One of the best things about growing your own fruit and vegetables is the opportunity it provides to eat things that are seldom, if ever, available at the greengrocers. Before we planted our orchard I had never eaten a Mirabelle plum. Although I had pored over Jane Grigson’s description of their superior flavour, and heard from my Francophile friend Sophie of the delicious tarts and pies she had eaten in Lorraine, I had always had to imagine what they tasted like.
The Mirabelle is the smallest plum, barely bigger than a large marble, but what it lacks in size it definitely makes up for in flavour. Perfumed, and with the same floral hint of muscat that you get from the best gooseberries, they are the plum par excellence. We are now getting a very decent harvest and, when something so rare and prized suddenly becomes easily available, it feels important to celebrate the moment with a dish that makes the most of this fleeting moment.
You need a fair number of Mirabelles to make a tart of this size, but they are quick to pick. De-stoning a large bowl of them also appears an intimidating prospect but, being a ‘freestone’ variety of plum, where the stone separates easily from the flesh (unlike ‘clingstone’ plums where the flesh adheres to the stone) they are also easy to prepare.
Plums and almonds are all from the Prunus family, and so make perfect companions in in desserts. The flavour of the almond frangipane is improved by the addition of a number of kernels taken from the stones, which enhances the bitter almond flavour, but a few drops of almond essence or, if you happen to have it, a teaspoon or two of plum eau de vie do a similar job.
The Mirabelle season is painfully short. The tart here was made last weekend, when the plums were at their peak of perfection. This week the tree is bare. So, if you have missed the moment or can’t get hold of them, you can use any other stone fruit in their stead. Greengages are the next best choice of plum, but other yellow cooking plums would work, as would apricots. Later in the season the frangipane can be made with ground walnuts, which makes a more autumnal partner for sharp red or purple plums. This year I plan to try a walnut version with some of our damson glut but, being mouth-puckeringly sharp, they will need to be poached in a sugar syrup first.
Mirabelle de Nancy
INGREDIENTS
500g Mirabelle plums, stoned and halved (weight after stoning)
Pastry
300g plain flour
150g unsalted butter, well chilled
3 tbsp icing or caster sugar
1 egg yolk, beaten
Iced water
Almond Cream
150g ground almonds
150g caster sugar
150g butter, melted
1 large egg, beaten
2 tbs double cream
Kernels from about 20 Mirabelles
Serves 12
METHOD
You will need a 30cm shallow, fluted tart tin.
Set the oven at 180°c.
Put the flour and butter into a food processor and process quickly until the mixture resembles very fine breadcrumbs. You can use your hands to do this, but a processor is better as it is important that the pastry stays as cold as possible. Add the icing sugar and pulse again quickly to combine. With the motor running add the egg yolk, and then enough chilled water, a tablespoon at a time, until the dough just starts to come together. Immediately turn off the processor and bring the dough together quickly and lightly with your hands until smooth. Do not knead it.
Immediately roll the dough out, preferably on a cold, floured slate or marble surface, with short, light movements until just large enough to line the tin. To get the pastry, which is very short, into the tin, ease your floured rolling pin underneath it and then very gently lift it over the tart tin until it is centred, before removing the rolling pin by sliding it out. Again handle the pastry very gently as you press it into the corner and fluted sides of the tin. Trim the pastry in line with the top of the tin, prick the base with a fork and then chill in the fridge for 20 minutes.
Remove the pastry case from the fridge, line it with baking parchment and then fill with baking beans. Bake blind for 20 minutes. Remove the baking beans and parchment and return to the oven for a further 10-15 minutes until the pastry looks dry but has not coloured. Remove from the oven and leave to cool.
Turn the oven up to 200°c.
Put the ground almonds and sugar in a mixing bowl, reserving a tablespoon of sugar. In a mortar and pestle crush the Mirabelle kernels with the tablespoon of sugar then add them to the ground almonds, before mixing in the butter, egg and cream.
Spread the almond cream evenly over the base of the cooled tart case. Then, starting from the outside, arrange the Mirabelles on the almond cream with their cut sides facing up and so that they are just touching. Push each one gently into the cream as you do so.
Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the pastry is well coloured and the mirabelles are bubbling.
Remove from the oven. Allow to cool for 15 to 20 minutes before carefully removing from the tart case.
Serve warm with cold pouring cream.
Recipe and photographs: Huw Morgan
Published 2 September 2017
Planting the fruit orchard was one of our first major projects the winter we arrived here. I knew where I wanted to see it almost immediately, on the south-facing slopes beyond the barns to the west. Nestled into the hill, it was to continue the spine of productivity that runs along this contour. House, vegetable garden, barns, compost heaps and then orchard. It had a rhythm to it that felt comfortable.
Later, and after it was planted, neighbours told us that there had once been fruit trees growing on the same slopes, so it was right to have made the move so quickly. I’d been wanting to plant an orchard for myself for years and made my lists with relish, choosing West Country apples, both cookers and eaters, and a number of pears and plums. I paced out the planting stations in an offset grid with 8 metres between the trees. Doing it by eye meant that it went with the slope and the grid took on a more informal feeling that was less rigid.
The Plum Orchard
Thirteen apples were set on their own on the lower slope, whilst five pears and then the plums sat above them. In making the decision as to how the orchard should step across the slope, I noted how the frost settled and where the cold air drained as it pooled lower in the hollow. The pears, which like a warm, sheltered position, were planted up close to the barns in the lea provided by the hedge and the buildings. The later-flowering apples were placed lower down the slope in the hope that the frosts, which tend to hang low, were mostly over by the time they were in blossom. The early-to-flower plum orchard was put on the highest ground that linked to the blossom wood in the next field above, as they also prefer a warm, free-draining position. Here they have so far escaped the frosts. To date, for there is still always time to learn, I am happy to have gone with my intuition.
The plum orchard is a loose term for the collection of a dozen or so trees that now inhabit this top corner of the field. I say loose because they all have different characteristics that are driven by the original species from which they have been selected, or from the cross between the edible species. So, to explain, the plum orchard includes true plums, mirabelle plums, damson plums and greengages. We also have two bullace, an old term for a wild plum. Three yellow ones, given to us by a local farmer who has them growing in the hedgerows above our land, are planted in the hedge between the plum orchard and the blossom wood. They may be ‘Shepherd’s Bullace’ or ‘Yellow Apricot Bullace’, two old named varieties that were once very commonly grown. These make a link to an ancient, gnarled tree by the barns, which is dark violet and eats like a damson. The cherry plums (Prunus cerasifera) sit in the blossom wood itself.
Yellow bullace
The old black bullace by the barns
First to flower, and indeed to fruit, are the cherry plums, which are good both for February blossom and jam making. Their flavour reminds me of the perfumed Japanese ume plums and we have in the past made a delicious plum brandy from them. In the orchard it is the mirabelle plums (first recommended to me by Nigel Slater, who grows them at the end of his garden) that are the first to flower and fruit. Originally from Eastern Europe, but grown to perfection in France, this is a small plum, usually with a tart flavour. Generally preferred for cooking, ‘Mirabelle de Nancy’ has marble sized, apricot-coloured fruit which are fragrant and sweet enough to eat off the tree if picked just before they drop. ‘Gypsy’, with larger red fruit, is a cooker and the earliest of them all, ripe almost a month ago. If I were to lose one, it would be ‘Golden Sphere’, whose flavour is bland in comparison, but it is a pretty plum, well-named for its colour.
Cherry plums
Mirabelle de Nancy
If I were only able to have one plum tree, it would be a greengage. As a rule, the yellow plums are said to have better flavour than the reds, but greengages are the most aromatic and, in our opinion, the most delicious. Of course, there is a small price to pay for such a delicacy, as greengages have a reputation for being shy to fruit. I have five in the orchard. ‘Early Transparent’ is the most reliable and has fruited plentifully. ‘Denniston’s Superb’ fruited well this year too and has the very best flavour. Despite the skins being less than perfect, the greengage perfume and the depth of flavour of this greengage is superlative – as refined and floral as a good ‘Doyenne de Comice’ pear or, if you were living in heat, a freshly picked white peach. I have three more greengages that are yet to prove themselves; ‘Reine Claude de Bavay’, which is famously shy to fruit, ‘Bryanston Gage’ and ‘Cambridge Gage’, which the sheep have managed to reach, pulled at and damaged, so I am waiting patiently for results next year.
Gage ‘Early Transparent’
We have two true plums in the orchard. ‘Victoria (Willis Clone)’, a selection that is reputedly free of silverleaf, an airborne bacteria to which ‘Victoria’ is prone and which can infect broken branches in the summer. Plums, particularly the heavy fruited ‘Victoria’, are famous for snapping under the weight of their fruit, so I have taken to gently shaking the tree a little earlier in summer to lighten the load that the June Drop hasn’t done for. Though the ‘Victoria’ is a good looking plum – it is next to ripen after the greengages – it is nice but rather ordinary. It is, however, indispensable for freezing for winter crumbles. ‘Warwickshire Drooper’, a vigorous and amber-fruited plum, is better I think. Adaptable for being both an eater and a cooker, and not a plum you can buy off the shelf like ‘Victoria’. It is also a very heavy cropper and makes delicious jam.
Plum ‘Victoria (Willis Clone)’
Plum ‘Warwickshire Drooper’
The damsons are perhaps the most beautiful, hanging dark and mysterious, with a violet-grey bloom that, when you reach out and brush the surface, reveals the depth of colour beneath. These are the last to fruit and this year I fear we will miss them in the fortnight we go away on holiday in early September. ‘Shropshire Prune’ (main image) has proven itself to be one of the most reliable fruiters with small, perfumed fruit that are firm and make the strongest flavoured jam. A little earlier and larger of fruit, ‘Merryweather’ also has very good flavour and is one of the only damsons sweet enough to eat from the tree if left to fully ripen.
Damson ‘Merryweather’
The plums are something you have to watch as they ripen, for they take some time to ready but, when they do, they all ripen over the space of a fortnight. The range of varieties in the plum orchard helps here in staggering the harvest, but getting to them before the wasps do is always a challenge. This year, however, we are bombarded with fruit which means there is plenty to go round, and I have been heartened to see that the rotting fruit also provides a late summer larder for honeybees and butterflies. I have a long, three-legged ladder with an adjustable third leg ideal for picking on our slopes but, for expediency, it has been quicker to lay down tarps on the hummocky grass and gently shake the trees. The fruit cascades around you and you can pluck the best without reaching into the branches to be stung by the competition.
Words: Dan Pearson / Photographs: Huw Morgan
Published 26 August 2017
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