HUNTER-GATHERING: wild & fresh food

Red Dead-nettle: a Spring Side dish.

The meadow outside the front of the house has certainly become quite the wild larder over the last few weeks, partly down to the biblical downpours that have rolled in over the Bay of Biscay and stuck firmly over Aquitaine. Over two weeks of constant rain and crap surf have kept me in the HGC test kitchen playing around with wild greens in anticipation of a delightfully rammed month of courses back in Blighty. Here in SW France everything is roughly 3-4 weeks ahead of the UK, giving a generous amount of experimental time to develop new and interesting ways to use the wild greens of spring.

My meadow (it’s not actually mine- it belongs to the local French Mafia family ‘Lesbats’ that own this little terroir) is surprisingly well stocked: Sheep’s Sorrel, common sorrel, ribwort plantain, chickweed, dandelions, common vetch, clover, red dead-nettle, nettle, Aarons rod, Round–leaved mint and even a few patches of wild chives- other than that the Allium family don’t seem to have really graced this corner of France. I cannot find any for love nor money. All the more reason to tuck in when I return to the UK in a week, having said that it is all too easy to get bogged down in Ramsons at this time of year- for obvious reasons. Little and often is good enough for me, too much wild garlic will have you crawling in Frenchman in minutes.

Another thing I have found a little odd on my forays is the French reaction to the age-old practice of gleaning the hedgerows. They seem to be completely bewildered by it. Too often whilst engrossed in gathering I hear “Excusez-moi, qu'est-ce que vous ramassez?”  I was always under the impression that the French were the quasi-foragers of Europe and the practice of gathering wild plants was mere child’s play. Fighting off the urge to retort with “ Occupe toi de tes affaires” (which roughly translates as ‘mind your own fucking business’)

Not particularly polite, but when a nation tries to play on the fact that foraging is a national pastime and they do provincial cookery is to it’s bucolic best; I am skeptical to say the least. Although I am generalizing- I am looking at it from a localized point of view, it seems as thought the French attitude to worldwide gastronomy has left them trapped in medieval times. Their rigorous denial that the rest of the world can cook has been the culinary equivalent of wearing blinkers in the kitchen.  It might look as If I don’t like the natives, but let me assure you- its just banter.

Anyway, back to the wild greens. Nettles, a wild super food in their own right have more uses than you could possibly imagine. In fact, that’s what the vast majority of cooking with wild food is all about- substituting common ingredients for suitable wild equivalents. Considering most everyday ingredients are distant cultivated relatives of wildings, its difficult to go wrong, but it does take a bit of experimentation…

The Red Dead-nettle, despite its name is actually part of the mint family, along with mints (obviously), yellow archangel, henbit, wood sage (inedible), wild marjoram and ground ivy to name but a few. It is an easy plant to identify and the only other plant you could confuse it with is henbit (also edible). The leaves of Red dead-nettle start green and gradually turning rusty purple as it comes into flower, the flowers themselves are pinkish/purple and have a delicate sweetness to them. These flowers are one the first foodstuffs for foraging bees in March-April, so make sure you leave some for them. This recipe uses Round-leaved mint too which I found growing in very close proximity. 

 

Red dead-nettle makes an ideal side dish to any meal, but should it be steamed, sautéed or raw?  Time to hit the lab. The best time to pick them is just after they have flowered, contrary to what I have read, they are a bit more flavorsome. Pick now, as they will disappear in the next few weeks!

Raw: Ok, but does feel like you are simply eating a plant- works well as a bulking agent in salads but distinctly unremarkable.

Steamed: Good, a bit of seasoning, but still unable to fix a tasty combo.

Sautéed: Best method- see below.

Red Dead-nettle with mint, smoked garlic and butter.

• 100g red dead-nettle’s
• 1 smoked garlic clove (finely chopped)
• 5 sprigs mint (tops only-first 3 sets of leaves)
• Small knob of butter
• Olive oil
• Salt & pepper
• Juice of ½ lime

Wash the nettles and mint and leave to sit in a colander, heat a knob of butter in a saucepan and add the garlic. Sautee gently on a low heat and add the greens and the remaining water that’s clinging to them.

Try not to stir, instead swish them around the saucepan with a flick of the wrist. Season well with S&P, Cook for about 4-5 minutes then serve immediately with a good squeeze of lime juice, its also a nice touch to collect a few of the flowers sprinkle over at the end and add small busrts of sweetness. A particularly a good side dish with Lamb.

Well, what else has been going on? Lots of pickling, preserving and wild brewing, I have been getting quite into fermenting foods ever since making kimchi, Sorrel sauerkraut is currently bubbling away under the sink. Japanese knotweed has been turned into syrups, crumbles and is currently flavouring some vodka  (see Andy Hamilton’s recipe here). We have been trying to have BBQ’s, cooking up fresh Anchovies in Sorrel Verde and grilling Dorade…when it hasn’t been raining.

 

Back to the UK in a week for a month of HGC courses, living loo construction and quite looking forward to getting back into the woods of the Weald! We are fully booked for May but June/July/August still has plenty of dates open. Please do get in touch if you want to book a Hunter:Gather:Cook Course: nickweston@hotmail.com

Kimchi.

I have never been an avid fan of January. It’s shit. Mind you, it rarely starts well: the post-festive period culminates with New Year’s Eve and the first day of the year kicks off with the inevitable hangover. The rest of the month is cold, wet and grey. It’s a time for being inside and if your house isn’t much warmer than outside (and our beachfront apartment certainly ain’t built for winter) then you just spend everyday wrapped up looking like the Michelin man. Warm food and warm drinks constantly needed. Another thing I have always found bizarre is the amount of people that give up drinking for January...if there was ever a time of year it is necessary, its now. Wierdos.

January is always a quiet time for me- that’s the nature of seasonal work, but it does have one redeeming feature- The first month of the year is a time for plotting, planning, scheming and conniving. I spend most of it playing in the kitchen and reading- ready for Spring and armed to the teeth with new ideas, recipes and knowledge to make Hunter:Gather:Cook courses the best they can be. Summer will fly by and before I know it, it will be Autumn- at least living in SW France gives me an extra 2 months of summer.

Anyhow, back to the subject of this long overdue post. Kimchi. The first time I came across this wonderful ‘condiment’ was 4 years ago in New York. My Brother was living out there and had found, what he could only describe as ‘tasty jarred farts’. I cannot imagine anyone, not even those you trust most, being able to bring you around to taste something with such a description: but I did…and by gad was it fine!

Kimchee has been on the to-do list for ages, actually since coming back from the big apple with my two tubs, which didn’t last long- but hey ho. Kimchi originates from Korea and is a fermented mix of vegetables and seasonings. It has been around for 3000 years and is a national institution in it’s home country- so much so that in 2010 there was a national crisis in Korea, a spike in the price of ingredients and kimchi itself left the Korean government having to subsidise imports of cabbage. Political food for thought indeed.

 

Coincidently, I noticed that Kimchi was tipped by the Telegraph as one of the top ten food trends for 2012 along with Ceviche (see that post here).Apparently natural fermentation of all kinds (esp.sourdough) is getting chefs very excited- Really? So as it was January I thought I may as well jump on the bandwagon and make some myself, being much in need of chilli heat at this time of year. Afterall, winter is a good time to put the wild food to one side and play with other ingredients, mainly because there is very little to forage.

Sinister Cabbage.

You can get very bogged down in search of a simple Kimchi recipe- seasonal variations are rife in Korea, so here is one stripped down to its birthday suit.

Ingredients:

• 1 large Chinese Cabbage (also known as ‘Napa cabbage’, stateside)
• 100g salt
• 4 cloves garlic
• 4 spring onions
• 1 inch piece of Ginger 
• 2 chillies or 30g of dried chilli flakes

First off, chop up the cabbage and place it in a bowl and toss well with the salt- the idea here is to get the salt to suck out some of the moisture from the cabbage and help create a brine. Leave for 1 hour.

Meanwhile finely chop all the other ingredients. Chillies are particularly difficult to find in France, partly because the general consensus in my experience is that the French are fannies when it comes to heat so they don’t stock them in the mupersarket- there is a reason the French word for man is ‘homme’. Fortunately the merry little town of Espelette (see here) is just down the road and Basque folks love a bit of fire! A bunch of dried chilli flakes and a sprinkle of cayenne pepper will give you more than enough heat if you are at a loss.

Back to the cabbage- it should now have decreased in volume by almost half, drain off the liquid, rinse the cabbage in cold water to remove any excess salt and pat dry with a tea towel.

Now mix all your ingredients together in the bowl, cover with a towel and leave in a cool place for 4 days, stirring once a day and tasting. You can pot it up earlier if you are happy with your level of fermentation.

Pot up in a jar tightly and add a little water so that the kimchi is covered by brine. It will keep in the fridge for up to 2 months, provided you haven’t demolished it by then.

Basically what is going on in the bowl is that the various microorganisms present in the raw ingredients, most notably lactic acid, is able to grow and perpetuate because of a more than 3% brine that you have created for your kimchi to live in.

Food porn comes easy in Hossegor.

Other stuff:

HGC is still taking bookings, although there is barely any room left in May! Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Please do get in touch if you fancy becoming a 21^st Century Hunter-gatherer: Not a bad idea considering the world is due to do something negative by the end of the year and according to the press, PETA are getting scientists to grow artificial meat. And here was I thinking  vegetarians were just harmless and a little depressed because of a lack of protein.

Fresh off the slab at Capbreton Fishmarket.

Life in France is grand, plenty of January surf, although it is colder than a witch’s tit. Lots of fish being purchased from Capbreton Harbour. I thought since I lived by the sea I would go big on this in 2012- Bream is the current favourite. Moving inland this week to join the inbreds, have a garden instead of a balcony and build an entire kitchen from scratch- can’t wait! The French Kitchen and HGC France to come soon complete with tree houses.

Adios, Au revoir, Peas x

PS. Due to spam, of which some is difficult to work out if it is or not- I don’t reply to comments on the blog- if you wish to say sommat or have any questions, please drop me an email- nickweston@hotmail.com. 

Back in the day: Fish-eyes and tree houses.

 

Espelette Chillis: Perfect Peppers and Basque Soup.

Not far from here, nestled amongst the foothills of the Pyrenees, sits a small traditional Basque village. The white washed houses and dark red beams so typical of Basque country are further accentuated by the addition of thousands upon thousands of plump red peppers strung up to dry on all the houses. This is not just any small village, Espelette, famed for the punchy little chillis is a national treasure and a cornerstone of Basque culinary heritage, so much so that it has classified with an AOC (Appellation d’origine controlee) much the same as a PGI (protected geographical status) we get in the UK.

 

France in general, and many of you may have also noticed this on your travels, don’t seem to be advocates of the chilli pepper. The Gallic palate is clearly not designed to embrace the spicy heat after centuries of being attuned to fine wines, strong cheese, and if I may be so bold to hit upon the presumptuous cliché of garlic and onions. Might I add, just to clear up a few things- Gauls don’t actually smell of these two fruits of the earth…or wear berets, or black & white stripy tops. But they do occasionally say ‘Ooh lala’ and are frequently seen brandishing baguettes, especially around midday. Down in this corner of South West France, and being so close to Spain the Espelette pepper has managed to gradually win over a fair few Frenchies, the dried, ground down peppers have replaced the use of black pepper in some cases: Bayonne ham (another AOC) is rubbed down with a paste of piment d’espelette during the curing process giving the ham a distinctive flavour. In Bayonne, many restaurants will serve ‘Bayonnaise’ a mixture of mayo and Espelette chilli powder- punchy and delicious with a bowl of frites.

 The peppers themselves are grown in and around the communes of Espelette and Cambo Les Bains, vast fields of green are peppered (please excuse the Hugh Punely-Whittisism, but seriously, how many can he fit into one programme?!) with bright red chillis- quite a sight to behold in the open air, as opposed to being in the UK where they are shrouded in Polytunnel.

Espelette peppers are not all that hot- bite off the end of one and you would barely even feel a hint of warmth. However, munch down to the business end of the pepper, where the seeds are housed, and you will feel the endorphins start to flow as 4000 Scolville units assault your senses. This is a mistake I have made many a time when adding Espelettes to any dish, much like playing a game of Russian roulette with the fairly harmless ‘Pimiento de Padron’, a small green chilli from Spain and tapas favourite: the seeds are where the heat is and just because the flesh is bearable, the seeds will hit you where it hurts.

When I drove down to Espelette last week on a dual mission to see the village and explore the ‘Gaves’ or trout streams of the Pyrenees, I arrived to a very sleepy village, empty streets, the odd tourist (not sure if I classify as one or not) and millions of chillis. I browsed the shops and bought a rather expensive salami to go with my bread and cheese for lunch up on the mountain streams, not to mention picking up plenty of Espelette peppers- fresh and dried to play around with in the kitchen when I got home- perhaps with some fish?

As it happened, no fish, so soup it was with leftover bread. Basque soup to be precise, well my take on it at least. The chillis will create a gentle heat to the soup perfect to offset the winter blues. This soup is not so far removed from a good bolognaise sauce and as I made such a huge amount of the stuff, the rest was infused with a little red wine, reduced and thickened before being jarred up for later use. Thrifty.

Basque Soup.

• 8 Espelette Chillis (or 4 de-seeded red chillis)
• 5 large tomatoes
• 2 medium carrots
• 1 red pepper
• 1 large red onion
• 2 sticks of celery
• 2 cloves of garlic
• 1 sprig of thyme
• 1 TBSP of white sugar
• 2 TBSP of cider vinegar
• 2TBSP olive oil
• 1.2L hot vegetable stock (2 stock cubes)
• Salt & pepper

Heat up a large saucepan and add the olive oil, finely chop the carrots, red pepper, onion, celery and garlic and stick it in the saucepan. De-seed and finely chop the Espelette chillis and add them to the pan and keep a few seeds aside to add for a bit of warmth if you fancy it, sauté gently for ten minutes.

Slice the tomatoes into wedges and remove the white cores. Add the tomatoes, vinegar, sugar, salt and sprig of thyme, lower the heat and place the lid on top to allow the tomatoes to gently stew down for a further 10 minutes.

Make up the Veg stock, and slowly add it to the pan, stirring all the time, turn the heat back up until everything is on a fierce boil, then turn the heat back down and simmer for 20 minutes.

Remove from the heat, allow to cool for a bit then blitz it through a blender in batches- as to how long is up to you and how smooth you want your soup. Once blitzed, return to the pan and re-heat- adjust seasoning and serve, with plenty of bread and a dollop of sour cream if you think it is a bit to spicy for your liking.

The gin-clear waters of the 'Gave Bastan'- Serious Trout water in the Pyrenees.

Pigeon Carpaccio & Wilderness Gathering.

Pigeon has to be my favourite meat hands down, for a while beef and lamb where up there, but the free-rangeness of the wood pigeon and the fact it is wild is a comforting thought indeed. I’ve never bothered so much with chicken- it’s a tasteless bird on the whole and after HFW’s big chicken out campaign I thought rather than fork out an extortionate amount for blandness, I stopped buying it all together, same with fish unless I catch them myself. Too much fuss and politics to inflict on the palate methinks.

Pigeon are wily buggers indeed and taking them down can be frustrating. A couple of key features in the pigeon’s survival kit is unbelievably quick flight (50mph-80mph) and, more importantly, seriously good eyesight with the ability to clock an Englishman peeing in the woods a mile away.

The only real success I have had with them, in terms of sheer numbers is from decoying, but they have succumbed in some odd ways over the years: A shot with an air rifle whilst relaxing in a hammock chair on the Tree house balcony (easy supper), once whilst paddling down a river in a coracle they dropped from the sky into the boat (nearby decoyers) and lastly but by no means leastly- taking a bush pee in a hedgerow, 12-bore under arm and taking a unobservant passer by down, tackle out (bird must have been blind- Jammy beyond belief).

Being a fine, lean red meat, pigeon seemed perfect for Carpaccio so I decided to do some playing around in the kitchen. Carpaccio is actually rather a recent taste sensation and as we know it, has only been with us since the 1950’s: Ever since Countess Amalia Nani Mocenigo walked into Harry’s Bar in Venice (also the home of the Bellini) and informed the propreiter that her doctor had recommended she only eat raw meat. The dish that Giuseppe Cipriani, the then owner produced, was so named because the colours of the food reminded him of the paintings by the Venetian painter Vittore Carpaccio. Bang, bosh, shebing.

The portable HQ- always busy morning, noon and night with taster dishes.

Last weekend I took Hunter:Gather:Cook on the road to Wilderness Gathering with my trusty companion Ash (he has a fine blog on outdoor cooking escapades-check out here) to cook up plenty of wild fodder for bushcraft enthusiasts aplenty. We also took along a roe buck and a dozen pigeons and rabbits to play with over the three days. Pit Roast venison, cold smoked venison, puffball and rabbit pie, wild salads, panfried saddle of rabbit wrapped in parma ham with sage & mustard, beetroot borscht with horseradish cream were just a few of the dishes we knocked together to showcase what HGC is all about (Ash even manged to collaborate on a cake baked in his dutch oven and won 1st prize in the cake comp!).

Ash manhandles the Roebuck down from cold storage.

A wonderful festival and we met some great folks- definitely keen for next year. This recipe is a revised version of the improvised one I knocked together for our ‘small game preparation and cooking’ workshop. The feedback was excellent, but not as good as our ‘Wild Brewing’ workshop which included plenty of samples!

 

Pigeon Carpaccio.

This recipe does require a bit of preparation- at least 12 hours in a marinade, but 24 if possible. Alternatively, if you wish to do it immediately, you can smoke the pigeon over smouldering oak or sawdust for an hour to give it a bit of a smoky flavour.

Wild ingredients are, as ever, a great addition to this recipe and there are some perfect matches in the hedgerows at the moment which coincide nicely with the amount of pigeon decoying going on across the country- farmer’s crops need protecting, so if you cant go out and shoot them yourself, most good Game dealers should have plenty in stock.

Wild Horseradish growing near Black Cap on the South Downs.

The two wild additions for the Carpaccio are Horseradish (both young leaves and the fiery root) wood sorrel (for sharpness) and elderberries. A word on these- The young leaves of horseradish have a nice pepperiness to them and a slight bitterness which make a good substitute for rocket. Elderberries do contain minute traces of cyanide, which is broken down by cooking, although a small handful of raw berries is harmless.

For the marinade:

• 6 pigeon breasts
• 150ml olive oil
• 50ml cider vinegar
• 2 cloves of garlic (roughly chopped)
• 1 carrot (roughly chopped)
• 1 stick of celery (roughly chopped)
• 1 small red onion (roughly chopped)
• Black pepper (good twist)
• 1tsp Salt
• 2 sprigs of rosemary
• 4 bay leaves

Mix together in a bowl, cover and refrigerate overnight. Put the breasts in the freezer for 1 hour before cutting wafer thin.

Carpaccio Ingredients:

• 1/2 horseradish root (grated)
• Handful of young horseradish leaves
• 1 cluster of elderberries
• Parmesan shavings
• Wood sorrel
• Gherkins (chopped
• Capers
• Olive oil
• Squeeze of lemon
• Salt & pepper

 

Arrange all ingredients on a large plate, season to taste and serve with fine red wine and crusty bread.

Carpaccio Construction.

Puffballs found on the farm at HGC- good haul!

Pastis, Petanque and the Perfect Vinaigrette…

I’ve had the French under a microscope for some time now. Studying them as if it was some kind of science project, what makes them tick, what do they eat? What do they drink? What do they do? And above all: why they don’t quite understand what the little lever next to the steering wheel is actually used for.

Of course my research has been conducted in a relatively small part of France, Hossegor, Bayonne and Biarritz: the South-West in high summer- the Cornish Riviera for the Gauls. Although my fumbling grasp of the native language is weak, I can understand most things if said at a reasonable pace and try to avoid direct translation from English to French. I’m not sure what I was taught at school, but it doesn’t seem to apply when ACTUALLY in France…apart from the vocab, that is handy.

Living by the beach is great apart from in July and August when the place has turned into nothing short of a bloody circus, the place seems like the Gallic equivalent of Rock or Polzeath- packed to the brim with hormone-fuelled rich kids with little else in mind than booze, necking one another and playing crap Euro-pop as loud as the gallivanting Gendarmerie will allow. I don’t think I have had a full night sleep without a dawn chorus of drunken teen for two weeks.

   

So what have I learnt so far? Some of it may sound scathing, but I find it all deeply amusing and sort of loveable. These traits are what makes France, well…France.

1. The French have a penchant for public urination and will exercise the will to do so, when and where they please, regardless of time, place or spectators. Even ladies too…I had the pleasure (?) of watching a lass mark her territory by the entrance to our underground parking- Paula Radcliffe eat your heart out.
2. There is nothing more annoying or frustrating than going into a shop or such like and doing your best to speak French only for them to reply in English. The conversation ensues with you speaking French and them English. I haven’t worked out wether they are just trying to be kind and helpful or smug. I don’t think my grasp of their tongue is that bad, if I’m going to make the effort so should they.
3. Driving. Now this is a special subject. It is a well-known fact throughout the rest of the world that the French can’t drive for shit. Citreon, Peugeot and Renault take note: Its only worth making your cars with a steering wheel, pedals and air conditioning, nothing else is going to be used. I have had a few near misses out here through lack of indication (and breaking for that matter). Also, Frenchies get a real hard-on over number plates and eyes always glance to your plates. If there English- forget it, you are last in god’s order. France is split into departments, each has its own number at the end of the plate for ID. If they have a 75 (Paris) at the end you might as well be English. The French hate Parisians more than the British hate Londoners.
4. Dress. Well what can I say, around here in Surf central most of the lads enjoy wearing stupid big, flat visored truckers caps that make them look even more retarded than a baboon on crack. If the sun is shining they will walk around flexing every muscle possible in the hope of getting an ‘ooolala’ or ‘vavavoom’ or whatever it is they say. The female of the species dresses quite well, especially on the beach where they wear virtually nothing at all apart from bikini bottoms. Vive le France, Vive indeed. Oh Yes, you can spot the Parisians on the beach- strictly designer swimwear, Ladies wear big white sun hats, gents like the nut-huggers (speedos).
5. Food. Hossegor sits on the cusp of two mighty gastronomic dynasties. In Aquitaine it is all about food from terra firma, all very rich and packed with herbs, butter and wine. To the south Basque country begins, lots of Pinxtos (tapas) red peppers, chillis and seafood. Around here you would be more likely to find a leper colony than a chilli. French people don’t like hot food. Fact. But garlic and everything that goes with it is warmly embraced. There is, much to my delight plenty of duck and fois gras around here, cruelty to geese is a national pastime and although we may find it an awkward subject back in the UK, out here, they don’t fuck about with where their food comes from. Kill it, cook it, eat it with lashings of red wine and bread to mop it up, whilst grinning inanely. Oh yes, the French do have a strange habit of boiling their potatoes and then scraping the skin off with a knife, weird I know. It’s a potato, not a pineapple.
6. Drink. The Brits reading will be pleased to know that binge drinking is just as rife over here as it is in the UK- In Leclerc yesterday I had two lads buying six bottles of vodka in front of me, with no mixers. As it is so close to Spain Sangria does feature heavily, only too much at the fete de Bayonne- allegedly the biggest fete in the world (probably true because no-one outside of France calls them fetes). Arriving back from Bilbao the other week I found myself slap bang in the middle of a heaving maelstrom of white and red beings all absolutely conkered. The Fete de Bayonne is a five day piss up where traditional dress, all white with red neckerchief is mandatory. Sangria is liberally thrown about staining everything in the vicinity. Apparently it is a rather pleasant family affair during the day but at night, due to the French appreciation for public urination, rivers of piss and vomit roll into one. Good clean fun, I must go next year! Seriously.

 

Which brings me onto the subject of the post- Pastis. PASTIS! I first tried it last year when we went to a friends for supper. Eager to find out a bit about it, I enquired as to what it was and why it is such a common drink (the French consume 130 million litres of it per year). Eager to fit in I accepted a glass of it and sat there swilling it in the glass as the two French lads looked on in earnest- will the Ros Boeuf take it like a man? I did, just. Having an aversion to Sambuca since Uni makes anything anise shut the gullet down. But its actually not too bad and I am proud to say I purchased my first bottle the other day, be it only a small one. What is really nice is to be able to go into the supermarket and purchase a tip-top bottle of Bordeaux for as little as 3 euros. Again, vive indeed. I also visited the Vin de Sable (wine of the sand) vineyard in the sand dunes just down the road in Capbreton…it was definitely and surprisingly worth the 9 euro price tag.

As for Petanque, apparently it goes very well with pastis, it is a national sport and there are some bad-ass old boys playing it in the park in Hossegor. When I have the courage and the linguistics to get involved- you will be the first to know! Great banter.

 

 

The Perfect Vinaigrette.

Had to include a recipe. Now I rarely buy salad dressing- except in France, they do make some good creamy ones I must admit. Making your own is much more fun and its great to play around with. Out here, because it is so bastard hot, Salad features at every mealtime except breakfast. Over the years one keeps cropping up on a regular basis and whilst I will give you the ingredients, you will have to work out the quantities for yourself, I might want to bottle and sell it one day…

 

Ingredients:

• Olive oil
• Balsamic Vinegar
• Maggi
• Worcestershire sauce (Lea & P)
• Soy sauce
• Dijon Mustard
• Salt
• Pepper
• Sugar
• Lemon Juice
• Mixed Herbs

Next week, I must return to Mother Blighty for a hectic month of courses at Hunter:Gather:Cook HQ, before donning my beret in September and moving to France full time. HGC will be running in 2012- the course schedule will be up in October. Lots of other stuff been going on: Check out Reader’s Digest this month to read the feature I did on living as a caveman for a week, and also have a watch of this HD vid from Mazda of foraging in the skies with Reggie Yates.

   

 

The office in Hossegor- a difficult place to work with too many distractions.

 

 

The homemade Ice Cream Machine: How to build one & make Ice cream.

Childish excitement aside, the prospect of ice cream is a wonderful thing. I must confess I was more of a sun lolly kid myself- ingeniously designed like a PG pyramid tea bag to prevent kids on a sugar high flipping the contents out onto the floor, that was the problem with Callippos. And as for Mr Freeze? Well, raspberry and cola all the way.

Ice cream isn’t really something I have in my freezer, but that’s because its so chock full of various parts of fish, fur and feather there simply isn’t the room. It just so happened that I had a craving for it during the summer we had a month ago. I decided to google how it was made after having a chat to a friend of mine about hand cranked Ice cream machines and the possibility of involving them down at HGC headquarters.

As I scrolled through endless useless links, the only instructions I could find were how to make it with a couple of plastic bags- nothing on putting together a traditional hand powered beast of a machine: It was time to hit the workshop and get tinkering…

The principle behind making I scream, you scream, we all scream for Ice Cream is both keen and cunning, a process evolved and developed over 100’s of years. It is not exactly clear who is credited with hitting the nail on the head. Most countries have been messing about with their own versions of frozen pud for time, however it was the Arabs that were the first to tuck into the dairy and use milk, sweeten it with sugar, flavour with rose water and fruits & nut. Before that it was all sorbets- in 62AD the Roman emperor Nero used to send slaves up to the Apenine mountains to collect snow to be mixed with honey it has even been claimed, in the Yuan dynasty, Kublai Khan enjoyed ice cream and kept it a royal secret until Marco Polo visited China, pinched the technique and high tailed it back to Italy. Well thank you Wikipedia. I like to maintain a ‘plagiarism free’ blog…

So where to start? Firstly you don’t actually even have to make a contraption, for the simple ‘bag method’ all you need is:

• 1 large ziplock plastic bag
• 1 small ziplock plastic bag
• ½ cup of whole milk
• 2 TBSP caster sugar
• 2 trays of ice cubes.
• 6 TBSP salt.

And follow this link for a video on how to do it. Not to be rude, but this isn’t amateur hour: the ice cream is far from perfect- for that you need a proper hand-cranked, Macgyver issue machine…give me two buckets, a plastic box, a piece of wood and a hand drill.

The science behind making ice cream is the same for both the ‘bag’ method and the ‘pot freezer’ method. This involves mixing salt with ice. In simple terms…bear with me sciences were never my strong point:

 Lets say you have a glass of water with crushed ice in, ok? For ice to melt, energy must be drawn in from the surrounding water to break the hydrogen bonds that keep the ice frozen. The energy that's taken is in the form of heat, which is why ice makes the water cold, since it's taking the heat to melt. Salt upsets the balance and makes the melting rate slower, because the ice requires more energy to melt. This draws more heat from the solution, which results in a larger temperature drop.

That took me a long time to understand too. For more info on why check out this link. So a combination of ice and salt will lower the temperature allowing your mixture to become ice cream, water isn’t needed. It took me a couple of failed attempts before I had perfected the machine.

 

Apple & Cheddar and Hunter:Gather:Cook HQ.

Apples have always been a favourite, as a boy, apple juice was the drink of choice, hands down. Unfortunately, being about as cack handed as a retarded Quasimodo, I regularly spilt any liquid within grasp- hence having to get up from the table and go and have a sup in the kitchen by the sink (I think I even had to eat and drink on the floor once or twice to limit damage control- no shit!). Parents can be cruel- but it certainly taught me a thing or two, this is why they have all the problems with ‘Yoofs’ these days: lack of proper discipline!

So, apples and cheese- a match made in heaven. Few things can match the sweetness of a good apple cutting through the salty creaminess of a fine chunk of cheese. Be it cheddar or stilton (mature cheddar preferably), the two were born for one and other.

It was my friend Dan who re-instilled the values of this combination as a tasty snack. Of course I have had them together before- mostly on a cheeseboard, but there was something wonderfully farmerish, holes-in-the-jumper, big ‘ands and bailing twine about the way Dan preferred his: Quite simply an apple and a chunk of Cheddar.

During April, as the pair of us toiled to get Safari Britain up and running for the summer and between chat about local gossip, gambling landlords, back-end sheep harassing teens and setting fire to defunct livestock-Sussex banter at its finest, dirty hands would devour the pair often. Now, it was something that Dan said that gave me this little, ludicrously simple idea:

“I wish there was someway you could grow an apple with cheddar inside, or perhaps even combine the two into a Jekyll & Hyde monster of a mouthful”

I pondered this for a moment: “Couldn’t you just core an apple and stuff it with cheese? Ooo…or even bake it with a some pickle!”

Dan wasn’t stupid: “Don’t you pinch my idea…OR blog it you bastard!”

Well…think of it as the highest form of flattery.

I managed to bake an egg in a tomato whilst bored one afternoon in London- this is much more inspired! A perfect snack or addition to that wonderful platter, the ‘Ploughmans’ of which the origins are not clear (1870’s England seems to be the best I can give you).

First slice off a ‘lid’ and then simply core your apple (Braeburn or Cox’s) a little wider than usual, fill it 1/3 with grated mature cheddar, 1/3 branston pickle or piccalilli, 1/3 mature cheddar and replace the top. Eat.

Now one thing I will make clear is that there is a danger when consuming such a trinket: Lock jaw, chin strain or chin cramp (which I believe is the technical term), taking a large bite out of an apple loaded with such a delectable filling is not recommended. Full stop.

Other Stuff that has been going:

This Friday I will be collaborating with Kerstin Rodgers aka Msmarmitelover, author of the recently published and hugely successful “Supperclub: Recipes and notes from the underground restaurant” to put together a wild food supper, there are still a few tickets left so don’t miss out: http://www.wegottickets.com/event/105047

Hunter:Gather:Cook HQ has become a second home and perhaps the best kitchen I have EVER had the pleasure of working in, something about that kitchen  ‘triangle’ and the fact it’s wood fired AND in the middle of the woods methinks. As for courses, give me a call or drop me an email with when you want to come along and we can accomodate! I have decided that perhaps fixing dates for courses is too regimented and doesn’t fit with the way I like to do things- tailor made is much more preferable for both parties. I have been a bit overwhelmed with the feedback so far and the surprise at just how much fits into the day- so thanks to all of my hunter-gatherers so far! Also we have been tucking into plenty of carp which we/you catch from our pond- tastes of mud my arse! Absolutely amazing fish...

Off-grid kitchen fired up and ready...

Rabbits and pans: if there's a nail, hang it.

Carp with lemon, bay and Jack-by-the-hedge, wrapped and cooked in Burdock leaves.

 What kitchen would be complete without the twin pillars of Tabasco and Colemans?

At long last, on my weekend off, I managed to sort out the patch at the new pad and filled it with salads, runner beans, peas, potatoes, pak choi, spinach, radishes, carrots etc- just got to wait for them to grow and keep slugs and rabbits at bay.The produce will not only supply the house but keep HGC headquarters in the freshest, local grub around.

Patch. Done.

Final note- I have recently become sponsored by Element for my work in all things wild. Element are a global skate/surf brand that are branching out into the great outdoors with their non-profit organization “Elemental Awareness” and run Skate camps in Northern Cali and Bilbao. I will be spending a bit of time in July and August doing workshops in Bilbao and putting the kids through a Hunter-gatherer masterclass- exciting stuff!

Oh and in two weeks time, I will spend a week living as a caveman with absolutely nothing, for a feature I'm doing for Reader’s Digest with my friend and adventurer Al Humphreys. Thankfully James at Native Awareness (runs courses in Primitive skills) has been most helpful with tips, stone age gizmos and clothing. Hmmmm, I'm always up for a challenge...

 

Sea beet and Phat Beets: Saag Aloo.

Phat Beets at 'Bunkers', Capbreton.

Few things lift the spirit more than a fine Spring day in Blighty, except perhaps a fine spring day in South-West France, a spring day in Hossegor makes a British Summer pale in comparison. The 1^st April was 30C and hotter than Satan’s bollocks, my pasty complexion was shocked and probably thought it was an April fool…not so. The evening was spent sweating by the beach and drinking some of Bordeaux's finest at the beach in Biarritz.

Still scorching at 8.30pm. Spring indeed!

During my visits to Aquitaine, I always go for a bit of an exploration into the ‘Sauvage’ of the Cote des Landes, despite the volume of sand, maritime pines and cork trees, there are many similarities to our native Britain. Be it on foot, in the car or with the fishing rod, there is plenty to do and so far I have found many of the wild foods we have in the UK in serious abundance.

The French like to give the impression they are serious foragers- you cannot deny they’ve cornered the gastronomic market with their culinary genius, but it strikes me that the French have lost interest in food for free unless it has a pulse or a web of mycelium beneath it. Mushrooms are the Frenchman’s wild food of choice and perhaps that’s all that matters to them. They are old hands at gathering wild greens and the baton of thrift has been passed over the channel and lobbed over the Atlantic to let the Brits and the Yanks rummage through the undergrowth for a change.

Wild Salads: Foraging for Spring hedgerow greens.

 

When looking through any wild food ID book, it comes as no surprise that the majority of wild greens are ‘good in salads’ something you will be all to familiar with if you have thumbed through Ray Ray’s big fat tome on the subject. So it only seems right to construct a salad from the spring greens that are cropping up as the first signs of spring, many of which will be available in some form or other throughout most of the long overdue 

summer (couldn’t be happier to see the arse-end of winter, its pants).

 

 

There was a time when eating salad was strictly for the female of the species, for a male to order a salad, nay to be even seen suckling on a leaf, ridicule would often follow. Quite why such machismo was thrust onto carrot-crunching I don’t know, but thankfully gent’s obsessions with gyms and protein powders have gradually earned a thumbs up for the green stuff.

The origins of the salad and exactly what would define one are hazy, as I understand from scrolling through inches of inane internet babble such as this, a salad is only defined as a salad when it is dressed, otherwise it is simply a plate of raw greenery or ‘rabbit food’. 

 

 

 

It came as no surprise that it was the Greeks and Romans that were the pioneers of salad. The basis for the word ‘salad’ is ‘sal’, meaning salt. Salt was, and still is, a key ingredient in the dressing of the leaves:

 

"Salad, a term derived from the Latin sal (salt), which yielded the form salata, 'salted things' such as the raw vegetables eaen in classical times with a dressing of oil, vinegar or salt. The word turns up in Old French as salade and then in late 14th century English as salad or sallet.They always used a dressing of some sort: oil, vinegar, and often brine. And hence the name salad, which comes from Vulgar Latin Herba salata, literally 'salted herb'." 
---Oxford Companion to Food, Alan Davidson [Oxford Univeristy Press:Oxford] 2nd edition, 2006 (p. 682).

 

It would be madness to assume the Romans were the first to collect a variety of greens, put them altogether and enjoy, certainly this was a practice that was used during the Mesolithic, but the Romans refined it…and, most crucially- recorded it. Many of the herbs and leaves we use today are cultivars of the hedgerow greens that we still see today, except they have been cultivated to the point that their flavour- what made them so desirable in the first place, has all but vanished. Come to think of it there are only two salad varieties on offer in grocers, markets and mupersarkets that retain their original character: Rocket and watercress…and both are peppery. Not much of a choice is it?

With most prepared salads in a bag costing around £1.79 a pop down the supermarket aisle, most of which taste the same (apart from the ‘separate’ bags of rocket or watercress), foraging for a bit of variety can take the humble salad to a whole new level. So which are best for an interesting flavour combination and how do you go about selecting the perfect salad from the wild?

 

Firstly, you have two criteria to fill: Flavour and bulk.

Your essential flavourings (and it pays to bear in mind the five points of taste- bitter, salty, sour, sweet and umami,- some will come from your dressing)  will be found in some of the more charismatic greens, ‘herby’ if you like, these are:

 

 

Flavour:

 

• Common Sorrel and wood sorrel (lemon\citrus)

• Wild Garlic/Ramsons (intense Garlic)

• Jack-by –the-hedge/Hedge Garlic (soft garlic)

• Dandelion leaves (bitter notes- think chicory)

• Hairy Bittercress (Peppery)

• Ladies smock (OTT peppery- edible for insane persons only)

• Primrose flowers (sweetness)

• Chickweed (sweetness- similar to sweetcorn)

• Ox-eye daisy leaves (aromatic- think fennel/ liquorice)

• Ground ivy (herbaceous- slightly aromatic)

• Alexanders (Aromatic)

 

Bulk:

 

These are generally the plainer hedgerow options, perfect for beefing up and adding volume. Try to go for whatever grows in profusion. There are so many more than listed- but here are a few of my favourites.

 

 

 

 

• Lesser Celandine leaves

• Chickweed (not just a flavouring- very common)

• Yarrow

• Goosegrass or cleavers

• Red dead nettle

• Burnt stinging nettle (interesting combo- burn in naked flame to remove stingers- think roast!)

• Navelwort

• Hawthorn leaves (spring)

• Beech Leaves (spring)

• Comfrey

• Ground elder

• Brooklime

• Golden leaved Saxifrage

Vinaigrette is really what makes a salad a salad in the traditional sense. Without dressings, being a vegetarian would be a much harder occupation than it is. In most cases a simple vinaigrette is called for to really let flavour of the leaves shine through, a good guide is to go for a balance of 3:1 on oil: vinegar.

Basic vinaigrette mix:

 

•  

  1 TBS cider vinegar

• 3 TBS  olive oil

• ¼ tsp salt

• ¼ tsp pepper

Now is the perfect time to be out getting out and about- Urban environments are just as productive as rural ones, so don’t be shy! Wild spring greens are traditionally the first salads of the year and, above all, they fill that uncomfortable gap whilst waiting for the first arrivals from the patch, greenhouse or poly tunnel.

Other Stuff- Hunter:Gather:Cook School is hotting up, I have the construction weekend coming up in 2 weeks to get everything set before nipping off to France for spring break and some time with my lady.

 

April/May course dates are available- click here to have a look and email me for any enquiries.

 

My latest post for the Guardian ‘word of mouth’ Blog went up over the weekend on the sustainability of foraging- to have a read and have your say click here.

 

Recently moved house near the rather wonderfully rustic village of Barcombe in East Sussex, looks freakishly like River cottage with crazy yew topiary and...lots and lots of very annoying crows, anyone got any good recipes for the buggers?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How to skin, gut and cook Rabbit: Potted Rabbit with Chimichurri

I am somewhat bewildered by the fact I have been doing this blog for almost four years and never dedicated a post to that most plentiful of wild meats: the rabbit. Yes, the furry little critters have featured: in marrows and pan-fried etc. but never properly dealt with, so as it is the year of the Rabbit, what better time to delve into the art of Lapin gastronomy?

As with every 10 year old who gets an air rifle for their birthday (I believe mine was a BSA super sport- lightweight, silenced and scoped to the hilt), the ultimate goal was always going to be fur: grass-addicted, white-bellied, myxomatosis-free fur. The fields around our house had no shortage of Beatrix Potter bunnies and I spent more time sneaking about dispatching, as such the Nintendo was well neglected, other than the occasional game of the heavily pixelated Duck hunt.

In 2009, whilst living amongst the leaves, Rabbit became a staple protein provider. It was the ‘chicken’ of the woods (not the bracket fungus!), over 6 months I consumed around about 50 rabbits (that’s two a week) and I shot more than that when I include the ones I felt inclined to put out of their misery that were suffering from myxomatosis- I will eat most things, but even I draw the line at eating diseased animals!

Jew’s Ear Fungi...or is it Jelly Ear?

The wild larder is not completely bare at this time of year, whilst Mother Nature begins to tease us with the appearance of the first snowdrops and the sprouting of daffodils; spring is still a long way off. But do not despair, she has spared us a few treats from the hedgerow to munch on: Sorrel, Bittercress and chickweed seem to be abundant along with two members of the fungal family: Oyster mushrooms and Jew’s ears.

We find ourselves in a sad little world indeed, when a mushroom has to have a preferential name to avoid anti-Semitism. For some time whilst teaching foraging I couldn’t decide what to introduce this tasty fungi as. Its pseudonym of ‘Jelly Ear’ is all well and good in descriptive terms- it certainly does look like an ear, lobes cartilage the lot, but in a historical context the non-PC version is preferential.

The Latin name Auricularia auricula-judae hints to its past, eventually adapted from ‘Judas Ear’ to ‘Jew’s Ear’ it was so named under the belief that Judas Iscariot hung himself on an elder tree, the principle host on which you will almost always find this fungi growing, others include beech and sycamore infrequently.

The Jew’s ear is not a difficult one to find, as mentioned, Elder trees are the place to look. They often grow on dead parts of the tree devoid of bark, either in a cluster or in a row. When picking, simply take a knife and cut the fungi off as close to the base as possible. There are a number of reasons why this fungi is worth picking more often:

 

Homemade Scotch Bonnet Hot sauce: Thrifty Central heating.

Over the years my addiction to hot sauce has had to be controlled, I first noticed it becoming an issue whilst at university. Alongside Tabasco, Maggi seasoning also became a weakness, I soon found most meals began tasting of one or the other and felt it was time for a change. Thankfully the only thing that gets the Maggi treatment these days is a few drops when making a dressing or on spaghetti carbonara. My Tabasco kick comes once a day in mugs together with a beef stock cube, Worcester sauce and a good squeeze of lemon juice; the Virgin Bull shot is a welcome change from tea or coffee and keeps the junkie within a happy lad.

Gradually, the kick generated by a bottle of Tabasco began to wane. I wanted more fire in my belly, something guaranteed to bring a bead on and release a few extra endorphins. Encona became the new kid on the block. Working my way up the Scolville scale from Jalapeños to Scotch Bonnets was a bold decision indeed, a macho move in the world of the amateur hot sauce aficionado. Unfortunately, as agreeable as I found it, my stomach felt otherwise. Hot sauce hangovers can be more uncomfortable than snorting wasabi or eating a bag of holly. A good thing too, as I didn’t want to find myself tucking into extract sauces in a few years time.

Red Onion, Port & Chilli Chutney.

For me, the start of December is synonymous with chutney making, for many it is much earlier- an ideal way to make the most of the oversized courgettes and other such legumes left over from the summer glut. I always make red onion chutney, the perfect accompliment to all that left over turkey, goose, squirrel or badger served up on Christmas day (I know, my house is a little ‘eclectic’).

Quinces: Membrillo-ing the Medieval fruit.

When I think of a Quince, I picture it being dressed up in Armour, wielding a mace and being patted on the back by Henry XIII for adding a little ‘je ne sais quoi’ to his epic feasts. Far fetched perhaps, but this fruit has regal properties about it…a seat at the round table perhaps?

The Quince is one of those forgotten medieval fruits slowly clawing a comeback in Britain, you know, like the Medlar. It’s a fruit of still life paintings, jellies and delightful blossom. Fortunately for us, the Spaniards have taken it and turned into something a little better than a preserve. In Britain, we have a terrible habit of imprisoning hedgerow fruit in a jam jar with sugar…I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I am guilty of jarring up more members of the wild larder than most, but perhaps it is time indulge in more continental practices: take the raw inedible, and force it to be desirable on the palate, asap.

Huitres d’Hossegor: Grilled oysters with Parmesan & Garlic.

 

It must be said the first time I tried oysters I was far from impressed. I can vividly recollect the shelled creature retracting in horror as someone squeezed a bit of lemon juice and a few drops of Tabasco before handing it to me to shoot back, have a brief chew and swallow. It very nearly came straight back up and I remember making a conscious 12 year-old decision to steer well clear of them in the future. My, how things have changed…

It was this very recipe that changed my mind. Raw oysters are something to be reckoned with for the amateur and I do wonder just how many folk truly enjoy their very first? And for those that are sitting on the bench after their first wad of oyster, how is that these mysterious shellfish make us favour them to the point of putting them on a pedestal as a luxury food item? If my memory serves me correct, they were in fact seen as peasant food in London during the Tudor times.

How to make Salt: Fleur de Sel…Atlantique

Mastering the basics is a must for anyone who cooks: whipping up a béchamel, making mayonnaise, pastry, ragu, stock, bread, the list goes on…

One thing that is always overlooked and is perhaps the most frequently used ingredient of all time is salt. Without seasoning food would be dull. Too much is bad, not enough is disastrous. But how many people have actually made it themselves? It is so ludicrously simple to make: collect a jug of seawater, boil it and reduce it down till you are left with a white residue= salt. Done. I could end the post there…that is all there is to it. But to really sell it to you and hopefully urge you to give it a go yourself, I shall continue.

Salt is something that has been used for 1000’s of years, Sodium chloride has been found as far back as the Neolithic around 6000BC, mainly used in the context of preserving, but no doubt our ancestors found it had the ability to heighten the flavour of whatever they were eating. Along with fire, salt was probably man’s second greatest discovery.

Winter Chanterelles with Wood Sorrel and Joel Robuchon Pomme Puree.

Hunting for mushrooms is a curious thing indeed, few other, in fact no other member of the wild larder evokes such secrecy, joy and obsessive weather watching. I believe its probably the only outdoor pursuit in which participants pray for a downpour to get the fruiting bodies to magically appear. It cannot be denied there is a sort of magic behind them, a favorite of gnomes with fishing rods, fairies and any other woodland dweller: including humans.

Every ‘shroomer has their closely guarded spots that they won’t even share with their nearest and dearest and no amount of alcohol will shift from their lips (trust me…I’ve tried). I did once get my friend Dan to determine the location of his private giant puffball stock, but when I got there, nothing…how typical. But then these are the things that make mushroom hunting what it is! If you have a favored spot I don’t need to describe to you the anguish, hatred and disgust that bubbles up on encountering another soul on your patch, but lets be honest, its probably not ‘yours’ anyway.

Squirrel & Hedgehog Pasties.

This time of year is easy pickings if you are a squirrel eater, the springy little buggers are bouncing across woodlands across the country desperately trying to stock up on us much fruit and nut before winter really kicks in, so what better time to lock and load the old 12 bore and go in search of supper?

Squirrel eating, despite having bad press to begin with from early thriftonomists, has become rather trendy in the last year, I was a bit surprised to hear from a friend that a supermarket had begun selling squirrel (I don’t tend to read newspapers or watch TV for fear of depression or anxiety!), so I had a look online expecting it was some sort of stunt by Waitrose only to see that Budgen’s had pipped them to the post (now that really was a surprise).

Eau du vie and Pear tarts…

 

While us English folk are content with turning our pears into perry, the pear version of cider, over the channel they take pear alcohol production to an entirely different level.  Oh no, they don’t make the weak stuff; the Eau du Vie produced by the Swiss could knock the balls off a concrete rhinoceros.

My first foolings with this devilishly potent liquid was in the form of kirsch (a cherry eau du vie), in true Alps fashion it was added to the cheese fondue and as an over excited 6 year old, I ate far to much and proceeded to get annihilated, I hadn’t got my drinking boots then…

Brie and Puff Pastreeeeeee…

 

 

It appears I’ve put on half a stone over Christmas, mind you the expanding waistline comes as no surprise after the over indulgence of the festive period. It’s also a period when the world of blogging can, nay should, fall silent…family, friends and good food are replaced by the constant nagging of the blog-o-sphere. There comes a point when you have to stop thinking ‘Hey! I should be blogging this…’ and actually enjoy what you are doing rather than worrying about photographing it in the right light and documenting it for the world to see, hence two weeks of silence…

This little number here was a Christmas Eve special in the Weston household and it was so good I had to repeat it thrice over for a bunch of friends for New Year’s. My Brother is still bouncing between NYC and London and brought the best of the American Yuletide food glossies out to Switzerland. The trends and traditions stateside seem refreshing after the monotonous, repetitive drivel pumped out in the pages of our food magazines: Nigella and Delia both trying to out goddess each other with ‘naughty’ delights, Oliver being a little bit ‘Waaaaaayyy!’ with stuffing, Hugh putting the you in ‘Rustic’, Ramsay staining the TV with his scrotal features and Pierre-White keeping his eyes peeled for the next Bandwagon.

 

The Hot Toddy...

 

The move back to reality has been interesting, despite being sat a computer 24/7 typing up the treehouse diaries, I have been able to witness some appallingly shit TV, enjoy the freedom of a proper ‘house’, and yet find myself acting like a true eco-zealot, if not I spend the time by the log fire…reminds me of home I suppose (a house without a proper fireplace surely isn’t a home? When and why did people stop having them?!).

Cauliflower cheese and Sorrel Verde.

“Whats that structure there?” so came the innocent question from the Reuters news journalist.

“A bench.” I said. What else could it be?

The last week has been full on. Monday to Tuesday I was visited by an extremely talented photographer, Greg Funnell (www.gregfunnell.com) and then Wednesday- Thursday, a young adventure called Kevin who is planning to cycle and sail around the world next year (www.becauseitisthere.co.uk) each were treated to the delights of treehouse living from pheasant to squirrel and even a taste of the somewhat elusive Cauliflower fungus. Friday was left aside for a visit from Reuters News and weirdly, as I later found out, the chairman of Reuters happens to be my next door neighbour and lives the other side of my wood. That would explain the big house and perfectly manicured gardens…

 

Homemade Cheeeeee-eeeese!: Basic, simple, easy Cheese.

 

“A dessert without cheese is like a beautiful women with only one eye”.

Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin.

 

Of all the Garbage that came out of this particular French Gastranome’s mouth, this is the only real gem. The more well-known and much publicised “Tell me what you eat and I will tell you what you are” have graced many a food writer’s page- clearly a quote for the uninspired…

The Treehouse Diaries: Blackberry Fool!

 

It’s been sometime since I have dedicated an entry to a single recipe…it’s been a bit treehouse filled of late. So much of the food I have had come and go through the outdoor kitchen has been truly memorable and most of it photographed for future use. But at what point does photographing every stage of an exploit detract from the fun and experience of taking part in escapade to begin with?

 

There are so many things down here That I want to capture, write up and tell the world so everyone can take home a little piece but sometimes there is too much (good thing I’m writing a book to put it all in to)! Nothing gives me greater pleasure than to cook a meal or do something without having to consider it for books, blogs, so on and so forth. Perhaps these are the moments the magic really happens and things move at the pace they should rather than having to wait for the sun to come out again to take that so-important shot…

The Treehouse diaries: Of Marrows & Meadowsweet…

 

Well, Scotland was grand, but I have returned with an absurd enthusiasm and I find myself trying to do everything at once…not possible! On the first day back down I went out to secure some protein for a slap up supper chez treehouse. Carrying an air rifle the size of this one makes me feel like I should be out sniping the Taliban or knocking flat Charlie in the dense Vietnamese jungle…so naturally to achieve such a look (and for practicality actually- you can’t look through a scope with a flat cap forwards!) I had to go all Samuel L. Jackson with the headgear. After creeping along the hedgerow, I had a nice fat rabbit in the bag for supper and my rabbit skin rug would cover a little more floor space.

 

Battersea Nettle Beer: A wild brew from the urban jungle...

 

To those of you following my escapades, I am supposed to be living up a tree at the moment. And that is correct…sort of! I am as we speak in a homeless limbo of my Mothers place in Sussex (where I do all my blogging) and a sleeping bag in the middle of the wood. You will be pleased to know that it is coming along very well and progress will be updated here in a few days. I did have a particularly fine pint one afternoon, while working on the Treehouse, so here is the result of my final Urban foray in London and it goes a little something like this:

On the one hand, the stinging nettle is one of Mother Nature’s greatest gifts. On the other, it is the possibly one of the most annoying, frustrating plants growing today: It is all in the eye of the beholder.

In my toddling days, I learnt to give stingers a wide berth, I also learnt that the application of a split dock leaf was more than ample treatment to combat the throbbing infliction dealt out by this fairly innocent looking plant. As I have grown I have come to appreciate this plant for all its many uses: as a vegetable, a source of twine, a weapon (especially on country walks with friends) and most recently, as an ingredient for turning water into something a little more grown up…beer.

Bresaola: Home-curing for idiots.

Between making plans to live up a tree for 6 months (which you can follow on this here very blog and Twitter), I have been finishing up my city days playing about with a few preservation techniques that might come in handy in the woods, as lack of fridge/freezer will prove a problem.

As you may have guessed, Mr Fearnley-Whittingstall has proved himself a fine source of inspiration over the years; he may very well be the man responsible for many of my culinary adventures here and there. He is a good fellow and even let me into his kitchen once, in my drunken state, to help make crème brulees for all his other guests. Trusting to say the least…

Easter Eggs.

 

“What the hell have rabbits got to do with eggs and Easter?”

“Not sure…” Clare was obviously as perplexed as me by the strange choice of characters for Easter advertising campaigns.

“Why do Rabbits deliver eggs when they don’t even lay them? Do they steal them from chickens?”

 This conversation was going nowhere clearly…

Easter traditions state that Fish should be eaten on good Friday and Lamb on Sunday. I can’t help but think that the new lease of life in spring, all the lambs leaping about in the fields, are then being eaten as a classic Easter dish is a bit tight. Personally, I believe that eating Rabbit would be more appropriate, but maybe not if you have children eagerly awaiting a visit from the Easter bunny.

Home smoked Garlic & Salt.

 

When man first realised the benefits of smoking, an entirely new sect of food preservation and flavouring suddenly hit the gastronomic world, little did primitive man know just how important the discovery was…he was probably still excited over the invention of the wheel.

None the less, early man was clearly partial to a smoky flavour; otherwise the discipline wouldn’t have survived (although the use of smoke in preserving was way more important). How could bacon ever be as good without a little smoke blown up its backside? The Scottish economy would suffer without it’s most famous export- both of the above are products of cold smoking, but what of hot smoking? A small hot smoker may cook a couple of trout to perfection in 10-15 minutes but it isn’t a tool for preservation. This useful bit of kit is great for cooking meat and fish to scoff immediately, but what else can you do with it?

 

Ring of fire...

I am obsessed with all things chilli. It was something I was aware of, but I didn’t understand the scale of my ‘problem’. Yesterday I was cleaning out the condiments cupboard and realised just how many weird and wonderful sauces I had accumulated, the fridge too, had more jars of pickled chillies than is necessary for any household.