We have now been at Hillside for six weeks during which time we have left the village just twice. Our daily lives have settled into a regular routine, which provides the reassurance of structure. The furthest we venture from the house each day is for two dog walks, one around the valley after breakfast and the other shorter one up the lane to our top fields after we finish work. Apart from our DPD delivery man (with whom we have rapidly become much more familiar) the only people we see regularly are our immediate neighbours.
Living in a tiny community the local support network kicked in very quickly here in mid-March. Josie and Rachel, sisters who live up the lane, are in their 80’s and have lived here almost all their lives and still live to the rhythm of an earlier time. When we first moved here they told us that our top fields used to be known as the ‘hospital fields’, since they were left ungrazed for the cows to be allowed in at certain times of year to self-medicate on wildflowers. When we first got a swarm of bees they arrived, unannounced and kitted up, to see if we wanted some help learning how to manage them, as they have been beekeepers for decades.
Each evening we meet them at the gate to the hospital fields as we return from our dog walk, where they feed the two beef cattle they raise each year in the neighbouring field. We have always stopped for a quick hello in the past, but there is now an enforced closeness and intimacy in our communications. Very quickly after lockdown we started talking chickens. The fenced orchard that abuts their garden is home to a large brood and their cockerel can be heard most mornings waking the upper reaches of the village. We had thought that now, unable to leave home, might be the time to get chickens of our own. While we still haven’t committed, we rely on our now weekly delivery of eggs from the ladies up the lane.
Now that we are smack in the middle of the hungry gap, everything in the vegetable garden is up for kitchen consideration and things that may once have been a passing fancy demand a treatment that will turn them into a real meal. The sorrel, which is in its prime right now, is sending out sheaves of squeaky green leaves that just invite harvest. Due to its reputation for sourness, and the fact that, like spinach, it cooks down to nothing (whilst also turning an unappetising shade of khaki) it is not the easiest of leaves to use. However, the sorrel custard filling of this tart both extends and carries the lemony flavour of the leaves beautifully, while also disguising the somewhat murky colour since, with the yellow of the eggs, it cooks to an attractive chartreuse. Since sorrel isn’t available to everyone it could be replaced by young spinach, de-stalked chard or wild foraged greens like wild sorrel and nettle. The addition of a tablespoon or two of lemon juice will add the requisite tang.
This recipe is essentially Richard Olney’s from Simple French Food. My only adjustments are the addition of a tablespoon of fine polenta to the pastry (I like the sandy crunch it brings to savoury pie crusts) and a little less double cream. However, more than that I would not be tempted to fiddle. The plain simplicity of this recipe is its secret, particularly in these times of renewed frugality. The alchemy and pleasure of turning straightforward pantry items and produce from the garden into something memorable and delicious.
Pastry
125g plain flour
125g unsalted butter, put into the freezer for 30 minutes
1 tablespoon fine polenta
A pinch of salt
5-6 tablespoons iced water
Filling
300g sorrel leaves, weight with stalks removed
2 medium onions, about 300g
60g butter
250ml double cream
3 eggs
Ground black pepper
Sea salt
First make the pastry. Put the flour into a medium sized mixing bowl and then grate the frozen butter into it. Using a sharp knife and fast cutting motions, cut the butter into the flour, until the mixture resembles sand. Add the salt and polenta and stir to combine.
Sprinkle the iced water over the flour and butter mixture two tablespoons at a time, and use the knife to incorporate it after each addition. Then when it looks as though it is damp enough, use the very tips of your fingers to quickly pull the dough together into a ball. Wrap tightly and put in the fridge for 1 hour.
While the dough is chilling boil the kettle and put the sorrel leaves into a large saucepan. Pour the boiling water over the sorrel and stir with a wooden spoon. The leaves will turn khaki. Drain immediately and thoroughly.
Gently heat half the butter in a smallish pan. Press the sorrel leaves against the side of the colander to remove as much water as possible, then stew in the melted butter over a low heat, stirring from time to time, until you have a puree with no surplus liquid. Remove from the heat and allow to cool.
While the sorrel is cooking gently heat the other 30g butter in a smallish pan. Add the onion and saute over a very low heat, with the lid on, for about 30 minutes, or until they are very soft, translucent and completely uncoloured. Allow to cool to room temperature, then add to the sorrel. Heat the oven to 180°C.
Take the pastry from the fridge and roll out very quickly on a well floured surface into a circle 28-30cm in diameter. Carefully use to line a 23cm tart or cake tin. Prick the base with a fork several times. Line with baking parchment, fill with baking beans and bake blind for 15 minutes. Remove the beans and baking parchment and return to the oven for 5 minutes or until the pastry looks dry and lightly coloured. Remove from the oven and allow to cool.
Beat the eggs and cream together in a bowl. Season with pepper and salt. Add to the sorrel and onions and mix thoroughly. Pour the mixture into the pastry case and bake for 40-50 minutes until firm in the middle and lightly coloured.
Serve warm with a green salad.
Recipe and photographs: Huw Morgan
Published 24 April 2020
I love pumpkin, I really do, but given the success we have with them here, the number in the toolshed hardly seems to decrease through the winter, no matter how often we eat them. 42 (this year’s total down on last year’s 86, when we had a much larger pumpkin patch) is a lot of pumpkin to get through and the winter squash mountain creates a kind of recipe-blindness that renders me incapable of thinking up anything more exciting than soup, roast or mash.
Of course, we do make risotto, with thyme, saffron and bay, and pastas sauced with pumpkin and ricotta, served with crisp sage leaves fried in butter. I have made pumpkin gnocchi and pumpkin lasagne. Japan offers contrasting ways of experiencing squash, from the crisp succulence of paper thin slices of tempura to earthy, peasant stews of pumpkin and aduki beans, the comfort food of panko-crumbed pumpkin croquettes or hunks poached in shiitake mushroom stock with ginger and spring onions. But I am always on the lookout for new ways to diminish the pumpkin pile.
The natural sweetness of pumpkin lends itself to use in dessert dishes and, like carrot, parsnip and beetroot, can be useful if you are trying to reduce the amount of processed and refined sugar in your diet. However, the best-known sweet squash dish, pumpkin pie, has never really appealed, due in large part to those unappetising tins of pre-cooked pumpkin puree that appear in the shops before Halloween. I have also been a little wary of the Americanisation of our seasonal diet with the recent proliferation of pumpkin spice cupcakes and lattes. However, warm spices are a natural partner for pumpkin in both savoury and sweet dishes and I devised this spiced cake as a lighter option than the traditional heavy fruit cake, which can be too rich at this time of year. A hybrid of carrot cake, gingerbread and lebkuchen, it is also quick to make and to decorate at a time when every minute counts.
It is crucial to choose a dry variety of pumpkin, otherwise the water content can result in a wet, gluey cake. Having trialled many varieties over the years we now grow only kabocha (‘Cha-cha’) and onion squash (‘Uchiki Kuri’) as they have the best flavour and for us they are the best keepers. With its fudgy, chestnut-flavoured flesh the kabocha squash is the best choice here, but if you can’t get it butternut squash is an acceptable replacement. The pumpkin can be cooked ahead of time whenever you are using the oven. Combined with dates and maple syrup it creates a cake that is naturally sweet and moist, making it a very good keeper, so it’s useful to have one around at this time of year when unexpected visitors come calling. The balance of spices can be adjusted to personal taste or depending on what’s in the pantry, but for the very best flavour they should all be as fresh as possible and ground in either a mortar or a spice mill.
If you have a Bundt tin this cake looks effortlessly festive with just a heavy coat of icing sugar. If making in a simple square or round tin I would be inclined to finish it with a dressier coat of cream cheese icing sweetened with unrefined icing sugar and maple syrup, and worked into snowy peaks.
Pumpkin ‘Cha-cha’
INGREDIENTS
Cake
300g cooked pumpkin
200g soft dates (weight with stones removed)
100ml maple syrup (or honey)
250ml rapeseed, sunflower or other light oil
50ml juice and zest of one orange
3 large eggs
200g plain flour
200g ground almonds
2½ teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon cinnamon, freshly ground
1 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated
1 teaspoon ground ginger
½ teaspoon ground allspice, finely ground
½ teaspoon black pepper, finely ground
7 cloves, finely ground
A blade of mace, powdered
The seeds from five cardamom pods, finely ground
150g marzipan
25g sultanas
25g dried cranberries
3 tablespoons brandy (or strong, freshly brewed tea)
Icing
4 tbsp maple syrup
2 tablespoons brandy (or orange juice)
Icing sugar
1 10 cup/2.3 litre Bundt tin (or a 20cm square or a 22cm round cake tin each about 6cm deep)
METHOD
Set the oven to 180˚C.
If you do not have a non-stick cake tin, lightly brush the inside with oil, then sprinkle with two teaspoons of plain flour. Shake and rotate the tin to ensure all surfaces are coated and then turn upside down over the sink to dispense with any excess flour.
Chop the dates and put in a bowl with the orange juice and maple syrup. Put the 3 tablespoons of brandy (or hot tea) in another smaller bowl with the sultanas and cranberries. Leave both to stand while you cook the pumpkin.
For 300g of cooked pumpkin you will need a piece of pumpkin of approximately 400g with the skin on and seeds in. Scrape out the seeds with a tablespoon and wrap the pumpkin tightly in kitchen foil. Place on a baking sheet and cook for 45-60 minutes until soft. Remove the foil and allow to cool, then scrape the flesh from the skin with a metal spoon. Dispose of the skin or use for stock.
Put the dates and their soaking liquid into a blender and process until smooth. Add the oil and process again. Then add the eggs, orange zest and vanilla essence and process again until well mixed. Finally add the pumpkin and process again until completely smooth. Transfer to a large mixing bowl.
Sift the flour, baking powder and spices into a bowl. Stir through the ground almonds. Carefully fold the dry mixture into the wet mixture, being careful not to overmix. Remove the soaked dried fruit from the brandy (or tea), squeeze to remove excess liquid and quickly fold in. Retain the brandy, if used, for the icing.
Spoon about half of the mixture into the tin. Divide the marzipan into three and roll each piece into a thick sausage about 1.5cm in diameter. Shape them to fit around the centre of the circular pan in the middle of the mixture. Spoon over the final half of the cake mix and carefully smooth the top. If baking in a square or round tin you can break the marzipan into thumbnail-sized pieces and fold gently into the mixture with the dried fruit.
Put the Bundt tin onto a baking sheet and bake for 45-55 minutes until a skewer comes out clean. Allow to cool in the tin for 15 minutes and then carefully turn out onto a cooling rack set over a piece of greaseproof paper.
To make the icing, mix together the maple syrup and brandy in a small bowl. While the cake is still warm coat the whole cake with one coat of the syrup using a pastry brush. Allow to cool completely, then paint once again with the remaining syrup and brandy mixture. Then dredge the cake heavily with well-sieved icing sugar. You may need to do this several times to achieve a suitably snowy coating.
Transfer to a large plate, decorate with seasonal berries or leaves.
Provides 16 slices.
Recipe & photographs: Huw Morgan
Published 15 December 2018
I have just returned from the South Tyrol where we are helping to heal the scars of construction and seat a new house back into a precipitous mountainside. This north-eastern province of Italy feels more Austrian than Italian and the two-hour drive from Verona plunges you deep into a valley as the Dolomites rise up around you. The spa town of Merano sits at the end of the valley and the slopes that come down to meet the town are farmed proudly and intensively by the locals. Though there was already snow on the peaks, every ledge and terrace up to the treeline was striped with fruit trees. Figs to the lower slopes and then apples, pears, apricots and cherries in immaculate cordons criss-crossing the contours. Beautifully constructed chestnut pergolas sailed over the terraces to make the fleets of vines easily pickable and, in the gulleys that became too steep, the yellowing of the chestnut trees marked their presence at the base of the oak woods above them. Our client helped to make our stay that much more memorable with a meal at a typical Tyrolean eatery on the last night. A winding, single-track road into the orchards threw us off course more than once, but we eventually found the farmhouse, sitting square and noble with the view of the town below. We were welcomed warmly by the family who have occupied this farm for more than seven hundred years and invited into a beautifully simple wood-panelled room. Shared farmhouse tables with chequered tablecloths and lace-covered pendant lights concentrated the experience and a tiled floor-to-ceiling stove sat in the corner of the room to enhance the autumnal feeling. Our host came to the table, offering speck and drawing up a chair beside us to cut and portion it carefully, as he explained the nature of the meal to come. The speck was his own and he told us how it was smoked daily over the course of three months with the prunings from his vines and apple trees. A perfectly portioned apple, rosy as in a fable, sat on the chopping board as a complement, together with schüttelbrot, a South Tyrolean crispbread flavoured with caraway seed. A jug of this year’s new wine, the first of several, helped to lubricate the feast that was to follow. Next came the knödel. Two portions, one red and made of beetroot, the other yellow which, on tasting, we discovered were made with swede, both drenched in a sauce of melted butter and grated parmesan. A meaty plate of home made blood sausage and belly pork on a bed of sauerkraut came next, with more knödel, this time flecked with chopped speck. Finally, a round of hot, charcoal-roasted chestnuts made it to the table. A large cube of butter and schnapps infused with grape skin served to counteract their mealiness and, as we peeled them together, our fingers blackened, I couldn’t help but feel that this same autumn meal must have been eaten in this room for generations.
Beetroot ‘Egitto Migliorata’
INGREDIENTS
Knödel
250g beetroot
1 small onion, finely chopped, about 50g
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1 tablespoon butter
70g coarse breadcrumbs
30g hard goat cheese or pecorino, finely grated
1 small egg
30-50g plain flour
Small bunch flat leaf parsley, about 1 tablespoon finely chopped
Small bunch dill fronds, about 1 tablespoon finely chopped
Salt and pepper
Sauce
8 tablespoons buttermilk
1 tablespoon soured cream
1 tablespoon freshly grated or creamed horseradish
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon lemon juice
Salt
Finely grated hard goat cheese, finely chopped parsley and dill fronds to serve.Serves 2
METHOD It is worth saying that to get the best result you must use breadcrumbs made from the best bread you can get, preferably sourdough, and that the breadcrumbs should be quite coarse. It is also said that the staler the breadcrumbs, the better the knödel. If you can’t get hold of buttermilk use just soured cream or crème fraiche. Heat the oven to 180°C. Wrap the beetroot tightly in foil and bake for 30 minutes to an hour depending on size, until they are soft. Unwrap and leave to cool. Rub the skins off under cold running water. Grate coarsely and put into a mixing bowl. Melt the butter in a small lidded saucepan over a moderate heat. Put in the onion and garlic, stir to coat, then put the lid on the pan and reduce the heat to low. Sweat the onion for about five minutes until it is soft and translucent, but not coloured, stirring from time to time. Remove from the heat, allow to cool, and add to the beetroot. Add all of the remaining dumpling ingredients, apart from the flour, to the beetroot and onion. Stir until all is well combined. Season with salt and pepper. Add the flour, starting with 30g. The dough should remain soft, but start to come together in the bowl. If the mixture seems too wet add flour a little at a time until the right consistency is reached. Do not be tempted to add more flour or the dumplings will be gluey. Leave the mixture to sit for 15 to 20 minutes while you bring a deep pan of water to the boil and make the sauce, by putting all of the sauce ingredients into a bowl and whisking together until emulsified. When the water comes to the boil, turn down to a gentle simmer. Using a knife or spoon divide the dumpling mixture into quarters. Wet your hands with cold water and then take a quarter of the mixture and quickly shape it into a ball. Repeat with the remaining dumpling mixture. Gently lower the dumplings into the hot water, being careful not to burn your fingers. The dumplings will sink. Using a slotted or perforated spoon stir them very gently from time to time to stop them sticking to the bottom of the pan. Cook for 8 to 10 minutes until they float, when they are ready. Carefully remove the dumplings from the pan with a slotted spoon and allow as much water as possible to drain away. Spoon the sauce onto two plates and place two of the dumplings on each plate. Scatter the herbs and cheese over and serve immediately while still hot. Words: Dan Pearson / Recipe and photographs: Huw Morgan Published 3 November 2018 We are sorry but the page you are looking for does not exist. You could return to the homepage