Big fat Chestnuts

I really should listen to my children a bit more, they are far more vigilant at this foraging lark than we are.

At the park yesterday Adam and I were sitting on a bench enjoying the unseasonal warmth while Willow, Xanthe and their friend frolicked in the distance. Willow periodically mithered us to 'come and look', assuming it was yet another dance show of some description we demurred. However, Willow knows how to get our attention and mentioned the word 'walnut'. Walnuts you say? Now that's different ....

"No, not walnuts, that's not what I mean, the spiky ones, like in the park but edible", "Chestnuts?", "Yes! That's it, chestnuts!"

Last year's chestnut forage was a bit lacklustre. Our usual tree had bizarrely small nuts but I managed to find another with not quite so small nuts so all was not lost but it wasn't bounteous either. However, this year, Willow's new tree was amazing. Adam actually held up one of the chestnuts and scoffed "well, this is clearly a conker, you never get sweet chestnuts this big!" but he was wrong, it was a sweet chestnut. All of them are big, fat, shiny and beautiful. Certainly the biggest chestnuts we've found to date. 15 minutes picking gave us 4lbs of chestnuts.

It's interesting to read last year's blog post. It seems that in 2008 the chestnuts fell in early November. 2009 was a dry Autumn producing under-developed nuts which fell earlier - late September/early October while this year's wet Autumn has produced bigger, later nuts. Adam's hoping to log a couple of decade's worth of chestnut related data so he can produce graphs and suchlike illustrating the correlation between nut size, weather and ripening. Yes, dear reader, I did marry a geek - we all have our cross to bear.

Oh, and we forgot our most basic of nut foraging rules - wear a hat. Adam was narrowly missed by falling spiky chestnut case and I whacked my head on a low hanging branch and have a bleeding scalp to show for my efforts.

So, yeah, wear a hat!

There's Not Mush Room inside ....

Today, I was soooo tempted to write a whole ranty post about the Parish Council sternly writing to me (as secretary of the Allotment Association) with the rather joyless phrase "the allotments are for the purpose of growing vegetables, they are not playgrounds for children" in response to a complaint from a grumpy nearby householder which was taken at face value and not given even the most cursory of investigations. But as you can see, I decided not to do that.

(Deep breath)

What I decided to do instead was write a post about parasol mushrooms and how astonishing they are.

Adam and I are very much novices on the mushroom gathering front which I guess puts us in the category of Enthusiastic Amateurs Most Likely to Poison Themselves but we're slowly building our repertoire.

Driving past Brewer's Green the other day we spotted mushrooms so huge they were instantly visible from the road so we screeched to a halt and got out of the car to investigate. They were about a foot high and the top was easily the size of a large dinner plate, we took a couple of specimens home to identify but our confidence was dented when a dog walker sprinted over to us as we were leaving and tried to convince us they were poisonous, but despite the ominous portent we pressed on.

Happily, the dog walker was wrong. I've no idea where she got her identification from but we were careful, did a spore print etc and identified them as parasols.

I cooked them simply, fried in olive oil and garlic. The most astonishing thing I thought was how dramatically the mushrooms shrank when cooked. The cap was easily 30 or 40 cm across but by the time the water had been driven off, it was barely enough to feed 2 of us for lunch. Although, saying that, am I the only one to find wild mushrooms incredibly filling?

A nutting crook in hand, I turn'd my steps towards the distant woods

We seem to be in nut season once more, locally at least, the walnuts are tumbling down again. Adam went out to do a tour of our local trees on Saturday morning where he met nut gathering competition in the form of (in his words) a 'proper nutter'. Apparently a broom and a wicker basket doth a proper nutter make. Although I was surprised to hear that our rival was hatless which is a schoolboy error in our book, on a windy day a high velocity walnut can be painful on a bare head.

According to Adam's account, the two men circled each other like wary tigers, exchanging cagey pickling vs drying information, both careful to boast that their respective 2009 nut stores were prodigious enough to have not yet run out.

I pointed out that Adam may have carrier bags rather than a wicker basket but he was, nonetheless, also a proper nutter. He seemed wounded by the suggestion, pointed out his Converse, twisted his baseball cap backwards and claimed to be a 'Street Nutter'.

Yes dear, whatever you say.

Anyway, our walnut foraging tips are:

The best time to go is early in the morning after a windy night. Nuts will have fallen overnight and if you're out at first light you'll beat the proper nutters and catch the worm (or something)

Be wary of getting the juice from the green cases on your fingers. Walnuts are used to make dye and will stain like nothing else. Once your hands and finger nails are black there is nothing you can do other than live with the mechanic look til your skin renews itself and the discoloured nails have grown out. On the bright side, you can measure the new nail growth and plot their progress on a graph.

Further to the above, try to squash any walnuts still in their case with your foot to get them out. Failing that wear rubber gloves to prise them out - not gardening gloves as they're not waterproof and the juice seeps through.

In my humble opinion fresh, wet walnuts have a horrible, bitter taste. I much prefer them dry. I dried mine by putting them in onion nets and laying them on the floor in front of a radiator. If they don't seem to be drying fast enough they can be put into a very low oven with the door open or an airing cupboard may work. Once dry they will keep for ages, we have some a year old which are still fine to eat.

By the way, that poem 'Nutting' by Wordsworth, why is he taking a nutting crook with him if the hazels are in bloom and, presumably, haven't actually formed any nuts yet?

Foraging #Fail

Waaaah! What a day (that's sarcasm by the way). We were over in Great Yarmouth visiting the in-laws and decided to take the opportunity to harvest some Sea BuckThorn berries. Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall made Sea BuckThorn Jelly on River Cottage a couple of years ago. Last year we realised that the bushes with silver grey leaves and vivid orange berries which are numerous in the Great Yarmouth area were your actual Sea BuckThorn. Sadly we were a bit too late and the berries had started to shrivel so I added it to my 2010 wish list and patiently waited a whole year to try again.

This afternoon we dutifully pitched up, ice cream tubs in hand, and though the bushes weren't quite as laden with berries as they were last year, there was still a respectable amount so we thought 500g would be a cinch.

Well you know what thought did (as my old Nan used to say)

Picking them is devilish tricky. Hugh warns about the thorns but we didn't find them too much of a problem, the real issue is the fragile nature of the tiny, blackcurrant sized berries. They don't hang in long stalked clusters like elderberries, each little orange orb has a short stalk which seems to be attached directly to a main branch and the slightest pressure causes them to explode at an astonishing velocity. One I popped at waist height splattered orange juice right over my shoulder.

It became obvious very early on that this was going to be a lengthy task and we quickly asked ourselves if it was worth the effort. We tasted a few berries and the refreshing, fragrant, astringent taste was intriguing enough for us to press on.

I'd guess at least 25% of those we picked popped on contact. Very slow, careful, gentle picking for about an hour barely yielded 100g of berries. When the juice had smothered our hands and found it's stinging way into every tiny break in the skin we'd previously failed to notice, we gave up. Regular readers will know I expect to weigh my hauls in stones, not grams, so I was not terribly pleased. Still, I hoped we had enough for me to make a small, half pint jelly.

Back home I got to work. I simmered the berries in a little water til they were soft and then passed them through a sieve, added Cointreau and sugar to counterbalance the astringency and tasted.

Hmm.

Rather disappointing if the truth be told. I was rather heavy handed with both the alcohol and the sugar and the resulting juice seemed to taste merely of sweet oranges. I pressed on with the gelatine and made 2 small glass bowls of fairly insipid orange jelly.

So that was worth the effort then.

Still, at least a took a few nice photos for the blog while we were out there, let's take a look. Nope, that's one's blurred (don't you just hate it when they look fine on the camera screen but the unforgiving laptop screen shows up every shake) and that one, and that one. In fact, the only usable one is the one you're looking at up there.

So that's it, I think I should call it a day before I cock something else up. Time to snuggle up on the sofa with a nice glass of red to sooth my rattled culinary ego. Except there's none in the house and now it's 5.20pm on Sunday which, in this part of Norfolk, means that all alcohol buying options shut over an hour ago.

*sob*

# Update. The jelly was actually really good in the end!

Allotment vs Foraging # 2

You may remember my recent bleat about the lack of allotment produce we were getting compared to the amount of free fruit we merely rock up and pick with no input on our part at all. Fortunately, our Autumn crops are now coming into their own and beginning to redress the balance. Our pumpkins are picked and have been stored on our old, coverless mini greenhouse frame in the garage, the borlotti beans are ready, the sweetcorn is mostly ripe, cavollo nero is ready to eat, leeks are ready (and have been a revelation, so sweet and fragrant), rainbow chard still going strong and the courgettes are still producing marrows (please, God, let them stop soon!) Oh and the runner beans we now detest are busting out all over in the cooler Autumn weather, I have to confess they're going straight on the compost heap at the moment.

So the allotment brings it's score back up, but foraging fought back with our new discovery - the wild Quince tree. You may recall that last year we lost the wild Japonica Quince which grew right by our house. It caused some distress at the time but our new discovery is even better because it's a traditional Quince tree with the larger, yellow fruit so they're less fiddly to work with and you get more flesh per peel if you see what I mean.

My slightly guilty secret is that the location of this tree is truly exceptional. I would love to blog it but when it comes to foraging discretion is the better part of valour so I'll save that post til I'm in my dotage and the foraging is all behind me. We visited the site at the weekend and came back with (wait for it ......) 25 kilos of Quinces! (what is the correct plural by the way, Quince or Quinces?) Have to admit I felt a bit guilty taking so much in case we've stumbled on someone else's treasured foraging spot, however, we did leave loads of fruit on the tree plus we'll probably give quite a lot away as I'm not sure even I can process 25 kilos so it's not all for us.

So - foraging staged a strong comeback. The main advantage of foraging is the lack of effort on our part. No stress, no pruning, watering or molly coddling the crops. No dealing with local householders raising a petition against our sheds, no fly tipping from said householders and no vandalising of the marker pegs we spent an afternoon measuring out ......

These veggies had better be bloody tasty to make up for the hassle.

Allotment vs Foraging

The wheel of the year seems to have nudged on a notch and it suddenly feels like we're peering at Autumn. I find myself taking refuge from the chilly air in a steamy kitchen, heated by a bubbling pan, all of which feels oddly familiar.

Fruit is finally ripe in the hedgerows, although it is somewhat eccentric and patchy, certainly not as bounteous as last year. When we were on holiday up north we filled a carrier bag with blackberries in less than half an hour on the way back from the pub, however, back in Norfolk when we visited Wortham Ling we struggled to fill a tea cup. More worryingly, a large number were dusty, malformed stubs, having not even developed to the point of tight green knots like their brethren.

Today, Willow and I went to carry on the cherry plum/yellow bullace harvest. Before our holiday we managed to quickly scrabble 2 kilos of just ripe cherry plums from our usual stomping ground and stored them in the freezer. My intention today was to finish the job but I struggled to find a single kilo of yellow bullace and a further kilo of cherry plums. Whereas last year we easily gathered a total of about 10 kilos in half the time.

I guess that illustrates how bad conditions have been this year which is strangely comforting with regard to the allotment as our harvests there have been well below my expectations. Even though the foraging returns are down on last year, they're still dwarfing the allotment returns - and all for zero effort.

This is the major advantage that foraging has. You turn up, you pick the stuff, you take it home. Then sit on your bottom til next year. Whereas the wan cultivated crops of the allotment demand constant attention like a whiny child, "weed me, water me, protect me from the beastly pests (scream)! "

Yes, but .....

The allotment offers a choice, I get to make decisions rather than exploiting opportunities. Man cannot live by fruit alone and the allotment offers luxuries such as carbohydrates and a savoury balance to the sweetness of all the fruit.

I've come to realise though, that foraging has something to teach me about the allotment. These fruit trees and wild crops just grow, they shrug and get on with it. Why? Because they happen to be growing in the right place with the right conditions. If they seeded in the wrong place with the wrong conditions, they'd just die and no-one would be any wiser, we only benefit from the successful specimens.

So that's going to be my allotment motto for next year. If it grows, it grows. If it doesn't, well then it's obviously not right for my plot. I think the approach to veg growing which dictates hours should be spent on the plot watering and weeding your poker straight rows in return for the thrill of potatoes and turnips is not for me. It's my hope that I can identify a range of crops which will be at home on the plot and not need too much hand holding but also conform to my other criteria - they must be interesting, hard to find or expensive in the shops, or have taste benefits from being eaten really fresh.

I am hopeful that 2011 will be rather more fecund than 2010, thanks to a smattering of additional experience and the love, care and shit we will be lavishing on the site over the winter.

Fingers crossed.

Elderflowers are my Raison d'Etre.

Well, the Norfolk Kitchen Raison d'Etre rather my actual being I suppose (you'd have to ask my parents about that one)

I think it was 2008 when I last made Elderflower Champagne, in the summer of 2009 I was wondering whether to make some more but was dismayed to realise I no longer had the recipe. It was then that it occurred to me that a kind of kitchen diary cum recipe scrapbook would be really useful, not just for recipes but also for recording the wild fruit we'd picked and - lo! - Norfolk Kitchen was born.

I never did get round to making Elderflower Champagne last year but have done this year. I kept things simple and used the River Cottage recipe (in 2008 I seem to recall endless Googling before amalgamating 2 or 3 recipes) I've cut it fine with regard to the elderflowers though, most have already wilted and begun to turn into tiny, green berries but, feeling somewhat foolish in my floral dress and nettle beating wellies, I managed to find just enough fresh blooms. Still, I'll be glad of the berries come crumble season.

On the way back home I investigated a local bullace shrub and found it laden with juvenile fruit (pictured), all around the foraging season seems to limbering up, ready for the main performance in a couple of months. I've seen cherry plums just beginning to blush red and baby apples burgeoning quietly in the hedgerows. Time to draw up my 2010 preserves wish list ....

Top Foraging Day.

We're loving the cherry plums so much we couldn't resist going out and picking another haul before our holiday on Saturday. Adam's off work so he came too and the four of us trundled off to a new hedgerow I'd spotted when out running the other day. The only problem was the plums were growing really high up as the hedge is regularly trimmed to a height of about 6' to maintain visibility for passing traffic. Luckily we had brought one of these (mine was much cheaper) known to us by it's technical name 'the grabby thing'. So Adam poked around with it, showered us with earwigs, and managed to successfully dislodge the plums in the upper reaches of the branches.

We hadn't been there long when the heavens opened, luckily we'd all brought waterproofs and the kids were in their wellies so they occupied themselves with puddle jumping while Adam and I toiled. We piqued the interest of a herd of cows in the next field who ambled over and lined up along the hedge to watch us in bemusement.

We got a satisfyingly bulgy bag of cherry plums and then spotted a yellow bullace a bit further along. In total I think we've got another 5 kilos of fruit. As much as I love foraging, it is a bit depressing as the resulting glut of fruit dwarfs the puny harvest from my veg garden. The handful of tumbling toms sitting in the fridge I was so proud of this morning is looking rather paltry now! Roll on allotment time.

Proms in the Park

I recently remembered that this blog is called Norfolk Kitchen. So far I've not written anything about the activity which takes place in my kitchen but I'm about to put that right.

On Saturday we went to Proms in the Park in Diss. It's one of those slightly bonkers yet quintessentially English events which involves waiting for the rain to start then sitting out in it for a few hours while eating a damp picnic, sipping warm white wine in plastic cups and shouting "BANG!" at the appropriate place in the 1812 overture. This year we rang the changes by sneakily trying out the groovy new play equipment on the park whilst somewhat (cough) inebriated.

We started the picnic with a selection of rare breed pork pies from Fredrick's Fine Foods accompanied by my plum chutney (plums foraged nearby), rhubarb chutney (rhubarb from my Father in Law's garden) and banana chutney (bananas foraged from Morrisons 'reduced but still fresh!' section). The plum has matured nicely since last Autumn and the flavour has improved considerably, rhubarb is as nice as when it was made, I was somewhat disappointed with the banana though, it was delicious when I made it but the banana chunks have gone sort of hard and strange over time. Might have to ditch my store of banana chutney I think.

Next were home made scones (pictured) with last year's Bramble jelly, Quince jelly and clotted cream. Bramble is my favourite, it always astonishes me that such a humble little hedgerow fruit can transform into into such a sophisticated preserve. We're also lucky enough to have a Quince tree growing wild nearby which supplies us with Quince jelly and Membrillo.

Finally, we managed to cram in a slice or two of Delia's ultimate carrot cake (pictured), ably made by Adam and decorated with the remains of last year's foraged walnuts.

I'm now carefully avoiding the scales, I dread to think how much weight I've put on over the weekend, must dig out my running shoes tomorrow.

No room at the Inn

I think it's safe to say I've finished potting up for the season now. I've sorted out the old garlic/carrot box, the Lollo Rosso and basil are safely installed in their new home. I've planted last year's terracotta strawberry pot with thyme plants, basil seedlings and coriander seed, it's now in the front garden where I hope it will get enough sun.

So that's it, both gardens are now full. No room at the Inn.

I went for a run this morning (smug alert!) which, incidentally, was like running through a sauna. This morning we had torrential rain which turned to sweltering sun as soon as I set off, evaporating the standing water on the ground in great clouds of steam. Anyhoo, I jogged past a house which had a stall outside selling a variety of flower, herb and veg plants so I stopped for a look (not a sneaky rest, oh no ....) and spied a sorrel plant. I then spent the rest of the run mentally re-arranging pots to figure out where I can put it. But in truth, there really isn't anywhere sensible for it to go.

Owners of other small gardens will feel my pain, why is it that as soon as I put up the 'closed' sign, I see another 'must have' plant? I just keep telling myself that Sorrel is only good during it's first year anyway, by the second year it tends to taste rather metallic. Also, when cooked the taste might be nice but the appearance is more akin to cow pat. Maybe I should go and forage some wood sorrel to cheer myself up, it might be tiny and time consuming to pick a bowl full but I think the lighter taste is superior to cultivated sorrel.

Finished Cordial

Here's our finished elderflower cordial. Willow loves it, Xanthe declared it "Horrible", oh well, you can't win 'em all!

First forage of the season

This time of year makes my soul sing, it's lovely to feel the sun on my back again and I'm quite giddy with the tantalising promise of free dinners to come. The hedgerows can't offer anything too substantial just yet but there are fresh greens in abundance.

This year I've tried the amusingly named Jack by the Hedge for the first time. In the absence of a local supply of wild garlic I was intrigued by the reported garlicky tang of this wild herb which dominates the hedgerows locally. A tentative nibble by the roadside was not encouraging, it was bitter in the extreme. Being a determined type I tried again, this time smaller leaves from a different location and they were much more pleasant. Strong tasting, hot and peppery. More akin to mustard than garlic in my humble opinion.

We discovered thick clumps of it growing in the cemetery which is ideal as it's a nice safe place for the children to help with the picking. We collected a generous pile of leaves, back home I chopped them finely and added white wine vinegar and a pinch of sugar (like making mint sauce) hand chopping is more effective than using a food processor as the herb is chopped smaller. Next time I'm going to try pounding it in a pestle and mortar to see if I can get a smoother texture.

The resulting sauce is lovely, verdant and refreshing and goes very well with chicken and fish and not overpoweringly strong.

And guess what I found growing in our neglected, half wild front garden yesterday? A single stalk of Jack by the Hedge!