Tag Archives: Summer fruit

From plums to peaches

Perfect plums

This season’s bounties just keep on giving. My early Opal plum, which tends to be a biennial bearer, producing a good harvest every other year, surpassed itself this year with an amazing crop of sweet reddish-purple plums for a couple of weeks at the end of July/early August. Sadly, they often coincide with the arrival of the first wasps and once the striped devils discover the plums, I know their days are numbered… Even hanging a glass beehive trap filled with lemonade only delays the effect, but is definitely worth doing to distract them from their juicy targets.

Wasp trap

I still managed to harvest plenty of perfect plums – not a maggot in sight this year, thank goodness. The grease bands I put around the trees last autumn and the pheromone trap I hung in the orchard in May seem to have done the trick in deterring the dreaded plum moth. Extremely successfully, judging by the number of moths caught in the trap! Here’s hoping the later Marjorie plums, which were virtually inedible last year as every last one contained a maggot, are as good.

Plums are always a delight in the kitchen and many of my standby plum recipes came out again: sticky upside-down plum & almond cake, a heavenly plum frangipane tart and roasted plum compote, to say nothing of plums eaten straight from the fruit bowl, or sliced on my breakfast granola. Needless to say, I gave loads away too. Every year I try and experiment with at least one new recipe when I have glut situations: this year, I adapted my gooseberry flapjack recipe to make a plum & almond flapjack, which was good, but perhaps missed the tanginess of the gooseberries despite using much less sugar. Try it and see – but be careful, as bakes made with fresh fruit go off very quickly at this warm and humid time of year: freeze half if you know it’s not all going to be eaten within a few days!

Plum & Almond Flapjack – makes 16 bars

plum flapjack

200g butter
450g plums, stoned
125g light soft brown sugar
200g wholemeal spelt flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp almond extract
150g oats
100g whole almonds, chopped (or hazelnuts if you prefer)
pinch of salt

Preheat the oven to 180°C fan (Gas 5) and grease and line a rectangular baking tin – mine measures 28cm x 18cm x 3.5cm.

Stone and halve the plums, then place in a pan with 25g of the sugar and cook over a low heat until the sugar melts and the juice starts to flow. Turn up the heat and continue cooking, stirring regularly, for 15-20 minutes until you have a thickish, jam-like mixture. Take off the heat and set aside.

Mix the flour, cinnamon, oats, salt and chopped almonds in a large bowl. In another pan, melt the butter and remaining 100g sugar, then pour over the flour mixture. Add the almond extract. Mix together until you have a rough dough.

Press half of the dough over the bottom of the baking tin, then spread the plum mixture on top. Sprinkle the remaining dough on top – I found it easier to crumble it with my fingers, so it didn’t cover the jam layer entirely and was still quite chunky.

Place in the pre-heated oven and cook for 25-30 minutes until nicely browned. Cool in the tin, then cut into 16 bars.

I also experimented with plum ice cream, although I wasn’t entirely satisfied with the results and will tweak further before I share my recipe here. I’d tried Jamie Oliver’s quick plum sorbet before (from Jamie at Home), where he just freezes the stoned plums, skins and all, then blitzes them in a food processor with orange and sugar before serving, but found the skins far too obtrusive, if not downright unpleasant! This time I found a recipe for Plum Ripple Ice Cream, but again it wasn’t quite right: it takes far too long to reach a scoopable consistency, although if you can wait an hour, the taste is delicious! Watch this space…

Unfortunately, the plums are no more, but just as I’d resigned myself to the end of the Opals this year, friends brought around some delicious English peaches from their glasshouse – just superb! The skins are suprisingly fuzzy and are in fact better peeled – perhaps shop-bought specimens have had the fuzziness bred out of them?! Suffice to say that these peel easily and the stone pops out with ease too, making them ideal for serving on crackers and cream cheese for a light lunch, in salads with feta or halloumi, and lightly roasted with maple syrup and thyme or lavender (and a dash of Amaretto if you’re that way inclined – which I usually am!) to create a fragrant compote.

Peaches

This week’s treat to take to an open-air theatre production of Ikarus Inc. (by the excellent Rude Mechanicals) on the village school playing fields was a cobbled-together invention to make the most of my unexpected bounty. Based on my rhubarb shortbread recipe, this peach and marzipan shortbread tray bake is quick to make and simply divine – peaches and almonds are a match made in heaven.

Peach & Marzipan Shortbread Bites – makes 16 small squares

Peach and marzipan shortbread

Shortbread:
125g butter, softened
125g plain flour
25g cornflour
2 level tbsp icing sugar, sieved
1/2 tsp almond extract

 Topping:
3-4 peaches, stoned, peeled and roughly sliced
Juice of half a lemon
2 tbsp Amaretto
125g marzipan, preferably homemade
Few sprigs of lavender flowers (optional – to taste)
Icing sugar to dust

 18cm square tin, 4cm deep, lined with foil or baking parchment

 Preheat the oven to 180°C, gas 5.

 To make the shortbread, mix the butter, flour, cornflour, icing sugar and almond extract together in a food processor or by hand if you prefer. If the mixture seems very soft and sticky, you can add 1 or 2 tbsp ground almonds at this stage. When it comes together to form a dough, press evenly into the tin, prick with a fork and cook for 20 mins until starting to look pale golden brown.

 Combine all the topping ingredients in a bowl and tip onto base. Return to oven and cook for 35-40 mins until the topping is set and golden brown. Allow to cool, then cut into 16 small squares and dust with icing sugar just before serving. These are very rich, which is why I serve them as bitesize squares – you can opt for bigger bars if you prefer though!

Finally, the arrival of another crate of peaches had me reaching for the ice cream maker to concoct a peach sorbet – just peaches, sugar, lemon juice and Grand Marnier – what’s not to like?

Peach Sorbet

Peach sorbet

4-6 ripe peaches, peeled and stoned
125ml water
3 tbsp granulated sugar
Juice of one lemon (or lime)
1-2 tbsps Grand Marnier (optional)

Put the water, sugar and lemon juice in a small pan and simmer gently for 5 minutes or so until the sugar has dissolved. Leave to cool.

Roughly chop the peeled and stoned peaches, then put in a blender with the cooled sugar syrup and blend until well mixed. Add the Grand Marnier if using – this helps make the sorbet easier to scoop when frozen. Pour into an ice cream maker and churn until starting to freeze, then place in the freezer to complete the process. Of course, you can also make this the old-fashioned way by freezing for an hour or so, then whisking in the ice crystals and repeating until softly frozen.

Apricot begonias

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The Rampant Raspberry

Achillea and artichoke

This has to have been one of the best years for soft fruit I’ve known in a long while – and probably explains why my blog posts have slipped by the wayside. Keeping up with the fruit harvest has been rather a mission in the evenings and weekends of late. Starting with an early strawberry harvest from mid-June, the raspberries kicked in towards the end of the month and I’ve only just stopped picking them this last week or so – crazy! I’ve frozen them, jammed them, made raspberry juice and coulis, given lots away and turned them into divine puddings like raspberry cheesecake, or just eaten them as they are with granola for breakfast, or with ice cream for a quick and delicious dessert.

Despite the dry weather, and the fact that I never water any of my soft fruit, the harvest has been incredible! I’ve allowed the raspberries to sucker underneath the apple and plum trees in my allotment orchard and those bushes produce excellent quality fruit, despite competing with grass, a lack of sunlight and presumably battling with the apples for water. Permaculture in essence, quite unintentionally I should add! The currants weren’t quite as productive, mainly because I was slightly too late to net them, so the pigeons had a fair few before I got there, but the gooseberries have also been excellent. My plot neighbour also has a huge jostaberry bush (and when I say huge, it must easily be 12 feet across, if not more) so I’ve had pickings of those too – always good for a tangy compote on a cheesecake or to replace blackcurrants in a jostaberry & liquorice sorbet.

Each summer I try, as a point of principle, to make at least a couple of new recipes with my produce. Where’s the fun otherwise if you always make the same things, delicious though they are? This year’s new offerings were a divine raspberry sorbet and a melt-in-the-mouth raspberry and whitecurrant roulade. Try them and see!

The raspberry sorbet is a variation on a Nigel Slater recipe I found online, but I used Chambord raspberry liqueur rather than the Crème de Cassis he suggests. I also sieve the raspberry mixture after blending to remove the seeds; I don’t know whether it’s my variety (name unknown, lost in the mists of time as my original summer raspberry plants came from my uncle and have suckered/been transplanted around the plot ever since), but I find the seeds rather obtrusive if you leave them in, but you can by all means try it.

Raspberry Sorbet

Raspberry sorbet

500g raspberries
75-100g caster sugar
100ml water
6 tbsp Chambord raspberry liqueur (or Crème de Cassis)

Put the sugar and water in a saucepan and simmer gently until the sugar dissolves. This will probably take about 5 minutes or so, but do not stir. Leave the syrup to cool, then refrigerate until cold.

Place the raspberries, sugar syrup and liqueur into a blender and whizz until smooth, then sieve to remove the seeds. Spoon into an ice cream maker and churn until set, then transfer to the freezer to chill properly. Eat with little sighs of joy – the very essence of raspberryness.

My last raspberry creation is based on a recipe in my tattered recipe scrapbook, torn out of a magazine from way back. Roulades are one of my favourite quick and easy desserts, but it’s good to ring the changes every now and again and try a different take. I often serve raspberries with a chocolate roulade, or a meringue roulade can be the perfect summer treat, but this one is an almond version, nutty and gooey all at the same time. All my roulade recipes are wheat-free, so ideal for gluten-intolerant guests too. You can, of course, omit the whitecurrants if you can’t find them, or use a different soft fruit instead. They add a nice tangy touch and look pretty as decoration, but are definitely not essential.

Raspberry & Whitecurrant Roulade – serves 8

raspberry and whitecurrant roulade

5 eggs, separated
125g caster sugar
50g ground almonds
Few drops almond extract
Red food colouring (optional)
300ml double cream
100ml natural yogurt
I small jar raspberry jam (preferably homemade)
250g fresh raspberries
100g whitecurrants
Icing sugar to dust

Grease and line a 20 x 30cm Swiss roll tin with baking parchment. Pre-heat the oven to 180°C/gas 5.

Whisk egg yolks and sugar until thick and mousse-like, then fold in the ground amonds and almond extract. Whisk the egg whites until stiff and fold into the mixture.

The original recipe suggested dividing the mixture and colouring one half pink, then piping alternate stripes into the tin at this point. I didn’t pipe, but did colour half the mix, then put spoonfuls into the tin and marbled them together with a skewer, but to be honest you couldn’t tell the difference when it was cut, so unless you have a very strong red food colouring, I wouldn’t bother! The end result is perfectly pretty enough.

Bake for 20 to 25 minutes in the preheated oven until risen and just firm to the touch. Immediately cover with a damp tea towel and leave to cool.

Whip the double cream until the soft swirl stage, then gently whisk in the natural yogurt until you have a good spreading consistency.

Sprinkle another piece of baking parchment with caster sugar, then turn out the sponge onto the paper and remove the lining paper from the top. Spread the raspberry jam generously over the surface. Then spread the cream mixture over the surface, going right up to the edges, and finally sprinkle with most of the raspberries and whitecurrants, setting aside some choice berries and strigs of whitecurrants to garnish. Get hold of the paper at the far (short) end of the roulade and use it as a guide to gently but firmly roll the roulade towards you until you have a fat roll. Use the paper to gently help you lift the roll to a serving plate, then remove the paper. Chill in the fridge until ready to serve.

To serve, decorate with reserved raspberries and whitecurrant strigs, then dust with icing sugar just before serving. Cut into generous slices and enjoy the gasps of delight!

rasp roulade inside

Not enough hours in the day!

Sissinghurst house June 2018

I’m only too aware that it’s been ages since I posted here: I can only claim busy social weekends, work events, pressures of work, and not enough hours in the day to do everything else! Plus the hot weather over the past couple of weeks (not that I’m complaining, honest!), means that watering becomes a daily requirement not only at home, but also down at the allotment, especially for relatively new plantings. Then the prolonged warm spell has brought all the soft fruit to fruition at once, so harvesting is also in full swing  and a huge harvest at that! A few extra hours each day really wouldn’t go amiss…

So what’s been happening on the plot? Well, May/June are always the busiest months for gardeners, so going out to Berlin for a translation workshop at the end of May, lovely though it was, was bound to put a spanner in the gardening works! Spring containers at home have had to be planted up with their summer contents (begonias and lobelia as ever, although very slow to get going this year), tomatoes had to be planted outside (and are now going great guns), and beans, courgettes, squashes and sweetcorn had to be planted out at the allotment. Today I finally managed to plant out my leeks, several weeks later than usual, but there just hasn’t been time before – hen party at a retro ice cream parlour in Broadstairs for my soon-to-be-daughter-in-law last weekend, plus a visit to nearly Sissinghurst (white garden at the peak of its glory – always a good time to visit), and up to London the weekend before for another translation event. Anyway, the leeks are finally in situ, so it just remains for me to water them very well for the next few weeks while they get established, especially if this heat persists.

My allotment neighbour has had a very late delivery of spent mushroom compost, so I transferred six barrowloads up to my plot to replenish the soil in some of the beds. Not easy with everything planted, but I focussed on the peas and beans, which didn’t get their annual manure fix this year, as we had hoped the mushroom compost would arrive earlier. I also topped up the asparagus bed, as it is a hungry feeder and the asparagus has finished cropping for the season now – some extra nutrients should build the ferns up nicely over the summer. Probably not the best thing for my knee, but hey ho, needs must!

Everything is coming on apace, apart from my French beans, which are stubbornly refusing to germinate. I can only imagine it’s too hot for them – or the seed is too old. I’ve planted more this evening, so fingers crossed. Sweet peas too are ridiculously slow this year, but finally look as though they’re starting to get going. My allotment neighbour on the other side has masses, so kindly said I could help myself – so lovely to have fragrant sweet peas in the house again. With any luck I can return the favour in late summer when mine are in full bloom…

In other news, the rhubarb gin is ready after its month’s infusing – and very good it is too! I’m very impressed: it makes a delicately pink-tinged long drink with tonic, ice and a sprig of rosemary if you feel so inclined. You can really taste the rhubarb, with just a slight kick of ginger. Definitely my favourite drink of the summer so far!

Rhubarb gin finished product

I’ve also made two batches of elderflower cordial and ventured into rhubarb & ginger cordial production too. Also very good. I couldn’t find one recipe online that really appealed, so adapted several, including one from Sarah Raven, and one from Saga. Take your pick! Again, a gorgeous colour, even from garden rhubarb rather than the vivid (although in my view not as tasty!) forced stuff. Here is the result:

Rhubarb & Ginger Cordial – makes approx. 1.5 litres

Rhubarb and ginger cordiaal

1,750 g rhubarb, chopped into chunks (no need to peel)
750 g granulated sugar (or to taste)
1 litre water
1 orange
1 lemon
1 tbsp citric acid
1 knob of root ginger (about 5 cm)

Place the chopped rhubarb in a large preserving pan with the root ginger, also roughly chopped, and the juice and rind of the orange and lemon. Cover with water and bring to the boil, then simmer gently until the fruit is soft and pulpy – about half an hour. Leave to cool for an hour or so.

When cool, pour into a jelly bag suspended over a large bowl or jug, and allow to drip through overnight. Don’t press, as it will make the cordial cloudy. Discard (or compost) the rhubarb pulp.

Straining rhubarb cordial

The next day, place the resulting juice into the preserving pan again and add 750g granulated sugar (or to taste). Bring to the boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Finally add 1 tbsp citric acid; you can omit this, but it will help to preserve the cordial for longer. It should keep for several months in a cool, dark place, but refrigerate once opened.

Pour into sterilised bottles and serve with sparkling water or soda for a refreshing summer drink.

 

 

Salad Days

Allotment harvest mid-June

We’ve been experiencing an unexpected heatwave here in the South of England for the past week or so, with temperatures over 30°C at their peak. Nothing unusual for many parts of Europe, to be sure, but pretty exceptional in the UK! My house has a north-south axis which works very well in these conditions, especially as my office and bedroom are on the cooler north side of the house, so working and sleeping aren’t too much of an issue.

Watering becomes of paramount importance to a gardener, though. I’m resisting watering twice a day, but trying to water pots and containers at home in the morning, and the raised beds at the allotment in the evening – to spread the load. It’s actually a very enjoyable process, as you can commune with Nature as you water and see what’s newly flowering/germinating/doing well. I’ve managed with water from my water butts so far, but two out of the three at home have now run dry and the allotment butt has been empty for a while – although fortunately water at the allotment comes from a trough and standpipe at the corner of my plot – very convenient! Our yearly subscription covers water costs too, so while it’s not metered to us (although hosepipes aren’t allowed), any huge uptake in usage could theoretically lead to a rise in subs for us all next year, as it is metered to the allotment association.

Allotment poppy June 2017

I love summer evenings up at the allotments: there are always a few people pottering around their plots, it’s incredibly peaceful (apart from my noisy dogs if people dare to walk past “their” plot – sorry, folks) and the sunsets are spectacular. A lesson in mindfulness at the end of a busy day…. This week I’ve managed to mow the grass (trying to keep on top of it so it doesn’t reach jungle proportions again!), get rid of some perennial weeds (docks, blackberries, the dreaded convolvulus) that were encroaching on the paths, do some weeding around newly planted beds and keep up with the harvesting: strawberries, raspberries and redcurrants have suddenly started to ripen at a tremendous pace, and the broad beans and lettuce are still going strong. Such a lovely time of year.

I’ve even made some comfrey tea for use as a fertiliser in three weeks’ time when it has steeped sufficiently. Having lost my comfrey patch a few years back, a healthy-loooking clump has sprung up near the communal bonfire site, so I swapped a wheelbarrow full of weeds for a barrow overflowing with comfrey leaves, stuffed them in an old chicken pellet container (with a lid to contain the stench!), covered with water and will leave to brew. It smells vile but the plants love it – and it’s free!

The strawberries have been epic this year – I’ve had enough for breakfast every day and to make strawberry ice cream, strawberry cheesecake, pavlova and Strawberry Coulis for the freezer (just blitzed in a blender with the juice of an orange and 1 tbsp of icing sugar). Yesterday there were even enough for the quintessential summer jam: strawberry & redcurrant to be precise, as the currants add pectin and make for a better set.

Strawberry & Redcurrant Jam – makes 5 standard jars

Strawberry and redcurrent jam

1.2kg strawberries
300g redcurrants (or gooseberries would work too), removed from stalks
1.5kg granulated sugar
Juice of 1 lemon

Hull the strawberries, chopping up any particularly large fruit and put in a preserving pan with the strigged redcurrants. Add the lemon juice and simmer over a low heat for 20-30 minutes or until very soft.

Strawberry jam making

Weigh out the sugar and add, stirring until it dissolves, then turn up the heat to a rollicking boil, stirring as you go. Add a small knob of butter to reduce any froth! Test after 5-10 minutes to see if it has set – I find the best test is to hold your wooden spoon over the pan and when the drips run together to form a bigger drop that breaks off sharply, the jam will be done. Otherwise, have a saucer in the freezer and place a little of the jam on the saucer, cool slightly, then push with your finger: the surface should wrinkle. You will need to take the jam off the heat while you do this test to stop the jam overcooking. Strawberry jam is notoriously fiddly to set, so test little and often. Mine was ready after just 5-6 minutes in yesterday’s heat.

When set, pour the jam into prepared jars (washed and sterilised in the oven on a low heat), cover with waxed circles and lids, then label when cool. Set aside for the perfect accompaniment for traditional Victoria sponges and scones with jam & clotted cream over the coming summer months…

When the weather is this hot, though, salads are the way to go. Quite apart from the fact that I’ve been getting back from the allotment so late that cooking isn’t an option, it’s really too hot to contemplate cooking. I love experimenting with whatever I have in the fridge or bring back from the plot, resulting in some delicious combinations. Lunch today was a refreshing Melon, Strawberry & Feta Salad served on a bed of mizuna with dill and mint to garnish – sublime! With Galia melon (not my own!), two kinds of strawberries (the large allotment variety and tiny alpine strawberries that run with gay abandon in one border at home), drizzled with a splash of extra virgin olive oil and a hint of balsamic vinegar, this really hit the spot for a cooling, yet tasty lunch. The salty chalkiness of the feta and the slight bitterness of the mizuna were a perfect foil for the sweet and juicy fruit.

Strawberry and melon salad

Other salad combinations have included Baby Broad Beans & Griddled Halloumi with toasted pine kernels and rocket, with a chilli, mint and lemon dressing, and my perennial favourite, Bauernsalat (farmer’s salad), inspired by one of our best-loved holiday hotels, the Tennis Hotel in St. Wolfgang, Austria, which simply consists of crispy fried bacon and potatoes scattered on a bed of fresh salad, with a herby yogurt dressing to accompany. So good – worth cooking extra new potatoes especially to make this! Anything goes – experimenting is half the fun. If something doesn’t work particularly well, just leave it out next time – but with fresh and homegrown produce, chances are it will all taste sublime.

Allotment sunset