The annual overlap between gooseberries and elderflowers is blinkingly brief. The fruit don’t appear until early June, while the flowers — which have been lighting up the hedgerows since May — have all but faded by the end of the month. In those few short weeks, however, they form one of early summer’s happiest partnerships — the flowers’ muscat perfume providing a subtle, scented foil to the tart acidity of the fruit.

The popularity of gooseberries has waned dramatically over the years. Compared with more overtly come-hither fruits, the prickly looks of certain varieties can put people off. And, although the red and yellow ones that appear later in the summer are sweet enough to be eaten raw, the earlier green goosegogs need sugar and cooking to tame their mouth-puckering tartness. But if you haven’t had a gooseberry for a while, do give them another go. They’re one of the few truly seasonal fruits we have left, with a fresh, leafy, almost fizzily acidic flavour, the essence of purest green, as Percy from Blackadder might have said.

Puddings account for most of the gooseberries eaten in this country — either mixed with elderflower cordial and cream, to make refreshing fools and ice creams, or piled into tarts and crumbles — but they also make great chutneys and relishes. The French use them in jams and, occasionally, savoury sauces to cut the richness of pork and oily fish, a curious affinity hinted at by the gooseberry’s French name, groseille à maquereau — mackerel currant. Cook the fruit with a splash of water until it collapses, then rub the whole lot through a sieve. It will need a bit of sugar, though perhaps not as much as a sweet compote; you want some acidity to stand up to the meat or fish. Incidentally, it would be rather good with duck.

Elderflower cordial, of course, has become the favourite non-alc tipple of British summertime, but the flowers on their own make fabulous fritters, dipped in the lightest of batters and fried until crisp.

Freshness is key when picking. You want pristine sprays, just off-white, with yellow dots of pollen. Harvest them after a sunny morning, when they are at their most fragrant, choosing the ones that smell greenly floral rather than tom-catty. Reject any that are remotely brown or with petals that fall off when cut.

As with all amateur foraging, the usual safety messages apply. Make sure you know what you’re picking (Sambucus nigra is the Latin name, if you want to look it up) and don’t take them from the side of roads or anywhere that might have been sprayed with chemicals.

Once picked, the flowers will keep in the fridge for a few hours, though don’t leave them too long or the fragrance will turn stale.

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