the shape of jazz to come

that's what ornette coleman called his debut album, released in 1959. a horribly presumptuous title - if only it weren't so very true. the first cut, 'Lonely Woman', might be my favorite piece of jazz ever.

it's the music that was stuck in my head while I made this dish. a dish of a summer still to come.

late july is the season of the courgette (or zucchini. both words have a slightly different feel, just pick the one you're in the mood for), be it the shiny stacks of them given away almost for free at the store, or the fast-growing crop in your garden. this pasta dish is a great way of dealing with the abundance of them - and it's fast and easy to make, too. I made it for myself, dining alone, but it's very easy to multiply for two, three or four.

the one trick to this dish lies in the way the courgettes are peeled. you take a vegetable peeler and peel long strips from the top to the bottom, going round and around, until you reach the inner core of seeds (and those you chuck out), so that the shape of the courgette resembles the shape of the pasta in the dish - linguine, tagliatelle. I must have picked this up somewhere, but I have no idea where exactly. nigella? I honestly can't remember.

the smaller courgettes are (within reason), the tastier they will be. dutch shops seem to have not really caught on to this fact (maybe they think people won't recognise smaller courgettes for courgettes, and won't buy them?), but try to go for the smallest, firmest courgette you can find.

boil some water in a fairly large pan, and while it's getting to the boil, peel one or two courgettes in the way I just described. cook your pasta according to the instructions on the packet, mixed in with a good dose of common sense. and a couple teaspoons of salt. any type of flat, long pasta will do, but I found this pasta that was a little broader than tagliatelle, mafaldine, and it was great. while the pasta is cooking, heat some oil in a frying pan, and when the pan is hot, add the courgettes. they won't need long, maybe a couple of minutes, until they're vibrantly green and Al Dente. when I made this last week, I added some dried thyme to the courgettes. the taste was wonderful, but the thyme itself got a little crunchy. I have not tried this dish with fresh thyme, but I have a feeling it could be something wonderful. drain the pasta, and in a serving bowl, mix the pasta and the courgette. grate some lemon zest over it, and give it a good squeeze of lemon juice. you could finish it with a glug of good olive oil, some salt, maybe even some pepper (though I didn't, and I have a feeling it would be somehow intrusive), some grated parmesan, some torn up basil leaves... all, or some of the above, whatever you have on hand. don't leave out the lemon zest and juice though, they really marry the courgette with the pasta, and make the dish taste of summery summery summer.

- anne

Veg box wrap-up (the very first!)

One week ago today, Mariusz from Abel & Cole brought me my first ever veg box. I’ve considered getting a weekly veg box many times over the past few years, but somehow it never came to it. Either this kind of arrangement didn’t exist where I lived, or the local markets or Turkish grocers were just too good, or, since I simply can’t eat quite a few things that tend to inhabit veg boxes (such as the number one contributor to discomfort and misery otherwise known as the Onion), I was afraid I’d end up throwing things away, which I can stand even less than said onions. But this summer I was finally seduced by the promise of local and organic delicacies of nature, produced on a small scale and by happy cows and plants. (It definitely helped that Abel & Cole allow “skipping” certain vegetables and fruits, so that throwing things away – or a weekly attempt to offload spare onions and cabbage to office mates and general colleagues – wasn’t a worry.)

Of course, even with the skipping option it takes a bit of an open attitude to have all your veg for the week pre-picked for you. You’re probably going to end up with stuff you’d never buy for yourself. But actually, I’m particularly excited about that aspect. I do like to try new flavours and cook with different ingredients, but to be honest, when I’m on my weekly shop I tend to put the same foods in my basket every time, especially when I’m busy (which, as Alain Badiou would say, is always). Case in point: this first box (including the garden peas that I had ordered with it) contained no fewer than three kinds of vegetables that I had never prepared fresh before, plus at least one that I hardly ever eat. This promises to be an interesting experience.

So it suggested itself, really, to share that experience here, where, after all, things are all about our adventures big and small with all things food. So for the next four weeks, I will be writing about how I used up the contents of my weekly veg box. There will be lots of “recipes”, and although some will surely be dead simple, I hope they will offer plenty of inspiration. Oh, and have a look at the new veg box for this week. Ideas most welcome!

Last week’s box: broad beans, a bunch of young carrots, cauliflower, courgettes, fennel, cocktail vine tomatoes, salad pack, beetroot, sweet potatoes.

This week’s box: broccoli, watercress, cherry tomatoes, bunched Chioggia beetroot, courgettes, English green lettuce, red pepper, rocket, coriander. Tips welcome!


- Naomi

Fresh-from-the-pod broad beans and peas, Italian style

Serves 2. Combine with some couscous or crusty bread, and it’s a meal.

400g peas in their pods

400g broad beans in their pods

olive oil

lemon juice

parmesan, grated

some sprigs of fresh mint (optional)

Pod the broad beans and peas, keeping them separate. Boil the broad beans for 2–3 minutes in unsalted water, take them out with a slotted spoon, run under a cold tap (or put in icy water) for a minute to keep them from overcooking, then remove their white skins to reveal the bright green bean. Salt the water, then blanch the peas for 1–2 minutes. Combine, and dress with olive oil and lemon juice while still warm. Season with crushed sea salt and plenty of pepper. Leave to cool for a bit, then add a good amount of grated parmesan and, if you like, a handful of torn mint leaves.

Oven-baked sweet potato chips

I almost never eat sweet potato, but I loved these chips. Even better: these were cooked for me! Scrub or peel the sweet potatoes (mine weighed 500g each, so one was plenty for two people). Cut into thin wedges, season with salt and lots of pepper, and toss with some olive oil till coated. Bake in a single layer in a roasting tin. Depending on how thin the wedges are, they will take about 15 (pre-flip) + 10 (post-flip) minutes on 240°C. Keep an eye on them when they’re almost done, because the thin sides go from crispy to burnt quite quickly.

Salad pack

I loved the salad in this week’s box. I’m a big fan of salad leaves anyway, and this pack was full of different greens, including sorrel (which was quite a surprising experience for the unsuspecting muncher) and corn flowers (which tasted pretty much exactly as you’d imagine a flower tasting – quite bland and, well, plant-like –, but they did look very nice). Went down a treat with nothing but a simple mustard vinaigrette.

Turkish cauliflower with yoghurt sauce, brown butter and toasted seeds

My Turkish housemate cooked a traditional Turkish cauliflower dish similar to this recently (he fried the cauliflower in a batter – I’m guessing it was a dish called Karnibahar Kizartmasi), and I really loved it, somewhat to his surprise. I think the combination of the creamy yoghurt, hot chilli flakes and nutty spices made it special. I made this on the basis of a recipe in Casa Moro (hands down one of my favourite cookbooks), without the batter, and added the yoghurt sauce, brown butter and toasted seeds.

head of cauliflower, separated into florets

cumin seeds

coriander seeds

chilli flakes

Greek yoghurt

garlic

knob of butter

some seeds (sunflower, pumpkin etc.)

Toast the seeds in a dry frying pan (careful: they burn easily – and it’s easy to burn your mouth on them, too!). Take out the seeds, then briefly dry-toast the cumin and coriander seeds (or ground cumin and coriander, if that’s what you have). Mince the garlic and stir into the yoghurt (how much yoghurt you use is up to you; I would take about four tablespoons per person).

Fry the cauliflower in some olive oil with the spices. Depending on the size of the florets, this should take about ten minutes. While the cauliflower is cooking, slowly heat the butter in a small pan until it is quite a dark brown, but take care not to burn it. Stir occasionally to prevent the solids from sticking to the bottom of the pan. It should develop an irresistible nutty smell.

To serve, put the fried cauliflower florets on a plate, spoon over the yoghurt, then pour the brown butter in a circle on top. Sprinkle over the toasted seeds.

Carrot salad

Scrub and grate a bunch of young carrots, then dress with lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. Also nice with some garlic and ground cumin and coriander seeds, and perhaps some fresh coriander too.

Penne with courgettes, cherry tomatoes, ricotta and parmesan

Loosely based on a recipe from the River Café Cook Book Two. Serves 2 (or split the veg in half and eat the leftovers as a salad the next day).

three small courgettes

a pack of cherry tomatoes

half a tub of ricotta

penne

garlic

basil

parmesan

Trim the courgettes and blanch whole (or cut in half) in salted water for 2–5 minutes. Slice at an angle. Cook the pasta. Mince the garlic and soften (not brown) in some olive oil, then add the courgettes and season with pepper. Fry until the penne is done, then crumble over the ricotta, add the basil, mix in the pasta, and take off the heat. Plate up, grate over a good amount of parmesan and serve.

Thinly sliced fennel with tomato and feta

I adore raw fennel, and this salad is something I eat a lot. I think the combination of the spicy fennel, sweet tomato, lemon juice and some strong, salty feta works quite well. Nice with crusty bread.

fennel bulb (preferably with some feathery green leaves)

one normal-sized tomato or a few cherry tomatoes

feta

lemon juice

olive oil

Remove some of the root of the fennel, reserve the green stalks to use in a cooked dish (it works great instead of celery in a tomato sauce). Cut (or shave) the bulb into very thin slices. The easiest way is to cut the bulb in half lengthwise, then rest the flat end on the chopping board and slice. Toss with some olive oil and lemon juice and season with salt and pepper. Skin the tomato by cutting a cross on the bottom and immersing it for a minute in a cup with very hot water. The skin should come off easily, with the flesh still smooth. Discard the seeds and stalk, then chop and mix with the fennel. Crumble over some strong feta.

Pasta with beetroot and ricotta

Courtesy of Anne B. My beetroot–ricotta mixture was quite solid, and would actually work well as a filling for ravioli or cannelloni. It’s not really a sauce, as it’s too thick to coat the pasta, but it’s perfect for scooping up with some chunky pasta shapes. If you want it runnier, try adding some milk. Serves 2.

two or three beetroots

half a tub of ricotta

pasta

thyme (fresh or dried)

Loosely wrap the beetroots in foil with some olive oil and thyme and roast in a 220°C oven for about 45 minutes. When cooled slightly, boil the pasta. Peel and roughly grate the beets, then heat up in some olive oil with more thyme, salt and pepper (some ground coriander and/or fennel seeds work well too). Stir in the ricotta, which will turn the whole thing a truly obnoxious shade of pink, and serve with (or inside) the pasta.

garam masala tofu scramble

the elegance of omelettes and chocolate cherry cupcakes aside - this is really the sort of food I love. sophisticated hippie food. this is another recipe by heidi swanson of 101cookbooks (how long d'you think before our blog becomes an official shrine to heidi swanson and nigel slater, naomi? we might be only 2 posts away).

after a long, kind of stressful day, it was so good to sit down to dinner with my brother, and dig into this. the spices, fennel and onion give you a big warm hug, and the the textures of the finely sliced onion and fennel against the slight chewiness of the cranberries, in combination with the crunch that the nuts give is just... it's wonderful.

Garam Masala Tofu Scramble

ever so slightly adapted from Heidi Swanson's recipe (I used almonds instead of pistachios)

to make it, heat up some oil in a frying pan, and add about a tablespoon of good garam masala (I like the mixture from Het Blauwe Huis, which you can get at most Dutch health food shops). leave the spices to heat up for a few seconds, to let them start releasing their flavor, and then add a sliced red onion and half a bulb of fennel, shaved (or cut very finely). depending on how much time you've got, you can just let the onions get soft and then get on with the rest of the dish, or you can leave them on a low heat for quite a while, getting all dark and chutney-ey. add 250 gr. of dried cranberries, chopped up, and leave them to heat up for about 30 seconds. then add 250 gr. of crumbled up, firm organic tofu (I can really recommend the japanese style tofu from Taifun, also to be found at most Dutch health food shops). stir to combine and let all the flavours get to know each other. turn off the heat, and add a handful of chopped cilantro, and a handful of chopped up nuts (I used almonds because I had some in the cupboard, the original recipe stipulates pistachios). eat with some rice, preferably in good company, such as your brother :)

another version with the same flavour-combinations: if you leave out the tofu (and maybe the nuts), leave the onions to get nice and dark, and chop the cranberries very finely, this dish could make a very good side-dish to some chicken, I think.

- anne

This is not a cuppa

Summer has been shy these past few weeks. Hiding its sun behind grey clouds, modest on the temperature front. Even the rain is never more than a drizzle. The steady supply of fresh British berries and cucumbers has been pretty much the only sign that it actually is July. Not exactly cool hot ginger ice lolly weather. Or whole lemon lemonade weather. Or Pimm’s weather. Or weather to barbecue a sea bream, Moro style. All of which will have to become the subject of a post here at some point. But not this week.

Fortunately, no summer is too grey for cold-brewed iced coffee (and tea). I had never heard of cold-brewed coffee until a few weeks ago, but it’s fair to say I was sold on it from the first drink. In fact, I’ve had a bottle in my fridge pretty much constantly ever since (and so has my housemate, since I’d shared some with her). Here’s why cold-brewed coffee is different:

1) It tastes different. Much smoother, much less bitter. Even without any sugar, cold-brewed coffee tastes slightly sweet. Plus, you are able to get lots of flavours that are overwhelmed by the bitterness of coffee brewed hot.

2) It’s much less acidic, so very easy on the stomach. I would never even think of drinking normal coffee on an empty stomach, but with cold-brewed coffee, it’s no problem at all.

3) It has much less caffeine. Or much more. The jury is still out on that. (On the basis of my own subjective, non-blind, non-randomised experiments, though, I confidently assert it probably has rather less.)

4) It lasts forever. Really it does. After five days in the fridge, cold-brewed coffee still tastes as fresh as when it was just strained. This is great, because 4a) you never have to throw any away (I can’t stand throwing food away), and 4b) your morning coffee is always already there. And 4c) this method makes a concentrate, so you get a lot at once, so far less cafetière-cleaning to do.

I’m especially glad to have discovered cold-brewed coffee, partly because it makes much more of a difference to my day. But when it’s hot outside, cold-brewed tea is really good as well. Especially with lots of crushed ice. And a parasol. But the best advantage: I’ve never heard anyone call iced coffee or tea a “cuppa”. Much better…

Cold-brewed iced coffee

As the water is very hard around here, I try to use filtered water for these drinks, to avoid the nasty film that sticks to the sides of your cup (the technical term for which, apparently, is “coffee scum”). This method produces a coffee concentrate, which is mixed just before drinking with two to four parts water (or milk, or both). Special equipment: a cafetière.

coffee (coarse grind)

water

for serving: more water

optional for serving: milk and/or ice (cubes or crushed)

Fill the cafetière to about a fifth with coffee. Pour on water till half full, stir until the grounds are soaked, then top up with more water. Leave covered in the fridge for 12–24 hours, plunge, then strain through a paper filter (tastier and healthier). Lasts in the fridge for many days.

Cold-brewed iced tea

Any kind of tea is good, really, and none of them need sweetening, although of course you can do so if you fancy. I often have rooibos, which has a nice sweet undertone when made this way, or sencha green tea, which can be quite intense hot, but is a lot milder when brewed cold.

tea (I typically use bags, two per 750ml)

water

Even easier than coffee: put the tea in a teapot / glass bottle / container of choice. Pour over cold water. Leave to brew, then drink over ice (if you use crushed ice, make sure the tea is strong enough). In my experience, tea doesn’t need as long as coffee to brew; two hours is plenty (but overnight works fine too). If you want a very clear tea, resist the temptation to shake the bottle while brewing – unless your tea bags or loose tea are very good quality with absolutely no dust.

- Naomi

lush life

or, the elegance of an omelette as a solitary dinner.

ignore everything everyone ever told you about drinking alone (except what nigel slater told you about drinking alone, which is that you should ignore everyone who says you shouldn't drink alone) - some bread, an omelette and a glass of wine is just about the perfect meal for one. lush life. wear a black dress and some heels for the occasion. or better yet, go barefoot.

- anne

Swings and roundabouts

Really, food blogging is a kind of matchmaking. Enticing people to flirt with techniques, ingredients and combinations they wouldn’t have picked for themselves. Introducing a new best companion for summer evenings or cold winter nights. Prompting a discovery that may be the beginning of a long-term bond.

For me, this certainly is what I love about talking to people about food. For a large part, it’s even what I love about cooking. And it very much is what I hope writing here can be.

One part of this, of course, is the adventurous part. Seducing you to try new things that might remain new for a long time, because they’re not the kind of thing you would eat every day. Unfamiliar flavours to get to know slowly. Surprises. Those are great. But I think I’m even more excited about the other part – the food friendships, if you like. The kinds of dishes you find yourself returning to again and again. Things to add to your stack of go-to recipes, to replace the curry-from-a-jar that’s more for convenience than because you really like it, or the pasta with tomato sauce because you can’t think of anything else, or the fried egg because the fridge is empty. Some new recipes with the potential of becoming weekday favourites. Or rather, a stack of go-to ideas that can form the basis of meal after meal without getting old. Something like this plus something like that, in this kind of way. That’s one thing I’m excited about: introducing you to my own favourite ideas to build on, hoping that each of them might win just a few hearts and find its way into a few repertoires.

So here’s a current favourite, a typical case of more-an-idea-than-a-recipe, from Heidi at 101cookbooks, who may well be the queen of the genre. A senator of the genre, at the very least. (Not to mention exceptional at photo-powered temptation… you’ve been warned!) This particular idea is for a tortilla stuck to a fried egg base, then filled with a dollop of yoghurt and a bunch of fresh herbs. It’s as simple and quick as any recipe you may resort to when short on time or energy, but at the same time filling and fresh. It is a very versatile starting point – the tortilla can be a soft taco or a wholewheat Indian chapati (both freeze very well, so you can have them at hand any time), the dairy can be yoghurt, sour cream or crème fraîche, and any kind of fresh herb is great. I like coriander or basil, or large quantities of flat leaf parsley. Even some baby leaf greens would go well.

The original recipe leaves the tortilla fairly soft, but I prefer to fold it early and cook both sides till they’re crispy. I really like the different textures this method produces, though you do end up with a firmer egg. You win some, you lose some. (Or, as I heard a mother teach her four-year-old at the bus stop the other day, ‘swings and roundabouts’. I love that expression.) Plus, it’s easy to make up for the loss of moisture and general runniness by adding a good spoonful of yoghurt inside the tortilla, instead of on top. Great with a green salad, or chopped cucumber and tomatoes.

Quesadilla with egg, yoghurt and herbs

It’s easiest to fry the egg in a pan not much larger than the tortilla. Otherwise, some good spatula skills come in handy. Nothing difficult here, but timing is important, so make sure you have everything ready before you start. Serves 1.

2 corn tortillas

2 large eggs

feta or parmesan

yoghurt or sour cream (nice with some garlic or lemon zest)

fresh herbs

Beat the eggs with some pepper and salt. Heat up just a little bit of oil in a non-stick frying pan, and pour in half the egg. It should spread out thin, to roughly the same size as the tortilla. A larger pan may allow for two eggs at a time, but pour each egg separately, and leave enough space in between them. Let the egg set for 20–30 seconds. (Since this is a great recipe for when you’re too busy or distracted to do much cooking, and since eggs sitting next to a frying pan just ask to be broken into it, you will at some point accidentally put the egg in the pan without having beaten it first. If this happens, just break the yolk and distribute over the top of the egg right away, but make sure the bottom layer remains intact – you don’t want it scrambled.) While the top of the egg is still uncooked, lay the tortilla on top and press gently, so that it sticks to the egg as it sets. When the tortilla no longer comes off with some gentle pulling, flip over. Sprinkle with some crumbled feta or grated parmesan. Fold the quesadilla in half, and cook for another minute on both sides, so that the tortilla is crispy. Take off the heat, open up, add a spoonful of yoghurt and plenty of herbs, close, eat.

- Naomi

what to say about chocolate cherry cupcakes

it's hard to know what to say about these cupcakes, really. they're the little guys in the upper corner on the left. mini chocolate cherry cupcakes.

it's the difficulty with writing about food, I guess. it's not just that it's hard not to get lost in adjectives - tasty, dense yet light, crumbly yet moist, chocolate-y, dark, melting... all of which apply to these cupcakes, by the way. sometimes something is so good, it's hard to know what to say about it. I just kind of wish you could taste them. just by looking at these pictures.

I made them for a party last weekend (my parents both have/had a big birthday this year), but to test-bake them first, I made them in their original form, i.e. non-mini:

oh, yes.

the fortunate truth is, these cupcakes are ridiculously easy to make. you basically just shake a wooden spoon at some chocolate. the recipe is from nigella lawson's how to be a domestic goddess, I only tweaked it slightly by adding less sugar. but nigella said I could, ok! if you'd like these to be really sweet, or if you're using a very non-sweet cherry jam, you can crank up the sugar to 150 gr. I'll give you the recipe for the non-mini cupcakes.

heat the oven to 180 degrees, and line a 12-bun muffin tin with papers. in a big pan with a heavy bottom (teeheehee) (sorry), melt 125 gr. butter. when it's almost completely melted, add 100 gr. of the darkest chocolate you can find, broken up in pieces. give them some time to start melting, then turn off the heat, and stir with a wooden spoon until the mixture is smooth. then, add 100 gr. sugar, a pinch of salt, 300 gr. cherry jam, and 2 eggs (already beaten) (or not, I tried both ways, and both ways worked fine). stir again until everything's combined, then add 150 gr. flour, and 1/2 teaspoon baking powder. fold it into the mixture. poor the mixture into the tins, and bake in the oven for about 25 minutes. after 15 minutes, check to see if they're not burning. if the cupcakes look like they're getting a little too dark, cover them with a protective blanket of tin foil.

take the cupcakes out of the oven, and let them cool down in their tins for about ten minutes. then let them cool further on a rack. after about an hour, they'll be cool enough for their ganache. to make that, melt 100 ml. cream in a small pan, and when it's hot, add another 100 gr. chopped up dark chocolate. stir until it's all glossy and smooth and sexy. with a spoon, ice the cupcakes with the ganache. if you want, you can put a whole cherry (or even a glacé cherry) on top. 'tis the season, after all!

(did I really give you two recipes including cream in two weeks? I'm not trying to give you guys heart-attacks, I swear!)

- anne

This great stage of fools

Oh, the pressures of summer. The uncertain allocation of gorgeous days that must be enjoyed as they present themselves, regardless of duties and commitments. The joy of seeing the days grow longer in spring curtailed by the knowledge that the moment summer has started, they will so quickly shorten again. The short-lived seasons of asparagus and artichokes, berries and stone fruit, the pain of their ever so fleeting nature amplified by the marvel they offer. The slipping by of last chances one after another.

So we shall bathe our faces and legs in the sun while it’s there, and feast on summer’s bounty while we can. Today: gooseberries.

For most Brits, gooseberries in all shapes and forms instantly provoke a flood of childhood memories. Having spent my young years in the low countries, I can only recall one childhood moment in which gooseberries were involved, and those weren’t even fresh. But they’re much like redcurrants, of which we had a bush in our small but well-used garden, and which I adored even as a child. Unlike redcurrants, gooseberries don’t offer the joy of allowing to be picked from their stem and popped into one’s mouth small translucent ball by small translucent ball. In fact, the earliest gooseberries of the season are too tart to eat raw at all. They are, however, a great fruit for cooking. And when in Britain, there’s really only one option for cooking them. Fools.

Fools are thoroughly, properly British. Soft whipped cream, perhaps some custard, and stewed summer fruits, to be spooned courteously from a small glass. And gooseberry fools may be the most British of British fools. Even Henry VIII in all historical likeliness enjoyed summertime gooseberry fools. Not that it would be advisable to pay too much heed to his ways. Then again, no reason we should. Today is summer. Today is gooseberries for gooseberries’ sake. They are here now, and they should be celebrated. So today, no fewer than three fools. It’s only appropriate. Indulge!

Gooseberry fool (the Tudor way)

From: THE COMPLEAT COOK, Expertly prescribing the most ready wayes, Whether, Italian, Spanish, or French, For dressing of Flesh, and Fish, Ordering of Sauces or making OF PASTRY. LONDON: Printed by E.B. for Nath. Brook, at the Angel in Cornhill, 1658.

To make the best Gooseberry Fool:

To make a Gooseberry Fool. Take your Gooseberries, and put them in a Silver or Earthen Pot, and set it in a Skillet of boyling Water, and when they are coddled enough strain them, then make them hot again, when they are scalding hot, beat them very well with a good piece of fresh butter, Rose-water and Sugar, and put in the yolke of two or three Eggs; you may put Rose-water into them, and so stir it altogether, and serve it to the Table when it is cold. 

Gooseberry fool (according to Nigel Slater)

For minimalists.

a pack of tart gooseberries

a few spoonfuls of sugar

whipping cream (two-thirds the weight of the gooseberries)

Top and tail the gooseberries, then stew them with some sugar till they disintegrate. If your berries are the sweet kind, just leave the sugar out. Whip the cream until it forms soft folds (not stiff peaks); Nigel pre-chills the bowl and whips by hand. Once the gooseberries have cooled down (important, or the cream will separate), mash them and fold into the cream. A 450g pack of gooseberries should serve about 6.

{And the ultimate}

Gooseberry and elderflower fool

This one’s my favourite so far. It has a bit more going on, with custard and elderflower cordial added to the gooseberry-and-cream base. If you’re in a gooseberry-devoid area, any other type of currant would probably work as well. I imagine it would also be nice to fold in some whipped thick yoghurt, for a slightly fresher touch.

The custard element of this recipe is (quite appropriately, I can’t resist noting) adapted from Mary Berry’s ‘real proper’ custard. I used about half the quantity of custard below for a 450g pack of gooseberries (so that the finished dessert is 3:1:1 gooseberries to custard to cream). But you’d be a fool not to double the recipe. Custard is delicious. (For a real British treat, try the extras with fish fingers.)

a pack of tart gooseberries

a splash of elderflower cordial

whipping cream (a third the weight of the gooseberries)

250ml whole milk

1 vanilla pod or ¼ tsp vanilla extract

2 egg yolks (freeze the whites for meringues and the like)

2–3 tsp caster sugar (I use unrefined)

1 level tsp cornflour

First, make the custard. Heat the milk in a small pan with the vanilla pod. In a bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, sugar and cornflour, plus the vanilla extract, if that’s what you’re using. Tip the hot milk into the bowl while whisking continuously, then return the mixture to the pan. Simmer until set, but don’t allow to boil, all the while stirring with a wooden spoon. Cool.

Top and tail the gooseberries, then stew for ten minutes or so, until they burst. (It is perfectly acceptable, and for the reluctant dishwasher, recommended, to do this in the uncleaned custard pan – custard removed, of course.) Since the elderflower cordial is quite sweet, you don’t really need extra sugar, but if you want to add just a little, go ahead. Cool. When cold, stir in a good splash of elderflower cordial.

Whip the cream to form soft folds. Combine with the elderflowered gooseberries, and fold in half of the chilled custard.

- Naomi