On the Trail of The Homity Pie

Dear Nigel,

I am on the Trail of The Homity Pie. This is a simple pastry case filled with potatoes, leek, onion, cheese and herbs which originated with the Land Girls during the second world war.

I come across it first whilst writing a chapter for a book on days out in the Peak District. I am sitting in a cafe in a bookshop in the small village of Cromford eating Homity Pie and writing about it. From there I decide that it would be nice to work at said bookshop, Scarthin Books, and serve this Homity Pie.

And so I start to work in the cafe, serving and cooking. But not The Homity Pie. This, it seems, comes in from outside - from the cold, as it were; like a spy melding into the background seamlessly. And so I am off again, hunting down the origin of The Homity Pie. I trace it back to its source - 'Peak Feast', in the nearby village of Youlgreave.

So, here I am; working in this small craft bakery in the pretty little village of Youlgreave, making cakes and vegetarian ready-meals for nearby cafes and delis. And making The Homity Pie.

Some days I am 'onioned out' with crying. And I am working on the principle that such quantities of onions must surely result in a cast iron immune system over the coming season of colds and sniffles. I hope so.

It is nice to be involved in the therapeutic process of cooking and baking. There is a rhythm to it and it is a pleasant place to work and the people are friendly. There are tables outside and passing walkers come in for a coffee and a slice. Some don't seem quite to understand that this is not a cafe but a working bakery and I am doing several jobs at once. They may like to chat and linger as they choose their cakes to takeaway, but I may be half-way through a batch of six large Gooseberry and Elderflower cakes which cannot wait, and need to get into the oven.

Autumn has arrived without a doubt, and I have put away all sign of Summer. As I pass down the valley towards Hartington on my way to work I see the leaves are already turning to red and gold. There is a natural frost pocket at the base of the hill and over in the field a large horse chestnut tree which is always the first to change colour. It has become for me a kind of marker of the season.

The Blackberries are picked and in the freezer now awaiting the day I make the Apple and Blackberry crumbles. I pick them early before the birds get them all, and before they become watery and tasteless. I like to have a reminder of the Autumn over the Christmas season, just as I like to have a reminder of Summer with a Summer Pudding filled with redcurrants and raspberries from the garden.

School is back with sharpened pencils and new books. And this term there has been a complete change of uniform for the whole school. There are blazers and shirts and clip-on ties to replace the sweatshirts and polo shirts of last year. I am up for hours with needle and thread sewing in name tags.

Sophie and Molly look very smart, though, as I walk them to the end of the lane to catch the bus. We catch sight of the work of a busy spider amongst the brambles, its webs dew-laden and sparkling in the early morning sunlight. There is a low-lying mist and the cows on the other bank of the stream are ghostly beings from the underworld looking menacingly at us from out of their shroud.

The bakery I work in is a vegetarian bakery and the dishes I have been making for home have mainly been vegetarian too of late. I see this trait being described as flexitarianism. I just seem to eat a lot less meat. Perhaps it is the bakery. Perhaps it is the yoga practise which has become a part of my life. I don't know. It's not intentional; I just notice it and ponder on what is guiding the choices inside me. But I'm with Gandhi on this one, who very pointedly said that if he was at the house of someone who had made a dinner of meat then he would eat it. As was the case when visiting my mum a few weeks ago. Why should I make it hard for her to do what she has always done and whose concept of vegetarian cooking is vegetables missing the important meat bit. She doesn't need to learn new tricks and as I am not ethically stuck in this matter, I don't need to make a fuss.

My favourite dish at the moment is a recipe for a casserole of 'Spiced Sweet Potato, Spinach and black beans'. I make large quantities and freeze it in individual ready-meals, because when I come in on the days I work, from cooking all day, I can barely summon the energy to lift a can opener. And I can see foodie principles going out of the window faster than a badly behaved Tabby cat who doesn't want to get caught.

I heave a large pan onto the stove and chop sweet potatoes and red pepper into small chunks. The vegetables cook in the liquid from the tins of tomatoes, along with a mixture of warm spices and miso paste. The black beans and spinach are added at the end of the cooking process. It is a wonderfully warming dish that brings life back into the body after having been on your feet all day. It is the sort of dish to come home to after a damp walk in the park, or having been caught in the rain and arriving miserably home with soaking wet trousers and the heating not yet on.

We are working our way through the wood pile at a rate of knots and it will soon be time to get Stuart to deliver another load of logs. Last year we read a book on Scandinavian woodpiles - a work of Art - and it was fascinating. I have no such pretensions for my own woodshed, but I do find find it very satisfying to lay the wood up in layers and to look out upon our stored bounty. I am like a squirrel laying in provisions for the cruel winter months ahead.

And should the power fail us, perhaps under a heavy load of snow, then we will not be caught out. There is nothing finer than walking through the village on a silent snow-bound day and seeing straight plumes of wood smoke coming from almost every cottage in the village. It is like the scene from an old tea-stained oil painting, caught as a bad 1970s place mat in a charity shop - Olde England as it never was, and yet somehow is, at times.

To Autumn, then, and to looking forward to sitting in front of the fire with a copy of your new book, 'The Christmas Chronicles', which you are kindly sending me. Thank you, Nigel.

Love Martha x



Spiced Sweet Potato, Spinach and Black Beans.

600g Sweet Potatoes
1 Red Pepper
2x400g cans of chopped tomatoes
2 garlic cloves, crushed
2 tsp coriander
2 tsp chilli powder
2 tsp cumin
1 tblsp miso paste
salt and pepper
400g tin of Black Beans, drained and rinsed
200g Spinach

Method:
Peel and chop the sweet potatoes into small 2cm pieces
Chop the red pepper into similar sized pieces
Place them both in a large pan with the chopped tomatoes and 600ml boiling water.
Bring to the boil.
Add garlic, chilli, cumin, coriander, miso paste, salt and black pepper.
Simmer for an hour (stirring every 5 minutes or so).
Add the black beans and spinach.
Serve with rice, or quinoa (which is higher in protein).