Summer love

May is but a distant memory.  The summer sun has been replaced by incessant rain, heavy during the week, torrential at the weekend. 

The weather has battered the garden.  First, weeks of no rain.  The ground dried, then parched.  My tender vegetable seedlings: stunted, wilted or bolted.

Next, weeks of pounding rain.  The strawberries, which were on the cusp of ripeness, are spoilt, rotten, their soft skins pummelled by the rain's heavy drops.  The roses, delphiniums, poppies, lupins, stocks and sweet williams have been stripped of their blossom and their petals, browned by the rain, are strewn, like Miss Haversham's confetti, over the garden.  The, at best, tepid temperatures are insufficient to fuel the garden's usual heady summer growth.

It is raining as I write, after a soggy cycle home.  The outlook for Wimbledon is bleak, the first day has been a wash out.  (Murray is still in but for how long?)  I am awaiting the outrage, the national shame, as Wimbledon strawberry sales run dry: are British stocks too low (the early crops accelerated by the May sun and now exhausted, the later crops waterlogged) to support Wimbledon's heavy demand for this quintessentially English fruit?

I took the opportunity, in a rare dry moment at 6.30 this morning, to sow the first of the winter seeds: cavolo nero, purple and white sprouting broccoli and curly kale.  I will bring them on in pots and plant them out in September, once the summer crops are over and space has been vacated in the vegetable beds.  Although I know that the plants need time to develop and grow strong before the winter cold sets in, I feel forlorn to be preparing for winter when it is not yet midsummer and summer's stay seems to have been altogether too short. 

The silver lining (to the threateningly dark, sometimes black, clouds that appear to have appropriated the English summer) are the peas.  Sowed improbably early (even in the greenhouse) at the end of February and planted out in April, the peas were well established before the May drought, their pods ready to swell in time with the June rains.  The plants are now weighed down with pods, ready for picking, each pod offering a taste of a long lost summer. 

I am not the only one to have enjoyed the peas.  One morning last week, whilst doing my usual early morning inspection, I was delighted to find the garden dancing with bluetits, flashes of emerald blue darting through the taller plants and trees.  My delight was however short-lived when I realised that the tits were in fact feasting on my peas, their mood as jubilant as mine after a snack on the tasty sweet green Lilliputian globes of goodness.  Dressed for the office rather than the garden, I scrambled, in my suit, for some netting with which to protect my precious crop.  A struggle ensued and lawyer, peas and sense of humour became quickly entangled, whilst the tits looked on quizzically, bemused by the gardener's new and not entirely suitable attire and confused as to why having been encouraged into the garden, they were suddenly unwelcome.  With the peas protected, my train missed, I made my late way to work, pea-ce of mind restored.

From a gardening perspective, June has had little to commend it.  My peas have provided a ray of sweet, green sunshine in this otherwise soggy summer.  They offer a burst of summer even if eaten holed up in the kitchen, the hatches battened down against against the inclement weather raging outside.

(I have used fresh peas for all the recipes below.  If you are using frozen peas, cook the peas first.) 

Snacking Peas

(These are so good that I have been serving them in individual portions in ramekins, to be eaten with a teaspoon, as part of a selection of starters or simply to whet the appetite.  They are always gobbled up before anything else.  Otherwise, simply serve as a side dish).

Fresh peas, podded

Olive oil

Basil, finely chopped

Parmesan shavings

Put the peas in a colander and pour over a kettle of boiling water (This is all the cooking they need and will ensure that the peas retain their crisp bite).

Whilst hot, drizzle over the olive oil and basil and stir through. 

Seaso with salt and pepper and scatter the parmesan shavings on top.

Pea and broad bean crostini
(courtesy of Jamie Oliver)

150g fresh peas (i.e. 150g once podded)

250g broad beans (ditto) (cook first if you are using frozen broad beans)

Mint

Salt and pepper

Olive oil

50g parmesan, finely grated

Juice of 1 lemon

1 clove of garlic

Sourdough bread

Mozzarella

Bash up the peas, broad beans and mint in a pestle and mortar (or in a saucepan with a potato masher).  You may need to do this in batches unless you have a very large pestle and mortar!  Season with salt and pepper.  Stir in the parmesan and enough olive oil to bind all the ingredients together.  Add half the lemon juice and taste.  You may need to adjust the lemon juice, olive oil or salt and pepper to taste. 

Toast slices of sourdough.  Whilst still hot, rub each slice with the garlic (just lightly, maybe two stripes on each piece, any more and the garlic will be overpowering) and spread the peas and broad beans on top.  Top with torn pieces of mozzarella.  Drizzle with olive oil and a few more mint leaves.

Pea and herb salad

(borrowed and adapted from Yottam Ottolenghi writing for The Guardian)

50g pearl barley

300g peas (or a mix of peas and broad beans)

1 crisp green lettuce, finely chopped

Mint, roughly chopped

Basil, roughly chopped

1 tbsp lemon juice

Olive oil

Salt and pepper

Goat's cheese

Cook the pearl barley (30-35 minutes in a saucepan of boiling water or 15 minutes in a pressure cooker).  Refresh in cold water and drain.

If you are using fresh peas/broad beans, place in a colander and pour over a kettle of boiling water.  If you are using frozen peas/broad beans, cook in boiling water.

Put the peas, broad beans, lettuce, pearl barley, herbs, lemon juice and olive in a bowl and stir.  Season and adjust the lemon juice and olive oil to taste. 

Crumble the goat's cheese over the top.

Strawberry clouds
(I have snuck one strawberry recipe in here.  If you have any strawberries left in the garden or can get hold of some, this recipe is sure to make you smile).

300g strawberries

Mint leaves

50g caster sugar

3 egg whites

140ml double cream

Blitz the strawberries in a food processor.  Add a few mint leaves and blitz again.  Sweeten to taste. (Sugar will bring out the flavour of the strawberries.  Add it gradually, tasting as you go along.  You should be able to taste the mint but it should be subtle.  Add more mint leaves if desired and blitz again but be careful not to overpower the strawberries).  Pass the strawberry mixture through a sieve and discard the pips etc. 

Whisk the egg whites until they form stiff peaks.  Then whisk in the sugar until the mixture has a glossy sheen.

In a separate bowl, whisk the cream until thickened but not stiff. 

Fold the cream, egg whites and strawberries together (using a metal spoon).  Spoon into glasses and chill.