The Borough Market Guide to Summer

THE BOROUGH MARKET GUIDE TO Summer

From courgettes and broad beans to stone fruits and berries, a guide to sourcing and eating summer produce

THE BOROUGH MARKET GUIDE TO Summer

Ah, the semi-mythical British summertime: that much-anticipated period of clear skies and t-shirt warmth that in our hopes and dreams lasts for a solid three months but sometimes seems so short-lived as to be barely perceptable. Yet while British summer weather can be capricious, to say the least, the beauty and charm of British summer produce can be more easily relied upon. The strawberries will still come, whether or not the Wimbledon crowds end up basking in sunshine.

Through June, July and August, Borough Market will be blessed with a run of very welcome gluts: cherries and berries, peas and courgettes, mackerel and mullet, soft cheeses and ice cream. It’ll be the place to come for picnic food: breads, cured meats, olives, Mediterranean dips. It’ll provide the fish, meat and seasonal vegetables you need for your barbecue or grill, and the leaves, oil and vinegars you need for your salads.

In preparation, we’ve collected some of our favourite summer recipes and articles from the big cast of brilliant chefs and food writers who’ve collaborated with us over the years. With luck, the sun will come and bring them all to life. But the food will be no less delicious if you’re indoors wearing a jumper.

BOROUGH MARKET ONLINE

If you can’t make it to Borough Market, many of our traders provide online delivery services, offering a wide range of produce. Explore our online shopping directory:

boroughmarket.org.uk/online-shop-directory

All or nothing: Cooking with courgettes

Thom Eagle

Griddled courgettes & spicy chickpeas

Urvesh Parvais

Oregano-poached peaches, halloumi & hazelnuts

Angela Clutton

Toasts with goat’s cheese & broad beans

Olia Hercules

Heritage tomatoes on tahini

Ed Smith

Saffron fennel with walnut & herb crumb

Celia Brooks

White magic: Feta from Lesbos

Clare Finney

Baked aubergines & mozzarella

Ed Smith

Red mullet pappardelle

Roise Birkett

Octopus, pepper & butter bean salad

Jenny Chandler

Roast chicken with rosemary salt & figs

Felicity Cloake

The family stone: The joys of stone fruits

Rosie Birkett

Chocolate, cherry & raspberry tart

Ursula Ferrigno

Strawberry & fennel seed kulfi

Meera Sodha

Cucumber & gin sorbet

Kathy Slack

ALL OR NOTHING: COOKING WITH COURGETTES

Thom

Eagle

That until relatively recently this country favoured the thick-skinned bulk of the marrow over the courgette, whether in its flowering immaturity, its firm sweetness or through its juicy peak, has always struck me as peculiarly and doggedly British.

The apparent efficiency of allowing the vegetable to grow to its maximum volume, which really makes sense only when preparing for a competition at a country show, is made a nonsense of when you consider that anyone who grows courgettes has, at the height of the summer season, far more than they know what to do with, and that many of the most successful recipes for them involve reducing their volume as far as possible, in an often vain attempt to make some dent in the glut. It is remarkable, if you are not used to it, how quickly vegetables grow, with the weather on their side – only a handful of days separate the fruit from the flower.

Recently, I made a pasta sauce from romane courgettes, ridged and slightly stubbly, grated and cooked over a high heat with olive oil and garlic in a slightly-too-small pan so they steamed more than they coloured, stirred the whole time as they gained in intensity what they lost in mass. The colour was bright lime and its flavour the essence of courgette.

My father makes a dish that is nothing more than thickly sliced courgettes, thinly sliced tomatoes and some form of grated cheese, all layered up together, and the tomatoes bleed their rich umami into the juices as they all braise their way into softness. Sometimes the best thing to do with vegetables is to cook them right down into total submission, and

marvel at the depth of flavour – although sometimes the best thing to do is to leave them alone, at least as far as cooking goes.

If you have a lot of quite small courgettes, thin-skinned and very fresh, shave them all on a mandolin or with a vegetable peeler into Rizla-thin collapsing ribbons. Your boxful is now a bowlful, into which you can massage coarse salt, lemon juice, mild red pepper flakes, olive oil and mint, in that order, and leave to sit happily for an hour or so while they merge into a whole somewhere between a salad and a relish. It will sit happily alongside a very plainly roasted chicken or a fresh white cheese for a lunch or outdoor dinner that tastes of a brisk summer’s day.

On the whole, I think that this approach – to cook very thoroughly, if you are going to at all – is best for most vegetables, from the gnarled roots of winter to summer’s snappy fruits. It stems as much from the traditional British approach to greenery as it does from the more recently (for me) acquired Italian taste for braised and stewed vegetables of all kinds, preferably eased along with plenty of oil or pork fat, and perked up with anchovies, capers, olives, or just a sharp dose of lemon or vinegar – a good one, as sweet as it is sour.

It is the braising and the dressing, of course, that makes the overcooking worthwhile, allowing all the flavours to penetrate the softened flesh of your bobby bean, your aubergine, your chicory, your courgette or even your marrow; if you are going to plainly boil a vegetable it is best to err on the side of crunch, and allow texture and colour to make up for any deficiencies in flavour.

THIS APPROACH – TO COOK VERY THOROUGHLY, IF AT ALL – IS BEST FOR MOST VEGETABLES, FROM THE GNARLED ROOTS OF WINTER TO SUMMER’S SNAPPY FRUITS

If you must cook your courgettes al dente then it is better to do so as near as possible to fire (though preferably not on a skewer with button mushrooms and chunks of sweet red peppers), and to let the heat and the smoke fill in the flavours that long cooking might otherwise provide. You don’t need to barbecue; I still have somewhere an old cast-iron griddle pan I acquired from my first professional kitchen on which countless slices of courgette have been striped with black, softened but still with a slight crunch, before being left to linger in lemon and oil to a warm room temperature.

A thick-bottomed pan of any kind will do the

job, though, if you cut your courgettes into decent chunks – perhaps on see-sawing diagonals for a maximum of exposed flesh to caramelise and almost burn – and then coat them lightly with oil and heavily with seasoning to roll around the hot pan, kept for a minute on each cut side until they start to colour and smoke. You could pick the pieces straight out of the pan and toss them from hand to hand until cool enough to grasp between thumb and two fingers and dredge firmly through, say, taramasalata, seasoned yoghurt, or any of the pounded mixtures of nuts, spices and vegetables popular from Syria to Spain.

If you have a little more self-restraint, then tip the contents of the pan into a waiting bath, whether of vinaigrette, anchovy and tomato, or perhaps masses of thinly sliced onion, cooked gently with honey and vinegar. In any case, the point of a courgette is abundance, the expression on a plate of the generously trailing plant, so cook them in piles, and gather friends, and eat the heat of the summer.

GRIDDLED COURGETTES & SPICY CHICKPEAS

Urvesh Parvais

Serves 4-6

Ingredients

For the chickpeas:

1 x 700g jar of cooked chickpeas, drained

4 x 2cm lengths of cinnamon

2 bird’s eye chillies, sliced lengthways

8 curry leaves

1 tsp cumin seeds

½ medium onion, finely diced

3cm fresh turmeric, very finely sliced

For the courgettes:

4 large courgettes of different colours, sliced lengthways into 4-5mm slices

1 tbsp cumin seeds

6 cloves

2 tbsp olive oil

3 tbsp sultanas

A handful of fresh coriander leaves

A handful of mustard shoots

To serve:

Rice or Indian flatbreads

Method

Place 2 tbsp cooking oil into a large pan, over a medium heat. Add the cinnamon, then once you see little bubbles starting to appear around the bark, add the sliced chilli and curry leaves (these may splutter as they go in the pan, so move away quickly or have a lid ready as a shield). Once the chilli skin has turned white, remove the chillies and the curry leaves and reserve for later.

Add the cumin seeds, allow them to sizzle for 10-15 seconds, then add the onions and half the turmeric. Give it a stir, then add the chickpeas. Cook for about 8-10 mins on a medium heat, moving the mixture gently. Add ½ tsp salt and the rest of the turmeric, taste and adjust the seasoning to your liking. Remove from the pan and set aside.

To make the courgettes, dry roast the cumin seeds, then grind in a pestle with the cloves. Add this ground spice to the olive oil, then use a pastry brush to anoint the courgette slices on both sides.

Place the courgette slices in a griddle pan or on a barbecue and cook until you get those lovely char lines.

Place some of the courgette slices onto a serving plate, sprinkle with a few sea salt flakes and some of the spicy chickpeas, then scatter over some sultanas, fresh coriander and mustard shoots. Continue to layer the plate with courgette and chickpeas. Top with the fried curry leaves and chillies.

Serve with rice or a pile of your favourite Indian flatbreads.

Where to buy

Chickpeas Brindisa

OREGANO-POACHED PEACHES, HALLOUMI & HAZELNUTS

Angela Clutton

Serves 2 as a main, 4 as a side

There are fresh herbs, there are dried herbs, and then there are frankly incredible dried herbs. Into that last camp fall dried herbs that are produced to exceptionally high standards and don’t just harness the flavour of the starting point, but elevate it. Those are the only dried herbs really worth having in your store cupboard. This recipe involves poaching fresh peaches with dried oregano, which brings even more depth of flavour than fresh oregano would. Given the choice, I use one of the beautiful dried sprigs at Oliveology, but their ground oregano is lovely too. The poaching liquor is then reduced to a fragrantly sweet syrup for pouring over tender peach slices and fried halloumi, and finished with seasoned toasted nuts and mint. Perfect for a hot day.

Ingredients

2 tsp dried oregano (or an Oliveology dried sprig)

1 tbsp honey

1 orange

2 peaches

40g skinned whole hazelnuts

1 tbsp fruity olive oil

6 sprigs of mint

225g halloumi

Method

Pour 500ml water into a medium saucepan. Add the dried oregano (or oregano dried sprig), the honey and two broad strips of zest from the orange. Bring to the boil and, meanwhile, quarter and stone the peaches. Put them into the water, lower the heat to a simmer and sit a piece of baking paper on top. Simmer for 7-10 mins until the peaches are fully tender. Use a slotted spoon to lift the

peaches out and set aside. If their skins start to flake away as they cool, just peel them off.

Strain the poaching liquor, discard the oregano and orange peel, then pour the poaching liquor back into the saucepan. Don’t worry if a few pieces of oregano are left in the liquid. Boil over a high heat for 10-15 mins to reduce to a syrup – you are aiming for about 75ml syrup.

While the poaching liquor reduces, toss the hazelnuts in the olive oil along with some salt flakes and freshly ground black pepper. Set a small dry frying pan over a low heat, then add the seasoned nuts and stir for 3 mins or until they are just getting nicely toasted. Transfer to a bowl. Once they have cooled, roughly chop with the leaves from the mint sprigs. Cut the poached peach quarters into slices about 1cm thick.

Once the syrup is almost sufficiently reduced, cut the halloumi into 1cm-thick slices. Set the same frying pan the nuts cooked in back onto the heat, then add the halloumi pieces turning each over after 2 mins or so once they are browned. You might need to do this in two batches.

Serve either on individual plates or on a large platter. Sit the halloumi on first, then arrange the peach slices prettily on top, scatter over the seasoned nut and mint mixture, and finish by spooning over your oregano-infused peach syrup.

Recipe from Borough Market: The Knowledge with Angela Clutton (Hodder & Stoughton)

TOASTS WITH GOAT’S CHEESE & BROAD BEANS

Olia Hercules

Serves 1-2

Mint, chilli and garlic are typical ingredients for a paste called ‘mint adjika’ in western Georgia, and it is one of my favourite ingredients to use, especially come the warmer seasons. These bruschetta-like toasts are also brilliant later in the summer, topped with juicy seasonal fruit like cherries or peaches instead of broad beans.

Ingredients

100g fresh broad beans, podded 30g mint, roughly chopped (reserve some small ones for garnish)

2 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped 1 green or red chilli, deseeded and chopped 1-2 tbsp rapeseed or olive oil

A big pinch of flaky sea salt

2 large slices of sourdough 100g soft goat’s cheese

Method

Blanch the broad beans in boiling water, drain, then cool in cold water. Once cool enough to handle, pop the beans from their skins.

Blitz the mint, garlic, salt, chilli, salt and oil into a fine paste.

Toast the bread slices and slice each one into three parts.

Roughly stir the mint and chilli paste through the curd cheese and spread generously over the toasted bread. Crush the broad beans lightly (or leave them whole) and put them on top, followed by some mint leaves. Serve as a snack or canapé with some sparkling wine, hopefully in the sunshine.

Where to buy

Goat’s cheese Mons Cheesemongers

HERITAGE TOMATOES ON TAHINI

Ed Smith

Serves 4 as a starter

In late summer in particular, the colourful tomatoes plucked from Borough Market’s eye-catching grocery displays need very little done to them – though they should always be served at room temperature, well salted and with good extra virgin olive oil. If, however, you seek a change from pairing those tomatoes with mozzarella and basil, consider taking the lead from Middle Eastern (and specifically Israeli) cooking and try spooning chunky, sharply dressed tomatoes on top of whipped tahini.

Ingredients

80g tahini

60ml chilled water

Juice ½ lemon

500g heritage tomatoes

For the dressing:

2 small shallots, finely diced

2 cloves of garlic, crushed

1 tsp sugar

3 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Juice of ½ lemon

4 sprigs of parsley, leaves picked and finely chopped

To serve:

1-2 tsp sumac

Fresh sourdough or ciabatta

Method

Whisk the tahini in a bowl with the chilled water and lemon juice. Initially it might appear as though the tahini and liquids won’t combine, but a little perseverance with a balloon whisk will result in a light, thick yoghurt-type texture. Cover and refrigerate until required.

Cut the tomatoes into 3-4cm chunks. Transfer them to a mixing bowl and sprinkle generously with flaky sea salt. Mix and leave to rest at room temperature for 20 mins.

Whisk the dressing ingredients together in a bowl, including 3-4 grinds of the pepper mill. Drain away the excess juices from the tomatoes, then stir the dressing through the tomatoes.

Remove the tahini from the fridge 5 mins before serving. Dollop it onto a large plate or platter, then tumble the dressed tomatoes on top. Sprinkle with the sumac and parsley and serve with the bread.

Recipe from The Borough Market Cookbook by Ed Smith (Hodder & Stoughton)

Where to buy

Tahini

Spice Mountain

SAFFRON-INFUSED FENNEL WITH WALNUT & HERB CRUMB

Celia Brooks

Serves 4

Ingredients

2 large or 4 small fennel bulbs (about 700g untrimmed weight)

175ml vegetable stock, or hot water mixed with ¾ tsp stock powder

3 large pinches of saffron strands

1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

A large handful of fresh parsley

5cm sprig of fresh rosemary, leaves stripped 100g walnuts

1 tsp orange zest

Method

Heat the oven to 220C. Trim off the darker green stems of the fennel bulbs and reserve any fronds. Slice the bulb from top to base, cutting crosswise through the row of stems, into slices 1cm thick. Lay the slices in a 20cm x 30cm baking pan or casserole dish.

Mix together the (ideally hot) stock, saffron and olive oil. Pour over the fennel. Cover the dish with foil and bake for 20 mins.

To prepare the walnut crumb mixture, whizz the parsley and rosemary with a pinch of salt in a food processor until very finely chopped. Add the walnuts and orange zest and whizz to coarse crumbs.

After 20 mins baking, take the dish from the oven and carefully remove the foil. Use a large spoon to baste the fennel with the cooking liquid. Return the dish to the oven without the foil and reduce the liquid for about 10 mins more, until the liquid is almost gone but not quite.

Remove the dish again and spoon the walnut crumb on top of each slice of fennel. Return to the oven and cook for 5-10 mins, until the crumb is lightly browned and the liquid is completely reduced, then serve hot or warm, garnished with any reserved fronds, chopped.

Recipe from SuperVeg by Celia Brooks (Murdoch Books)

Saffron Oliveology

WHITE MAGIC: FETA FROM LESBOS

Clare Finney

Should you be so lucky as to find yourself sailing around the Greek island of Lesbos, keep your eyes peeled for a boat full of sheep, manned by a shepherd. It shouldn’t be hard to miss. They’ll be heading to a small island of volcanic rock across the bay to supplement their diet with its mineral-rich herbs. The sheep are a hardy breed, native to the island, and they graze outside throughout the seasons. “Not that winter is ever that bad there, but it can get cold in the mountains,” says Dominic Coyte of Borough Cheese Co. “In the summer months they have to find shelter during the heat of the day, and graze evenings and mornings.”

The feta of Lesbos is invariably better and certainly more reliable than commercially produced iterations. The island’s geology –“the area producing feta sits on a caldera, which is essentially a volcano that has collapsed on itself” – and seashore setting make for the perfect foliage for producing quality milk. “Much is made of the minerality of the Agra area, where our feta is produced, and the benefits to the herbage. There are no olive trees” – the roots of which make for quite bitter milk, if the sheep eat them – “and a real diversity of shrubs, herbs and wild flowers.”

This delicate, summery Greek number has tangy, sweet and salty strains just crying out for fresh cucumber, black olives and tomatoes. “Our feta is produced by the Tastanis family, who have been making cheese in this area for three generations,” says Dominic. They work with 15 shepherds and 1,500 sheep to produce feta from December to July. On one visit, he was fed feta on every possible occasion. “We had about 20 courses and each had feta: with

fish, wrapped in pastry, warm, cold… it just showed how versatile it is as an ingredient.” Though the majority of feta cheeses are a mix of sheep’s and goat’s milk, the Tastanis family make theirs with 100 per cent sheep’s, “so it has a very smooth texture, which is unusual in feta. What I like about the cheese is, that salty sharpness is not so obvious, so slightly fruity flavours can come out in the background.”

The sheep are milked twice a day. “Sixty per cent of the herd are milked by hand: I remember this guy sitting on an upturned bucket being jostled by sheep as he quickly milked each one.” The milk is taken to the dairy that morning and again in the evening, filtered, pasteurised and made into cheese. The Tastanis use their own yoghurt to culture the milk. “The most significant thing about feta is the use of salt: dry salting the curd and ageing it in brine,” Dominic explains. Feta varies hugely between regions and producers, but the method doesn’t vary much until this point. What happens next – how long it matures and whether that maturation takes place in metal or a wooden barrel – is at the discretion of the maker and seller.

“Ours is six months, but it could go a little longer, over which time it will get slightly denser and saltier. I think if you capture it around the six to 10 months mark, it’s perfect,” he continues. “You have that creamy deliciousness. You have that blend of flavours.” You have a cheese savoury enough for a spanakopita, sweet enough for watermelon, rich enough for a salad and creamy enough for our personal favourite: a slice of sourdough toast and a drizzle of Oliveology’s Greek honey.

BAKED AUBERGINES & MOZZARELLA

Ed Smith

Serves 2 as a main, 4 as a starter

Aubergines are available all year round but do have a peak season, when they look and taste in their prime, and are plentiful (and therefore cheaper). In the Mediterranean, that season is summer. This dish uses some of the components of a classic aubergine parmigiana, but with a lighter, more summery touch: the aubergines are baked whole, not sliced and fried, so require less oil; the tomatoes are sweet, tart and near-bursting, yet not stewed; and the creamy mozzarella is cold, not cooked, and torn fresh at the last minute, providing a contrast to the warm veg.

Ingredients

2 medium-large aubergines

2 tbsp dried oregano

Extra virgin olive oil, for drizzling

500g cherry tomatoes (a mix of colours)

4 cloves of garlic, flattened and peeled

30g pine nuts

1 tbsp balsamic vinegar

20 basil leaves

250g buffalo mozzarella

Crusty bread, to serve Green salad, to serve

Method

Heat the oven to 220C. Place the aubergines in a small roasting tin, drizzled with just a little oil, and bake in the oven for 30 mins, until the flesh has started to sink and the skin split a little, but they aren’t fully cooked. Remove from the oven and use a sharp knife to split the aubergines in half lengthways.

Place the halves cut side up in the tin, score the flesh in a criss-cross pattern and season generously with flaky sea salt, black pepper, half the dried oregano, and a few glugs of extra virgin olive oil. Return to the oven for a further 10 mins, then arrange the cherry tomatoes and garlic around them. Mix into the tomatoes the remaining oregano, the pine nuts and a little more salt and black pepper. Return the tin to the oven for a further 20-30 mins, until the tomatoes are bursting, collapsing and caramelising at the edges, and the aubergine flesh is soft and translucent.

Carefully stir the balsamic vinegar and half of the basil leaves into the tomatoes, then pile them onto the aubergines with a few spoons of cooking juice. Bake for 5 mins more, then remove from the oven, spoon the cooking juices over the top again and leave for 5 mins so all the flavours mingle.

Transfer the aubergines to plates or a serving platter, tear mozzarella on and around them, and spoon any extra tomatoes and juices over the top. Garnish with the remaining basil, plus more olive oil and serve with crusty bread and a green salad.

Recipe from The Borough Market Cookbook by Ed Smith (Hodder & Stoughton)

Where to buy

Buffalo mozzarella

The Parma Ham and Mozzarella Stand

RED MULLET PAPPARDELLE

Rosie Birkett

Serves 2

This is a pasta supper or lunch for a blissful summer’s day. It’s low maintenance and high impact, and celebrates the intense, nutty flavour of one of my favourite fish – the beautifully iridescent, pink-scaled red mullet. It takes the heady flavours I associate with balmy Mediterranean summers – fennel, tomato, rosemary, lemon and olive oil – and roasts them together in the oven before tossing fat, glossy ribbons of parpadelle egg pasta through it all with a lick of sumptuous saffron. It’s sunshine on your plate, whatever the weather.

Ingredients

2 whole fresh red mullets, scaled, gutted and cleaned by the fishmonger

A pinch of good quality saffron

½ bulb of fennel, finely sliced

100g small tomatoes, halved

1 red chilli, finely chopped

1 glass of dry white wine

2 sprigs of rosemary

½ lemon, sliced

200g fresh pappardelle

1 tbsp toasted pine nuts

1 tbsp fresh dill

Method

Heat the oven to 200C. Bring the fish out of the fridge at least 30 mins before cooking to come up to room temperature. Place the pinch of saffron in a small bowl and cover with 100ml water.

In a roasting tray, toss the fennel with the tomatoes and red chilli. Season well and drizzle over a little olive oil to coat. Pour over the white wine and roast for 12 mins.

Stuff both fish cavities with rosemary and lemon slices, then season. Place on top of the fennel and cover with foil. Roast for 12 mins more, then remove the foil and cook for 3 mins.

While that’s happening, bring a large pot of salted water to the boil and cook the pappardelle until al dente. Drain, reserving a little slosh of the pasta water.

Once the fish is cooked, remove it from the roasting tray and set aside to rest. Place the roasting tray over the hob on a medium heat and pour in the saffron and its juice, and the pasta cooking water. Add the pasta and toasted pine nuts, and toss well over the heat to combine all the flavours.

Remove the fins from the fish and pull the fillets off the bones, breaking them up into bite-sized pieces but keeping the skin intact (it has so much flavour) – be careful not to include any bones. Toss lightly with the pasta. Add the dill and toss that through too. Divide between warm plates and serve with freshly ground black pepper.

Pappardelle

La Tua Pasta

OCTOPUS, PEPPER & BUTTER BEAN SALAD

Jenny Chandler

Serves 6

Ingredients

1-1½kg cleaned octopus

1-2 red chillies, sliced in half

4 cloves of garlic, whole but crushed

A large bunch of flat leaf parsley

½ tsp salt

150ml extra virgin olive oil

1 x 660g jar of butter beans, drained

6 piquillo peppers (about 100g), sliced

2 lemons, cut into segments

Method

This is a dish for which you can get everything ready in advance, leaving just the charring of the octopus until the last minute –a real show stopper.

Freezing the octopus will help tenderise the flesh, but be sure that it is completely thawed before cooking. Cut the tentacles off just below the eyes and then cut the head away from just above. Throw away the eye section and push your little finger through the centre of the tentacles to remove the little thorn-like beak.

Take a small saucepan and pack in the octopus’ head and tentacles with the chillies, garlic, parsley stalks (keeping the leaves for the salad), salt and the olive oil. The octopus should be almost covered by oil. Cover and place the pan on a really gentle heat, just a low simmer, for anything between 30 mins and 1 hour, until the flesh is tender when prodded with a fork.

Meanwhile, pour the beans onto a large serving dish and sprinkle with the sliced peppers and parsley leaves.

Once the octopus is ready, strain the fabulous hot juices over the bean salad. Taste and adjust with salt and lemon juice if required. You can refrigerate both the salad and octopus now, but be sure to eat it at room temperature.

Just before serving, heat up a ridged griddle or use a barbecue to sear the octopus for a couple of seconds until it begins to char. Place on top of the salad with the lemon wedges and dig in.

ROAST CHICKEN WITH ROSEMARY SALT & FIGS

Felicity Cloake

Serves 4

Ingredients

1½ tbsp coarse flaky salt

4 sprigs of rosemary, leaves picked

1 unwaxed orange, zest and juice

4 chicken legs

6 ripe figs

Method

Rub together the salt, rosemary leaves and orange zest. Scatter two thirds over the chicken, cover and leave to sit in a cool place for an hour (or overnight in the fridge).

When you’re ready to cook, heat the oven to 220C and quarter the figs. Toss the chicken in a shallow roasting tin with a glug of extra virgin olive oil and scatter over the figs. Bake for 15 mins until golden then turn the heat down to 180C and bake for 20-25 mins more, until cooked through.

Squeeze over a spritz of orange juice and a little more of the salt if required.

Where to buy

Wyndham House Poultry

THE FAMILY STONE: THE JOYS OF STONE FRUITS

Rosie Birkett

A bag of ripe peaches heralds the summer. It summons flashbacks to moments suspended in time like peaches preserved in syrup: soporific garden lunches with bowls of peaches and cream; a lone, slightly squashed orb wrapped in kitchen roll at the bottom of my schoolbag – a sweet, longed-for, reviving joy after an ascetic hour of dreaded double maths.

I can be on the Walthamstow marshes, surrounded by nettles, fox poo and football matches and feel like I’m in the south of France if I’m biting into a perfectly plump peach – its honeyed juices dribbling shamelessly down my chin. There’s something almost illicitly good about a fleshy mouthful of peach that’s been left to get warm-to-bursting in the sunshine, and if I’m hauling our meals to the park to escape our stifling London apartment in high summer, these make for a blissful dessert.

Along with sublimely fragranced white peaches from France and Italy, flat peaches are a favourite. Slightly less fuzzy than their rounder siblings, their headily perfumed, pale flesh has an extra sweet flavour with a whiff of almond. Originally grown in China – where the peach originated – from a mutation of the common peach, they have become popular across Europe in the last few decades, but make sure you look out for the organic, Spanish-grown versions rather than the sad, plastic-wrapped imports from further afield. I like baking them into a light, almondy upsidedown cake with cherries and basil. The soft fruit keeps the cake moist, while the basil lends a fragrant edge and the flaked almonds an irresistible crunch. With the addition of a luscious spoonful of clotted cream or creme fraiche, it’s everything I want in a cake.

Almonds and peaches are a happy combination much-loved by the Italians, particularly in the classic dish of ‘pesche ripiene’, or stuffed peaches. The version in my battered copy of Elizabeth David’s Italian Food calls for six yellow peaches, three ounces of crushed macaroons (in the 1950s, this meant amaretti biscuits), one egg yolk, two tablespoons of sugar and an ounce of butter. You cut the peaches in half, scoop out the stones and mix a little of the pulp with the other ingredients, then re-stuff the peaches, baking them in a buttered dish for around half an hour. I’ve made several versions over the years, replacing the amaretti with flaked almonds or the egg yolk with more butter, and (sorry Elizabeth) adding a splash of sweet white wine, prosecco or rosé to proceedings when the mood’s taken me.

If you’ve not tried before, have a go at pickling peaches. When left to bathe in a sweet solution of good quality white wine vinegar, sugar, fennel seeds and peppercorns (or whichever aromatics you might fancy), they take on an incredible complexity and depth of flavour, and a balanced acidity that makes a wonderful accompaniment for fatty, grilled, meaty things like pork chops or great hunks of hard, nutty cheese such as comte or manchego. The skins will wrinkle with time but don’t worry about that – you can just peel them off.

In a similar vein, peaches are marvellous in substantial salads. I love them paired with the peppery, slightly citrussy flavour of celery leaves, tossed with a sharp goat’s curd, sourdough croutons and prosciutto and strewn with anise herbs like chervil or tarragon. At a late-summer supperclub a

I STILL REMEMBER MY UNEXPECTED DELIGHT AT BITING INTO

THE DUSKY REDDISH-PURPLE

SKIN OF MY DAD’S HOME GROWN PLUMS TO FIND SOMETHING JUICY, SWEET AND SHARP

few years ago, I served a version of this with Cornish pork belly that had been slow braised in whey and then crisped up under a hot grill. There’s something magical about crispy pork crackling eaten with yielding peachy flesh.

Apricots, with their smooth, deep-golden skins, are another wonder of the warmer months. If the flesh is mealy and the flavour one-note, they can underwhelm – but even these can be rescued with a gentle roasting in the oven or caramelising in the pan, or by poaching in a wine-based syrup. I like to poach whole apricots in sweetened rosé with lemon zest and fresh lavender – the floral, herbaceous notes of the purple flowers add a pleasing complexity, and the poaching concentrates the flavour. I use these in all manner of desserts: baked into tarts, or eaten with whipped cream cut with a little natural yoghurt and topped with crushed shortbread and chopped nuts.

Very good apricots have a unique sharpness that makes them ideal for patisserie. Paired with sweet, vivid green pistachio frangipane, they really sing. I’ve made various ensembles,

from blondies to more classical tarts with flaky, buttery pastry. My absolute favourite, though, is to bake them into a biscuity, hazelnut pastry tart shell with a sharp, muscovado-laced buttermilk filling that retains an irresistible wobble once baked, dressing the fruit with tangy, silky custard upon slicing.

Growing up in Kent, plums were the fruit that defined the late summers of my childhood. I still remember my unexpected delight at biting into the dusky reddish-purple skin of my dad’s home grown plums to find something juicy, sweet and sharp – better than anything I could have bought from the school tuck shop (and that’s saying something, for I was its best customer, loading up on Wham bars and pink shrimps daily – it’s a miracle I’ve still got teeth).

In recent years, I’ve become partial to greengages, enjoying their fresh, tangy flesh in dairy-rich desserts and salads with peppery leaves, or in my favourite breakfast compote, made with whole almonds or cobnuts, ideal on hot buttered crumpets or mounds of good yoghurt.

CHOCOLATE, CHERRY & RASPBERRY TART

Ursula

Ferrigno

Serves 8

Ingredients

For the pastry:

30g icing sugar

1 egg yolk, plus enough water to make up to 60ml

240g ‘00’ flour

200g cold, unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

For the poached cherries:

700g fresh cherries, pitted

100ml red wine

140g golden caster sugar

1 star anise

1 cinnamon stick

3 cloves

Thinly peeled rind of 1 orange

For the chocolate ganache:

200g dark chocolate, at least 75% cocoa solids

80g unsalted butter

3 tbsp double cream

For the cream:

200ml double cream

30g caster sugar

1 tsp vanilla extract or bean paste

50g toasted flaked almonds

200g raspberries

Icing sugar for dusting

Method

For the pastry, mix the icing sugar and egg yolk in a small bowl until smooth. Pulse the flour, butter and a pinch of salt in a food processor until blended, but still lumpy.

Turn out onto a work surface and bring the crumbs together in a heap. Make a rabbit hole in the centre and pour in the egg mixture. Lightly mix with your hands, kneading gently. Wrap in clingfilm and rest for 30 mins.

Knead the pastry very gently, roll out to line a 28cm tart tin, trim the edge and prick all over with a fork. Freeze for 15 mins until you are ready to bake.

Heat the oven to 180C. Blind bake the tart shell for 12-15 mins, until lightly golden. Remove the paper and weights and bake for a further 10 mins. Set aside on a wire rack to cool.

For the poached cherries, combine all the ingredients in a saucepan over a medium heat. Simmer for at least 20 mins until the cherries are tender. Set aside to cool, then chill. This can be done the day before or while the pastry is chilling, but the longer the better.

For the chocolate ganache, melt the chocolate in a bowl over a pan of simmering water. Add the butter and cream, stirring until you have a smooth mixture.

Pour into the cooled tart shell, spread evenly over the base and chill.

For the cream, whisk the cream in a bowl until you have soft peaks, then add the sugar and vanilla. Spoon over the chilled chocolate. Top with drained cherries, raspberries and flaked almonds. Dust with icing sugar.

STRAWBERRY & FENNEL SEED KULFI Meera Sodha

Serves 6

Indians go wild for strawberry season. Strawberry sellers in Mumbai stand on street corners behind gigantic pyramids that look too beautiful to disturb. This kulfi, much like an ice cream, is my favourite way to eat them. Infusing fennel seed into the cream lends it a sweet but gentle aniseed flavour.

Ingredients

400g ripe strawberries, hulled and washed 2 tsp fennel seeds (plus more to decorate)

400ml condensed milk

400ml double cream

1 tbsp caster sugar (optional)

Dried rose petals to decorate (optional)

Method

Place the strawberries into a blender, blend to a puree and leave to one side. Taste the mixture.

Grind the fennel seeds in a pestle and mortar and place in a pan alongside the cream and condensed milk, stir to mix and heat over a medium heat until the mixture starts to bubble. Turn the heat off and leave to cool.

When cool whisk all but 2 tbsp of strawberry puree into the mixture until fully mixed. It should become thick, like custard. Taste and add the sugar if need be, mix and pour into freezable pots or moulds. To decorate, dot over with the remaining strawberry puree and sprinkle over with fennel seeds and rose petals then freeze for at least 3 hours.

Cream Hook & Son

CUCUMBER & GIN SORBET Kathy Slack

Serves 8

The clean, cooling qualities of cucumber make it perfect for chilled dishes and summer cocktails. Here I’ve combined the two to make a gin and cucumber sorbet. A kick of gin and the grassy green flavours of the cucumber make this sorbet a light, palate-cleansing dessert for hot days. Adding glucose and alcohol means that the sorbet is soft straight from the freezer. And don’t be troubled by the colour when you make the juice – it won’t look like pond water once it’s churned, I promise.

Ingredients

300g caster sugar

40g liquid glucose

½ lemon, juiced

3 large cucumbers (600g in weight)

140ml gin

Method

Put the sugar and glucose in a saucepan with 300ml of water. Set the pan over a low heat until the sugar has dissolved. Do not let it boil. Remove from the heat and add the lemon juice.

Juice the cucumbers. If you have one, you can do this in a juicer. If not, roughly chop them then whizz in a blender to make a watery puree. Line a sieve with muslin and set it over a bowl, then tip the puree into the sieve and leave for a few minutes so the juice drips through to the bowl below. You can gather the muslin into a bag and give it a gentle squeeze to encourage any last drops. Either process should result in approximately 500ml of juice.

Mix the sugary liquid and the cucumber juice together. Add the gin and put it in the fridge to chill. Once chilled, churn in an ice cream maker then transfer to the freezer to set completely.

Where to buy

Cucumbers

Hickson & Daughter