The most important ingredient is love

There are few things more pleasurable than cooking for friends. To see those you love eating your food and enjoying themselves is one of life's most simple delights.

There's no need for three perfectly plated courses, reductions of this and veloutés of that - such things will only make you hysterical and your guests uncomfortable. All you need, as the Beatles almost said, is food cooked with love.

London is the perfect place for entertaining. Your friends can pop round without having to worry about getting in the car at the end of the evening, and of course we've got every possible ingredient within a bus ride. Few recipes are impossible when you've got Chinatown and Brick Lane and endless markets to explore.

If you're short on shopping time there are plenty of resources online for those more quirky ingredients. Hubbub in north London can bring you Italian goodies and every cheese imaginable; Andreas, who supplies The People's Supermarket, is your man for vegetables, and Marky Market will deliver meat and fish fresh from Smithfield and Billingsgate to your office if needs be. Being adventurous in your shopping makes the whole experience of cooking so much more exciting. It doesn't mean the food needs to be complicated but it gives you the opportunity to offer your friends something more offbeat than a bowl of spag-bol.

When it comes to cooking, the trick is preparation - it makes sense to choose meals that can be cooked mostly in advance. That means your friends will arrive to find a calm kitchen and a placid cook, and so be doubly amazed when you produce
a stonker of a supper.

Over the coming weeks I'll be writing recipes that require nothing but a few last-minute flourishes and perhaps the odd, brief introduction to a hot oven. You can get the bits and bobs done on Thursday night so that when you get back from work on Friday with an hour before your friends tip up you don't have to spend it tearing around the kitchen.

It's lovely having friends round for supper, but if you're going to see more of the stove than you are of them, what's the point?

Small Adventures in Cooking by James Ramsden is published by Quadrille, price £14.99.

Peach zabaglione
More and more people seem to be wheat- and dairy-intolerant these days, and so puddings especially can be a bit of a headache. The beauty of zabaglione, which can be served hot or cold, is that it is rich and creamy but dairy-free.

Serves 6
200ml Marsala
8 tbsp sugar
3 under-ripe peaches, peeled and cut into quarters
6 egg yolks

Put 50ml of the Marsala and a quarter of the sugar into a frying pan and bring to a boil over a medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Add the peaches and cook for 5-10 minutes, shaking ocassionally to prevent them catching on the bottom of the pan, until the peaches are soft and the Marsala is syrupy. (If the peaches do catch on the bottom a little it doesn't really matter - this will add colour, texture and flavour.) Divide the peaches among six serving glasses and set aside.

Put a large saucepan of water on to boil.

Meanwhile, put the egg yolks and remaining sugar in a mixing bowl and whisk for five minutes until light and creamy. Turn the water down to barely a simmer and place the mixing bowl containing the egg yolk and sugar mixture on top. Continue to whisk, adding the Marsala in a slow, steady stream. Whisk for a further 10-15 minutes, until the zabaglione has doubled in volume and is the palest of yellows.

Divide the zabaglione between the peach glasses.

Serve hot or cold. Then compare notes with your friends on Twitter: #zabaglione

Tweak. Experiment with the booze you use - this recipe calls for Marsala, which is a Sicilian fortified wine, but you could try it with Prosecco.