The great foodwriter Elizabeth David wrote thus of summer
food: “Meals will be primitive…entirely delicious because perfectly appropriate
to the time, the place and the circumstances…You are on holiday. You are in
company of your own choosing. The air is clean. I ask no greater luxury. Indeed
I can think of none.”
Having enjoyed a few warm days recently, I may perhaps have
come over all wistful and romantic prematurely. Peaked a touch early maybe, but
when summertime arrives, pretty girls put on floaty dresses, the babies smell
all of sun-cream and strawberries, it’s then that I turn to dear old Mrs David.
The best summer food is indeed primitive in its simplicity
and so much the better for it. At the time of writing it is the eve of the
Summer Solstice (call me disorganised would you? I wrote this a good week ago
dear Reader!), and traditionally tomorrow is the day that the last of the
asparagus is harvested. Cheerio spring, hello summer. So the ‘grass may be
gone, but for me the primitive gobblings will be peas fresh from the pod,
strawbs straight from the punnet, ice creams direct from the jingly-jangly van.
Elizabeth David was a partisan of lustiness, and summer food is sexy. Have you
ever podded a pea or picked a crab with someone you’re likely to spend the
night with? You should try it.
With a bit of luck – the Met Office don’t unfortunately seem
so optimistic – we may enjoy a few more days of alfresco dining over the next
few months. Lounging around all Bridesheady and Cider with Rosieish on picnic
rugs and up against hayricks. Phwoar.
In my little garden the first broad beans are just
appearing. And by the time you’re reading this I reckon they may well be ready.
I love a broad bean, in their cool fluffy pods. I will commit vegetal
infanticide and harvest them when the beans are no larger than a little
fingernail. As affords such a seasonal treat, I will go to the bother of
blanching them in boiling water for a brief minute, chilling them in iced
water, and then popping each one out of its tiny jacket. Tossed around in the
best virgin olive oil you can afford (do me a favour with this rapeseed
malarkey – there’s a time and a place, maybe), the teeniest squirt of lemon
juice and a little chopped mint, this is a moment I look forward to every year.
Although the longest day has been and gone, summer is only
just beginning. Enjoy the seasonal treats that come your way because round here
we have them in fleeting abundance. Come rain or shine, it’s an opportunity
that’s too delicious to be missed.
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