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To the south of our property, where our land jumps the lane and then runs above it to the east, there are two fields marked on the deed maps as Upper Tyning and Lower Tyning, and which we call collectively the Tynings. They are both roughly triangular with their longest sides touching along a precipitous bank, called a lynchet. Lynchets are medieval earthworks (some are believed to be neolithic) which were made by ploughing the hillside to form banks to ease the steep slopes. In the mind’s eye the bank is a little like a diagonal fold made from corner to corner on a handkerchief. A crease in a continuous surface that divides the one thing distinctively into two with an above and below and a steep slope between.

The lynchet is fifteen metres or so at its deepest point and tapers to both ends where the fields meet again as the contours connect and allow free movement of stock and tractors. There are four mature sycamores on the banks and a hedge at the top comprised primarlily of elder, blackthorn, hawthorn, elm and dog rose. Being too steep to manage, the slope has a vegetation all its own with cowslips, hypericum, oregano, knapweed and scabious that escape the heaviest of the grazing. In the time we have been here we have allowed the bank to rewild. It was regularly sprayed by the previous owner to keep bramble and dog rose in check and was barren when we arrived, consisting of little more than rough grass and seedling sycamores. The blackthorn, or ‘Mother-of-all-woods’, has created protective thorny thickets where briar roses, spindle and seedling trees are now pushing through.

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As if in sympathy with the sicknesses, both physical and political, which have dominated the world since the beginning of the year, the kitchen garden got off to a half-hearted start this spring. The broad beans and peas were ravaged by mice, chard and brassicas were mildewed and slug-devoured and far too many of my first sowings germinated badly. The most concerning of these was the celeriac, which is a staple for us in the winter. We habitually plant 20 plants and eat them all. 

Celeriac seed is small and notoriously erratic as it needs light and early warmth to germinate. It also has a long growing season and so needs to be started off in early spring indoors, under glass or in a heated propagator. We waited more than three weeks for ours to appear on a bright windowsill, before finally admitting that they probably weren’t going to. And so, in the knowledge that we simply couldn’t survive a winter without, I resorted to ordering some young plants from an online supplier. We hardly ever do this, but I am always grateful that they exist as you are effectively able to buy time and plug any gaps in the garden that might have appeared through misfortune or mismanagement.

However, what you do not have from mail order suppliers is control over the varieties, and I was obliged to buy ‘Giant Prague’, when our proven variety of choice for many years now has been ‘Prinz’. We have never had a problem with ‘Prinz’, which has been easy to grow and a reliably heavy cropper, with roots of a kilo or more being standard. So I have been keeping an eye on the newcomers this summer to see how they compared. I quickly noticed their different growth habit, as they are much taller, more upright and leafier and so have shaded the plants behind more than the lower growing ‘Prinz’. In late summer I also became aware that the roots were not bulking up as noticeably, despite the heavy watering that they like and regular feeding.   

Celeriac ‘Giant Prague’

When I went to dig the first of the celeriac for this recipe this morning I was not impressed to find that several of the plants are bolting, and so have useless withered roots, and that the plants in the back row, in the deepest shade, have also failed to swell. Immediately the number of meals we have counted on them to provide is probably halved. Somewhat disheartening after all the effort and the ground given up for a disappointing crop of something we have taken for granted. At least it was good to know that I would be making the roots go further with the addition of chestnuts and windfall apples. 

In the orchard the apple ‘Peter Lock’ has held onto its fruits the longest of all. This West Country variety has a long season of ripening, and so there are still apples on the branches that won’t fall no matter how vigorously you shake. The ripe windfalls are cushioned by the long grass of the pasture in which they grow and so, if you can get them before the mice, jackdaws and wasps do, they are seldom badly bruised or damaged. ‘Peter Lock’ is a dual-purpose eating and cooking apple with creamy white flesh. It is tart, yet sweet, and makes the most delicious golden apple puree which we always have a container of in the fridge, both for breakfast or evening dessert with yogurt or cream respectively. The large fruits also store well into the new year.

Malus ‘Peter Lock’

Our late spring frost on May 12th means we are without chestnuts this year, but the tree that Dan planted in memory of his dad has thrown out some good growth without the energy going into fruit so we hope, frost permitting, for a crop next year. Celeriac has an affinity with many nuts, particularly walnuts, hazelnuts and pecans. Here seasonal chestnuts enrich and thicken the soup. Wild mushrooms would be an appropriate addition. Rustic shards of bread fried in olive oil would provide textural contrast. The addition of cooked pearl barley would make it more substantial and go further. It would take well to the addition or substitution of other warming herbs and spices including rosemary, thyme, sage, winter savory, nutmeg and mace.

INGREDIENTS

750g celeriac, after peeling, coarsely cubed

1 medium onion, peeled and coarsely chopped, about 200g

350g cooking or eating apple, peeled and cored and coarsely chopped 

300g cooked chestnuts

2 bay leaves

8 juniper berries, crushed 

2 cloves garlic, finely chopped

A 2cm length of fresh ginger, peeled and finely grated

50g butter

1 litre hot vegetable or chicken stock   

METHOD

Heat the butter in a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan until foaming. Add the onion and stir to coat thoroughly. Put on the lid and leave on a low heat to sweat. Stir from time to time and cook until translucent and golden. 

Add the celeriac, garlic, juniper, ginger and bay leaves to the pan, stir everything together, and return to a low heat with the lid on. Stir from time to time and cook for around 15 minutes, when all should smell fragrant and the celeriac is starting to become translucent at the edges. 

Add the hot stock and chestnuts, stir and return the lidded pan to the heat. Cook very gently for about 40 minutes until the celeriac is soft. 

Add the apple and cook for another 10 to 15 minutes until it starts to break down.

Remove from the heat and use a potato masher to roughly smash the mixture into a course soup. Season generously with salt and black pepper. 

Recipe & photographs: Huw Morgan

Published 7 November 2020

This week we have reached the tipping point where autumn turns to face winter. There is a nip in the morning air and, as soon as the sun sets, a jacket and scarf are needed outside. So far we have avoided a frost, but it is only a matter of time, and so the pumpkins that until last weekend were ripening in October sunshine, are now safely tucked up inside.

These moments when the seasons make a noticeable shift towards the next also have an effect both on what is available to eat in the garden and what we feel like eating. The first celeriac have been pulled, and have so far been used in a sharply dressed remoulade and a creamy soup flavoured with bay and nutmeg. Pumpkins have been made into vibrant curries with lemongrass, ginger and coriander, or hearty gratins with fontina cheese and a crust of herbed breadcrumbs. We are also just starting on the brassicas, plumping for romanesco and early sprouting broccoli before we get firmly stuck into the savoys and kales. There are also the windfalls to use up before they turn to mush, and the very last of the hedgerow fruits, both of which give us a connection back to the last days of summer, when there was still some heat in the sun.

Windfall apples and pears. Photo: Huw MorganWindfall apples and pears from our neighbours

Although we still have a few summer sown lettuces hanging on in there, they quickly go to seed now, and can’t be relied on to provide salad for much longer. However, the chicories and radicchios are invaluable at this time of year, as they are incredibly hardy and come into their own as the temperatures fall. We grow those varieties that we have found to be the most reliable over the years; the elongated blood red Rossa di Treviso (both Tardivo and Svelta), the spherical, strongly veined Palla Rossa and the delicately mottled Variegata di Castelfranco. These we sow throughout the summer, starting in May for summer salad leaves, with successional sowings in June, July and August. The June and July sowings are now hearty enough to eat, while the plants from the final sowing will keep us going through the Christmas period and into the new year.

As the season progresses the bitter taste of chicory provides a welcome and fresh contrast to the roots and squashes which increasingly will be either roasted, mashed or baked in vegetable casseroles. Paired with ingredients that provide a sweet or earthy foil to their bitterness, salads of chicory make regular appearances on our winter table.

Chicory 'Variegata di Castelfranco'. Photo: Huw MorganThe mottled leaves of Chicory ‘Variegata di Castelfranco’ develop as the weather gets colder

This salad bridges the autumn and winter larders by using the first of the chicory hearts, combined with the familiar autumn combination of apple and blackberry, with bite provided by crisp, roast hazelnuts. Here I have used both the hearts and outer leaves of Variegata di Castelfranco, but you can use a mixture of any of the green and red varieties available. For the dressing I use hazelnut oil and a spoonful of homemade bramble jelly to accentuate the flavour of the main ingredients. Any lightly flavoured oil such as rapeseed or sunflower and a little honey will do just as well. It is important that the apple slices hold their shape when cooked, so choose a firm eating apple. Pears work equally well as and, as the blackberries disappear until next year, the addition of a sharp blue cheese such as Gorgonzola, Roquefort or Picos de Europa adds a piquancy that goes well with the nuts.

This is good served with celeriac or parsnip soup, or a creamy pumpkin pasta or risotto.

INGREDIENTS

Salad

1  large or 3 small heads of chicory or radicchio

2 apples  

100g blackberries

100g hazelnuts

A large knob of butter, about a tablespoon

1 tablespoon hazelnut or other lightly flavoured oil

 

Dressing

1 tablespoon cider or sherry vinegar

2 tablespoons reduced blackberry juice

1 teaspoon bramble jelly or honey

6 tablespoons hazelnut or other lightly flavoured oil

A large pinch of sea salt

 

Serves 4

 

METHOD

Remove the leaves from the chicory and tear into large pieces, discarding any coarse parts of the central rib. Wash in cold water and then dry in a salad spinner or clean tea towel. Keep to one side.

Put the blackberries in a small pan with a tablespoon of water. Put on a low heat with the lid on and gently bring to a simmer for a few minutes until the fruit gives up its juice. Do not allow to boil.

Strain the blackberries in a sieve over a bowl and reserve. Put the juice back in the pan and simmer until reduced to about two tablespoons. Reserve for the dressing.

Put the hazelnuts on a baking tray into a hot oven (200°C) for 5-8 minutes. Check them regularly to ensure they don’t burn. Remove the nuts from the oven and tip into a clean tea towel. Gather the four corners of the cloth together and rub the nuts hard to remove the dry skins. Remove the cleaned hazelnuts from the cloth and reserve.

Peel and core the apples. Cut into quarters and then cut each quarter into four slices. Put into a bowl of water acidulated with lemon juice to prevent them discolouring. In a large, heavy-bottomed frying pan, which is large enough to take all of the apple slices, heat the hazelnut oil and butter together over a moderate heat. Remove the apple slices from the bowl of water and dry on a clean cloth. When the butter starts to foam, lay the slices of apple in the pan. Turn the heat up and cook until they start to caramelise. Carefully turn the slices over and cook until browned on the other side. Remove the apple slices from the pan with a slotted spoon, being careful not to break them. Put on a piece of kitchen paper.

Make the dressing by putting the vinegar, reserved blackberry juice, bramble jelly or honey and salt into a bowl. Whisk until the salt has dissolved. Add the oil and whisk again until emulsified.

To assemble the salad arrange the chicory leaves on a large serving plate. Distribute the apple slices, blackberries and hazelnuts evenly and then spoon over the dressing. Eat immediately.

Recipe & photographs: Huw Morgan

Published 4 November 2017

 

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