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Autumn thoughts: memories, traditions, blackberries ....and cake.

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When my girls were small, we would often stay with my mum in the West Country, usually at the end of the long summer holiday, just as August slipped away into September. Long, slow days, bathed, it always seemed, in soft summer light. Little people are creatures of habit and a walk along the length of Warmley Brook, to the local wildlife centre for pond dipping and a drink in the café was always a must. The brook was at the bottom of a steep hill and following its course took you past the church, perched high up on a mound, where mum and dad now lie buried, over stiles, and through ancient woodland, with a steep, rocky bank on one side and the babbling brook a constant companion on the other. Invariably, we took a container or two in which to collect blackberries. Maybe it’s the hunter/gatherer instinct buried deep in our DNA, but foraging of any sort is always accompanied by a frisson of excitement. With a handy stick to beat back the worst of the thorns, the containers soon filled up
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summer solstice

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 June 21st 2023: the summer solstice. The garden is blooming and the sun is hot. Time to enjoy our meals: breakfast, lunch and supper in the garden. Here's a recipe for a beetroot and halloumi burger, a delicious plant based alternative to a regular burger. 100g bread 1x400g chickpeas, rinsed and drained 250g beetroot 1 clove garlic handful fresh parsley 1 tbsp ground cumin 1/2 tsp salt ground black pepper 1 egg 1-2 tbsp oil for shallow frying To assemble: 250g halloumi cheese 6 brioche burger buns lettuce mayonnaise or relish of choice Peel and halve the beetroot and steam or microwave until tender. Place the bread into a food processor and whizz to form breadcrumbs. Transfer to a large bowl. Place all remaining burger ingredients into processor and whizz again until just mixed. It's nice to have a few chunky bits in the mixture to give texture. Add to bowl with the breadcrumbs and stir to combine. Shape into 6 patties and chill in fridge for about 30 minutes. Heat oil in pan
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A Collection

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    I have a book on my bookshelf, one of many now, which has been with me for decades. A book which has moved house with me over the years; packed into a box, along with other volumes, to re-emerge into its new position, on a new shelf, in a new home. Firstly in halls of residence at university, then in a rented flat when I started my first job. Next, after I was married, it found a spot on a shelf in our first home. For a while, it was relegated to a box in the attic when space was at a premium, but for the last 15 years, it has been on the bottom shelf of a wall of bookshelves in our little snug. The book in question is Good Housekeeping's New Basic Cookery. A certificate glued inside the cover states it was awarded to a young girl in her second year of secondary school as Eaton House prize. The young girl was me; the prize was for all round achievement for the previous year. I was asked what sort of book I would like as my prize and I requested a cookery book. To be honest, it&
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Coronation weekend

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Saturday May 6th 2023: London resonates to the beat of a hundred drums and the clatter of a thousand horses' hooves on the ancient cobbles. Ranks of soldiers in their crimson uniforms fill the streets, the vanguard to the golden carriage carrying King Charles and the Queen Consort to their coronation. Even watching on tv, the sense of momentous occasion is palpable. In Westminster Abbey, scene to so many royal occasions, the awe inspiring music fills the cavernous space, reverberating through the rafters. Whatever our views on the place of the Royal Family in the 21st century, it's a day for rejoicing in community, friendship and all things good. The following day, Sunday, the country celebrates with street parties. Sandwiches, crisps, sausage rolls and cake; fizz, beer and endless cups of tea; the British afternoon tea! And my own contribution for a celebratory tea at home, some buttermilk scones with cream and jam; jam first of course!  
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Changing seasons

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  The seasons change imperceptibly; 3 steps forward, 2 steps back. One day the sun warms our faces and we smile, our bodies noticeably relaxing; the next day the bitter wind bites at our cheeks and we huddle inside winter coats. This is how we inch slowly through Spring and towards Summer, step by step. And so it is in the kitchen. Spring produce mingles with the last of the Winter harvests. Over the Easter weekend when the sun made a welcome appearance, Mr D and I went foraging for wild garlic, in shady woodland along the river. Each year, in early Spring, we visit the same favourite spot, where swathes of glossy green leaves clothe the bank, filling the air with their pungent fragrance. I gathered just a small basketful and with the addition of a few extra ingredients made a delicious salsa. 30g wild garlic 30g fresh parsley 2-3 tsp Dijon mustard 200ml extra virgin olive oil 2 tbsp cider vinegar 40g capers, rinsed Chop the parsley and wild garlic in a blender. Add 1/2 tsp salt and th
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Cauliflower cheese soup

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 Today marks the Spring Equinox here in the uk.   From now on we can look forward to lengthening days and as from next weekend, when the clocks go forward, lighter evenings. There are daffodils, primroses and hellebores flowering in the garden; and on the allotment, buds on the plum tree and forced rhubarb nearly ready to pick.  But, despite the signs of spring outdoors, in the kitchen we are still very much in winter produce mode. If the recent shortages of certain vegetables, such as red peppers and tomatoes, has taught me one thing, it is to make the most of the seasonal winter vegetables available. And so here is a recipe for a smooth and velvety soup, using a winter vegetable, grown not that far from here in the Lincolnshire Fens; a classic combination of cauliflower and cheese turned into a soup. Wishing you all the joys of spring! Speak soon  Annie  x
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winter walk....jottings from my journal

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The sun was beckoning,  and so, on the spur of the moment, we got in the car and drove the 3 or 4 miles up the road for a walk around the village of Thorney. Parking on a grass verge, we opened the gate into the first field.  Unusually for the fens, there were sheep; we are more used to seeing acres of wheat, sugar beet, potatoes and carrots in this part of the world, rather than livestock, especially the woolly kind.  The sheep looked up from feeding on their bale of hay, eyes fixed on us with an unwavering gaze: staring, some might say rudely in our direction. Had they been children, undoubtedly, they would have been admonished with a whispered "It's rude to stare", but these were sheep and after a few minutes, deciding that we were no threat, they turned away and resumed eating. We walked the length of the field and out onto a rough track, then turned across another field to the right.The wind was fierce and biting, as is often the case in the flat fens; it burned our
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