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:
Broad Bean & Feta Frittata
A busy week calls for a simple supper. And though it has been Broad Bean Week here at G&G HQ, I have, more’s the pity, not been frittering away the hours taking idolatrous portraits of broad beans or sitting in the garden meditatively podding them. Oh no. I have been busy with supper clubs and wedding cakes. So I am grateful to this quick and simple frittata recipe which I made for supper between canapé prep and cake icing. Not only because it is a doddle to make, but also because it offers the welcome opportunity to revel in the full glory of early broad beans – sweet, young and tender.
Asparagus Tart
There are two reasons why everyone gets so over-excited about asparagus. First, it’s got a very brief season and, short of growing it in greenhouses in Peru (though this is, bizarrely, an almost plausible option now), there is no way of forcing, advancing or extending that season. So it’s rare. The second reason is that it’s a total sod to grow. Nothing commands respect like the ability to grow asparagus
Celeriac Soup with Pickled Rhubarb
There’s so much rhubarb in the patch that it is becoming a bit of a problem. Rampant and unwieldy, it is technically caged in a spot removed from the main veg beds to protect it from the rabbits, but I think the barbed wire is really to keep it from taking over the EVERYTHING. Anyway, its abundance means I find myself with the first of many main crop rhubarb gluts.
On Weeds
It looks rather idyllic, doesn’t it? Here I am, pottering about in the veg patch. The sun is shining. The robins chirrup and come to watch me rake the earth. Bunnies hop about in the field nibbling the grass. Over the stone wall, I can hear the plaintive bleating of newly born lambs. Spring is in full bloom. If there was a Disney cartoon about a rural idyll, I’d be in it (singing). But this halcyon vision belies the true nature of an allotment in Springtime. It may look heavenly (and, ultimately, of course, it is) but beneath this Constable painting lurks torment and peril for the Spring gardener.
Rhubarb, Saffron & Honey Granola Pots
The drizzle has set in. The mud is endless. When it isn’t raining the mire freezes rock hard so it’s treacherous underfoot either way. A chill wind whips around your jacket collar and down your back. Scarf tales, helpless, just get blown about your face. Even the dog shivers. We are in the depths of the Hungry Gap: the long, cold, soggy stretch of the year when the winter crops are virtually spent and spring seemingly a lifetime away. But not in Yorkshire.
Roast Cauliflower, Raisins, Pine Nuts & Capers
I get a bit evangelical about cauliflowers. Such an undervalued vegetable. They are really difficult to grow and totally unappreciated. It makes me cross that something so delicious and so troublesome to grow can be sold so cheaply in the shops and I tend to get on my soapbox when they are mentioned.
Forced Rhubarb & Seville Orange Ceviche
Cooking with the seasons is rarely a chore. There’s always something new just coming in to season, some additional flavour to get excited about, a new harvest to inspire you. Nature is always waving her arms and mouthing, “This! Over here. It’ll go brilliantly with this. And they harvest at the same time of year – it’s like I planned it!” before wandering off chanting, “what grows together, goes together”.
Kalette, Feta, Orange & Almond Salad
There’s renewed focus in the G&G kitchen this week. I’ve given myself the task of picking one seasonal fruit or vegetable each week and dedicating my whole week to making that plant the hero of my meals. (Basically, I’m starting a one woman veg cult.) And my subject of adoration this week is the kalette (AKA flower sprout). I’ve been busy on my Instagram and Twitter feeds posting recipes, growing tips and gratuitously lustful portraits of these little beauties…
Every Flavour Noodle Broth
Honestly, there are times when I feel like throwing the towel in and flouncing off to become a podiatrist or something. It happens on the, thankfully rare, occasions when the whole foodie scene loses its head and gets all obsessed with something completely nonsensical. January is a particularly persistent offender. Half the food world can’t get through a whole sentence without saying the word ‘vegan’ or ‘detox’ or ‘cleanse’. And the other half, as if in pointed opposition, turns into some Bacchant monster revelling in the self-destructive joys of comfort food drenched in cream and butter. Oat milk on one side, cheesy meatballs on the other. The battle lines are drawn and it’s enough to make you despair.
Chard & Goats’ Cheese Spelt Pizza
Chard. Honestly, if you grow nothing else, grow chard. It is bullet proof, prolific, long lasting, beautiful and, most importantly of all, tasty. Sow anytime between March and August in shallow drills, thin the seedlings to around 20cm apart and wait. Just wait. Untroubled by slugs, snails, gales or hail, chard will rocket skyward in a matter of weeks.
Roast Grape & Goat’s Cheese Bruschetta
A grape glut! Not mine. More’s the pity. My neighbour’s, who has a vine in her back garden, pays it almost no attention (in fact, I think it’s considered a bit of a pest) yet is swamped, literally swamped, with grapes. Now, when someone invites you to come and help yourself to their glut there’s an awkward moment of glut-pilfering etiquette that ensues.
Blackcurrant Yogurt Lollies
It’s my first year with a berry harvest. And, goodness, it’s been a whopper. A proper old-fashioned, sinks full of berries, break the scales, stain the trug kind of glut. Redcurrants, blackcurrants, raspberries, blackberries – we’ve had the works.
Lemon & Elderflower Scones
What is a village green for if not for celebrating a Royal Wedding on? Come to our village green tomorrow (actually, do, there will plenty to go around) and you will find it festooned with bunting, tipsy villagers sloshing Pimms jugs from one picnic blanket to another and dogs trying to steal cocktail sausages. I will be handing out lemon and elderflower scones. I might even don a tea dress. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt so much like I’m in an episode of The Crown. And yes, I’m a total sucker for it all.
Roast Radishes, Lentils & Anchovies
Every year I thank goodness for radishes. Most of the year I can take or leave them, but in April they are glowing jewels in an otherwise beige month. The kale is all gone but the peas have yet to arrive. So we’d be lost, not to mention hungry, without these vegetable gemstones.
The Secret Pleasures of a Clandestine Wild Garlic Glut
The woodland is misty with morning dew. Badger trails crisscross the carpet of bluebells as it stretches away into the depths of the wood – gnarled, ancient, held upright by moss. A spaniel, my spaniel, clatters about in the undergrowth bothering a blackbird who was just looking for breakfast. But best of all, the air is thick with the smell of garlic. This is my Eden. And I imagine I’m not alone.