It's a crisp blue morning, a slight fresh chill to the air. The car windscreen, condensation covered, needed time to clear. This is how autumn begins, bright skies and the day gradually warming a little to remind us summer isn't quite over.The leisurely feeling of holiday, nothing more pressing than deciding what is for lunch or whether or not we can fit afternoon tea in as well as lying around reading, has passed.Gradually we are getting back into the swing of a routine. The children — I'd finally accepted having them around all day every day, a kind of Stockholm syndrome — bless them, have gone back to school giving me a break from Noah's non-stop cricket statistics and ball by ball descriptions and Maya's constant demand for paint supplies or sellotape.Autumn is when food starts to get more serious. No longer will a mimsy salad be enough. It's time to start breaking out the swedes and turnips. The long stews and rich sauces. "Out of the way you pathetic leaf", shouts the butternut.As we are still on the cusp of seasons ("ooh, yes, a cold, that'll be the change of weather") it's not yet time to quite let go. There is still sweet corn on the cob, boiled and drenched in butter, salt and pepper to eat messily and deliciously.Occasionally, lime zest with chilli flakes and melting, grated cheddar will appear on top of it. Maybe there will be a final opportunity for a barbecue, the cobs still in their husks, smoky and ineffably summery.So until the clocks change there will still be a hint of summer in our kitchen. The slow cooker can wait a few more weeks.
Summer’s almost gone
in Recipes
The height of a very hot and unusually consistent summer means cooking has ground to a halt in this house. Almost. The sheer willpower needed to move takes away any enthusiasm we have for eating, let alone heating pans. A cold drink and perhaps a Cornetto seems about the limit of my ability.But life is dull without good food, so the simplest things are on the table. Prawns, quickly fried and doused in garlic butter is enough, as was a little spinach and ricotta tortellini in some chicken and vegetable stock for last night's supper. On the side, a pear, Gorgonzola and walnut salad, simply dressed with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.We had friends round on the weekend, so I did have to grudgingly cook for them, the freeloaders. But a few chickens, jointed, browned and then chucked in the oven to slowly cook with tomatoes, bay leaves and cinnamon and left to cool to room temperature made an easy lunch with some flatbreads and salad. And pudding was a few caramelised bananas shoved under some ready-made puff pastry. A banana tatin with minimum effort. That was served with some cheap vanillia ice cream, which sometimes, is just the thing.So there is no need to miss out on meals when the the grass is scorched brown and the riverbeds are cracked drier than a Ryvita with no butter. Light and simple is the way to go and these blueberries are excellent on a plate with some anchovies or a little albacore tuna, gently cooked and preserved in olive oil the Italian way. Don't use cheap rubbish or it will taste like it. Throw a couple of rocket leaves or lamb's lettuce over the top and that should do it.Why you may ask, am I pickling soft fruit at the height of its season when everything should be simple and easy? Well, this is simple and easy, and a little jar of this in the fridge goes a long way. The effort is minimal, and besides which, have you seen what happens to soft fruit in this weather? It lasts about ten seconds. And besides, a little sharpness can be just the tonic in this heat.Ingredients400g blueberries120ml cider vinegar200g golden caster sugar1 long cinnamon stick1tsp cardamon seedsA pinch of chilli flakesA pinch of saffronMethodSlowly heat the vinegar, sugar, cinnamon, cardamon, chilli and saffron in a saucepan until the sugar is dissolved, stirring occasionally. Bring to the boil and add the blueberries.Wait for a bit to let the heat come back and cook for 30 seconds. Remove to a plate or tray with a slotted spoon and let the pickling liquid cool and thicken.Put the cooled blueberries and liquid into a clean jar, seal and leave in the fridge for at least a day.This weekReadDipping in and out of Vasari's '
And the nights are drawing in. Summer's almost gone, before we know it we shall be wearing makeup and knocking on neighbours doors demanding sweets. Even if you don't have children, this is great fun. I'd even suggest doing it mid-July if you fancy a laugh.But before then, it's my favourite time of year. The leaves turn gold and orange, the crisp, blue mornings with their low sun skies turn the walk to school into a show of colour and misty breath, wrapped up against the coming winter. It's the time to eat comforting food that's not quite long slow-braised beef shin stews, thick, rich and brown, but bridges the seasons.Cooking the pasta in the pan with everything else gives it real depth and reminds me of some of the meal in a bowl soups my mum used to make for us. There's so much going on, but really takes very little effort to make. Fresh bay leaves from the tree make the difference here, but use dried if you must. And don't bother doing your own peppers, just buy a good jar of them. There are some things that just aren't worth the fuss.Ingredients for four4 skin on chicken supremes4 garlic cloves, peeled1 red onion, cut into wedges1tbsp dried oregano2 bay leaves1 jar of roast red peppers, drainedA handful of good black olives250g orzo1tsp bouillon powderBoiling water to coverOlive oilSalt and pepper to seasonMethodHeat some oil in a large, lidded, heavy and shallow pan. Fry the chicken, seasoned, skin-side down until golden then turn and cook for a couple of minutes.Add the garlic and onions and cook for a minute longer.Throw in the peppers, olives, bay, bouillon, and orzo then just cover with boiling water. Sprinkle over the oregano and cover with the lid.Cook gently for about ten minutes, until the orzo is soft, but with a little bite.Serve from the pan at the table.
It's a short-lived season, much like the elderflowers that grow at the bottom of the garden, but it's one, rather like the flowering of the magnolia tree, that brings me great happiness. In the past, I have tended to use wild garlic only for a risotto. Failing that, I just lie face down among the leaves and breathe deeply, occasionally chomping on a flower like a demented Eeyore.Summer is here more or less and the cupboards and fridge groans with colour and often fruit flies if I'm forgetful. It's the season that makes cooking easy. When you've got such fresh and vibrant ingredients readily available, if not in your garden then on your greengrocers shelves and market stalls, meals can be put together in hardly any time and with the minimum of fuss.This morning, I popped into my in-laws for a cup of coffee after taking the children to school and returned home with a bag full of snails, ladybirds, a bit of a slug and some other unidentified black dots with legs. Among the wildlife, I managed to fit in a few bunches of wild garlic leaves and the seed pods, I've missed the flowers this year.After a good wash of both the leaves and me (I feel I still have an insect or two lurking somewhere about my person), I quickly pulsed them in the processor and set about this dish with the enthusiastic thought of lunch. Feel free to replace the haddock with clams or perhaps monkfish.. It's just what I had in the fridge. And if you don't have any lapsang, just a little vegetable stock will work just as well.Ingredients20 wild garlic leaves50-75ml olive oil1tsp fennel seedsA small handful of pistachios2tbsp lemon juiceOne and a half small red onions, finely slicedOne celery stick, finely dicedSome thymeA spoonful of butterA handful of pearl barleyA mug of lightly brewed and strained lapsang suchong tea200g haddock, in chunksSalt to tasteA pinch of chilli flakesSome lemon zestA few fennel fronds if you have themMethodPulse the leaves, oil, fennel seeds, pistachios, oil and lemon juice together until you have a coarse paste. Taste and season if needed.Melt the butter in a saucepan and add 3/4 of the onion, thyme and the celery. Cook until softened, season and add the pearl barley. Cook for a minute or two before adding the lapsang then simmer for about 10-15 minutes until cooked, but with bite.Add the fish and cook gently for about three to four minutes.Remove the fish from the pan and stir through a little of the pesto and the remaining red onion. Serve the barley with the fish, a drizzle more of the pesto, the chilli flakes, lemon zest and fennel.
