Week 36: Late December - Midwinter greens

Brrrr! I’ve just been down to the lottie to make an executive assessment of what to harvest and cook for the Christmas feast. The water trough is a mini ice rink and every plant is glistening with frost, yet there is an abundance of winter veg in their prime all ready for the holiday table.

Leeks will definitely make an appearance, most likely in my Lavish Leeks in Saffron and Orange Sauce (see recipe from Week 1). From the cabbage patch, some curly kale and Savoy cabbage will go into a traditional German-style dish cooked with apples, red wine vinegar, sugar and cinnamon, decorated (rather untraditionally) with toasted pine nuts and pomegranate seeds.

Heaps of my stored potatoes will get roasted to crisp perfection with rosemary, and I might also make some potato latkes at some point, topped with whipped cream and fresh horseradish. Chard will appear in my special vegetarian pie (see recipe below). The rocket will make a cleansing salad for Boxing Day, perhaps with some caramelised onions, balsamic-roasted beetroot, walnuts and warm goat’s cheese.

For Christmas Eve, I’m planning to initiate some of my now perfectly matured Green Tomato Chutney (see recipe Week 24) for an indulgent show-stopper: Baked Brie wrapped in Filo. (The rest of my chutney will be wrapped for emergency Christmas prezzies, as you never know who might drop by.)

Try this: buy a whole Brie or Camembert—about 5 or 6 inches diameter is fine. Layer 7 sheets of filo pastry, buttering each layer and sprinkling freshly chopped rosemary in between. Place the cheese in the middle and spoon chutney generously on top of it. Any chutney will do, but opt for a spicy one, possibly enhanced with a sprinkling of fennel seeds, nigella (AKA kalonji) seeds and a few chilli flakes. Finish with a layer of chopped walnuts. Wrap the pastry around the cheese, gathering prettily on top, brush the outside with butter and bake in a 200C / 400F oven for 20 minutes, until golden throughout. Then cool for a full 40 minutes before massacring the warm, chutney-glazed, gently oozing cheese encapsulated in delicate filo flakes…ambrosia!

On the one hand, I’m so excited I can barely wait to get cooking; on the other, I’m regretting not planting a few things this year which it’s just not Christmas without, namely Brussels sprouts and parsnips. We tried them the first year and were slightly disappointed with the results. It battered our confidence, which I now see was silly, for if at first you don’t succeed…Luckily I can rectify their absence at the farmers' market this weekend.

We’ll leave Sunday to spend Christmas in Dorset with our family. On the Big Day, a pheasant is usually the bird of choice, shot and hung by a friend, gutted and de-feathered by my father-in-law, stuffed with quinces from the tree outside and roasted simply. For me, the real delights of the table will be the fruits of our allotment labours, and I’ll raise a glass to the bounty of our little North London plot, and to another blessed year of growing, cooking and eating. Cheers and Merry Christmas to one and all!

TIP OF THE WEEK: For the next few weeks, soil improvement will be paramount, and you can keep harvesting, but it’s also the time to relax and take a load off. Read gardening books and seed catalogues by the fire and start to plan for another thrilling year ahead.

Seasonal Recipe: Chestnut, Spinach and Mushroom Filo Torte with tomato and ginger coulis

This is a star centrepiece for Christmas dinner. It’s a beautiful golden pie, full of spice and fresh, rich flavours, enhanced by the brilliant red sauce. The buttery pastry is light and crisp, but olive oil can be substituted to make it entirely vegan. The filling can be made up to a day in advance. It can also be made into individually portioned parcels if preferred.

For the torte:

500g / 1 lb. 4 oz. (trimmed weight) chard or spinach, stalks trimmed, well-washed
2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 medium onions, chopped
3 garlic cloves, chopped
2 tsp. ground coriander
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
2 heaped Tbsp. thick-cut marmalade
400g / 1 lb. cooked, peeled chestnuts, chopped
400g / 1 lb. mushrooms, chopped
salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
5 sheets filo pastry
50g butter, melted

For the coulis:

4 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil
4 cloves of garlic, chopped
2 walnut-size pieces of ginger, peeled and chopped
2 x 400g / 1 lb. tins chopped tomatoes
1 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. dark brown sugar
160ml / ¼ pint / 2/3 cup Madeira wine
salt, pepper and cayenne pepper to taste

To make the torte, place chard leaves or spinach in a large lidded pot, cover and cook until just wilted, stirring occasionally. Drain and allow to cool slightly, then place on a clean tea towel, wring out all excess moisture and chop.

Heat olive oil in the pot over moderate heat and add the onions, mushrooms and spices with some salt and pepper. Sauté until most of the moisture has evaporated. Add the garlic and sauté until fragrant. Stir in the chestnuts and cook for a minute or two, then stir in the chard or spinach and finally the marmalade. Taste for seasoning and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 180C/350F/Gas 4. Using a pastry brush, coat the inside of a 24 cm / 9 ½ inch springform cake tin with melted butter. Moisten a tea towel and unwrap the filo pastry. Take one sheet of filo and cover the rest with the towel to prevent it drying out. Lay the filo sheet inside the tin, pressing it gently into the sides and letting the ends hang over the edges. Brush the pastry lightly all over with butter. Lay another sheet on top at a slightly different radius and repeat the process, buttering each sheet of pastry until completely lined. Spoon in the chestnut mixture and smooth down the top. Fold in the overhanging pastry towards the centre and arrange prettily in standing peaks.

Bake the torte for 30 minutes, then remove from the oven and stand on an upturned bowl with a smaller circumference than the cake tin. Remove the springform and return the torte to the oven for another 20 minutes to crisp up the sides. Let stand for a few minutes before slicing into wedges with a sharp serrated knife.

To make the coulis, heat the olive oil in a pan and add the garlic and ginger. Fry until fragrant, then add the rest of the ingredients. Simmer gently for 20-30 minutes, stirring frequently. Taste for seasoning. Cool briefly and puree. If desired, push through a sieve for an elegant consistency. Reheat gently and serve with the torte. Serves 6-8

*Celia runs Gastrotours at Borough Market in London, which now includes brunch at Roast restaurant as part of the day’s feasting: www.celiabrooksbrown.com

Week 36: Early December - Warm bed to garlic bed

The weekend forecast was for relentless rain, so I slept in on Saturday anticipating that another gardening window was to be missed on the plot. However, I rolled out of bed to find a perfect clear day, so Dan and I went for a late caff breakfast and turned up for duty on the lottie.

No excuses — a rare beautiful day meant it was time to get some garlic planted. I was surprised at how little time it took, which was fortunate, as the promised storm soon gusted in. I made four rows of two inch deep holes with a broom handle, 18 inches apart, in what was this year’s potato bed, now officially rotated from “roots” to “others”. In went four different garlic varieties including the exotic sounding “Albigensian Wight”. I kept two other varieties to plant later.

The instructions on my generous gourmet supply of Isle of Wight Garlic www.thegarlicfarm.co.uk were simple and encouraging. Check their website for some fab gifts and gadgets for garlic-lovers. They promise that, despite the English climate being a bit of a challenge for this warm-weather allium, any amateur can grow good garlic in decent, well-drained soil.

Growing it commercially must be more difficult, but the Isle of Wight has the most sunlight hours of anywhere in the UK, making it as close to a Med-style climate as you are likely to get at this latitude. They also grow some damn fine tomatoes on the said Isle at www.isleofwighttomatoes.co.uk, for sale at farmer’s markets like Marylebone and Borough, though my tomato dealer there informed me on Sunday that this week was probably the last for fresh greenhouse produce until Spring. But they should still be selling their out-of-this-world smoked cherry tomatoes in oil, as well as tomato sauces and juice. I had more or less eliminated tomatoes from the menu since autumn, but if you taste one of their sweet baby Santa plums, all respect for seasonality goes out the window…temporarily.

Which brings me back to the cabbage patch, where the plants are all in full winter glory. You might consider working the Gratin below into your Christmas menu as it’s quite a bombshell.

TIP OF THE WEEK: My Garlic Lover’s Growing Pack was a rather extravagant £21.50, a fun investment for my first attempt. Ordinary garlic from the greengrocers should do just as well for a mere matter of pence. The larger cloves will yield larger bulbs, so don’t bother with the tiny ones near the centre. Break the bulb into segments carefully and use only blemish-free cloves. Plant them in 2” holes, pointy end up, and cover completely with soil so as not to tempt the ever-hungrier birds.

Seasonal Recipe: Cabbage Gratin

Here, the modest cabbage gets dressed to the nines in a creamy golden crust, studded with caraway and lifted with orange zest.

Preheat the oven to 200 C / 400 F / Gas 6. Heat 1 tbsp olive oil in a lidded pan and fry 3 chopped garlic cloves until light golden. Add about 600g shredded Savoy cabbage and season well with salt and pepper. Cover and cook, stirring frequently, until cabbage is tender, about 15 minutes.

Remove pan from the heat. If there is juice in the pan, drain it off. Spoon cabbage into an ovenproof dish and pack down.

Make the custard. Beat together 400ml crème fraiche, 3 egg yolks, 50g grated Cheddar, the finely grated zest of an orange, and the leaves stripped from several thyme sprigs with a pinch of salt. Pour over the cabbage and sprinkle with 1 tsp caraway seeds. Bake for 30-40 minutes, until the top is golden and bubbling around the edges. Makes 4 servings

*Celia runs Gastrotours at Borough Market in London, which now includes brunch at Roast restaurant as part of the day’s feasting: www.celiabrooksbrown.com

Week 35: Late November - Dried and put away

As we ease steadily into winter, I seem to be getting away with quite a lot of procrastination on the lottie. I approached my still-standing runner bean frame with dread the other day, cursing myself for failing to reap the dried-off pods. This is the first year I’ve tried leaving them to dry on the frame, but I feared I’d left it too late — they were appropriately brown and crunchy, but also apparently a little mouldy. However, once snapped open, they revealed perfectly preserved beans sporting an outrageous purple mottled complexion. I excitedly plucked them all off.

Whether they’ll taste good once soaked and boiled remains to be seen — I’ve never seen dried runner beans for sale in the shops or in a recipe. But what they may lack in flavour they have already more than made up for in the glamour department. Once shucked, they amounted to not much more than — well, a hill of beans. But their striking beauty, currently displayed in a glass jar, is pleasing me no end.

Now that I’ve tried this effortless leave-them-on-the-frame-til-they-rattle technique, I’m inspired to try a whole array of beans next year — borlotti, cannellini, butter beans — and I’ll certainly try drying some broad beans this way, to result in the peerless “ful medames”, a completely different vegetable in flavour and texture from their fresh incarnation. Which reminds me, I must get my overwintering broad bean crop sown ASAP…and the garlic and onions…

My leeks aren’t looking quite as robust as last year’s, which is annoying. They suffered rather badly from rust this time, a tale of woe I’ve heard from other gardeners too. In fact, I even found rust in some organic supermarket leeks I was slicing at someone else’s house recently. It must have been that lousy wet summer we had, which also expedited the demise of my tomatoes, aubergines, peas and others. I pulled up a few of the floppier leeks, removed the rusty layers and threw them away — best not risk perpetuating the disease in the compost — and used them in my Thai pumpkin curry (recipe below).

TIP OF THE WEEK: To prevent stored potatoes from sprouting, put an apple or an orange in with them. I’ve got proof of this: one bag with a blackening Clementine in it is sprout-free; another without is sprouting like crazy.

Seasonal Recipe: Thai Pumpkin Curry
Serves 4

This is an unfussy Thai-style curry which sings with fresh flavour. I encourage you to use a sweet, densely-textured pumpkin or squash, though the pungent gravy will make even a bland pumpkin palatable. Make a flavourful stock for this by boiling the well-washed dark leek greens with a sliced carrot or two, some coriander stems and salt for about 20 minutes. This time of year, most of last season’s garlic is starting to germinate, so do remove any sprouts in the cloves as they are bitter.

First make the curry paste. In a blender, whizz together a large handful of roughly chopped coriander, including tender stems and roots of any, 4 large cloves of garlic, 2 large thumbs of ginger chopped, 2 or more fresh green chillies, 5 finely chopped kaffir lime leaves (optional), 2 tsp cumin seeds, and 1 tsp salt, adding just enough water to get the blades moving, until completely smooth.

Heat 2 tbsp vegetable oil in a wide, heavy pan. Gently fry about 1kg peeled pumpkin cubes and 4 sliced leeks with a little salt until leeks are soft. Stir in curry paste and fry for 2-3 minutes. Pour in a 400ml tin of coconut milk and 250ml stock or water, and drop in some extra kaffir lime leaves, if you’ve got them. Taste for seasoning. Simmer until pumpkin is very soft. To thicken the curry, mash a few pieces of pumpkin with a fork and stir through the gravy. Serve with boiled rice.

*Celia runs Gastrotours at Borough Market in London, which now includes brunch at Roast restaurant as part of the day’s feasting: www.celiabrooksbrown.com

Week 34: Mid-November - Thansksgiving corn and a recipe for Harvard beets

I grabbed a few short periods between showers and gusts last weekend to accomplish some tasks on the plot. My beautiful, frilly forest of asparagus ferns finally turned yellow which means time to cut back for winter, so I hacked them down to 1-2 inches off the ground and composted the remains. I’m already full of expectation for those first green spears to emerge in April — it will be the third year for the crowns, which means I can eat them at last!

I finally pulled up the dessicated sweetcorn stalks and found a few ears which I had neglected to harvest. Some were still a bit tender (though not really cookable) — I just sunk my teeth in for a drop of corn-milk to remind me of summer. This cast my mind to my native USA and this week’s big holiday: Thanksgiving. Corn is one of the fundamental symbols of this holiday, as it was learning from the Native Americans how to grow this crop that saved the early Pilgrims from certain demise. It’s now the most prolific crop in the US. Corn derivatives are present in everything from beer, ketchup and candy and toothpaste, batteries and linoleum.

While forking some well-rotted compost through my future garlic bed, I was reminded of one of my early school lessons in my native USA about Thanksgiving Day, in which we were shown pictures of the Native Americans demonstrating a life-saving growing tip to the desperate early English Pilgrims -- burying dead fish in the soil to improve it.

Most years since I’ve lived in the UK (the last 18),Thanksgiving has passed me by like any other day because I can rarely get back to see my Colorado-based family around this busy time of year. So I’ll rarely forge a celebratory feast on the third Thursday of November, but I might just cook one or two dishes symbolic of the occasion. I’ve written down one of my favourites using the season’s beetroot for you to enjoy below.

TIP OF THE WEEK: There’s still plenty of time for planting garlic and overwintering onions. According to www.allotments4all.co.uk, the best day for planting is on the shortest day, and harvesting on the longest day. A plot myth perhaps, but a nice one.

Seasonal Recipe: Harvard Beets
Serves 4-6

Here’s a classic from old New England, the origin of which is a bit muddled. Beetroot red is Harvard’s school colour, so that’s good enough for me. It appeared in “Fannie Farmer’s Cookbook” from her Boston Cooking School in 1896, so it goes back that far at least. I first tasted these at a Thanksgiving feast, when they are a traditional dish, but be warned—once on the plate, everything becomes psychedelic pink—they even dominate the cranberry sauce. I advise serving in separate bowls.

This delicious way with beets is almost more like a confection. I’ll let you in on a secret. One night at home, we were enthusiastically tucking into some Harvard Beets, slurping the gorgeous sweet sauce with spoons. My friend Paul suggested vanilla ice cream. I’m telling you, it was a stroke of genius. Try the blinding fuscia sauce over ice cream and you’ll be astounded…

Bring a large pan of water to the boil. Scrub about 600g beetroots (roughly 12 small or 6 large) but leave their roots and stem in tact. Boil until tender throughout, then cool and rub off the skins, roots and stems.

In a lidded saucepan, combine 100g sugar, 2 tsp cornflour, 60ml cold water, 60ml white wine vinegar and a good pinch of salt. Bring to the boil and simmer for 5 minutes, until thickened and clarified and remove from the heat. Slice the cooked beets and stir through the sweet-sour syrup. Cover and leave for 30 minutes. Just before serving, reheat the beets and stir in 2 tbsp butter.

Week 33: Mid-November - Reap and glow

I’ll be honest — I’ve done little more on the lottie this week than reap, reap, reap my rewards. Although there’s a list of chores as long as my shovel, one good thing about this time of year is that there’s nothing so pressing as to threaten what’s currently thriving. The weeds aren’t much competition and much of the bug life has long perished; the slugs are ever-present but not much of a match for anything edible. There is the issue of frost of course, and it has been pretty chilly, but still far from arctic conditions; I’m preparing for a nasty shock when I try to plunge a fork into frozen ground, but it seems unlikely, as London temperatures haven’t quite hit the zero degree mark for long enough...yet. I’ve set aside Saturday to get on with tasks like dismantling the bean frame and planting garlic and broad beans, as my final deadline for planting these is the end of the month by my calculations.

My energies are focused around the hearth of the kitchen, which is logically a more amenable place to dwell in November. The harvest of the cold months is bountiful, nourishing and colourful. Carbohydrate-rich potatoes are providing much needed wintry energy, featuring in bone-clinging sensations au gratin or mashed into creamy pillows under spicy sausages and gravy. The Pie has ventured into imaginative new territory using pumpkin, beetroot, chard and woody herbs like thyme and sage. I’m consulting the proud culinary traditions of the northern hemisphere for inspiration, and this week nobody does it better than…the Ukraine.

TIP OF THE WEEK If, like me, you are only just getting around to dismantling any long-gone bean frames, remember not to pull up the roots—they should be left to rot in the soil, as they fix nitrogen in it. Simply cut the plant at the bottom, pull out the canes and slide the dead growth off, cutting where necessary.

Seasonal recipe: Ukranian Borshch (Chunky Beetroot Soup with beans and cabbage)

There are multiple variants of Borshch throughout Eastern Europe and Russia, but the Ukraine claims sovereignty over the soup. But then so do the Polish. In any case, my Ukranian stepmother’s version is distinctively chunky, with many types of seasonal vegetables and kidney beans—so chunky that a spoon should stand upright in the pot. Ukrainians also prefer their Borshch hot and aromatic, whereas a smooth Russian Borshch can be served cold.

Take about 500g beetroot and 300g waxy potatoes; wash, peel and cut into small dice. Chop a celery heart and a carrot. Place them in a large soup pan with 1 litre water and generous seasoning. Bring to the boil, reduce to a simmer and cook until the vegetables are tender.

Meanwhile, chop one large onion, a green pepper and 3 cloves garlic, and shred 200g Savoy cabbage. Heat a frying pan over a moderate flame and melt 3 tbsp butter. Cook the onion with the green pepper until soft. Add garlic and cook until fragrant, about 1-2 minutes. Add to the soup pan with 500ml tomato juice and return to a simmer. Add cabbage and 1 tin of drained kidney beans (400g) and cook until the cabbage is barely tender, about 5 minutes.

Perfect the seasoning with about 1-2 tbsp best wine vinegar and 1-2 tbsp brown sugar. Taste and adjust as desired. Serve each bowl hot, with an uncompromised dollop of rich sour cream, crème fraiche or yoghurt and a sprinkling of chopped chives or other herbs. Serves 6-8. (NB: Improves over time and freezes well.)

Week 32: Early November 2007 - Cabbage patch goals

A blanket of crispy leaves is settling over the plot, a gift for the compost heap. I picked three huge fragrant pink roses this morning, but the dominant hues on the lottie are shades of brown and amber. Except the regal brassicas — this is their moment.

Now is the time when the cabbage patch really comes into its own. They love the cold and wet (and some more of the cold and wet would be welcome — last weekend the deckchairs came back out at Bournemouth beach apparently; this climate change is no joke). In the damp chill, plants like kale and Brussels sprouts dispense with their bitterness and fibrousness and sing out to be cooked.

My caulis, kale, Savoy cabbages, and multiple broccoli plants are entering their prime, brightening the landscape with their aqueous blue-green foliage and mighty height. They are virtually indestructible — weeds can’t compete, birds are bored of them, and the tender cores are protected from slugs by the bold outer leaves. These plants are a godsend throughout winter and such good value. And they sure do make good eatin’.

The Greeks loved cabbage but loathed the leftovers — a common saying was “Cabbage cooked twice is death.” As Alan Davidson points out in his Oxford Companion to Food, this was a civilisation that new nothing of bubble and squeak.

The Romans, who introduced domestic cabbages to Britain, were massive fans. Cato said, “The cabbage surpasses all other vegetables. If, at a banquet, you wish to dine a lot and enjoy your dinner, then eat as much cabbage as you wish, seasoned with vinegar, before dinner, and likewise after dinner eat some half-dozen leaves. It will make you feel as though you have not eaten, and you can drink as much as you like.”

Have you ever heard of the “cabbage soup diet”? Hoakum, you may say, but I’m sure if you filled up on a large portion of virtually calorie-free cabbage before your dinner, the pounds would drop off, and you’d get a health-enriching dose of vitamins, minerals, antioxidants, fibre and anti-carcinogenic phytochemicals too. Just don’t overcook it or those terrible school dinner memories will come flooding back!

TIP OF THE WEEK: Unfortunately whitefly also loves cabbage. According to www.mostlyiwillbegrowing.wordpress.com, a mixture of vegetable oil, washing up liquid and water is supposed to kill off the pests.

Seasonal Recipe: Red Lentil and Caramelised Onion Cabbage Parcels

The idea of cabbage with lentils may not send an electrocuting jolt of inspiration through your veins; it is redolent of the bad vegetarian food of yore. But if you open your mind and your taste buds to this marvellously simple dish, you will fall back in love with its humble ingredients. Savoy cabbage leaves, beautifully veiny and fibrous, encapsulate a soft, lemony filling offset by the luxurious sweetness of caramelised onions—no fancy spices are necessary. These tender, salubrious parcels hold their own, though a rich tomato sauce is the ideal companion, along with some rice and a generous dollop of Greek yoghurt. The recipe can easily be multiplied to feed the masses.

Put a large pan of salted water on to boil. Wash 200g red lentils, place them in a small lidded saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring to the boil and skim off the foam. Let them boil rapidly for ten minutes, stirring from time to time, then reduce the heat to a simmer, add some salt and cover. You may need to add a bit more water if they seem to be drying out. Simmer for about 15 minutes, stirring and checking that they’re not burning on the bottom. The resulting consistency should be like porridge.

Meanwhile, take a Savoy cabbage and cut the leaves carefully away from the core, discarding the outermost leaves if they look tough. Shave down any particularly thick stems with a paring knife. Blanch in the boiling water for two minutes only, then refresh in cold water and leave to drain.

Sauté 3 large sliced onions in 1-2 tbsp olive oil over a moderate heat. When they start to go brown, add 1 tbsp sugar. Stir them attentively until nicely caramelised.

Combine the onions, cooked lentils, and the finely grated zest and juice of 1 large lemon. Taste it—you may wish to add more salt. Grind in some pepper. Preheat the oven to 180 C.

Pat dry a cabbage leaf. Place a heaped spoonful of filling in the middle near the base of the leaf. Fold over the sides, then roll it up. Place seam-side down in a greased baking dish. Brush lightly with olive oil or, even better, melted butter. Bake for 20-25 minutes until lightly browned. Serve hot, warm, or cold. Makes 10-12 parcels

Week 31: Early November 2007 - Teasing sunshine

One of my essential annual ceremonies is carving a jack-o-lantern on Hallowe'en. Dan pleaded with me not to waste one of our home-growns solely for the purpose of a lantern, so, leaving it rather late, I swung by the supermarket in the early evening on the 31st to see if I could get the requisite pumpkin for the job. A big round orange one with pale, watery flesh is ideal; they are easy to carve but fairly tasteless for cooking, and I do rather like to keep the lantern going for as long as possible; then there's the rather eccentric pleasure one gets from watching it shrivel and perish in the garden over the coming weeks, resulting in fine compost fodder.

I was surprised to find that the supermarket had sold out of pumpkins several days before, so I had to resort to my own. This year's crop was mostly a dark green-skinned Caribbean variety, much like a kaboucha, courtesy of our plot neighbour Fred. I chose the largest specimen and carved laboriously away through at least two inches of cement-solid neon orange flesh-this required some serious elbow grease. I washed the seeds, saved some for planting and toasted the rest, glazed with a little oil and salt in the oven until golden-delicious! I lit up my pumpkin's freakish face with tealights and placed it outside the front door, consequently attracting a flood of trick-or-treaters, including several young teenagers who hadn't even bothered with a costume but wanted the candy - cheeky sods. The treats ran out within minutes and pumpkin came inside to entertain us with its ghoulish glow for the rest of the evening. I chopped up the left-over facial features and turned them into an incredible sort of bubble and squeak with some fried courgettes from the freezer and a sweet potato. The jack-o-lantern itself is just too good not to eat-the flesh is velvety, sweet and nutty and will feature repeatedly in the rest of the week's menus.

Back at the plot, the list of jobs is awesome but the daylight hours too few. Some early morning sessions will be required to get the ground ready for garlic, winter onions and broad beans. The runner beans have dried off and require shucking and storing, and the bean frame needs dismantling. The brassicas are booming despite the rain-induced slug-fest and it will soon be time to harvest some Savoy cabbage, while the broccolis and caulis have several weeks to go yet. Beetroots and radishes are reaching colossal proportions, but in the urban setting of my plot, I think they are still safe from a hard frost for a little while longer, while I work out where to store them. Pak choi and tatsoi are growing thirstily in the cold frame, landcress is proliferating, chard is ever-abundant, and the rocket has bolted but the leaves are still beautifully tender and peppery. It's an embarrassment of riches in exchange for the minimum effort on my part-I just can't remember what life was like without my lovely allotment.

TIP OF THE WEEK: I stand corrected by reader Emily from Cambridgeshire (see previous column) who says green potatoes are indeed OK to eat (in moderation). Now, as for storing beetroot, I'll be taking a tip from www.allotment.org.uk which has a fantastic section on storing veg. They suggest getting some banana boxes from the supermarket-usually in a pile somewhere near the tills; if not, just ask-they're tough, ventilated and stackable. The roots can be stored in the box in layers separated with damp packing material such as peat or leafmould. Now I just need a cool storage room - quite a premium in North London!

Seasonal recipe: Gratin of Roasted Garlic & Squash (or Pumpkin)

A pretty outrageous dish, homely though it may sound, this is a real crowd-pleaser. Squash is such a loose term-opt for a "posh pumpkin"-one with a dark orange, creamy, dense flesh. Butternut, kaboucha, crown prince, iron bark and onion squash are all good bets.

Preheat the oven to 220 C / 425 F / Gas 7. You'll need about 2kg worth of squash or pumpkin. Chop the stem off, cut in half and remove seeds, then cut into thick wedges and pare off the skin. Cut into large chunks or slices. Scatter over 8 whole cloves of garlic and 8 sage leaves. Drizzle with 3 Tbsp olive oil and toss to coat with your hands, then season with salt and pepper. Bake for 20-30 minutes, until tender and lightly browned around the edges. Leave to cool slightly.

Scoop everything into a bowl and mash it all together with a potato masher until crushed, but not entirely smooth. Stir through 250g Gruyere, cut into cubes. Spoon into a presentable, greased gratin dish. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until golden and bubbly. Serve right away. Serves 4-6

*Celia runs Gastrotours at Borough Market in London, which now includes brunch at Roast restaurant as part of the day’s feasting: www.celiabrooksbrown.com

Week 30: late October 2007 - Teasing sunshine

It seems we've seen more of the sun this October than we did most of the dreary summer. There have been many perfect autumnal days for gardening recently, but they're just too short. So we've been scrambling to keep up at weekends, but hardly setting foot on the plot on weekdays due to other commitments. As I was peering through the fence on my way home the other evening, an older gentleman passed me and said, "Gosh, some people have really let their plots go here, haven't they?" He had just walked past my neighbour Fred's plot, which is immaculate, manicured, raked to the finest tilth and weed-free. Yes, compared to his, ours is a disgrace, but Fred is retired and has a little more time on his hands.

The stranger's comment inspired me to get up extra early the next morning. I dragged Dan out of bed and we dug up all the potatoes before breakfast and had a tidy-up. Actually, it's a fabulous, energising way to start the day. We left the potatoes to dry on the surface, then collected them later in the wheelbarrow. I recently read about a storage technique called "clamping" for potatoes, where you build pyramids of spuds and cover them with straw or bracken and earth, but as we're a bit short of dry ground space, I think large paper bags will be the best storage method for us. The lad in the Turkish shop promised us some bags by the end of this week, so I'm hoping the taters will survive frost-free in the shed until then.

Some beastie had half of my newly planted spring cabbage seedlings for dinner, despite rigorous defenses mounted against birds and slugs, but three are still hanging in there. The leeks have made a valiant recovery since looking sadly rusty for a while there - they're standing tall and putting on winter weight which I'm delighted about. The next important job is to get all my other alliums planted — Japanese winter onions, shallots and my dizzying garlic selection — before even the mornings get too short to make use of. Of course the lack of daylight is in no way limiting in the kitchen, where I am happily drowning in pumpkins, beetroot, apples, radishes, potatoes, potatoes and potatoes…

TIP OF THE WEEK: It's an area of some debate, but be sure you throw away any green potatoes, which contain poisonous chemicals generated as part of their self-defense system. Some people just cut the green bits off, but it's safer to throw the whole potato away, or you risk a dodgy tummy.

Seasonal Recipe: Roasted Spiced Pumpkin Soup with tamarind

Imagine if velvet could bite, and you get some idea of what this soup tastes like. Use a dense orange-fleshed pumpkin or squash (such as butternut) weighing about 1.3 kg / 3 lbs. for the recipe, to allow for peeling and deseeding.

Preheat the oven to 200 C / 400 F / Gas 6. Peel and deseed your pumpkin and weigh out about 1 kg of flesh, then cut into chunks. Place in a roasting tin. Sprinkle over 1 tsp. crushed coriander seed and 1 tsp. cumin seed, 6 whole peeled garlic cloves, one 6cm piece ginger peeled and chopped, salt and pepper. Dribble over 3-4 tbsp olive oil and toss with your hands to coat evenly. Roast for 30-40 minutes, giving it a stir once or twice, until the pumpkin is very soft. Cool slightly. Scrape into a pan and add 1 litre vegetable stock and 2 Tbsp tamarind paste OR 2 tsp Worcestershire sauce. Bring to the boil, then simmer very gently for 10 minutes. Puree until totally smooth, then serve in warm bowls with a dribble of cream or yoghurt and toasted pumpkin seeds sprinkled over the top. Serves 4-6

Week 29: mid October - Garlic and God

I just hugged the postman. Well, almost. I’d all but given up on my garlic seed stock ordered by post, what with the recent postal strike and all, but it’s just arrived: The Garlic Lover’s Growing Pack from The Garlic Farm on the Isle of Wight. For years I’ve been enjoying their yummy products from Marylebone Farmers’ Market - their Vampire’s Revenge relish is a firm favourite — but I’ve yet to grow my own. Garlic is one of the few things that can be planted this time of year for spring and summer harvesting, so I’ve really gone to town by ordering their seven-variety selection, complete with very sound instructions for growing in the UK climate, plus recipes and tips on harvesting and storing. There’s Elephant Garlic and rare varieties originating from Kazakstan, China, the Languedoc…and enough to supply the entire neighbourhood. Dracula beware!

Last week I mentioned organic gardener extraordinaire Charles Dowding, whose “no-dig” philosophy I had read about. By chance, I ran into him at an exhibition at the Royal Horticultural Society last week, where he had a magnificent display of salad leaves and other edibles, as well as his book, “Organic Gardening: The Natural No-Dig Way.” Inspired by the serendipity, I tried my first “no-dig” planting of six spring cabbage seedlings. Charles insists that there is no need to turn the earth—in fact, it’s damaging—but with plenty of well-rotted organic matter laid on top, the earthworms do all the work naturally. It’s certainly worth a try, even on my pebbly North London clay. After planting in a layer of loose compost, I also laid a sheet of anti-weed fabric shot with copper thread around the seedlings, which weeds and slugs cannot abide (weeds don’t grow, slugs get the equivalent of an electric shock).

The vicar had asked us to provide a display for the altar for the Harvest Festival service, so we made a cornucopia out of a wheelbarrow full of goodies—some edible, some merely decorative, and wheeled it across the street to the church. (NB: the vicar comes up quite often in this blog, and a reader asked me if I have “found God”…may I just say we are more than happy to do this as a favour to the very friendly vicar who we frequently run into and who has generously sated us with Pimm’s and champagne in exchange for fresh veg over the course of the summer; also it was a great way to get rid of those over-sized courgettes and beans). The result was a rather fabulous show of Nature’s bounty; I suspect God approved. We missed the service.

It’s curtains for the courgettes—the last three came in along with the final sweetcorn yesterday. But there’s so much more still thriving—beetroot, radishes, rocket, chard, spinach, leeks, and all the brassicas, while several pumpkins and a dozen clusters of onions, beautifully plaited by Dan, await the cooking pot. Sunny weather is promised for the next three days, so I must get out there and dig up all the potatoes, leave them to dry in the sun, then store them for the cold months in thick paper bags—my local Turkish grocer has promised to save me some from his Cypriot deliveries.

TIP OF THE WEEK: If planting Spring cabbage seedings, be sure to cover with some netting held up with sticks or posts to protect them from increasingly cold and hungry pigeons.

Seasonal Recipe: Beetroot and Coconut Soup with Cucumber Salsa

This soup is an absolute stunner. Coconut and beetroot are often cooked together in South India, which is the inspiration for this exciting soup. The shocking pink beetroot is made even brighter on a canvas of milky coconut—and the exotic flavours really do match up to the brilliant appearance.

Bring a large pan of water to the boil and salt it well. Add 500g scrubbed whole beetroot and boil for 30-40 minutes, until tender throughout (test with a skewer or sharp knife). Drain, then rinse under cold water and rub off the skins, tops and spindly roots. Chop coarsely.

Meanwhile, make the salsa by mixing together a 5cm piece cucumber, peeled, deseeded and very finely chopped, 1 shallot, peeled and finely chopped, 10 mint leaves, finely chopped, 1 red chilli, deseeded and finely chopped, a squeeze of lemon juice and a pinch of salt.

In the rinsed-out boiling pan, bring 1 litre / 4 cups well-flavoured vegetable stock to the boil. Add a 200g creamed coconut block, chopped, and stir until dissolved.

Take the beetroot and place in a blender with 4 cloves roughly chopped garlic, 1-2 tsp ground cumin, finely grated zest and juice of a lemon, and about 200ml water. Puree until smooth. Add the beetroot puree to the boiling coconut stock. (You can swirl some coconut stock around the blender to get out every last bit of puree.) Bring to the boil and simmer for 10 minutes. Serve in warm bowls with a spoonful of salsa on top. Serves 4-6

Week 28: early October - Brassicas and books

I have yet to get out my winter coat, but the nights must be getting very cold — the rhubarb is sulking and has flattened itself out. I’ll grab one final harvest, strip the plant and bid adieu until early Spring. I’ve made a note to find a forcing vessel —possibly just a bucket will do — to put over the mulched root base in late winter to encourage tall, tender, hot pink shoots to emerge. It will be one of the first visible signs of Spring.

Meanwhile, the brassicas are really loving life, looking more pert and robust every day. A few cauliflower curds are forming, the Savoy cabbages are healthy infants, and the purple sprouting broccoli promises to deliver some serious goods.

A friend who recently moved to Holland contacted me today to ask advice. She’s just acquired a 100m-square allotment and wondered if I could recommend a good book to get her started. (If anyone out there has a suggestion, please let us know —scroll down to the bottom of this column and use the “Have Your Say” box.) I’m just embarking on year three on my plot, so the learning curve is still steep. I suspect that with gardening, like with cooking, one develops a sort of informed intuition about things over time, but the subject is never complete and there’s always more to learn and discover, which is part of the fun. Also, you’ll always get conflicting opinions.

So far my most helpful resources have been my fellow allotmenteers, a few books, websites and magazines. Allotment Gardening: An Organic Guide for Beginners by Susan Berger is a really good starting manual, with concise yet thorough instructions on planning, crop rotation, and soil improvement, with emphasis on the holistic.

By stark contrast, The Vegetable Expert by Dr. D.G. Hessayon (mentioned two weeks ago) is quite cavalier with the chemical warfare recommendations, but has been the most useful book for reference to particular plants — how far apart to sow, how deep, etc.

The Allotment Book by Andi Clevely is a lavishly illustrated hardback full of great stuff which makes cosy bedtime flicking, but frankly hasn’t made it down to the plot yet. I can also highly recommend the magazine Kitchen Garden. A recent article about organic grower Charles Dowding and his no-dig philosophy turned my thinking upside-down. I’m sure all this reading material will start to become even more useful as the cold sets in and decisions about which tasks to tackle on the lottie become less obvious. We’re still busy now though, with some new winter plants from the garden centre, and a request from our new friend the vicar to put together a harvest festival display for the church this weekend.

TIP OF THE WEEK: Frost is imminent. Harvest your roots and squashes and store indoors in a cool, dry place.

Seasonal Recipe: Marinated Crudite Salad

Here’s a fantastic way of preparing late-season raw vegetables which will keep in the fridge for a few days, ready to munch on any occasion. They’re quite addictive and make an uber-healthy snack.

Use whatever veggies you have right now: a pepper, a clutch of runner beans, a courgette or two, a cucumber, a few sticks of celery, a fennel. If the vegetable lends itself to being cut into strips, do so; others can be cut into similar size pieces (ie. beans, fennel.) Place them all in a bowl and sprinkle with 1 tbsp sea salt. Toss with your hands to coat evenly. Transfer to a colander and leave over the sink or a bowl for 3-4 hours, tossing occasionally. When the juices have been drawn out and the vegetables are soft, place back in the rinsed-out bowl and stir through 1-2 tbsp rice vinegar or fresh lemon juice and 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil. Refrigerate and eat cold. Makes several healthy snacks or salad additions

Week 27: Late September - Autumn slowdown

What must have been the very last gasp of summer happened on Saturday, and while I should have — or could have — been ticking off chores down on the plot, I found myself in somebody else’s garden on the Dorset coast. I was visiting Michael Michaud and his wife Joy, who grow all manner of exotic veg but specialise in chillies. If you watched Jamie Oliver’s recent programme, it was all about peppers, and while it appeared that Jamie had grown them himself, most had actually been supplied by the Michauds. They provide chilli enthusiasts all over the UK with exceptional varieties including the hottest chilli in the world, the Dorset Naga www.dorsetnaga.com, which they spent four years developing from a plant originally bought in Bournemouth by way of Bangladesh. I’ve visited their smallholding before, but this was the first time since I’ve become an allotment gardener. While I like to think of myself as a burgeoning horticulturalist, to see what they are up to with their acres of polytunnels makes me feel positively harebrained, but it’s truly inspirational to see their passion manifested in capsicum form. Check out their offerings at Peppers by Post www.peppersbypost.biz and Really Cool Seeds www.reallycoolseeds.com.

As well as picking up some fantastic tips — like using old bathtubs as herb or root beds, propped slightly at an angle for good drainage — I also picked a good time to drop by on the Michauds, as Joy had just packed and posted the latest harvest of poblano chillies — mild, greenish-red and about the size of two fists, and had a box of flawed specimens destined for the compost heap. “I can’t sell these,” she said, though they were all virtually perfect but for a scuff or tiny brown patch. “If you can use them, great, if not, your compost heap is as good as ours.” She’ll be pleased to know that all 20 or so got used up between a ratatouille, a roasted pepper salsa and a simple but sensational Sunday lunch dish of poblanos stuffed with tomatoes, garlic, olives and capers (see recipe below). One taste of these babies—sweet, succulent and with a little zing of heat—and you wonder why we put up with those watery Dutch supermarket excuses for peppers.

Back on our own turf, we’ve been ruminating over how we could fit in a mini-polytunnel, or at least a real greenhouse, and have a proper go next year with peppers and aubergines. It’s getting cold now, and what’s left is slowing down, but still filling the trug bountifully.

TIP OF THE WEEK: If you have had success growing chillies, remember they store brilliantly in the freezer and can be frozen whole and simply held under a hot tap for a few seconds to instantly defrost before use.

Seasonal Recipe: Piedmontese Poblanos

Elizabeth David first brought Piedmontese Peppers our way in her Italian Food in the 50s. Forty years later, Delia Smith penetrated nearly every British household with her version, and now Jamie’s done his! The original uses red peppers and anchovies. Jamie adds chillies and bacon. Here’s one of mine.

Preheat oven to 200 C. Cut 4 poblanos or 4 ordinary red peppers in half from stem to base. Carefully cut away the seeds, but leave just the stem in tact. This will help them hold their shape. Lay the peppers in a roasting dish, cut side up. Cut 4 plum tomatoes in quarters and place two tomato quarters in each pepper half (or chunks of vine tomatoes). Tuck several garlic slices into each. Tear fresh basil and tuck in, plus a few good quality black olives and a few capers. Follow with a generous glug of olive oil, a dribble of balsamic vinegar, and season generously with salt and pepper. Roast the peppers for 30-40 minutes or until they are starting to blacken around the edges. Eat hot, warm or cold, with bread. Serves 4

*Celia runs Gastrotours at Borough Market in London, which now includes brunch at Roast restaurant as part of the day’s feasting: www.celiabrooksbrown.com

Week 26: Mid September - Last of the salad days

Saturday was a perfect day. The sun was warm and there was barely a whisper of a breeze. We nestled our six pumpkins on mini-pillows of home-made hay and cleared away foliage so they can take advantage of the ripening rays. All the resident cats were out sunbathing, ignoring each other, too lazy to flinch at the unchallenging pigeons or unattainable squirrels. I indulged Puggie (so named on his collar), a ridiculously soppy moggy, in a stroking session as I sat in the sun leafing through my copy of The Vegetable Expert by Dr D.G. Hessayon. This is an extremely useful, comprehensive guide with a section for every veg on how to handle “Troubles”, though his solutions are all quite heavy-handed with the chemicals at the first sign of a problem.

Our Swedish neighbour wandered over for a chat and offered us each a jam jar full of red wine. Now that’s a lotta-allotment hospitality. She’s already given us a box of her home-grown sleepy tea with lavender, calendula and lemon balm which had me nodding off in my novel every night last week, and she watered for us while we were away in August. She’s been rather unlucky with her patch; it’s tucked away in the corner under two enormous juniper trees which sap the soil’s nutrients and block the sun, so she’s cleverly chosen mainly herbs and flowers which can tolerate such conditions. I cut her a big bag of rocket and chard as a thank-you.

But I must confess, just before returning home I snapped off five ripe ears of sweetcorn and selfishly kept them all for our tea. Not wasting any time, we got them home, boiled them and tucked into a buttered-sweetcorn frenzy, gnawing fervently with groans of delight, vowing to grow a greater quantity next year. Some of the cobs have turned out to be rather strange mutants: we planted yellow and white types together, and some have several hugely overgrown kernels of both colours. The plants do cross-pollinate, so we seem to have grown our own hybrid. What they lack in physical perfection they more than make up for in flavour, which is actually an axiom for all home-grown produce.

TIP OF THE WEEK: Thin out beetroot seedlings so that individual roots have room to bulge. Walnut-size baby beetroot are wonderful roasted in the oven with honey and balsamic vinegar, as are fully mature ones cut into wedges. In all cases — from the thinnings to the mature — always make the most of the delicious greens as in the recipe below.

Seasonal Recipe: Creamed Beetroot Greens

It astonishes me that many vegetable vendors and cooks throw away the luscious greens of the beetroot. A veg man in Wales once insisted I was a savage when I relieved him of an enormous box of beetroot greens destined for the rubbish bin. It’s always worth asking in the market if they have some stashed away.

I think they taste best when treated these two ways. Brown some chopped onion in butter in a lidded pan. Add some chopped garlic and sauté until fragrant. Add washed, coarsely chopped beetroot greens, stir and cover. Cook for 3-5 minutes, stirring now and then, until just wilted. They will reduce to about a third of their original volume.

Or serve them in a bright pink, creamy sauce by following the same method and adding a tablespoon of plain flour after the garlic. Cook for a couple of minutes, stirring, and pour in some milk to make a roux. When the sauce thickens, add the beetroot greens, cover and cook until wilted.

Celia runs Gastrotours at Borough Market in London, which now includes brunch at Roast restaurant as part of the day’s feasting. For more information please visit www.celiabrooksbrown.com/gastrotours.php

Week 25: Mid September - Last of the salad days

If I do say so myself, last week’s green tomato chutney turned out to be phenomenal, and that’s before it’s even had a chance to mature. It’s made me feel much better about losing the tomato crop, as I’ll be reaping the rewards through countless passionate cheese and biscuit sessions, and I also now have my first set of Christmas presents ready for labelling. I used the recipe as published last week, doubling it and adding some red grapes in the mix, though I think it’s the spices that made it: black mustard, fennel and nigella seeds and a pinch of fenugreek.

We’ve been squeezing out the last of the Salad Days practically every evening: rocket, tomato (the few that survived), spring onion, runner beans, grated carrot, parsley, mint and potatoes, usually with boiled egg, grilled halloumi or tuna. Most hot dinners are currently served on a bed of steamed or buttered chard and spinach, and leftovers are making appearances in colcannon and bubble & squeak. Our rhubarb is, remarkably, still delicious and our neighbour’s apples continue to gush into our territory and have made it into crumbles, chutney and lunch boxes. The bounty seems endless but, alas, autumn is undeniably upon us.

Time to think about what to do over the next few months. There are quite a few bald patches now — I intend to devote quite a lot of space to garlic; Japanese onions can go in now as well apparently, though I’ve yet to try them; shallots too — one can never get enough of the allium family. Early September is also a good time to plant green manure — plants which enrich the soil and protect its fertility as well as preventing weed growth. The internet is very helpful for finding out about this sort of thing; check out www.allotment.org.uk where they have a month-to-month guide.

TIP OF THE WEEK: The last word on runner beans: most will be too tough to eat now. If the weather stays relatively dry, it should be possible to leave them on the plant to dry out completely. Then the beans can be easily extracted, stored in an airtight container, and cooked as you would other dried beans.

Seasonal Recipe: Guilt-Free Chocolate Courgette Cake

OK, so it’s not low-fat or low-sugar, but it’s made with the healthiest ingredients and tastes totally indulgent. The courgette makes it beautifully moist and it’s a doddle to make. You can use an overgrown courgette for this—just take out the seeds. Measure the grated courgette by volume in a measuring jug. For the most heavenly cocoa powder, and certainly the most exquisite handmade chocolates I’ve ever come across, visit Melt in Ledbury Road, Notting Hill.

Preheat the oven to 180C. In one bowl combine 340g wholemeal self-raising flour, 50g pure cocoa powder, 1 tsp salt, and 1 tsp mixed spice. In another bowl combine 180ml extra virgin olive oil, 380g golden caster sugar, 3 organic eggs, 2 tsp vanilla essence, and 500ml grated courgette. Combine the dry mixture and wet mixture, then fold in 150g toasted hazelnuts or walnuts, chopped. Pour into two greased loaf tins or a 24cm cake tin and bake for about 40-50 minutes, or until a knife inserted into the middle comes out clean. Cool for 10 minutes then turn out onto a wire rack. Enjoy!

Week 24 - early September: Chemical warfare

I brushed off the tomato blight situation rather stoically last week, but we’ve since had to cull the entire crop. I thought there might be hope for the unripe fruit, until on closer inspection, I realized that the brown patches were increasing so rapidly that it was measurable within a few hours. With a heavy heart, we plucked off all the seemingly unaffected, mostly green fruits and ripped the colossal plants — all dripping with ruined tomatoes — out if the ground and did away with them. Our fellow allotmenteers don’t appear to have blight, though one neighbour said hers all fell off before they were ripe. Perhaps the wet, warmish and thoroughly disappointing summer provided the perfect conditions, as well as growing them a bit too close together. I fear it’s terminal for summers to come…an inquest of sorts will now commence; please send your advice!

The ruined pea crop was less depressing because we harvested the best of them before we went on our travels and they were nearing the end anyway. But now my worries have turned to the leeks. Leeks were my prize crop last year, lasting right through to early Spring; the current crop has patches of rust, which is apparently a rare but irreversible problem. I’ve removed and destroyed the affected leaves but I now fear for the longevity of the slightly tattered plants. My organic ambitions may have to give way to chemical warfare at this rate, but I’m weighing up the options.

We’ve pulled up the gorgeous, fat onions and put them on a large rack which we liberated from a derelict shed and put them in our cold frame, constructed from a discarded wardrobe and some sheets of glass. This should be the perfect place for them to dry off before we store them in the kitchen. Beans and courgettes are slowing down, but there is a lot more sumptuous sweetcorn to be had. There is so much to do but the nights really are drawing in now. Time to make the first batch of chutney.

TIP OF THE WEEK: Last week I recommended cooking podded runner beans once they get too tough, but failed to mention that they are quite difficult to extract from the pod. I find snapping the pod where each bean is makes it somewhat easier. If you have scarlet runner beans you’ll know why by the red flowers they produced but also by the day-glo pink colour of the mottled beans; gorgeous! Unfortunately they turn grey when cooked, which is probably why they aren’t so popular eaten this way. Boil or steam them for a good 8-10 minutes until very tender and serve with butter and fresh chopped herbs.

Seasonal Recipe: Green Tomato Chutney

This can be multiplied as needed.

Compile a 1.5 kilo mixture of green tomatoes, peeled and cored apples, and peeled onions, and chop (you could also use courgettes or peppers to make up the 1.5k weight). Place in a large preserving pan with 1 tbsp salt and bring to the boil, then simmer for 20 minutes. Add 125g sultanas, 500g light brown sugar, 250ml cider or wine vinegar, 2 tbsp brown mustard seeds and your choice of spices: a few cloves, 2-3 tsp coriander seeds, cumin seeds, crushed chilli, etc. Return to the boil, stirring to dissolve sugar, and simmer for about half an hour, until the mixture is very thick.

Ladle into hot sterilized jars (clean jars which have been left in a moderate oven for 10 minutes) and seal. Ready to eat in one month.

www.celiabrooksbrown.com

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