THE BIRD ORCHESTRA

Words Jo Denbury Photography Katharine Davies

As we emerge from another lockdown this month, many of us I hope will, on reflection, be able to find some good amongst the trauma of it all. For violinist, Rebecca Anderson-Deas and artist, Charlotte Steel, it was the chance for two old friends to collaborate on The Bird Orchestra, a book project that they were unlikely to have considered otherwise. ‘I may not have the orchestra, but I have birdsong,’ says Rebecca.

In March 2020 Rebecca was about to begin practising for a performance of Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony with the Dorset Chamber Orchestra. Then came the first lockdown and the cancelling of many such an event. ‘I was feeling sad and missing playing, as I tend to practise most when I am working towards a performance, so, as compensation, I began a fierce walking regime. While I walked, I began to notice the bird song and discovered there are lots of crossovers between birds and orchestras. I thought about it further and realised that when I listen to a symphony, I can distinguish the instruments and I wanted to be able to do that with bird song.’ >

Rebecca set about learning birdsong and before long, on her long walks around Sherborne’s surrounding countryside, she began to form her ‘orchestra’ and the idea for what became the book developed in her mind – although she hadn’t thought of it as a book initially. ‘I wrote about the birds and their songs but it was my daughter, Rachel, who said Mum, why don’t you make it into a book? So, I sent the foreword that I had written to Charlotte and when she replied with a series of illustrations for the birds; I knew I had got to do it.’

Rebecca and Charlotte became friends in London, where they both grew up. They attended the same Notting Hill primary school known as Fox. The school had a reputation for being creative and diverse. In the 70s when they attended, Notting Hill was a shabby, bohemian neighbourhood, full of artists, musicians and antique dealers. Both Rebecca and Charlotte reminisce about the school’s focus on creativity and life experience – not prescriptive learning and passing exams. ‘I learned the violin because the lessons were free,’ says Rebecca. ‘I think it was because violins are made of wood and were so much cheaper than brass instruments.’

‘It was only when I went to my senior school that I realised that Fox was known for producing people who couldn’t spell,’ laughs Charlotte.

They were taught by the likes of poet, artist and musician, Ivor Cutler, who would visit to take weekly lessons. ‘We would do dance, story-making, drumming, rhythm and jazz; we all thought it was completely normal,’ says Rebecca. ‘I just wish we could go back to it, as so many children are anxious nowadays and I am not surprised. Our Fox education hasn’t done us any harm. In fact, we are very lucky that during this last year we could fall back on skills that we had learned there.’ Rebecca went on to read French at Oxford University while Charlotte joined the Royal Academy and became a painter. Later, as a teacher at the Academy Education Department of over 30 years, she helped form the RA Outreach Programme which brought life drawing into the classroom in towns around the country, including Sherborne. >

Their friendship was rekindled when Charlotte rented a hut to live and work in at Roche Court, near Salisbury, and Rebecca moved to Hilfield, Dorset in 1994, with her Dorset-born husband Bill Anderson, and worked at Mathew Price publishers in Marston Magna. ‘It has been so nice to collaborate with someone I know so well,’ says Charlotte of working with Rebecca. ‘We have always kept in touch and I am passionate about painting birds and landscapes. Rebecca had seen the Hansel and Gretel book that I illustrated, and I liked the idea of her book,’ she says. ‘We had a laugh doing it together; you forget how nice it is to have those moments.’ Charlotte’s bird illustrations are exquisite with an element of the macabre, reminiscent of German artist Anselm Kiefer. ‘I think I am a dark person,’ says Charlotte, her wicked humour shining through in the book’s personification of the birds.

As Rebecca walked and listened, one by one the birds joined her imagined orchestra: the dazzling goldfinch on trumpet, the serenade of the blackbird on clarinet. The soloists? Well, it had to be the skylark for one - it’s soaring improvisation, so free and high, that it lifts the heart. And the evening performance? The nightingale, so rare, so melancholic and so close to Rebecca’s heart.

In October 2017, her eldest son Tom died. We chat for a while about how so many of us find solace in birds. She tells me of a moment when, not long after her son’s passing, she was at The Perch (a pub close to the river Cherwell in Oxfordshire). Grief rose in her throat and she stepped outside to get some air. ‘There was a heron standing, quietly, watching me,’ she says, and Rebecca felt a connection. On encountering a heron, you might feel the otherworldly presence of this noble bird. It’s not surprising they are considered totems of tranquillity and persistence.

‘Birds were there when Tom died,’ says Rebecca. ‘You want to stop but you can’t stop,’ she says of that period of her life. ‘Like the birds, you can’t take a day off; like the birds, you have to keep going. Birds keep going. They are constantly busy, and life is about keeping going.’ Rebecca talks of one of her favourite routes – it is part of the Macmillan Way, that takes her over the hill close to Honeycombe Woods; she calls the stretch of field that faces towards Lenthay Common her ‘skylark field’ because it is here that she often catches their song. ‘There was a day when I didn’t hear it. Instead, I saw two red kites and of course I should be pleased to see them, but I found myself anxious for the skylarks. It is a harsh world.’

Happily, Rebecca’s skylarks returned – nature has a habit of rebalancing itself. I ask Rebecca if her walks have become a pilgrimage of sorts? While she has suffered great sadness, the joy of discovering birds and their song over the last year, has focussed her mind and sharpened her eye. I know for myself that certain walking routes bring expectation of bird activity: the lark at the top of the hill, and the particular place on a familiar track where blue tits busy themselves by the hedge. As the year progresses, it’s a joy to see nature flourish in the glow of the sun. ‘I tend to walk the same route a lot and then become bored with it,’ says Rebecca, but throughout she listens for the birds and is never without her binoculars and notebook – although, she is keen to stress that she is still very much an amateur.

‘Birds you notice. You hear birds; you see them. They really are quite therapeutic,’ agrees Charlotte, who, on her daily constitutional, frequently pounds the turf of the park that lies behind Wormwood Scrubs prison in west London. Before lockdown, this was largely the preserve of joggers and dog walkers but has since become a mecca for experiencing nature’s wild beauty. ‘Whitethroats have always nested there,’ she says, ‘but now the HS2 has cut right through their nesting site, which is worrying.’ ‘Listening to the birds is an essential part of wellbeing,’ agrees Rebecca. ‘Getting outside and exercising, as people have discovered during lockdown, improves one’s mood.’ We are well-versed in the benefits of exercise, diet and adherence to our circadian rhythms, why not try adding bird song to the mix?

‘The real test will be spring,’ says Rebecca, ‘will I be able to hear the full orchestra?’ The season tends not to disappoint. The arrival of the chiffchaff and the whitethroat bring welcome additions to the woodwind section and the great spotted woodpecker takes his place on percussion. The bird song this spring will be a symphony to remember and arrive heavy with hopeful symbolism. As Anselm Kiefer once said, ‘A ruin is not a catastrophe. It is the moment when things start again.’

thebirdorchestra.co.uk charlottesteel.com

The Bird Orchestra, by Rebecca AndersonDeas and illustrated by Charlotte Steel is available from Winstone’s Books, £10.99.

elizabethwatsonillustration.com

THE CAKE WHISPERER Val Stones

SIMNEL CAKE

My mum-in-law taught me how to make this fruit cake and, when I first married, it was the weekly cake that was used for packed lunches, afternoon teas and always with a cuppa! I like to make the cake in a loaf tin as it’s easy to portion up for packed lunches. It also makes an excellent round cake for a celebration cake.

Over the years, I have developed it into the fruit cake it is today – but a cake can always be improved! For the everyday loaf and round cake, I don’t soak in port, but rather in either two cups of freshly squeezed orange juice or one cup of orange juice and one cup of cider.

I decorate a simnel cake with marzipan and eleven marzipan balls: one for each of Christ’s disciples – the missing one being Judas. The tradition of making this cake comes from the 4th century and was made popular from the 1700s onwards, when a simnel cake was given to mothers on Mother’s Day. This cake was made at the end of Lent, when eggs, flour, and dried fruits were once freer to eat.

Today’s recipe is a twist on the traditional simnel cake; instead of putting a layer of marzipan in the middle of the cake, which often affects the way the cake rises, I cube up a quantity of marzipan and fold it into the mixture with the flour. When the cake is cut, you will see these delicious chunks of marzipan.

What you will need •A large microwaveable bowl, if you are using the microwave method, or a large pan if you are going to boil the ingredients. •A 15-18cm round cake tin – line and grease the cake tin (I buy grease-proof cake liners, which save a lot of time). If you decide to use double the recipe use a 20cm deep round tin. Tip - you may wish to invest in a silicone round liner and sides.

Ingredients 300g mixed dried fruit (I use equal quantities of sultanas, raisins and currants) 2 cups of port, for soaking the dried fruit 140ml water 100g light soft brown sugar 100g unsalted butter/soft tub margarine 50g glacé cherries, chopped into quarters

2 tablespoons of apricot jam, warmed to glaze the cake 2 tablespoons of whisky or brandy (optional) 2 medium eggs, lightly beaten Zest of half an orange 200g self-raising flour, sifted 150g marzipan, cut into cm cubes 1 rounded teaspoon of mixed spice 1 teaspoon vanilla extract ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon

For the marzipan topping 800g golden or white marzipan 2 tablespoons of sieved apricot jam to which 1 tablespoon of boiling water is added Cornflour for rolling out A selection of small chocolate eggs and/or chocolate bunnies, plus some fresh violas or primrose heads to decorate

Method 1 Place the dried fruits in a bowl, but not the glacé cherries, and pour over 2 cups of port (or alternative liquid of choice). Stir well, cover with a clean tea towel and leave overnight to plump up the fruit. 2 Place the fruit, sugar, margarine/butter and water in a microwaveable bowl and microwave on medium for 5 minutes. Then, stir well to combine all the ingredients. Repeat this twice more, until the mixture is bubbling. Alternatively, you can bring these ingredients to the boil in a large pan and simmer for 15 minutes. 3 Remove from the heat and stir in the 2 tablespoons of alcohol and allow the fruit mixture to cool. 4 Set the oven at 150ºC fan assisted, 300ºF, gas mark 2. 5 When the fruit mixture is cool, add the beaten egg, zest, spices and vanilla extract, and combine well.

Fold in the flour, then the chopped cherries and cubes of marzipan. 6 Turn the mixture into the baking tin, smooth the top with a spatula and make a hollow in the middle of the cake, so, when rising, the cake will not have a peak. 7 Bake for 1½ hours; check after 1 hour by placing a skewer into the middle of the cake. If it comes out clean, the cake is baked. It should be golden and firm to touch. 8 Whilst the cake is still warm, brush with 2 tablespoons of brandy. Allow the cake to cool in

the tin for 15 minutes and then place on a wire rack to cool completely. 9 When cool, store in an airtight container for 2-3 days to mature before decorating.

To decorate 1 Place a small amount of apricot jam on a cake board and place the cake upside down on the board; centre the cake and press it firmly. 2 Using 600g of the marzipan, form into a ball, dust the work top and rolling pin with corn flour, and roll out the marzipan into a circle to fit the top of the cake. 3 Brush the top of the cake with the apricot jam and then lift the marzipan circle onto the cake top with the rolling pin. Once in place, use the rolling pin to gently roll the marzipan to secure it. If you wish, crimp the edges of the marzipan. 4 Using the remaining marzipan, divide it into 11 and form each piece into a ball, using a little apricot jam to secure the balls around the cake. 5 Set the grill to 200ºC and place the cake under the grill, then watch carefully as the marzipan balls begin to caramelise and turn golden – as will a little of the top of the cake. Remove from under the grill, before they burn. 6 When the top of the cake is cool, decorate with chocolate eggs, bunnies and flowers.

SMOKED HAKE AND CHIVES CROQUETTES

Sasha Matkevich & Jack Smith, The Green

Image: Clint Randall

This is the perfect snack and always reminds me our family's trip to Barcelona. If you can’t get hold of hake good quality smoked haddock, poached in milk first- works equally well.

Ingredients Serves 6 400ml semi-skimmed milk 200g hake 100g wood chippings 260g plain flour 1 garlic clove, sliced 60g unsalted butter 60g olive oil 2 eggs, beaten 200g breadcrumbs 2 shallots, sliced 500ml vegetable oil 1 bunch of chives Salt White pepper

Method 1 To smoke the hake, use a portable hot smoker or, alternatively, use a large stainless-steel steamer: place your hake on the top layer of the steamer and arrange the wood chippings on the bottom. Tightly wrap foil around the edges to keep the smoke in and cook on a high heat for 5 minutes. 2 In a heavy-based saucepan, on a medium to low heat, melt the unsalted butter and add 60g flour.

Cook for two minutes, then begin to slowly add the milk, whilst continually mixing until all the milk is incorporated and the béchamel mixture is smooth. 3 In a separate pan, gently sweat shallots and garlic, with 60g olive oil, until soft and translucent. Flake the hake into the pan and continue to cook for a further 2 minutes, then set aside. 4 In a large mixing bowl, combine the béchamel base, hake, salt, pepper and chopped chives until the olive oil is fully incorporated. Then, refrigerate for at least 2 hours. 5 Shape the croquette mixture into small cylinders and coat them in the remaining flour.

Shake off any excess. 6 Dip the croquette into the beaten eggs and coat in the breadcrumbs. Repeat this process twice. 7 In a heavy-based pan, pre-heat 500ml vegetable oil to 180 degrees. Fry the croquettes in batches of 6, turning several times while cooking, until golden brown (approximately 4 minutes). Use tongs to remove onto a paper towel to drain. 8 Serve immediately with tartare sauce and a baby leaf salad. Bon appetite!

A MONTH ON THE PIG FARM

James Hull, The Story Pig

Ican’t sleep! I’m too excited and full of energy. Spring has arrived here with a bang; I have written before about how affected by the seasons I am. I never realised this when I was younger but, now I am not younger, I fully appreciate the coming of spring. My spirits lift, I wake up so early and I am literally bouncing round the place. This year it may be heightened by the fact that we are trying to get ready to open our cafe and shop.

My list of jobs has now reached epic proportions, with not enough items ticked off for my liking, but I guess gradually things are getting done. The thing is we have a lot of pigs now. Well, a lot for us: 350 and that’s as many as we are going to have. So, the pig jobs take longer and, lately, there has always been fencing or other jobs needed doing. 350 sounds a lot but actually it’s still very small scale on a national level, where farm pig numbers are normally well into the thousands. We have just over 30 breeding sows and we still know them all by character.

So, as I said, spring is here, we have had just over two weeks of the most amazing and welcome dry weather – miraculously – the ground has dried, and cracks have appeared as the moisture retreats. The longer days are most welcome, the hedges are dotted with soft yellow, as beautiful primroses pop their heads up and say hello.

Pig farming is a continuous circle; the piglets that were being born as I wrote my February article have been weaned from their mothers – at 8 weeks, neither side needed the other. The piglets have grown so well, eating me out of house and home already! Their mothers glad to see the back of their razor-sharp teeth. The piglets have been moved to a new pen and are settling into life on the main farm.

We have been busy fencing a new pig field to give us more space for our expanding herd; it’s full of grass (I wonder how long it will last!), nice straight rows of fencing stakes, water pipes dragged along the fronts of each pen. I love it when it’s all set out neatly... it never stays like that, but I have to try. Down at the farm we have built a new track around the farm so we can keep our yard clean for visitors – tractors are banned! We have fenced two new paddocks so that visitors can see the pigs in all their glory down by the farm. We are still waiting for our tepee, but by the time you read this, it should up... fingers crossed! Our garden is bursting into life and I am still spending any spare seconds out there; Charlotte knows if she can’t find me, that’s where I will be. I have cut the grass between the lavenders – what a difference that makes! The lavenders have not moved yet, but any day they will burst into life. So, it’s busy here, but spring’s here and, very soon, all of you will be able to come here too. We can’t wait for you all to share our little farm.

thestorypig.co.uk

VIRGINIA

David Copp

As a resident of Sherborne, I was especially delighted to be invited to visit the leading Virginian vineyards. Sir Walter Raleigh, one of our town's more enigmatic heroes, planned to establish there and named the territory Virginia after his patron Elizabeth I.

English colonialists settled in Jamestown in or around 1620. Virginia survived and thrived. Interestingly, every new settler was required to plant ten grape vines. Not many, you might argue, but it was the beginning.

Virginia is a tiny vineyard compared with California, but it does have some outstanding winemakers, and makes wines with a very definite character of their own.

There are now 300 wineries spread across the state, which spans west from the mid-Atlantic to the Blue Ridge Mountains. The real advance of Virginian wines in the twentieth century came when the Zonin family, from Italy, established Barboursville Vineyards in 1976.

On our visit there Luca Paschina, general manager and winemaker, proved to be a genuine wine enthusiast, an excellent winemaker and a very generous host. His Octagon, a Bordeaux-style blend served with lunch, was exceptional.

The late Michael Broadbent MW, something of a specialist on Cabernet Franc, was genuinely delighted at the quality of their Cabernet Franc. ‘Its fruit is generous and the tannins softer than in Bordeaux.’

Luca gave us another wonderful surprise: a very fine Nebbiolo Reserva produced on the estate. No wonder this is one of the very top estates and if you are visiting Virginia vineyards, Barboursville is a superb starting point.

Petit Verdot is another French variety that does remarkably well on carefully selected sites in Virginia. In Bordeaux, it plays a small supporting role to the Cabernets and Merlot, usually 2-3% of a blend. However, in Virginia, its bold colour, abundant aroma and nicely rounded body encourages rather greater use in the blend and an intriguing wine in its own right. Veritas was the best single Petit Verdot I tasted on the trip, made by the King family, another top-quality producer.

Perhaps the most interesting winemaker of the many I met was Jim Law at Linden, up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. His vineyard is named Hardscrabble, because that is what it is: rough, stony land with good exposure to the sun and made even more wonderful for vines due to the excellent drainage it offers.

Law is a modest man, absolutely committed to expressing his terroir in the glass. He calls himself a winegrower rather than a winemaker. I first heard the expression ‘great wine is made in the vineyard’ while training in Bordeaux. For a wine grower such as Jim Law, winemaking is not so much about responding to market trends using fancy modern winemaking equipment: it is about knowing which shoots to encourage and how many (or how few); about plant aeration; exposure to sunlight; canopy control and knowing which plots to pick first and why. This is what Jim does – day in, day out – without getting bored.

Virginia has many other enthusiastic and talented winemakers of more than passing interest. I spent an hour in the vineyards with Gabriele Rousse at Monticello.

As a would-be historian, I was fascinated to learn that Jefferson's interest in wine was stimulated during his 5 years in pre-Revolution France, as American Ambassador. He visited Bordeaux, Burgundy and the Rhone, and, impressed by the longevity of the wines he tasted, he shipped quantities of his preferred wines back home. In 1787, he was buying what became known as the ‘First Growths’ at the 1850 Paris exhibition. He not only bought Bordeaux but also d’Yquem, Rhone, and Burgundy.

Unfortunately, bad weather and phylloxera discouraged his own attempts to make good wine at Monticello. If you visit Washington, Monticello is only 60 miles due west of the city and really is worth a visit not only as a place of historical interest, but because of its gardens and approach to cultivation in general. One of my many memories of the house is the home-made lift Jefferson designed to bring wines up directly from the cellar to the dining room. In the cellar, I learned another truth: his most regular tipple was Madeira.