It's autumn, and as far as I'm concerned, that's more than enough of a reason to be happy to be alive. Of course, this love of autumn has a rather strong connection with food; ok, it pretty much centers around food completely. October has got to be the best month for seasonal food. So much is in full swing: onions, potatoes, carrots, apples and pears. We still have tomatoes, courgettes, peppers, and aubergines, and there are even berries to be had! On Sunday we went for a family walk, first through a teeming apple orchard, and then along a road boardered by what seemed like miles of blackberry bushes. All the kids got stained fingers and hands as they kept spotting more and more perfectly ripe berries just within their reach. I still see local raspberries at my fruit and veg shops.

But I think it's the prospect of what will very soon come into season during this month, if they haven't already, that excites me the most: pumpkins, squash, and wild mushrooms. It's fair to say that I'm obsessed with pumpkins, which makes me think I might be French, at least in spirit (certainly not in body). I have a very interesting cookbook, entitled 'The New Vegetarian Cookbook', which has this intriguing recipe simply labeled 'Pumpkin Soup', which the author claims is 'a traditional French country soup'. I have memories of cooking this soup in October, standing in my kitchen, knife in hand, hacking into a massive pumpkin while the wind blew the leaves around outside. Here is where I first noticed, I think, the combination of pumpkin and sage. I have another book, entitled 'Cooking with Pumpkins, Squash and Zucchini', in which there is a recipe for a spicy, creamy squash soup. I cooked from this recipe first, for years, and it also uses sage, but since there is also a fresh chili in this recipe the sage doesn't play such a dominant role. Hence I never realized the important pairing of pumpkin and sage.

This week the pumpkin and sage combo came to our kitchen table in the form of pumpkin risotto. Proudly, I used the first pumpkin harvested from our own pumpkin patch (one of three, sadly). The recipe I used called for cubed pumpkin, which works, certainly, but the standard recipe I used calls for shredded pumpkin (actually butternut squash), which I think works better. I did something like this: chop an onion, and brown it in some butter. Then add 350 grams of cubed pumpkin, or shredded pumpkin, and stir it around until it starts to get soft. Then add 200 grams of risotto rice, and stir that in the pan until the rice is glossy with the fat. Add 100 mls of white grape juice, stirring until it is absorbed by the rice. When it is absorbed, then add chicken stock, a ladelful at a time, until the rice is tender and cooked. I used homemade chicken stock, which I think must be noted as producing a better risotto. It was creamier and more delicately flavored than it would have been if I had used a stock cube. When the rice is done, stir in chopped sage, a knob of butter, and a good handful of parmasean cheese.

I seem to be climbing back up to high levels of catering. We used to have large numbers of friends over on a near weekly basis, but that dropped off last year when we moved to a new place. Now it seems we are getting more settled, and the familiar hustle and bustle of having lots of people in my dining room is returning. It is a lot of work and takes a lot of time, but I love feeding people good food. Here are a few of my catering exploits this past month.

First, about a month ago, I served a five course birthday meal to a good friend of ours and her husband. Little children in bed, larger children plonked in front of the TV, we managed to create a few hours for ourselves for a candlelight dinner. The menu:

Starter: Deep fried courgette and pumpkin flowers stuffed with ricotta cheese, mint and chili

Fish Course: Sea bass topped with Cornish crab, with a saffron sauce

Main Course: Roasted poussins served with a lemon sauce, baby new potatoes roasted with garlic, spinach and carrots

Dessert: Raspberry and lavender trifle

Cheese Course: Brie de Meux, local fresh goat's cheese, lavender cheese, and blue stilton, served with chili jam, lavender jelly, gooseberry chutney, and charcoal biscuits

The highlight of the evening for me was, surprisingly, the sea bass. I had brought some very special fresh crab back with me from Cornwall (fretting for the entire two day return journey as to whether I was keeping it cold enough) and when I got home I threw it in the freezer and waited for a special occasion. I was going to make a cream of crab soup, or something along those lines, but I came across a recipe in the internet for crab-topped sea bass and thought it was worth a try. I adapted the recipe to suit my tastes, combining it with a medieval Italian recipe for sea bass and flaked almonds.

Holly's Crab-Topped Sea Bass

75 grams fresh white crab meat
50 grams small white bread crumbs
50 grams unsalted butter
1 egg, beaten
handful of flaked almonds
2 sea bass fillets

Combine the bread crumbs and melted butter, then add the crab and finally the egg and almonds. Place the sea bass fillets skin side down in a pan lined with lightly greased tin foil. Press the crab mixture on top of the fillets. Sprinkle more flaked almonds over the fillets. Bake for about 20 minutes at 190 degrees celsius.

My second catering moment this month was, happily, with a dear friend whom I have not seen since 1993, maybe even earlier. Like a true friend, she came with no expectations, and therefore it would have been hard to disappoint her - culinarily speaking, at least. But, me being me, I still tried to impress, which means the food wasn't as good as I wanted it to be, but it was still fun to try. The lunch menu:

Duck breasts served with blackberry sauce on a bed of baby leaves
Parsnip mash

I love blackberries, and I love it even more when I can cook with them in unexpected places, like the main dish of a meal. The blackberry sauce - which I got from Henrietta Green's book - is so simple: cook about 300 grams of blackberries in a 125 mls of water, adding some fresh thyme and honey. Boil up the blackberries until they are cooked, and then - this is the best bit - press them through a fine-holed strainer. This makes the most wonderful puree, and is essentially the sauce for the duck. You can add it to the juices in the pan after you have cooked the duck breasts, and heat it up a bit, thin it out if you need to, etc. It is the perfect thing to serve in September, and I make sure I do it every year.

My third catering adventure consisted of feeding twelve people -the family of one of my daughter's friends from school. I wasn't sure how to proceed, because I didn't want to serve chili - again. I have had somewhat of a re-awakening when it comes to roasted chicken, so I decided to go down that route. The menu:

Main Course: Roasted chicken, with twice baked potatoes, tomato and bread salad with anchovies and olives, and a green salad.

Desserts: Blackberry and apple crisp, chocolate custard served with fresh raspberries and crushed amaretto biscuits, and rice krispie treats.

Cheese Course: Gorgonzola, Gruyere, Ossau Iraty, and Vacherin, served with my plum and gooseberry chutneys.

September fare features heavily here: tomatoes, blackberries and raspberries are all at their peak. The seasonal highlight for me, though, was the Vacherin - a gooey, creamy, stinky cheese, only available from September to March, I was delighted to find the season's first of it in my local deli this week.

I am proud to say that my thirteen year old daughter came up the with chocolate custard/raspberry item on the menu. I thought that was a choice that showed a lot of sophisication.

Speaking of the re-awakening regarding roast chicken, I found out this month that I can change an ordinary, though still delicious, roast chicken into something extraordinary by stuffing the cavity of the bird with some very simple things: garlic cloves, thyme, sage and a half of a lemon. The top of the chicken needs to be smothered in unsalted butter, and I put unsalted butter under the skin as well, for good measure. Roast the chickens on top of some sliced onions, and baste the chickens every 20 minutes or so. The results are unbelievable. Just when you thought a roast chicken couldn't get any better, it actually can.

I love simplicity in cooking. I am happiest in my kitchen when I use simple ingredients to great effect: humble, fresh thyme, and sage, and garlic, and a lemon. Nothing artificial, nothing processed. Roman soldiers could have cooked this way.

It's September! For the past month I've cooked incessantly with plums, raspberries, blackberries, and now, new season apples. Corn on the cob features heavily, too, this time of year. I should be cooking with tomatoes as well, but the tomatoes I am trying to grow in my garden are still a shameful green!

I've always suspected that plums make exceptionally good chutney, but in the past when I have made plum chutney I have gotten a bit carried away with adding other seasonable vegetables and fruits - heady combinations of fresh courgettes, onions, apples etc. - which have diluted the taste of the plums to the point where I can't really tell if they are there. So, this year the rule is, as it was with my gooseberry chutney (which I am enjoying very much, by the way, with strong cheddar in my frequent, solitary ploughman's lunches): keep it simple; that is, keep the flavors simple. So, here is my original plum and ginger chutney from this season, which has turned out, I am pleased to say, very fruity and plummy indeed:

Plum and Ginger Chutney

1 kilo plums (stoned weight - I used Victoria plums, but other varieties would do also)
250 grams onions, chopped
250 grams sultanas or raisins
300 grams light brown sugar
1 eating apple (I used a cox), diced
2 pieces stem ginger in syrup, chopped
50 grams dates, chopped
1 tablespoon ground ginger
1 tablespoon corinader seeds
350 mls cider vinegar
3 tablespoons red wine vinegar
2-4 tablespoons ginger syrup, depending on taste

Put everything into a large, deep pan. Bring to the boil, then turn it down and let it simmer for a couple of hours, until the chutney becomes thick to the point where you can see the bottom of the pan when you stir it with a spoon. Mostly this should be done without the lid on the pan, but sometimes I sneak the lid on half way for a little while, just to help us all cope with the smell of cooking vinegar! Pack into clean, hot jars, and seal.

Normally I cook to please myself. It's a wonderful thing if it also pleases my husband, which it almost always does, but ultimately I plan meals according to what I think would be just utterly and completely cool to do with food. However, although my husband's reactions to what I do with food are usually favorable, my children's reactions are another thing entirely. On the whole, their reactions are problematic. I have tried my utmost to expose them to lots of different foods - and, I hasten to add, the very best in table manners and polite conversation during mealtimes -but, contrary to what the parenting books have promised me, all this exposure and training has done very little to refine their palettes or their ability to sit through a meal in a civilized fashion.

So, I must mark it as a red letter day when I cook something that delights them. I have had a few successes the past week. First, on Sunday, we had a lovely roast lamb. They didn't like the saffron, lemon and redcurrant gravy I served with it, or the lavender jelly which was meant to go on the side, but they polished off the very tender, sweet lamb without a complaint. It was served with garlic roasted potatoes, runner beans, baby carrots, and wilted spinach and beet greens. And for dessert, we had a peach and raspberry pavlova, of which there were no left overs.

The next success was Monday evening: meat loaf. They all love meat loaf. It was served with roast potatoes and fresh corn on the cob, which just made everyone that bit happier. Other vegetables were carrots, spring cabbage and green beans. For dessert was everyone's favorite: Nigella Lawson's chocolate truffle cake, which was polished off no problem.

Seductive Summer Dinner for commuting and stressed out husband. 15 July 2011:

Starter: Fried corgette flowers stuffed with ricotta cheese, mint and chili served on a bed of chives

Fish Course: Scallops with peas, broad beans and pancetta

Main Course: Poussins served with a lemon sauce, lavender and recurrant stuffing balls, baby carrots, green beans and roasted new potatoes

Dessert: Summer Pudding trifle

Petit Fours: lavender shortbread sandwiches filled with lavender and raspberry jam, and dipped in dark chocolate


We've been on holiday in Cornwall for the past week. It was magical; a truly enchanting place. I love getting seafood when we're down there. I was lucky enough to get to go out to dinner twice while we were there. The first night I had crab-stuffed ravioli and seabass with mussels. The second night I had a fish feast: scallops with bacon, Thai crab chili cake, sardines, seafood chowder, and for my main course a lobster, which I haven't had in years. I came home with fresh crab from Porthleven, clotted cream, and saffron cake. There is a fish shop in Porthleven called Quayside fish, which is nothing short of inspirational. I demanded a visit the place before we left, and I took all five of my girls into the shop to educate them on the concept of a truly worthwhile food merchant. Nearly all the fish are caught locally, and there they were, uncut and on display, for all to see: monkfish, squid, john dory, lemon sole, and so many more which I cannot remember.

I took the plunge this weekend and tried making peach jam, with my own recipe. I followed the principles of jam making from the French apricot jam recipe which I wrote about a few weeks ago, which are: soak the fruit with lemon juice, water and a vanilla pod for a few hours to let the flavors meld together; cook the fruit in this mixture until the fruit gets soft-ish, before adding the sugar; fruit to sugar ratio is almost two to one, as opposed to one to one as in most recipes; and a soft set.

Well, it was a success, and glorious, too. I love fresh peaches; to me, that is the taste of summer time, especially when the peaches are topped with cream and sugar. Since I used significantly less sugar than in other jams, some of the peach pieces still retained just a bite of freshness, rather than being smothered in sweetness.

What I did:

1 kg peaches (stoned weight)

650 grams sugar

1 sachet pectin

Juice of one lemon

300 mls water

1 vanilla pod


Scalde, peel, pit and chop the peaches into small-ish chunks. Put in a jam pot with the lemon juice, water, and vanilla pod, which should be cut up into four pieces. Leave to infuse for a few hours. Then, simmer for about 30 min., or until the fruit is soft - but not too soft, as you want some of the pieces to retain their shape. Add the sugar and pectin, and then boil away until setting point is reached.

It always seems like a gamble, determining when exactly the setting point has been reached.

Consider the gooseberry. It is one of those fruits about which I get obsessed when it's season is upon us. Which is now. High summer. Whenever I see them at the market or in the store, I feel compelled to buy them, no matter how many I may already have at home. I've made a gooseberry and elderflower trifle this season, which wasn't a huge success, but now that I've got that failure under my belt I have a much better idea of how to do a gooseberry trifle next time, which I hope will be rather soon. I've also made a gooseberry and elderflower cheesecake, a gooseberry crumble, and a Beatrix Potter recipe for gooseberry sauce to go with trout, none of which were particularly fantastic but at least I'm getting gooseberries out of my system. Or, into my system, I suppose.

However, today, finally, was a success story with gooseberries. I made gooseberry chutney, and it is truly a wonderous creation. I found a very simple recipe, and when it comes to chutney, I think the more simple, the better. The last thing you want is onions and courgettes and sultanas and apples all competing for your attention in a gooseberry chutney. So, the recipe I followed was something like

700 grams gooseberries

150 grams onions

300 mls cider vinegar

275 grams light brown sugar

9 grams salt

2 teaspoons ginger


I threw it all in a pot and let it simmer for about and hour and a half, until it was reduced to something quite thick. It has a lovely tanginess as well as a sweetness which comes through despite the strong taste of vinegar which you have in any chutney. I think it's important to use light vinegar and light brown sugar with something like gooseberries, because you don't want a dark sticky chutney made with this fruit - what would be the point? It would just mask the delicate tanginess, which is what makes this chutney so special.

After it was all packed, sealed away in jars, and cooled, I made the ultimate English snack: gooseberry chutney with lavender cheese on an oatcake. Even my thirteen year old liked it, although she did ask for a drink afterwards. (Her verdict on the cheese was: 'I don't like it as much as the lavender jelly we had at Easter or the lavender and raspberry jam we made last year'. To which I responded: 'Or the lavender shortbread we made last year.').

Today was a bit of a revelatory cooking experience. I set out to make apricot jam, because my mother always made apricot jam and I love it. I can eat any jam by the spoonful, but I think apricot jam must be the hardest one to stop eating by the spoonful. I just assumed I would use one part sugar to one part apricots, but I did some research and came across a wonderful recipe for French Apricot Jam on the Guardian website. This recipe uses a lot less sugar, as well as a vanilla pod. I was sceptical at first but after trying it I am wholly converted. I've now got jars of light orange jam flecked with vanilla seeds and I couldn't be more satisfied.

Here is the recipe:

1.5 kg fresh apricots

800 grams sugar

1 vanilla pod

Juice of one lemon

I stoned the apricots - letting Eleanor and Verity help me. Eleanor didn't like it because her hands got all sticky, but Verity didn't seem to mind. I put the apricots in the pan with 320 mls of water, the lemon juice, and the vanilla pod cut into four pieces. I let it simmer to soften up the fruit, and it was then that I put my head over the pan, took a breath, and was suddenly back in my mother's kitchen. My mother canned apricots, made apricot pie, apricot crisp, and apricot jam. I don't know if any smell can remind me of her more than the smell of cooking apricots. The vanilla pod added something to it, though - my mother's kitchen, but with a stylish edge.

I let it simmer, and then sit for a while, to let the flavors meld. I then added the sugar - using about 100 grams more than the recipe stated, plus 8 grams of pectin, and cooked it into jam. The result was the most elegant conserve ever known to man.