It's about to get seasonal - Part I
I don’t mind admitting that the concept of seasonal food was completely alien to me when I became a chef. As a child of the ’80s, the concept of seasonality was barely a concern with a weekly rotation of spag bol, chilli con carne, bbq chicken, pasta bake, fish pie, roast chicken, chicken goujons, peas, baked beans, oven pizza, oven chips and perhaps occasionally a risotto. Thinking back, I could tell you that in the summer we ate lighter food during the day, although dinners were somewhat unchanged unless it was a very hot evening and then we might have hot dogs and sit outside. We had salad leaves all year round, we had tomatoes all year round, and we had most fruits all year round. We had lamb and salmon and chicken and beef, all year round.
This is only to say that, for me, like for many of us, the journey from there, to here, has been steep and full of learning. It is not true to say that eating locally, and as a by-product seasonally, is the be-all and end-all; although it is quite a good shortcut to eating more sustainably.
As with all these things, there is a pyramid-style hierarchy of virtuosity that can help us pick our workable spot on the spectrum of seasonal eaters.
At the vertiginous pinnacle of this pyramid, we would have companies like Natoora and the much-admired allotment mafia, who are likely to espouse a sort of radical seasonality - that is, only eating a thing when it is in its genuine season, learning to use it along more of its lifecycle (i.e. unripe green tomatoes, peak ripe tomatoes, and split and almost rotting overripe tomatoes should/could/would all be used very cleverly by a radically seasonal seasonalist,) and making provision during the glut of a thing to preserve it for later in the year when there is little of interest to eat in your natural growing environs.
For this to be a workable here in the UK, our catchment area for seasonality might need to be stretched across the channel in order that it takes in some of the warmer climes of mainland Europe, otherwise, we’ll never see citrus fruit again and we’ll be forced to eat nothing but cabbage, potato, and turnip for about 6 weeks of each year. Although, we would all become better picklers, preservers and salters of things so that we might stretch the good stuff throughout the year.
In the pleasingly chubby middle of this pyramid of virtuosity, we have the everyday cook who accepts that, with the best will in the world, they cannot only use what they have grown, likely as they don’t grow anything, nor can they afford the (quite right, but none the less quite extortionate) tithes that radically seasonal suppliers and shops need to charge for their saintly produce. Those of us in this chubby middle (which I suspect is quite a few) will keep an eye on labelling in supermarkets, will try and buy British grown produce where possible, will accept that things grown in Spain and Italy and France and even Morocco are sometimes an unavoidable fact of shopping in British supermarkets, will avoid anything flown in from Peru (out of season asparagus) or Guatemala (out of season mange tout and sugar snap peas) or Chile (out of season grapes) or South Africa (out of season carrots and peas), will likely use a fruit and veg box delivery, and/or will relish a trip to the farmers market when possible.
At the broad bottom of our virtuosity pyramid, you’ll have those who want what they want, when they want it, and either don’t know or don’t care about where that food might come from. This group of absolute chillers can be identified by their year-round avocado, tomato, mango, soft fruit and berry addiction.
There is no judgement from me, no matter where on the spectrum you sit. I have ridden up and down that pyramid, and even those espousing bleached-clean virtuosity will no doubt have little cravings and peccadillos that get indulged quite regularly; or indeed might have gaps in their saintliness either knowingly or unwittingly.
What I would say is this. It can be cheaper and much more delicious to eat things at their peak. Fruit that is shipped halfway across the world is almost always picked unripe then allowed to ripen in transit (often with the encouragement of sprays and chemicals) so that it arrives on our shelves just about ready to eat.
That we know enough about the ripening and sweetening effects of sunlight, should tell us that an apple, for instance, picked at peak maturity, versus one that is picked when barely ripe and ripened in a shipping crate, will be all the more delicious. We also know instinctively that the longer a crop has been out of the ground, off the tree, etc, the greater the degradation of nutrients, and thus, it is easier to make a case for things being picked at their peak and getting to our chopping boards as soon afterwards as possible.
All this is to say, as we career towards one of the most exciting seasons out there for cooks, I wanted to look through the fruit and veg that will be in peak season across May, June and July and outline a few of my favourite ways to use it whilst we have it at its best.
Artichokes - let's not beat around the bush, artichokes are a nuisance to prep, even if you do know what you are doing. If you see a couple of nice big globe artichokes, then it is hard to beat a boiled or steamed artichoke with a piquant vinaigrette. Kenji Lopez Alt has a pretty comprehensive video on how to do so here, although from memory watching him prepare just two artichokes is enough to make one wonder why you would bother. By far my favourite way to eat most varieties of the artichoke is to prepare them Alla Romana, or Alla Giudia which is basically prepped and fried, as shown by Anna Tobias whilst she was at The River Cafe here, or see the recipe below from Stevie Parle’s Real Food from Near and Far, for the best version I have ever cooked and eaten. Similarly, finely slicing good young artichokes and serving them raw as a salad with lemon juice, parsley, oil and capers is a delightful way to experience their brusque bitterness cut through with an almost nutty sweetness.
Asparagus - the OG British seasonal produce as far as I am concerned. A lecture from a colleague at work long before I became a chef highlighted to me the short but sweet British season for Asparagus and the damaging distance that out of season asparagus travels. This year British asparagus has been on supermarket shelves eight weeks earlier than usually expected due to a very mild winter, but usually, the eight week season starts at the end of April and runs to mid to late June. I have three favourite ways to eat Asparagus. The first is raw, finely sliced or shaved/mandolined and dressed in oil, lemon and salt. If I have some hard salty cheese such as pecorino, ricotta salata, a mature Berkswell or even a salty blue cheese, I might scatter some of that over the top. If not, I might toast a few sliced almonds or crush some toasted hazelnuts and toss those over the dressed ribbons of asparagus. When the asparagus is vital and fresh, eating it raw is almost as good as it gets. Towards the end of the asparagus season, which tends to coincide with some good weather and proliferation of hot charcoal and outside cooking, I like to grill the thicker asparagus spears hard and use them in salads, or on their own. If you find yourself with some bottarga, smoked cod's roe, taramasalata or similar, and have some grilled asparagus about your person, I can vouch that finding yourself a quiet corner or a lockable cupboard and eating the one dunked or slathered in the other, will result in a spike of dopamine that will see you right through to the asparagus season next year. Finally, I love to make an asparagus thoran when eating lighter coconuty curries in the early summer months. There is quite a premium recipe from my old boss Stevie Parle here, or alternatively, you can use my (only slightly less delicious) version below.
Carrots - If you’re anything like me, I suspect that you won’t have deliberately eaten a seasonal British carrot until you decided to deliberately purchase and eat a British seasonal carrot. I’m sure that for some of the year a supermarket carrot is British grown, but I have no real idea. Currently, my local supermarket carrots seem to be from France, South Africa or Isreal, and as such, I tend to never buy them. When I receive carrots in my Oddbox they inevitably get used in the base of stocks and soups and stews, or under a roasting chicken, but for very little else. My grandmother used to boil halved carrots (the nice locally grown ones with the tops still on) in enough salty water just to cover them, with some butter, a splash of orange juice and a pinch of caraway seeds, and these were very very good indeed.
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