Every cook hits a creative block – here’s the secret to finding your way through it

From time to time, I lose my cooking mojo. It happens to every cook – new ideas just stop knocking. Over the years it has terrified me less; it’s part of the job – creativity ebbs and flows. Like anyone else, sometimes I simply don’t know what to make for dinner.

Usually, travel has been the remedy: there’s a whole world of ingredients, dishes and skills out there to inspire me. A trip to Tunisia meant discovering yet another recipe for harissa; a holiday in Georgia unveiled a new level of generosity, with meals that went on for hours; and a few days camping in Norfolk revealed new ways to cook with a portable gas stove (more on that later).

Food is a language, and each country speaks it differently. We’re reminded of all we don’t know. We need difference and distance, between ourselves and everything we know, and the ideas flood out, fuelled by that remarkable meal we ate while we were away.

But once, I had no trips planned. I turned to my colleagues. Jake told me that keeping his creativity alive requires some form of meditation. It takes you away from dwelling on the past or worrying about the future and brings your focus to the present. For him, this meditation is sport. If he’s stuck on what pairs with smoked white chocolate, he goes for a run or plays some football. Suddenly, boom: blackberry granita and fried rosemary. It’s about finding distance from the familiar.

These blocks are a natural part of creative and physical work. As a writer, I’ve faced them countless times. Tara Wigley, my closest partner in prose, often reassures me that the blank page is a friend – she says set aside reading and research and just trust what you’ve got to say. Or, if all else fails, pretend you’re Nora Ephron and that 6pm will present a massive, chilled martini. And even if 6pm means cooking for kids, cartoons, and washing, it reminds you that writing about food (and cooking it) is meant to be fun.

Writer Bee Wilson seems to help me in my moments of crisis – both when I’m struggling to find the right words and when I’ve got creative fatigue. Her award-winning book The Secret of Cooking reminds us to cut ourselves some slack. Bee focuses on probability rather than possibility. The book is brimming with clever tips, handy shortcuts and substitutions, with 15 pages devoted to the versatile and underrated box grater (NB it really isn’t just for cheese).

The secret to creativity, the trick when you lose your cooking mojo, is to step out of the familiar. But if you don’t have the choice to throw in the towel and start again tomorrow (say you have a table of hungry teens demanding dinner), just open your freezer. It’s not the place where food goes to die: it’s there for this moment. And we all remembered to label the boxes, yes?

Outdoor inspiration | I went camping in Norfolk over the last bank holiday weekend. Truth be told, it was glamping. Despite my aspirations of being a rugged Robin Hood type, I’m more like the princess – the one with the pea, but I couldn’t feel it because the mattress was first-class and the “tent” (can it be a tent if it had walls?) was kept warm by a wood-fired stove. Luckily, we could also cook on that stove because, surprisingly, it rained the whole time, so I didn’t get a chance to channel my inner Hood and light a proper fire to cook on. It wasn’t enough though, so in the end my bandits cooked our meats on minuscule portable camp gas stoves. It was hilarious, ridiculous, and not very smoky. The next evening, we gave ourselves a welcome break (I know what you’re thinking …) and brought in The Spitting Pig Co, who cooked us a perfect hog roast, with every possible trimming, plus a halloumi option for the vegetarians.

Campfire treats | Our head of food, Milli, also went camping in Norfolk – in her case, to the Broads. She returned with a recipe for Moo Ping, or Thai grilled pork skewers, courtesy of her friend May Kongsrivilai. The skewers are marinaded in a sweet and savoury blend of freshly pounded garlic, pepper and coriander root, and are then cooked over the campfire. The Ottolenghi test kitchen has been enjoying the recipe ever since.