A Summer Solstice Baby and a Bring-your-own Barbecue.

Dear Nigel,

It is a beautiful clear Summer's day with sky the bluest of blues. There is a strong breeze in the tree tops which whips through the open door and sends my papers flying all over the table.

I like to think I'm writing this on my old type writer - the one with the dodgy key that would suddenly leap into the centre of the page, several tabs, (because it was a cheap typewriter, bought as a Christmas present by my ex-husband when we were still teenagers and I had too many words in my head and nowhere to put them). But in actual fact - like everyone else - it is a quiet, well-behaved keyboard with no soul and no life beyond the plug socket.

Yet today, as I sit here battling a flaring tablecloth and the sudden umbrage of Henry's chickens in the distance (who are less accommodating than they might be, given how well they are fed each day), I am drifting internally on a sea of serene calm and happiness. Today my first little Grandchild has been born and I have moved one step up the ladder and am now 'Granny'.

I am picturing an old black and white photograph I remember of my own Granny when she was younger than me, apparently. She is sitting in a pony and trap at the beach with my cousin Michael, and me a small baby. She is a more comfortable matronly-type Granny than me, with a felt hat on her head and set grey curls framing her face. She is still very pretty, but very much a Grandmother and Matriarch of her family.
I wonder what kind of Granny I will be?

I have been making a vegetable patch in my 'borrowed garden'. I do indeed have a small garden, myself, but it is my borrowed garden with its views over the cows and buttercups in the top meadow and the dip through the trees and down across the stream, where the cattle cross to the high meadows on the other bank, (reminiscent of some old oil painting of Constable's, I like to think), that is the place where I like to be, and think, and work. So, I've moved my old beehive here, and the sundial that once marked time with shadowy rotating fingers in a herb garden far away many Summers ago. There is a simple mellowed wooden bench from where I sit and drink my coffee, and two freshly dug beds zipped together by a narrow stone path in which I have been planting things I may like to eat. One day. If they grow. The climate is a bit harsher here and things take a bit longer and grow a little stockier and sturdier. Or not at all, if they're the fair-weather kind of vegetable. I hope I have just chosen the robust type. I am looking at my little leeks willing them to grow a little stronger. But they have yet time.

I arrive home from the garden nursery with herbs that I can one day use in the kitchen. I have tried to be more disciplined in my approach this time and send the mints packing to the other end of the garden, near the stream, with their unruly root systems. For fun there is a chocolate mint for Sophie and strawberry plants for her to pilfer at will. As a child I remember the best thing about a garden was either as a place to hide or somewhere to hunker down and stuff your face with raspberries, amongst the thorny canes where no one else could see you. And always the red-stained fingers that gave it all away when you were too full to manage much come dinner time.

Last week we had a special Birthday celebration for my son Chris's 30th Birthday. Newly moved into his house and with a baby due imminently it didn't seem fair to let them take the brunt of the work, so it became a family affair, which was lovely. What do you take to a barbecue run by vegetarians? Good question. I opted to make a few salads to go with everything; but in the end, being the sort of mixed family we are, we took meat for the meat-eaters, salad for all and they provided beetroot burgers and a Brazilian pudding which nearly finished us all off. The salads which I made were a simple 'Turmeric rice salad' and a refreshing 'Tangy Courgette salad'. I am gradually amassing a blank journal full of salad accompaniments which I can dip into at will - I never seem to find the recipe I want when I want it, and these blank journals (I have another for soups, one for light suppers etc) help me organise and cross reference. God, I am becoming so anal I think - cross referencing - I love it; love order and neatness, notes to self, adaptations, who loves which recipe in particular....there is no end to the thoughts that can accompany a simple dabbling in the kitchen.

Of course, making lots of salads is time-consuming and unnecessary, in general: one or two will suffice. But if you ever get the chance, take yourself off to Powerscourt House and Gardens in County Wicklow where the Avoca cafe still (hopefully) serves the most amazing range of rainbow salads I've ever seen. Just to be able to choose from so many, so much colour and texture and detail - like a fine embroidered bedspread all laid out before you- is enough to inspire you to get the chickpeas out at home and create with gusto and a sampling spoon. Soon you, too, will have a collection of quick, easy and tasty salads you can rustle up the minute the sun shines (from mainly store cupboard ingredients) and someone utters the word 'barbecue', and you're left thinking 'does this mean muggins is off to the shop when actually I'd like to sit on a terrace and drink something light and fruity served by a very nice man in a white shirt, thank you.'
There is method in this madness.


Turmeric Rice Salad

175g Brown Basmati rice
75g Sultanas
1/2 tsp Turmeric
1 clove of garlic, crushed
4 tbsp french dressing
salt and pepper
chopped parsley to garnish (flat-leaved)

Method:
1. Cook the rice in boiling water for 30-35 mins. until just tender. Drain.
2. Combine the sultanas, garlic, turmeric and french dressing.
3. Pour over the rice and stir well.
4. Cover and refrigerate.
5. Fork through, adjust seasoning and sprinkle with the chopped Parsley.


Tangy Courgette Salad

450g Courgettes
1 lemon
1 garlic clove, crushed
3 tbsp Olive oil
salt and pepper to taste.

Method:
1. Thinly slice the courgettes.
2. Pour boiling water over them and leave for 5 minutes. Drain.
3. Grate the lemon rind, add the juice, the garlic and olive oil.
4. Season with salt and pepper.
5. Pour over the courgettes.
6. Leave to cool in the fridge.

So we arrive at the party with the salads, the meat, the barbecue, the charcoal, the tools, the table, the chairs...and almost the kitchen sink...and Hannah has knocked up another of her fab cakes for the Birthday Boy.

It is one of those perfect Summer afternoons where everyone chooses to behave and things just tick along nicely and everyone has a lovely time. Sometimes, it is just about possible to have the kind of lovely afternoon you see portrayed in the colour supplements with lots of impossibly lovely people all seemingly having "amazing" fun... but it just wouldn't be England, would it, without 'something bad in the woodshed', or at least a ten year old argument being reenacted over by the he-man fire pit.
Bless 'em.

Love Martha x

'One Swallow does not a Summer make'....but three might...

Dear Nigel,

There is a particularly noisy bird standing on the top of a huge pine tree opposite, as I sit here and write, giving his speech of almost Churchillian proportions to the unimpressed masses below. But no one could doubt his sincerity. He claims that Summer is here, and it's true: bursting from every hedgerow, dripping from every hawthorn tree, this abundance of flower and blossom.

Summer has come for me too, at last. Like swallows migrating north for the Summer, my little birds have come back home. First my daughter Hannah, from eighteen months in China and East Asia, followed swiftly by my second son, Chris and his fiancee Beatriz, from Germany (where they have been living these past few years). My third little swallow will be my first grandchild, due to arrive at the end of June, dropped by a stork.

Suddenly there is life and laughter and an abundance of all that is good in this world. Day by day the rhubarb patch is getting out of control as it sucks the richness out of the earth. I like to deal with it outside, partly because the large leaves are unwieldy in my tiny kitchen, but mainly because it is too nice to be stuck indoors in the kitchen. It is time for the kitchen to come outside to play. There is something therapeutic about sticking your hands in a bowl of ice cold water to rub any lingering soil from the pink and green striped chunks. This first lot is to be bagged and off to the freezer for future crumbles and fools.

I have a mind to start a Children's cookery book - of real food, not just endless sweet cakes - and a willing cook to test it out for me. Sophie has already spied the rhubarb, lurking behind the oil tank, and staked her claim. I will look out my pie dish and give her free rein in the kitchen. Children love to cook; most of them. I never met a child who didn't want to cook something that they particularly wanted to eat. And maybe that is the answer. I am particularly uninspired by the kind of children's cookbooks (usually with overly-vivid photographs of sweets pretending to be food) of the kind my children usually receive at Christmas. And I want to take my little cooks out into the garden and show them how it grows, and when it is just right to harvest, and have them see it as part of nature and of the season and cycle of the year. I want them to taste the onion in a chive blade as they throw it in a simple omelet before the pretty purple flowers make the blades woody and inedible. And down in the woods, where the ransomes grow, I want them to smell the dankness and picture the white flower heads about to carpet the hillside like an over-exuberant Axminster.

It is salad season here. Nearly every day I am tempted to 'do the healthy thing' and plate up with a huge mound of salad to go with whatever we are eating. I have taken to experimenting with making different salad dressings to see which I prefer and with what. These are simple things to make and take minutes to prepare.

My two current favourites are a traditional french walnut oil dressing with balsamic vinegar and a cider vinegar and olive oil one with shallots in it. The cider vinegar one is sharper and cuts through things, and the walnut oil one is thicker and richer and more subtle, and I can't seem to get enough of it. Walnut oil is also incredibly good for you, with its antioxidants, omega 3, melatonin to promote a good night's sleep and seems to promote weight loss (although probably not in the amounts I'm anointing my salads with!)


Walnut Oil Vinaigrette

6 tblsp. Walnut Oil
2 tblsp. Balsamic vinegar
2 tsp. Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp. salt

Method:
Simply add all the ingredients to a screw top jar and shake well. Or add to a mixing jug and stir with a small whisk until the mixture thickens and 'comes together'.


Cider vinegar and shallot dressing

80 ml Olive oil (need I say extra-virgin these days?)
60 ml Cider vinegar
2 tsp Honey
2 tsp Dijon mustard
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ground black pepper
1 shallot (finely chopped)

Method:
Add all the ingredients to a mixing jug and stir well. Pour carefully into an empty dressing bottle.
(Don't use a funnel, as I did, as the chopped shallot just gets stuck, and don't attempt to make this in the salad dressing bottle as the Dijon mustard just gets all over the place and sticks to the side of the bottle instead of combining.)

I have been using an organic raw and unfiltered cider vinegar which rather poetically claims to 'contain(s) the mother'. The health benefits of cider vinegar are huge, including lowering blood pressure and cholesterol, but I have been taking it daily for some years to help with arthritis. I'm not going to lay any extravagant claims for it here, but all I can say is that the daily pain I was experiencing in my hands has now completely gone. So who's to know?

I am always happy when I can get two different meals out of something. I made this Goats Cheese, Tomato and Basil Tart the other day to serve warm with the lovely new Jersey potatoes that are around at the moment; and then served it cold as part of a picnic another day. It works well under either guise, and is solid-enough to transport wrapped in foil.

Goats Cheese, Tomato and Basil Tart

Pastry:
200g Strong flour
100g Butter, cubed
1 egg
1/2 tsp salt
1 tblsp water

Filling:
2 eggs
100g Greek yogurt
100g Goats Cheese
1 tsp Baking powder
50g plain flour
1 tsp salt
1/2 tsp black pepper
2 tblsp finely chopped fresh basil

Topping:
400g Cherry Tomatoes
50g Goats Cheese
Olive Oil, to drizzle
A few Basil leaves.

Method:
1. Put the flour, butter, egg and salt in a processor and blitz until it forms a ball.
2. Roll out and line a greased 23cm fluted flan tin.
3. Place in the fridge for 20 mins.
4. Place all the filling ingredients in a mixing bowl and stir well until thoroughly  combined and a soft consistency.
5. Spoon the mixture into the tart shell and spread evenly.
6. Cut the cherry tomatoes in half cross ways and arrange cut side up over the filling.
7. Scatter the remaining goats cheese, crumbled, over the filling and drizzle with olive oil and scatter over the remaining  basil leaves.
8. Bake at 170 degrees centigrade for 30 minutes.


There is something rather lovely about serving up something a little out of the ordinary for a picnic on a day out. My childhood was spent growing up in the Lake District, and every weekend, week in, week out, whatever the weather, we spent picnicking in Wasdale or Ennerdale or one of our favourite hidden 'family' spots, amongst the jungle of bracken.

My mum had an old washing hamper that my dad's mum had given them, which she filled with tiny blue Tupperware boxes with circles on their transparent lids - hundreds of them, it seemed - and our greatest joy was to unpack them all and peel back the little lids to discover the little treasures held inside. A few slices of hard-boiled egg with cress and mayonnaise or a piece of gingerbread was like Christmas all over again to a starving child with icy wet legs from clambering in the stream in towelling shorts and soaking wet plimsolls.

Love Martha x