A few weeks ago our family was deemed a charity case by someone who works in the food industry.   This person has now developed what seems to be a habit of giving us a box, or two, every week full of fruits and vegetables which are about to go bad within the next twelve hours.  Although in my head I know I should be very grateful for free food, my gut reaction is to feel a little bit annoyed that someone is giving me food with which I have to do something almost right as I am receiving it.  I am inflexible by nature and frankly, these donations screw up my all-important SCHEDULE.
     However, in the spirit of 'enjoy the journey' and 'make time for surprises' and other mantras by which I feel obliged to at least attempt to live, I have rather grudgingly drug myself into the kitchen and thought about what I could do to not waste this food.  Happily, I made some joyous culinary discoveries which I would not have made had the opportunity not been thrust upon me, the most notable one being my original Figgy Chutney.
     Yes, I was given many figs.  I couldn't roast them all with butter and honey, so chutney seemed like a good option.  I kept singing the song 'Oh, bring us some figgy pudding ...', and although I knew that figgy pudding is made with dried figs, the idea took hold of me and I found myself wanting to replicate the figgy pudding experience, but with fresh figs and in a chutney.  Luckily, I had some damsons lying around for which I had no plans, and I thought they could serve as the plum element that is present in the pudding.  I used currants, an apple, Christmas spices, and even vanilla.  The result was, well, a delicious, Christmas-y, figgy chutney.  I cannot wait to put it on the cheeseboard at Christmas.

Figgy Chutney

250 grams onion, chopped
100 grams apple, chopped
210 grams currants
40 grams raisins
700 grams figs, cut into quarters
250 grams damsons or plums (if using plums, stone and quarter them)
300 grams light brown sugar
250 mls cider vinegar
100 mls red wine vinegar
3 balls stem ginger
Juice of 1/2 lemon
Juice of 1 orange
1/4 teaspoon coriander
1/4 teaspoon cloves
2 and 1/2 teaspoon ginger
1 and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Freshly grated nutmeg (about 1/8 teaspoon)
1 teaspoon vanilla

Put all the ingredients to a big pot.  The red-ish figs contrast beautifully against the dark damsons in this raw state.

Slowly bring the ingredients to the boil, stirring frequently.  Simmer for a few hours until the right consistency is reached, and then pack them into sterilized jars.  If you are using damsons instead of plums, you will need to fish the stones out after about an hour of cooking.  As the figs and damsons simmer the chutney will cohere and become a gorgeous Christmas-y burgandy color. 

I also tried making fig conserve, which was incredible!  That same reddish burgandy color came out as I watched the conserve cook.  I served it to my husband for an autumn breakfast in bed one weekend:

     While we're on the subject of conserves, I have to say that we, the charity case people, were also given two massive marrows.  I know that marrow is pig food in Italy and France, but, again, part of me wanted to be thrifty and make use of this rather unusable vegetable.  I had seen recipes for marrow and ginger jam, so I thought I would try to do that.  I wondered who would eat it, though, and then remembered that we were having a Harvest Festival celebration at our church on Sunday, and that we were going to all bring food for the homeless to church that day.  What could be more in keeping with the festival than to bring food from the harvest, made into a preserve, to share with the homeless? 
     So, I set to work on my marrow jam.  My husband was in the kitchen at the time, so I shared my charitable plans with him 
'Who do you think is going to eat this jam?' he said. 
'Well, I thought I would bring it to church on Sunday to give to the homeless.'  I answered. 
'What?!!  The homeless aren't going to eat that!'
'So, are you saying that this jam isn't even good enough to give to people who are starving?' 
My husband did some very quick thinking.  'No, I'm saying that it's going to be too good.  They won't appreciate it.  They won't even know what it is.' 
'But on the BBC website it said that this is a traditional jam,' I protested.  
'Look, I'm just saying that they aren't going to want to eat something that isn't familiar to them,' he warned. 
     Well, we are all entitled to our own opinions.  I have finished the jam this morning, and I have to say it's pretty rockin'.  As a charity case myself, I would be only too happy if someone gave it to me.

Marrow and Ginger Jam

1 kilo marrow, peeled and cubed (this is the weight it should be after you have peeled and cubed it)
1 kilo jam sugar
Juice and zest of 2 lemons
4 balls of preserved ginger (about 80 grams), shredded
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

Place the marrow and the lemon juice in a big jam pot. Cook very gently until the marrow is translucent.  Stir in the zest, ginger, sugar and spices.  Let the sugar dissolve, and then turn up the heat so that the mixture comes to a rolling boil.  Boil for four minutes, or until setting point is reached.  Pack into sterilized jars and seal.

     The sun is shining and the air is crisp, making this the most glorius autumn day yet this season.  There's apples, raspberries, blackberries, pears, figs, peppers, aubergines, tomatoes and ... my favorite ... pumpkins.  Things from the earth and things in my kitchen only get better from here until at least Christmas time, and that nesting, nuturing instinct is kicking in again.  That means I get sudden flashes of inspiration of something really exciting to cook when I have promised myself I would not do anything complicated or time consuming or even remotely interesting in the kitchen.  But it's autumn - with all this raw material, the creative juices can't help but flow ...
     Before I start enthusing about autumn recipes, however, I must note that there are still some foods hanging on from summertime - mostly notably courgettes.  My courgette plants just keep producing, and although I have heard shocking amounts of verbal abuse heaped upon this poor vegetable, I will stand tall and say that I, for one, am pleased that my courgette plants keep producing.  The explanation lies with another obession of mine:  the courgette flower.
     I consider myself to have had a very wholesome, healthy, and varied diet growing up.  My mother had a huge garden which produced far more vegetables than any garden of which I'll ever be in charge.  But never in a million years did we know or would we even have guessed that you can eat courgette flowers!  Imagine the liberation I experienced when I learnt that this indeed was the case.  So, here are my two favorite courgette flower recipes.

Stuffed Courgette Flowers

     This has been the standard first course for every romantic dinner I have served my husband over the past four summers.  Like brie cheese and other foods to which I was exposed only after leaving home, these flowers will always seem unique, full of wonder, and never tiresome.

About six courgette flowers
80 grams soft goat's cheese
fresh thyme
pinch dried chilli flakes
zest of 1/2 lemon
pinch salt
160 grams plain flour
240 mls sparkling white grape juice

Very carefully pick the stamen out from the center of each flower, and, being careful again, gently wash the flowers to get rid of any bugs, and pat dry.  Did I say you must be careful?  You will ruin these delicate creations otherwise.

Mix the goat's cheese, thyme, chilli flakes, lemon zest and salt together.  (Carefully) stuff each flower with the mixture, twisting the top of the flower to seal it a bit.

    Next, make the batter by simply mixing the sparkling grape juice with the flour, and maybe adding a pinch of salt.  Dip the flowers into the batter one by one, and, frying one or two at a time, place into a pre-heated, deep fat fryer.  Fry them for about three minutes - keep checking on them, and take them out when they are golden brown, like this:

      
I recommend serving them on a bed of mixed baby lettuce leaves, sprinkled with toasted pine nuts.

Courgette Flower Sauce

     I only discovered this sauce this past summer - in fact, only last month, when I was considering what to make my husband for our candlelight birthday dinner (our birthdays are three days apart, so, conveniently, we are allowed to celebrate them at the same time;  we get the same treatment that way).  I found the recipe in Anna del Conte's Gastronomy of Italy, but I changed some of the ingredients as well as some of the proportions.  I was looking for a sauce for some beautiful sea bass we had brought back with us from our favorite fishmonger, which happens to be about seven hours away from us in Porthleven, Cornwall.  Frankly, I could not have found anything more perfect.  There is something about the texture of the flowers that contributes a velvet smoothness to the sauce.  You will never wonder what to do with courgetters again - just pick the flowers and make this sauce.

Six courgette flowers
1/2 small onion, chopped
2 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp butter
healthy pinch of saffron strands
75 mls hot stock (chicken, fish or vegetable)
1 egg yolk
30 grams grated parmasean cheese

Remove the stamen from the flowers, and wash gently.  Chop the flowers and the onion very finely, and saute them gently in the olive oil and butter, making sure you do not let the onion brown.  Dissolve the saffron strands in the hot stock, and add to the pan.  Put a lid on the pan and let it simmer gently for about 10 minutes or so.  Then put the whole thing in a blender or food processor and blend until smooth.  While the mixture is still hot, whisk in the egg yolk and the cheese.  Season if necessary.  You should have an extraordinarily smooth, gloriously yellow and subtly delicious sauce.   

   

     Summer's over, and that's a shame.  There is so much going on, culinarily speaking, in the summer (although I would argue that there is even more culinary goings-on in the autumn - more on that later) that sometimes it makes my head swim.  I tried to stay grounded this summer, but I must admit to a pantry very full of homemade preserves and chutneys.  Here's a list of my exploits:  gooseberry and elderflower jam, elderflower jelly, lavender jelly, strawberry jam, raspberry and lavender jam, french apricot jam, apricot chutney, peach conserve, plum jelly, plum chutney, blackberry jelly, chilli jelly, chilli jam, and tomato jam. 
     Two recipes which I do not want to forget (so often I do forget) are my raspberry and lavender jam, and one of my (happily, successful) experiments this year, apricot chutney.
     The raspberry and laveder jam ... what I love about this recipe is that I can put some of the many lavender plants which I have in my garden to good use.  That makes it seem so thrifty to me.  Thankfully, the raspberries didn't cost the earth, either.  I took my four youngest children to a local raspberry patch, and I encouraged them to pick away.

     They stayed focused for about 50% of the time, I would say.  The other 50% of the time was spent complaining about some perceived dog poo somewhere in the raspberry patch, urgent requests to use a non-existent toilet, and whining about the heat of the English summer (??!!).  To be fair, picking raspberries might not hold their attention for very long when mom's a control freak and tells you constantly to only pick the ripe ones.
     
Raspberry and Lavender Jam

1.1 kilos raspberries
750 grams jam sugar
5 heads of lavender
Juice of 1 lemon

Make sure your lavender heads are fresh and deep purple, rather than drying out.  Aren't they beautiful?

First, put a small saucer in the freezer.  Combine the raspberries and sugar in a big jam pot.  Strip the lavender heads off of the stalks, and add to the pan, along with the lemon juice.  Gently crush the mixture a few times, and then very gently heat until the sugar is dissolved, stirring frequently.

Once the sugar is dissolved, turn up the heat and nurse the mixture to a rolling boil.  Skim off the scum that comes to the surface.  After about four minutes start checking to see if the mixture has reached setting point by putting a little bit on the cold saucer, then putting the saucer back in the freezer for a few minutes.  If the mixture wrinkles when you push it with your finger, you're good.  Pour into sterilized jars.  It makes about 4 350g jars.

     The apricot chutney was a bit of a surprise.  As I thought about which chutneys to make, all of sudden I realized that not only had I never made apricot chutney, but also that it is one of those chutneys that you hardly ever see in the supermarket.  The quest had then begun.  It wasn't very hard - all I did was consult my plum chutney recipe from last year, and replace the plums with apricots.  I made a few other very minor changes and hoped for the best.  The result was so successful that I now consider my plum chutney recipe to be the template recipe for all my other chutneys!

Apricot Chutney

1.2 kilo apricots
250 grams onions
250 grams sultanas
300 grams light brown sugar
1 eating apple
2 pieces stem ginger
1 tbsp + 1/2 tsp ground ginger
1 tbsp coriander seeds
350 mls cider vinegar
3 tbsp ginger syrup

Stone the apricots, and cut them into quarters.  Finely chop the apple, onion and the stem ginger.  Put everything together into a big pot, slowly bring to the boil, and then simmer very gently until chutney consistency is reached.  Pack into sterilized jars and seal.  This makes about four 1 lb. jars.