Making a seasonal pudding is a tough brief in February. Not much seasonal fruit around and there’s only so many times I can raid the freezer for gluts of gooseberries squirrelled away last summer. But I’m happy to venture further afield, and glad of some imported sunshine …

I don’t know about you, but my freezer can be a bit, how shall I put it, vague. A sort of a magical mystery tour through random leftovers, batch cooking frenzies, and veg patch gluts that I froze for ‘safe keeping’ having been unable to use the abundant harvest when it first arrived…

My craving for forced rhubarb remains unquenchable. Even though we have no kitchen I am still finding ways to use it. Perhaps ‘no’ kitchen is an exaggeration. Whilst our usual kitchen is knocked, we have a temporary one equipped with a microwave that claims to also be a convection oven. I tested that claim for the first time this week with these flapjacks…

I always get a bit silly about forced rhubarb. I think it’s because the season falls when the weather is at its bleakest and the veg patch its muddiest and least productive. In this context, the bubblegum glow of forced rhubarb stems feel like neon lights shining through the gloom, a brief respite from murk…

No matter how often I grow something, I am astounded every time. To see a tiny seed turn into a plant and then into a meal is wondrous. And like a child clapping her hands in glee at a magic trick, I am filled with giddy amazement by each crop. None more so than this year’s parsnip harvest…

I turn this time to Nigella Lawson for quince inspiration (quinspiration? Too much?). Her quincemeat recipe is an annual event in our house offering, as it does, all the usual loveliness of mincemeat but with the addition of fragrant roast quince. Use it to make mince pies of course, but do try this tart too. It is the lovechild of a mince pie and a Bakewell tart, born at Christmastime under a lucky star and the perfect festive dessert.

There’s nothing like giving someone a jar of homemade jam at Christmas to make you come over all Barbara Good. You feel like you just stepped out of a Country Living feature and the recipient can only enjoy it, can’t they? Well, only if it’s decent jam…

That we are currently in Tier 2 of COVID restrictions and therefore only allowed to meet (six) friends outside was all the excuse I needed to whip up my mulled apple and rum punch. Because if you’re going to stand outside socialising in December, then you darn well better have a warm drink in your hand. And somehow a cuppa doesn’t cut it, does it?

A pickled quince is an enigmatic thing. On the one hand soft, sweet and blushing; on the other sharp, assertive, demanding. It has a delicate floral perfume yet brings a stern, acidic kick up the arse to any plate. You can never really pin it down. I make several batches of Nigel Slater’s pickled quince every Christmas to use in salads, with roasts or with cold meats and cheese during that picky leftover eating time between Christmas and New Year.

This is a recipe for those mid-week days when you absolutely positively have to write the Christmas cards tonight or it’ll never get done and are rushed off your feet. As I, and I’m sure you too, are now. So we’ll just crack on shall we? Chop chop…