In which I stuff 'shrooms and baconate my vegetables

Imagine this with toasty browned cashews on...Good, right?

If I lived alone all the time, my weeknight dinner rota would read something like this; baked mushrooms, stirfry (might include mushrooms), pasta (mushroomy potential there), risotto (a few lonely dried porcini in the stock at least) and a friday night empty-fridge-panic induced takeaway. 
So yeah, I like my fungi. My insides probably look like a fairy grotto. Actually they probably look gross, 'cause they're insides. But metaphorically, at least, they're all pixies dancing round 'shroom rings.

Buuut I don't live alone, I live with a man who considers mushrooms a strange and unusual, nigh on suspicious ingredient and their very use in dinner is tantamount to a poisoning attempt. You must see my predicament. 
When I do cook for just me, one of my absolute favourites is a stuffed mushroom. My stuffed mushrooms have five components, each endlessly customisable but all utterly delightful and each contributing something to the plateful.

  

1) The mushroom. Choose a flat one. Drizzle it in olive oil and get sprinkling with the salt and pepper. I don't usually use salt in cooking (I know! What a freak!) but I think it helps draw some of the water out of the 'shroom. Roast it in the oven at 180 degrees for 25-30 minutes until juicy and squidgy

2) The stuffing. I prefer a ready to eat stuffing- nothing that still needs to be cooked. I find it easier to get the mushroom cooked just right and not overcook the filling if everything is basically already sorted when I put them together. I've used a herby, garlicky quinoa with spring onions and a lick of chilli (recipe to come- don't say I never give you anything!) Couscous, bulger wheat or rice would work too, as would any more clandestine grains you can think of. Flavours unlimited, mix-ins unlimited (crumbled, cooked spicy sausage and thyme would be ah-mazing). 

3) The cheese. Only two choices here for me- strong cheddar or halloumi. If you wanted mozzarella, I probably wouldn't kick you out.

4) The base. No mushroom is an island and all that. A lonely fungus, however delightfully stuffed, will look sad and unsatifying on the plate. Normally I'd plop down big handfuls of salad and balsamic but today I put the heating on for the first time this year, the rain outside is the sort that kills your umbrella and perhaps most important I didn't have any and I'm too lazy to leave the house. 
So, bacon-y green vegetables. On a high heat, chop a rasher of bacon into a splash of olive oil. When it's crispy, get it out and onto a plate. Turn the heat down to medium and add half a thinly sliced leek. When it's sweet, soft and unctuous with bacon pan juices, add half a cup of frozen peas and a spring onion. Give it an extra minute then add the bacon back in.

5) The topping. This can be as simple as a drizzle of olive oil and balsamic, but I like chopped toasted nuts. Because crunchy is the best. Today it's cashew nuts which I tossed in a dry pan on a high heat until bronzed and fragrant. I also used a bit more finely chopped spring onion, because I'm clinging to summer in a big way.  Other options here are seeds (also toasty please), breadcrumbs or even caramelised onions if you're not feeling the crunch.

Once you've assembled that lot, you're most of the way there. Take your roasted mushrooms, pile the filling inside, top with your cheese of choice and pop the whole lot under a hot grill until the cheese it golden and bubbling. Eat it with your baconated tangle of leeks and peas and top with crunchy nuts. 

And now I've gone and shot myself in the foot by giving you my 'equation' for every stuffed mushroom I ever eat, thereby killing any chance I had of just posting a new flavour combination every week.

Enjoy!