This summer has certainly been a dry one. We've had weeks without any meaningful rain and now a hosepipe ban, so every drop of water feels precious. Most evenings end with our old, galvanised watering can in my hand, giving what I can to the vegetables and hoping it'll be enough. Some crops have taken it all in their stride, while others have seemed to really struggle.
Inside the greenhouse everything looks healthy enough, but it's been unusually slow going. I often equate warm, sunny weather with perfect growing conditions, but that doesn't necessarily seem to stack up. It's the first summer I've really put the Rhino roof blinds to good use. Pulling them down before the sun reaches its highest point really takes the sting out the heat and helps keep the plants from slumping in the midday sun. The tomato plants are tall and full of leaf, yet they're taking their time to set fruit. Admittedly, I was a touch late to put them in, so I'm hoping they'll catch up before the season begins to turn. Outside, the runner beans are climbing steadily, but they're in no hurry either. It all feels a little as though everything is waiting for rain.
The courgettes, on the other hand, seem perfectly happy. They're producing well now and finding their way into the kitchen almost every day. I never really get bored of them; they're just so versatile. Young ones sliced into salads, fried gently with garlic and olive oil, or cooked over the fire until they're soft and lightly charred. They're one of those vegetables that I seem to be able to slot into almost every meal at this time of year.
The first beetroot are ready to lift too. They're still young and beautifully sweet, so I've mostly been roasting them whole while they're small, grating them into salads, or boiling them until their skins slip off and serving them with smoked herring and horseradish. As mackerel isn't being landed in the same quantities, herring is proving to be a wonderful and more sustainable alternative. The carrots have done surprisingly well despite the dry ground, and the young leeks are coming along nicely too.
We've just about finished digging our first early potatoes and have now moved on to Kestrel, a second early variety with slightly thicker skins and a lovely firm texture. They're excellent simply steamed and buttered, but they do have a tendency to break up if you don't keep half an eye on them, so I'm leaning more towards roasting them from now on with rosemary, garlic and plenty of flaky salt.
The little cucumbers or Gherkins, I’ve been growing in and around the tomato plants have been one of the nicest crops this year. There hasn't been a great rush of them all at once, so I pick them one by one as they reach the right size, leaving the smaller ones to grow on. Every few days I seem to have enough for another jar. So far, I've fermented two jars and I expect there'll be another few before the summer is over. I thought I'd share the recipe below because it's one I come back to every year. The oak leaves might sound unusual, but they really do help keep the cucumbers wonderfully crisp.
The outdoor rhubarb has carried on producing well too. Rather than making another crumble, Alice and I are going to have a go at recreating something we tasted a while ago. The rhubarb is dipped briefly into a light sugar syrup before being gently dehydrated until it's wonderfully chewy and intensely flavoured, it'll be interesting to see if we can recreate it.
One major disappointment this year has come from in the orchard. I've never known the grey squirrels steal the fruit, until now that is. Every day I seem to catch one scampering across the garden with another young apple or pear in its mouth. They've stripped nearly every tree long before the fruit has had a chance to ripen. It's such a shame because the crop looked really promising earlier in the year. I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do about them... squirrel pie anyone?
Pickled cucumbers with dill & oak
If you like pickles and ferments, then you have to make these – they are amazing. Try to find fresh little cucumbers that smell sweet and are firm to the touch, as these will give you pickles with the best flavour. I like to spike the salty brine with dill, mustard seeds, sliced red onion and a touch of garlic. I also find adding a few oak leaves to the jar really helps the cucumbers retain that all-important crunch, thanks to the tannins in the leaves. If you can't find an oak tree in leaf, blackcurrant leaves work just as well.
These cucumbers are wonderful with grilled steak, shellfish, good cheese, fatty charcuterie, or anything smoked or cooked over the fire.
Fills a 2-litre Kilner jar
Ingredients
10–12 small, firm, exceptionally fresh cucumbers
1 small red onion, thinly sliced
1 bunch of dill, with flowering tops if possible
6–8 oak leaves, or blackcurrant leaves if you can't find oak
2 garlic cloves, bashed, skin on
1 tbsp black mustard seeds
40g fine sea salt
Method
Cut the flowering tops from the cucumbers, if they have them, then give them a gentle wash in iced water. Leave them to sit for 15–20 minutes.
Drain the cucumbers and pack them into a clean 2-litre Kilner jar, along with the onion, dill, oak or blackcurrant leaves, garlic cloves and mustard seeds.
Pour 1 litre of water into a large jug and add the salt. Whisk thoroughly until the salt has dissolved to make a brine.
Pour the brine into the jar. Fill a small food bag with water and place it on top of the cucumbers to keep everything submerged beneath the brine.
Close the lid and leave the jar somewhere cool for 4–5 days to ferment. Lift the lid and taste one of the cucumbers. It should have developed a lovely tang and a little funk. Once you're happy with the flavour, transfer the jar to the fridge. They'll keep happily for up to a year.