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 Vegetable Fritters
Right. We’re all busy so I’ll crack on with it. There’s a time and a place for flouncing about in the kitchen letting your imagination run riot over making supper. (Ditto for rambling on about veg on a blog.) But this time of year is certainly not it. Not for me anyway. Too much going on and too many To Do lists. Suppers need to be a hassle-free haven amidst all this fuss and bother. Enter my Every Flavour Vegetable Fritters…
Gooseberry & Elderflower Trifle
Poor gooseberries. The unwanted spare part of the idiom world. And so too in the kitchen I fear. Pest free (relatively), easy to grow in the UK and delicious, gooseberries should be piled high on our shelves at this time of year. But they are not. Instead our heads are turned by that golden couple raspberries and strawberries whilst the plain old gooseberry sits awkwardly on the shelf being, in every sense, a gooseberry. But not here.
Fig Leaf Panna Cotta
My fig tree is a maverick. No straight and narrow for her. No conforming to the usual fig-tree stereotypes. No, not for her the trappings of traditional fig-tree identity built and reinforced through generations of oppression. She absolutely categorically refuses to produce a single sodding fig. Still, fig leaves are not a harvest to be ignored because when used to infuse a liquid they impart the richest, sweetest, most figgy of fig flavours you can imagine.
Summer Sharing Platter
A glass of rosé, dewy with condensation. The low sun keeping the evening chill at bay. Perfume from the jasmine wafting over the terrace. Ah, June. On this sort of an evening it seems a shame to come inside to eat. Far nicer, don’t you think, to continue nursing that glass of rosé and nibble at a few bits and bobs whilst watching the sun set over the veg patch? And if those nibbles can be a celebration of that oh so picturesque kitchen garden, then so much the better.
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.
Squash, Roots & Wild Mushrooms with Spelt, Feta and Kale Crisps
This week’s recipe is a last hurrah for the winter squash. They’ve had a pretty good innings. Harvested in October, they have been patiently sat in rows in the shed waiting for their moment of glory on the dinner table. The mice have only recently discovered them, burrowing tunnels through the yellow hide and leaving little trails of squash sawdust in their wake. I’m surprised I didn’t find one, Disney style, in the central seed cavity of a squash up-turned, post-gorge and rubbing his full belly.
Portrait of a Cauliflower
I can’t grow cauliflowers. Believe me, I’ve tried. I tried germinating them from seed first, which turned out to be a fool’s errand, so troublesome are they to rear when young. I’ve tried buying plug plants – surely an easy option. But they sulked in their newly fed soil, like grumpy teenagers and stubbornly refused to grow so much as a millimetre. In the end they succumbed, I think willingly, to slugs and died.
Charred Cabbage, Chickpea Mash & Salsa Verde
If you’re an enthusiastic grower like me, you too may have got a bit over-excited about red cabbages in the summer and planted a good couple of rows only to realise, come winter, that however much you love red cabbage, a household of two cannot eat more than one red cabbage a week (not without inciting mutiny anyway). Hence why red cabbage is likely to appear on some upcoming supper club menus…
Jewelled Sprout Slaw
Poor sprouts. They really need to sack their PR team. Spooned reluctantly on to our Christmas plate (“I’ll have one but that’s it”), we almost luxuriate in the ritual of loathing them. But that, I think, is our failure, not the sprouts’. The problem is that we don’t cook them properly, or we cook them at all. A sprout will never be delicious when it has been boiled and certainly not when it has been boiling since Christmas morning as was my Grandma’s preference. The only way to successfully serve a sprout is to fry it or eat it raw and shredded.
A Love Letter to Brassicas
Christmas is brassica season, harvest time for the cabbage growers. The time of year to marvel at the kale which just keeps growing in all weathers; to gaze in wonder at the red cabbage, gigantic purple bowling balls that were nothing more than a palm-full of seeds a few months ago; to revel in the spectacle of the sprout trunks, strong, regal and towering above everything else in the winter patch.
Celeriac Dip with Za’atar, Almonds & Garlic
I’ve had better harvests, I admit. The celeriac crop this year is, and this is being generous, a collection of golf balls; more straggly root than flesh and with frequent incursions by slugs. They looked promising initially – lots of pert green growth on top. But that was just a cover for the failures below ground. All mouth and no trousers.
On Messiness
Paradise is a well organised tuppaware draw. A deep, pull out draw, not a cupboard, so one can look down on the neat regimental lines and inspect the troops rather than scrabble around to find the one you want, which is in invariably skulking at the back of the cupboard. Lids in size order, left to right, lined up on their sides for easy access. Bases stacked one inside the other like Russian dolls. No bottomless lids, no lidless bottoms, no cracked corners, missing seals or tomato stain lines. Order. Because in order there is peace. Except…
Smoky Tomato & Chilli Harissa
If you have a greenhouse you will currently, most likely, find yourself besieged by chillies. Too many cold nights will have forced you to uproot the greenhouse plants and bring in what harvest you can. And so you have a lot of chillies to deal with. Well, there is relief for the chilli-swamped amongst us. And it is harissa.
Roast Tomato Soup
When the rain starts and the temperature falls and the nights draw in, my mind turns to soup. Specifically, tomato soup. Perhaps because tomato soup is, to me, the cure for all ills. As a child, a tin of Heinz tomato soup was like penicillin in our house: it could remedy almost any ailment from a grazed knee to a chill caught after a reckless trip in a rowing boat during a rainstorm. It was what you took on caravan holidays, where succour was always necessary. It was where you turned when you wanted satisfying, flavoursome coziness but couldn’t find anything to eat in the kitchen. It was what you stuck in the microwave to eat on a Sunday afternoon in front of Star Wars videos.
No-Churn Grape Ice-Cream
Last year a friend offered me some of her grape glut. Delighted (such a harvest feels especially exotic and precious in England), I went over to her house to pick a bowlful. But there were so many grapes that my pickings didn’t even put a dent in the crop and I wished for more bowls. (For the full story, and recipes, see here and here.) This year though, I have learnt my lesson, and when the grape glut call came once again I returned with all the bowls I could find and none of my English-restraint. So now I have eight kilos of grapes.
Raspberry Overnight Oats
The advantage of a raspberry harvest is that, unless they have crampons and head for heights, the mice cannot get them. This is the state I have found myself in: measuring the worth of our summer fruits almost entirely by their ability to withstand nightly raids from mice. Because the mice are legion this year. And now they are strawberry connoisseurs too, more’s the pity. Still, they haven’t sussed the summer fruiting raspberries…