaky bicycle draped with strings of onions from the handlebars, the farm shopkeeper explained that they are still brought to Scotland from Brittany, but these days, in a van. However, the potatoes, carrots, and turnip were all from the farm, as well as the cauliflower and leeks I chose for the weekend. For goodwill, I was given a bunch of delicate syboes, which were useful chopped small for my garnish. Half a dozen local plums and some heritage cooking apples were placed into the bag too, along with fresh eggs. The shop was full of pumpkins, marrows and squashes of numerous colours, shapes and sizes and I made a mental note to return for more on another occasion.

Back home, I set about making the recipes below, ready for our own evening meal with some locally made iron-age pork sausages. What could be more comforting for a Thursday night family meal, I thought, as I washed the potatoes and carrots. There was no need to peel. The earth rubbed away under cold running water, leaving fresh, thin skins beneath. Once clean, topped and tailed, they were ready to cook. The turnip (neep) was very firm and took both hands and a long knife to cut through the centre. The flesh was crisp, showed no sign of woodiness and was a good orange colour.

Washing the kail thoroughly, I cut away the thickest part of the central stem of each leaf and piled them on top of one another. I then rolled them up in a large cigar shape and sliced through the roll in thin slices, leaving the finely shredded leaves in a colander until ready to cook. I must admit I had a secret smile at the thought of how much tastier these vegetables were going to be, when served in the following Scottish, rustic ways. Traditionally, the recipes vary a little from one part of the country to another and also, there are family versions. Here are my own.

Kailkenny (also known as Colcannon)

Choose a floury variety of potato suitable for mashing. For a family of four, I would recommend four large or six medium potatoes, four medium carrots and half of one medium-sized turnip. Prepare and chop the vegetables into even-sized pieces and place the potatoes in salted water in a saucepan. Put the carrots and neeps into another saucepan and cover with salted water. Bring both lots to the boil, simmer until soft and yielding to the touch of a fork or point of a knife. Drain and mash all three ingredients together.

Finely shred the leaves of kail (equivalent in quantity to, say, a large bag of spinach), place in a large, wide saucepan with 25g salted Scottish butter and cover with a close-fitting lid. Place over a low heat, allowing it to cook slowly. Do not add water as the kail produces enough water on its own, allowing it to steam gently. Stir well, occasionally, until it begins to wilt, but retains a little of its crispy texture. This will only take a few minutes. Lift the kail with a slotted spoon and add to the potato mixture. Stir well, check seasoning, adding some of the leftover buttery juices if the mixture does not become too wet. Ensure all is hot before serving with a simple family meal of mince, sausages, chops or meat stew. Thinly shredded cabbage could be used instead of kail. Savoy cabbage is particularly good. Sometimes a spoonful of fresh cream is added to the final mixture.

Rumbledethumps

This dish is potatoes cooked for the family, as usual, in salted water, drained and mashed. Cook the kail as described above and stir into the mashed potato. Check seasoning, and serve immediately, hot with melting butter.

Clapshot

Mash together equal quantities of boiled potatoes and neeps, while still hot, with 25g butter. Season with salt, pepper, a pinch of ground ginger and stir in one tablespoon of chopped chives. Traditionally served with haggis, this is perhaps one of my ultimate comfort foods. Haggis makes a perfect midweek meal too. It’s not just for Burns’ night and very simple to cook and serve.