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:
Every Flavour Noodle Broth
Honestly, there are times when I feel like throwing the towel in and flouncing off to become a podiatrist or something. It happens on the, thankfully rare, occasions when the whole foodie scene loses its head and gets all obsessed with something completely nonsensical. January is a particularly persistent offender. Half the food world can’t get through a whole sentence without saying the word ‘vegan’ or ‘detox’ or ‘cleanse’. And the other half, as if in pointed opposition, turns into some Bacchant monster revelling in the self-destructive joys of comfort food drenched in cream and butter. Oat milk on one side, cheesy meatballs on the other. The battle lines are drawn and it’s enough to make you despair.
Chard & Goats’ Cheese Spelt Pizza
Chard. Honestly, if you grow nothing else, grow chard. It is bullet proof, prolific, long lasting, beautiful and, most importantly of all, tasty. Sow anytime between March and August in shallow drills, thin the seedlings to around 20cm apart and wait. Just wait. Untroubled by slugs, snails, gales or hail, chard will rocket skyward in a matter of weeks.
Roast Grape & Goat’s Cheese Bruschetta
A grape glut! Not mine. More’s the pity. My neighbour’s, who has a vine in her back garden, pays it almost no attention (in fact, I think it’s considered a bit of a pest) yet is swamped, literally swamped, with grapes. Now, when someone invites you to come and help yourself to their glut there’s an awkward moment of glut-pilfering etiquette that ensues.
Blackcurrant Yogurt Lollies
It’s my first year with a berry harvest. And, goodness, it’s been a whopper. A proper old-fashioned, sinks full of berries, break the scales, stain the trug kind of glut. Redcurrants, blackcurrants, raspberries, blackberries – we’ve had the works.
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.