The gluts have left the building (shed)
This is where I used to write about the gluts I get from my veg patch and the ensuing gluttony in the kitchen.
Now I write a weekly mostly-veggie recipe over on Substack, plus share tales from the veg patch and exclusive videos. You can subscribe for free by clicking on the link below and every recipe will be sent straight to your inbox. If you’d like more content (such as those videos I mentioned, interviews and printer-friendly PDFs of every recipe to collect) do consider becoming a paid subscriber. More on that here.
In the meantime, here’s an archive of my old Gluts and Gluttony blog:
Radicchio, Grapefruit & Trout Spoons
Every shade of pink and packed with flavours in a single bite - bitter radicchio, sour grapefruit and smoky sweet trout. A great recipe for pre-dinner nibbles or deconstruct for a hearty spring salad.
Buttered Leek Bruschetta
It is, as I write, snowing. And that’s just typical isn’t it? The moment COVID restrictions allowed us to meet up to 6 people outside the temperature plummets. Still, if you too are sitting around a fire pit in ski kit, I have COVID-friendly snack suggestions. They can also be eaten with wooly gloves on. Which is an unforeseen benefit…
Easter Tiffin
Another quick Easter treat for those in need of a speedy seasonal treat and without a kitchen. These tiffin squares, a sort of Eastery Rocky Road, will power my Bank Holiday weekend which is to be filled with shoveling into the raised beds the three tonnes of compost which has just arrived….
Simnel Trifle Pudding Pots
This recipe is a quick fix pudding that I loosely term 'trifle' or 'pudding pot'. It is packed with simnel cake, lemon curd, marzipan, candied peel and almonds - all the flavours of Easter in a single pot, and a five minute job
Asparagus, Quails’ Egg & Prosciutto Tart
The hero harvest this week is asparagus. But don’t imagine that’s because I like it. I mean, I love to eat it, sure. But asparagus is, in my view, petulant. I wouldn’t grow it if you paid me. In fact, I was paid to look after a bed of it once when I was working in an organic kitchen garden and it was enough to put me off for life.
Rhubarb & Pistachio Macaroons
I am just about back in control. Of the rhubarb, that is. I’ve been compotting, pickling, preserving, baking, freezing (less romantic, but very practical) and have worked my way through the armfuls of stems that were plump and in need of urgent picking. I’ve made a fair few savoury dishes with the fat, greener stems. But the pinkest ends of the daintiest stems I have saved for pudding purposes….
In Praise of Simplicity
I caught 30 seconds of the TV talent show Great British Menu the other day. A chef from a fancy restaurant was describing the preparation of his dish. He talked of dehydrating this, sous-vide-ing that, ballotining and steaming some long-suffering piece of meat, then braising it overnight before glazing and roasting to serve. (I exaggerate for effect, but not much and the general tenor is accurate.) The plate was a throng of reductions, foams, tuilles, dots of jellies, smears of this and shards of that. Whilst it surely would have tasted terrific, I couldn’t help thinking that there was more ego on the plate than food.
Wild Garlic Frittata
The veg patch is very needy at the moment. Planting seeds, replanting seeds because the mice break into the cold frame and eat them, spreading compost on the beds, cutting back fruit canes, feeding fruit trees, potting on seedlings, watering seedlings… and all accompanied by the damp, chill of drizzle that seeps through your garden gloves and into your bones. So this week, I’ll be brief so we can all get back to shovelling compost.
Forced Rhubarb & Hazelnut Cake
Forced rhubarb season is upon us. Regulars will know my obsession with rhubarb so we don’t need to go over it again. Suffice to say that every year, when the thin, pink stems arrive in the shops I am never, ever, short of new ideas for using them. This week I made this hazelnut (though it could just as easily have been walnut) and rhubarb cake, inspired by a Nigel Slater plum cake recipe.
Celeriac Soup with Pickled Rhubarb
There’s so much rhubarb in the patch that it is becoming a bit of a problem. Rampant and unwieldy, it is technically caged in a spot removed from the main veg beds to protect it from the rabbits, but I think the barbed wire is really to keep it from taking over the EVERYTHING. Anyway, its abundance means I find myself with the first of many main crop rhubarb gluts.
On Weeds
It looks rather idyllic, doesn’t it? Here I am, pottering about in the veg patch. The sun is shining. The robins chirrup and come to watch me rake the earth. Bunnies hop about in the field nibbling the grass. Over the stone wall, I can hear the plaintive bleating of newly born lambs. Spring is in full bloom. If there was a Disney cartoon about a rural idyll, I’d be in it (singing). But this halcyon vision belies the true nature of an allotment in Springtime. It may look heavenly (and, ultimately, of course, it is) but beneath this Constable painting lurks torment and peril for the Spring gardener.
Lemon & Elderflower Scones
What is a village green for if not for celebrating a Royal Wedding on? Come to our village green tomorrow (actually, do, there will plenty to go around) and you will find it festooned with bunting, tipsy villagers sloshing Pimms jugs from one picnic blanket to another and dogs trying to steal cocktail sausages. I will be handing out lemon and elderflower scones. I might even don a tea dress. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so much like I’m in an episode of The Crown. And yes, I’m a total sucker for it all.
Roast Radishes, Lentils & Anchovies
Every year I thank goodness for radishes. Most of the year I can take or leave them, but in April they are glowing jewels in an otherwise beige month. The kale is all gone but the peas have yet to arrive. So we’d be lost, not to mention hungry, without these vegetable gemstones.
The Secret Pleasures of a Clandestine Wild Garlic Glut
The woodland is misty with morning dew. Badger trails crisscross the carpet of bluebells as it stretches away into the depths of the wood – gnarled, ancient, held upright by moss. A spaniel, my spaniel, clatters about in the undergrowth bothering a blackbird who was just looking for breakfast. But best of all, the air is thick with the smell of garlic. This is my Eden. And I imagine I’m not alone.