Here’s a food-related syndrome many people will know all about - one that flies in the face of the sensible notions many of us have about portion-control and food waste… It is a sad fact that our kitchen culture seems set on a default when it comes to the number of people being fed in a single household, which is why supermarkets sell almost everything in family-sized packs and the vast majority of recipes presented in cookery books, newspapers and magazines cater for a table of four or maybe six.

Yet population statistics will tell you that two people sitting down to lunch or dinner is actually the most common denominator when it comes to the number of diners eating in our homes.

Like so many other household cooks, I am regularly hit by this mathematical and logistical inaccuracy. How many other , I wonder, share my situation? The one that sees you catering for a larger family over many years, only to see your children leave the nest and eventually set up households of their own. Which is fine. Just how it should be. 

But the act of downsizing the meals you prepare on a daily basis turns out to be a strangely difficult and uphill struggle. 

Now a Devon-based food-writer has come to the rescue. Orlando Murrin is a one time Master Chef semi-finalist who edited the highly successful BBC Good Food magazine for half a dozen years - he now writes a column for Waitrose Weekend, presents the BBC Good Food Podcast with Tom Kerridge and for the past two years he has been President of the Guild of Food Writers. Now he has written a truly excellent cookery book called Two’s Company - subtitled The best of home cooking for couples, friends and roommates”.

It offers a beautifully-written and deeply thoughtful answer to the numbers problem which, in Orlando’s eyes, is one that’s been neglected for far too long…

To quote the publisher’s blurb: “Two’s Company is a book with a positive message that cooking for two is exciting, fun and worthwhile. More than that – free from the demands of family or guests, liberated from a strict timetable or any need to impress, you can follow your mood, whether you fancy something homey, a fake-away or a creative culinary adventure.”

Our Exeter-based food-hero not only brings us some delightfully original recipes, he also takes the trouble to set out the different ‘rules’ the keen home-chef should consider when cooking for two, suggesting ways to shop sensibly to minimise waste, while sharing ingenious tips for shortcuts and techniques, gleaned from working with professional chefs and food stylist throughout his career in food. 

“It was written out of much frustration and gnashing of teeth!” Orlando told me when we spoke about his book’s September 14th launch this week. “I often have a go at my fellow recipe writers for ignoring two-person households, but I know why they do it - it’s easier.

“About five years ago, after working as a food editor in London - then setting up two hotels in France and Somerset - I was sufficiently jaded to declare my entertaining days over, and retired permanently from ‘cooking for guests’. I still love cooking, but I do it for two. I am frustrated by the fact that the vast majority of recipes are designed to serve four, six or eight, despite the fact that for more than two decades, most British households are two-person households, followed by one-person households, followed by three-person households. Certainly not four, six or eight. 

“During lockdown, millions more couples were thrown together, with time to cook. Still the recipes poured forth for four, six or eight.”

I asked Orlando what he meant when he said writing recipes for larger groups was easier…

“While developing recipes for Two’s Company I quickly discovered why food writers so stubbornly stick to this outmoded recipe model,” he replied. “For example, the easiest way for a food writer to make a recipe look and sound exciting and creative is to throw in extra flavours and ingredients. A glance at the recipe titles in magazines and books shows how, in the quest for novelty, flavours are piled up, the more the merrier - add a bag of this, a pack of that and you’ve invented something new. If you’re cooking for two, this is infuriating - you’re inevitably left with a pile of half-finished packs and jars, which ultimately get binned. 

“Cooking for two requires more precision than cooking for larger numbers,” Orlando told me. “It is simply a question of arithmetic - margins are finer. If you chuck an extra teaspoon of chilli powder into a dish for four, it will make it slightly hotter; it will ruin a dish for two. Ten minutes added to the roasting time of a leg of lamb will pass unnoticed - a small roast such as a rack will be incinerated. 

“Devising recipes for two requires more diligence than larger numbers - the writer needs to test with greater care, measurements and methods have to be more exact. A lot of recipes begin life in restaurant kitchens. To reduce these for four or six servings is challenge enough, but to miniaturise them for two is often impractical. One-pots and tray-bakes - so much beloved by recipe writers, partly because they are so forgiving - are also tricky for two, because they tend to dry up.”

Having read the new book I can report that Orlando has gone to war against what could be called the anti-dinner-for-two brigade like a general marshalling his armaments and troops. It really is the most thoughtful treatise - a battle-plan that should see even the most jaded home-cook punching cleverly and victorious - whether it’s just the skirmish of a light lunch or the a confrontation requiring a set-piece dinner. Not only do the recipes work wonderfully, but all the many tips and hints are exactly what’s needed - designed by a man who is not only an experienced cook but a master of the communications art. 

“I often hear the argument that if you want a recipe for two, you can simply halve one for four. This isn’t true!” Orlando told me. “Apart from the fact it is tedious to halve recipes (also easy to forget you’re doing it halfway through), there are many adjustments to be made - flavour, seasoning and cooking times - to say nothing of liquid quantity, on account of the different rate of evaporation when cooking on a smaller scale. Plus who can be bothered to halve an egg?

“But there is plenty of good news,” he added. “Operations which are a nightmare for larger numbers - for instance, egg-and-breadcrumbing - become quick and easy if there are just two of you.”

And of course he is absolutely right. Through stern self-training I have managed to reduce the amount I cook at home and only last week found myself making just half a dozen small fresh courgette fritters (despite the glut in the garden) - and it was the work of just five minutes armed with a small steel pan and spoonful of olive oil.

So I am an unabashed fan of Two’s Company and am more than happy to recommend it to any reader who either dines regularly with a partner or alone.   

“As you can probably tell, I feel really passionate about this,” said Orlando as we ended our chat this week. “Writing a single feature would be somewhat sticking my neck out - I happen to be President of the Guild of Food Writers, and I’d be upsetting a lot of food writers - but I know from dozens of conversations that most people who cook for two feel the same way as I do. Which is why I have written this book.”

Two’s Company - will be published on 14th September by Ryland Peters & Small (£18.99) - on sale priced £18.99 from 14 September. Preorder through Amazon or if you wish to support your local independent bookshop, through uk.bookshop.org. 

Sample recipe from Orlando Murrin’s Two’s Company

Three-mushroom goulash 

This tasty and substantial supper dish can be served with boiled potatoes, rice or tagliatelle: if you have poppy seeds to hand, sprinkle on lightly to provide a soft crunch. Feel free to halve the quantity of tomatoes and add a small glass of red wine, if liked. 

about 8 g dried porcini mushrooms 

300 g mixed fresh mushrooms 

a splash of olive oil
15 g butter

1 shallot, sliced

1 tbsp tomato purée

1 garlic clove, crushed

1 tsp smoked paprika, plus extra to garnish

1⁄2 tsp caraway seeds, lightly crushed in a spice mill or pestle and mortar 

230-g can chopped tomatoes, or 1⁄2 a 400-g can

a splash of water, wine or stock, if necessary

a squeeze of lemon juice 

200-g tub soured cream

a small handful of fresh parsley or tarragon, chopped 

1 Put the porcini in a cup or heatproof bowl, cover with 100 ml boiling water and set aside to steep while you trim the mushrooms. Slice any large mushrooms, halve or quarter smaller ones, but aim for a variety of shapes and sizes. Now line a small sieve with a piece of kitchen paper towel and place over a cup or jug. Fish the porcini out of their soaking liquid (do not discard) with your fingers, rinse under the tap to remove any remaining grit and slice roughly. Pour the soaking juices into the sieve, allow the liquid to filter through and discard the kitchen paper towel and the bits caught in it. 

2 Heat the oil and butter in a large frying pan and add the shallot. Cook over a medium heat till starting to go brown – 2–3 minutes – then raise the heat and add the mushrooms and porcini. Some mushrooms release water, so just keep stirring and sizzling until any liquid has boiled away and the mushrooms are appealingly browned, about 5 minutes. Stir in the tomato purée, garlic, paprika and caraway and cook for 30 seconds. 

3 Now stir in the porcini soaking juices and tomatoes and simmer till slightly thickened, about 5 minutes. Add a splash of water, wine or stock if necessary, to achieve a saucy consistency. Season well and add a squeeze of lemon juice to brighten the flavour. 

4 When ready to serve, swirl in about 3⁄4 of the soured cream and heat through. Check the seasoning and serve with the remaining soured cream and a sprinkle of paprika and chopped herbs. 

One-pan puttanesca 

Pasta puttanesca may be something you feel you don’t need a recipe for – tomato sauce with a few olives thrown in at the end. Done right and spiced up all’arrabbiata it’s a super-tasty supper, cooked all in one pan – yes, including the spaghetti – and on the table in 30–40 minutes. 

This includes quite a few polarising ingredients – anchovies, olives and capers – but if you don’t like them, simply miss them out. 

For a meat-free version, omit the lardons and anchovies. 

1 tbsp raisins, currants or sultanas (chopped if large) 

1 tbsp capers, rinsed if salted 

1 tbsp olive oil

1 onion, or red onion, sliced 

60 g smoked lardons, chopped pancetta, or bacon pieces (optional)

3 anchovy fillets (optional)

3 garlic cloves

a generous squeeze of tomato purée

1 tsp dried oregano

1–2 pinches of sugar (to taste) 

1⁄2–1 tsp crushed chilli flakes (to taste) 

400-g can chopped tomatoes

400 ml water (I use the empty tomato can to measure, 1 canful)

150 g dried spaghetti 

3–4 tbsp Kalamata or other black olives, pitted and roughly chopped 

grated Parmesan, to serve (see Trick of the Trade) 

toasted pine nuts, to serve (optional)

a small handful of fresh parsley, finely chopped (optional) 

1 Heat the oil in a large frying pan (one with a lid) and add the onion and lardons, if using. Cook gently for a full 7–10 minutes, till golden and caramelised. Crush the anchovies and garlic – I put them both through my garlic crusher, anchovies first – and add to the pan with the tomato purée and oregano. Season to taste with the sugar, chilli flakes and salt and pepper and cook for 1–2 minutes. 

2 Stir in the tomatoes, water and spaghetti (snapping it if necessary to fit in the pan) and bring to the boil. Cover the pan and simmer for the time suggested on the spaghetti packet – typically 8–12 minutes – stirring occasionally to ensure the pasta is immersed in the sauce. If towards the end of the time the mixture is looking wet, remove the lid to thicken slightly. Check the spaghetti is al dente – cooked by this method, it may need 2–3 minutes extra – then stir in the drained raisins and capers, plus the olives and parsley if using, to heat through. Check the seasoning – again, be generous – serve with lots of grated Parmesan and add a scattering of pine nuts and chopped parsley, if you wish. 

TRICKS OF THE TRADE 

× If you haven’t encountered it, ’nduja (pronounced en-doo-ya) is a spicy fermented salami paste from Calabria, the region which forms the toe of the Italian peninsula. Soft and spreadable, it can be mixed into savoury dishes whenever you fancy a bit of extra oomph – tomato sauces, on pizzas or even on toast.