A forager's tonic

Having had a poor year trying to grow my own vegetables (oh wetness, oh slugs!) I was getting a mite obsessive about putting by some sort of harvest for the cold months ahead. Having stumbled across a fine recipe for elderberry syrup in my Earth Pathways diary, I was determined that I would have at least one store cupboard triumph this year.

I've had a hard time finding elderberries in my immediate area but managed a good haul from alongside the canal near Bingley when visiting friends. It was a drizzly day and little legs were weary but still the children immersed themselves in the work of gathering, running about excitedly shouting over each fruit-laden bush they discovered. There is satisfaction in both discovering shiny wild treasure and in the anticipation of brewing and bottling something of the season.

So, without further ado - here is Glennie Kindred's recipe for elderberry syrup...

• Strip the berries from the stalks into a good sized pan - a fork made this less of a chore
• Add cinnamon sticks, chopped lemons, a couple of star anise, slices of ginger and some allspice
• Glennie advises being intuitive with amounts...I used about 1 and a half lemons and about an inch and a half of ginger
• Stir it all up and leave overnight.
• The next day heat it up until it gets juicy - I possibly left mine a little too long and I think it just started to reduce

• Strain it all through some fabric - I used a bit of muslin in a sieve but I think almost anything clean would do. This bit looks messy because it is.
• Measure the liquid and return to the pan to heat again gently
• Add the same amount of honey to liquid - I used a fifty percent manuka blend  
• Store in bottles or jars - I asked a herbalist friend about storage times and she suggested that keeping them in the fridge would help preserve the syrup a little longer

The resulting syrup is deep, dark and delicious. As it was so loved by the boys I checked on its toxicity with my friend who said that it was probably advisable to stay within two dessert spoonsful a day. Raw elderberries can be none too good if you eat more than a few so I was glad to be reassured that once cooked they are fine to consume in moderation.

I have been enjoying using the concentrated mixture as warm drink diluted with water. I think it would be good with yoghurt or ice cream and I'm looking forward to trying a splash in something bubbly like cava or prosecco. It's also good slurped straight from the spoon.

I'm told by those that know that elderberry can ease congestion of the body, heart and mind. It's a sultry brew to be sure and I'm trusting in a little hedgerow magic to keep those autumn coughs and sniffles at bay.

Into Autumn

Autumn. Is there a season more written about? It's such a nostalgic, wistful time of the year. As we feel the first licks of cold around bare necks, as our feet catch a few fallen crisps of colour, as our breath takes its  smoky form in the still of the morning, we are pulled from one season into another. I almost feel ready for the shift, almost ready for boots and blankets, scarves and soup. Almost.  

Hips, haws and berries are gleaming in the hedgerows just now and my little one's mouths have been often stained purple from blackberry bingeing. On returning from walks our pockets and bags have been heavy with harvests of foraged fruit. We've made use of the elderberries already and I'm hoping to gather enough rose hips to make a vitamin c rich syrup...on Richard Mabey's advice Eli tried raw Hawthorn berries but reported that they didn't taste a bit like sweet potato.

The boys and I seem to have found a little bit more of an indoor rhythm after some disharmony last week; we're taking it easy, trying not to overstretch ourselves. It's starting to feel easier to stay home and enjoy cosier activities. Our summer window display has been dismantled and the usual leaf, nut and acorn gathering can commence. We even started a little tentative seasonal crafting with some waxed leaves stuck onto transparent film; I think they look lovely with the light behind them at the window but Eli is a little disappointed that the glue is visible so we may have to try again with different materials at some point. Such a perfectionist my boy!

(Eli sporting his latest skate-park style - the vest.)

And so, with an extra layer or two and some berries and spices simmering on the hob, we slowly begin the season.

A harvest...of sorts

This year on the allotment has been rather a disappointment on the whole. It's been a summer of strange and unsettling weather which has left many growers frustrated with their harvests. On our community allotment project it appeared that many people had just given up after the floods. For us, the biggest problem has probably been the expanding slug population, this year has brought them just the conditions they love. I've seen some absolutely enormous ones in people's compost bins - truly montrous.

Almost all the things I planted: courgettes, lettuce, radish, chard, beetroot, peas, had been cruelly chomped before they'd even got going and even my humble potato harvest had many casualties due to the merciless beasts. Having said that, I do have some potatoes...and that is a small triumph. Digging them up with excited children by my side and now cooking up them up are two of life's little pleasures. There weren't many so they won't last us long, but they are my own harvest and they are beautiful for that.

Lammas bread

So, today is Lammas or as it's otherwise known, Lughnasadh. This oft forgotten pagan festival is associated with the beginning of the harvest and the twilight of the summer. A time to count our blessings, share our bounty and begin the inner preparations for the darkening of the days. As it's linked with the grain harvest, I've begun to think about it as the 'beer and bread one'.

Grain and the bread that is born of it, have been at the heart of homes across the globe for millenia. It was one of the first foods that we humans made and still endures as a staple of existence for a large chunk of the globe. Our language is laced with references to its central role in our lives from bread as 'the staff of life' to biblical 'daily bread'. It seems appropriate then, on this day, to share my much requested 'method' for making bread.

Homemade bread still seems too time-consuming for most people to contemplate. We're so busy, our time is so precious and when we can just pick up a pre-packed loaf almost anywhere it seems almost churlish not to...I, however, really like to make bread when I can but my relationship with bread-making is up and down. There are times in my life when I just can't squeeze it in and times when I manage to be more consistent  this generally means when I'm not feeling too overwhelmed with the rest of life's little challenges. I like to make it because I know exactly what I'm putting into it - I know it hasn't been driven all over the country in big trucks; it doesn't need packing in a polythene bag and mostly because it's a life-affirming thing to do. The satisfaction is always enormous, no matter how much bread I bake. The warm fragrant kitchen as the loaves bake, the golden glow of the crust on a wooden board, the soft steaminess of that first bite. I also love the process - meditative and slow but not laborious. 

My bread method was given to me by a friend and whole-food genius and it is virtually fool-proof. The dough gets lots of resting and not much kneading and almost always, hateful oven notwithstanding, delivers even crumbed, well textured deliciousness.

See?

Here is my very vague, non-scientific 'recipe':

• Put 250g of white and 25og of brown bread flour into a big bowl with 2tsp of Doves Farm dried yeast and enough hand-hot water ( approx a pint and a bit) to make an almost sloppy, stirrable 'sponge' mixture. Stir it all together well, cover with a wet tea towel and leave for a minimum of three hours but preferably and, more easily, overnight. This is what the sponge should look like:

• Add a further 500g of mixed white and brown flour, a generous couple of pinches of salt, a glug of olive oil and any seeds you might fancy. Mix with a wooden spoon (this is definitely the hardest bit!) adding small amounts of warm water as needed. Cover again and leave for 10 mins. Oil, not flour, your kneading surface and your hands. Take out the dough and knead no more than eight times, then put it back in the bowl for a further 10 minutes. Repeat twice leaving the dough after the third kneading for 30 mins

• For the final kneading and folding you need to flour the board. Then grease your tins and divide the dough evenly between them.

•  Leave to rise a little over the tops of the tins - this will take very little time ( approx 45mins) in humid conditions and considerably longer (maybe 2hrs or so) in a cold house.

• Slash the tops of your loaves before placing in the oven. Some people use razor blades for this, I use my bread knife. Whichever way you do it, they need to be clean cuts.

•  I should point out at this juncture that my oven has a mind of its own. I and it must do a little dance of discovery whenever I bake, therefore, it would be impossible for me to recommend accurate times and temperatures. Having given that disclaimer, the oven will need to be pretty hot when you put the loaves in, about gas mark 9. After 10 mins or so I always turn the heat down a bit. They probably take between 30 and 40 mins to bake. They should be crispy and golden on top and as everyone knows, sound hollow when you tap the bottom.

If you would like a proper recipe and more information about all things bread you will find it all here:
at the home of the real bread campaign.

If you'd like a slightly melancholy song about the grain harvest you'll find one here by the legendary Martin Carthy:

On that note, and after the longest post in history, I think I'll call it a night.

Happy beer drinking and breadmaking!

Tales from the kitchen

Last week was a busy one in the kitchen . I'm not really sure what inspired the flurry of activity but I was certainly a little driven by a lack of food in cupboards and fridge. The end of the month often means having to be a little more inventive with the staples; hence, for example, many flatbread/pittas were made out of sheer necessity. These lovely bready ovals are made with only flour, water and a little salt. Rolled out thinly and chucked onto our tava for a couple of minutes each side, they were super quick and easy. You don't need a tava though, a frying pan will do and making the dough is no more complicated than mixing up a few handfuls of flour with enough water to make a kneadable dough. We took some out with a pot of houmous for a simple packed lunch and had another batch rolled up with cheese, carrot, celery and mayo.

I've also been making tons of Soulemama's leftover oatmeal muffins of late and with the arrival of our one precious pot of bilberries they were enhanced further by splotchy blue goodness. These muffins have been a real hit with all of us. The kids obviously love them because they're muffins but I love them for being able to transform a load of unappealing leftover porridge into something considerably more appealing. I've made some with blackcurrants from next door's garden, I've made them with chocolate chips and now they've been bilberried. Again, they're nothing more than flour, butter, sugar, eggs, milk and some leftover porridge.





And so, onto possibly the most luxurious but even more simple bilberry syrup; just bilberries and maple syrup heated in a pan for a little while. I thought it would keep for a little bit and enable me to hold onto those precious berries for longer but it was just too delicious. We ate it with a few humble pancakes and dollops of natural yoghurt for breakfast. It was good. Really really good. Needless to say, there's none left.

I'd love to hear any kitchen tales you have to share...

Community

A sense of community, being connected to those around me in meaningful ways, is essential for my spiritual and mental well-being. I am hugely thankful, therefore, that I live in a place that seems to ooze connectedness on so many levels. Today was rich with the sense of belonging, from many meetings and greetings at the market, through celebrations in the village park, to our Wednesday communal meal with friends.

Our little village boasts three totally different schools - a primary, a Montessori and a Steiner school and all three were involved in today's grand unveiling of a new sculpture in the park. Many of the children have contributed in some way to the little space next to the woods, suggesting designs for the play equipment and the giant wood carving, planting in the little garden or making wind chimes to hang in the trees. Prizes were given out for special contributions and all the children were treated to a bouncy castle and piles of cup cakes, whilst the adults were treated to pasties and cava. Whilst we were there, the trees were further adorned with little clay goblins, this is Eli's happy chap...

It felt good to be standing in the rain together, admiring park art and watching our children mingle in the mud.

We then zoomed to consume yet more food and communal spirit at our mid-week meet-up at Holme St. I took along some bunting bits...

A few of us decided in the depths of winter that it would be really helpful for us to gather and share a meal in the middle of the week. Any parent who is going it alone, or who has a partner at work full-time, knows just how long the weeks can sometimes feel . It can also get a little lonely unless there are opportunities to share the journey with other families; this Wednesday afternoon get-together helps us do just that. The children play and we prepare food whilst trading tales and news. It also eases the pressure of the daily 'what are we going to eat tonight?' angst. Some weeks I might manage a more elaborate meal but other weeks i might just take a plate of chopped carrots. It doesn't matter, we always have enough between us. 

Eli and Monty love coming here, I think it might be the highlight of their week. It seems such a beautiful and simple way for us parents to receive and offer support while giving our children's friendships space to deepen. It would be great to see our group and others grow, not just for families and friends, but for whole communities. In an increasingly isolating time for many people, creating ways to find each other, helping everyone feel like they're a part of something and valued can only be a good thing. Allowing each one of us, however we're feeling, to find strength and hope in the simple act of coming together.