Springing doubt

The Fulmar have started to pair off, soaring with grace on the updraughts to find a perfect spot on the face of the cliffs; cosying up on precarious little ledges, seemingly not ideal for things like eggs.  Soon they’ll be sharing their space with Kittiwake and the rock will be loud with activity; the noise matched by Guillemot and Razorbill on the sea stacks and Eider, Oystercatcher and Black headed gull by the shore. The signs of spring are becoming more obvious than just the plants around us, the animals are awake and ready for it too. 

Ryans Rhubarb, Dublin grown

I’ve lit a candle to keep company with my writing this morning, unsure about the grey day and wanting the warmth and atmosphere of the comforting, flickering glow.  The transition between winter and spring can feel a bit bumpy; like coming off the smooth motorway onto a minor road; it takes a bit of manoeuvring until we can steady our pace.  This is made even more confusing when one day it feels like spring and the next it’s back into the depths of winter.  Nevertheless we trust there’s a change.

Pancakes on the beach on Pancake day

I started the week by clearing out the polytunnel, the chickens were holidaying in it for a month and have scraped up the ground nicely; I added some topsoil and rummaged through the box of seeds trying to visualise the plants that will hopefully appear; N.B. DO NOT plant too many courgette.  Sorrel, gorse and even wild garlic are adding a vibrancy to the landscape and in the bakery I’ve been lucky to get some beautiful Irish forced rhubarb.  Much like the year planner on the wall it feels there’s a lot going on.  Maybe this is why I’ve felt a bit doubtful this week; unsure about what to write and why and who for?  I don’t want this to be a journal or diary of my week necessarily but a way to capture my thoughts on the small changes in the countryside through the seasons and the incidentals that might grab my attention.

The hens are laying again

Imposter syndrome aside, my concern turns to the unrealistic way we show our lives; you know I’ve ranted about this before but I feel ever more frantic as I wonder how long it’ll be before the eldest asks for a phone and social media.  Whilst what I do daily is authentic it is inevitably dotted with moments of anxiety, panic, anger, annoyance and hard work.  Naturally. Through creative framing you can’t hear the arguing, the shouting, the crying, you can’t see the mess, the out of shot moody child, the actual reality!  I’m considering the point of my Instagram account too. Ultimately I want to share my thoughts with you to create a sense of community, to support the idea of better eating, to encourage appreciation of the natural world and to hopefully give you a little diversion each week.

Ambushed by gorse, a game we play

I have just finished Aicia Kennedys No Meat Required and loved this paragrpah which really resonated with me;

I love to write about food because I love to look at it, smell it, cook it and share it…Those food writers, the dreadful ones, seem to think that going to pluck an apple from their orchard and cook eggs from their hens over a wood fire is a normal way of eating. Or is this just parody? I know I don’t eat in a normal way, which is a product of a lot of luck and privilege, but that’s why I want to advocate for a world where luck and privilege have no role in whether one’s food is fresh, nutritious, culturally appropriate, and accessible.  That’s’ the future of food I want.

Respecting the Maritozzi, Our version of the Italian classic; with Irish flour, rhubarb jam, whipped cream and gorse

This comes just as we are at the final stages of fitting out our new cookery school; it’s been a massively long process but we can see an end!  A dedicated space where we can teach and I hope to bring a lot of Gorse inspired thinking to the school and the events and workshops we’ll run. 

Looking East to Fairhead from Kinbane

I’ve read over the Substacks I love to follow and want to shout out a few which I think are worth reading; my wonderful friend Kerri has just launched the most gorgeous creative writing programme for the next 5 weeks, her writing is soothing.

Siobhan has a wealth of knowledge on folklore and plants, she has a special knack of placing you in the time and place whilst educating us on the wisdom of our ancestors, beautiful!

Bethany writes from gorgeous Sligo of the adventures of her family in the landscape, musings on the wildness and poetry, celtic stories and myths, connecting us to the here and now through the most lyrical prose.

Ali Dunworth has just started a substack on her lowdown of food happenings on the island, an easy way to keep up with trends and news without doom scrolling. 

This dinner was a delicious beetroot centric feast of leftovers! I dry fried half a jar of butter beans in a hot pan, added leftover vooked beetroot, a spash of balsamic and chopped gherkin (currently Im adding gherkin or caper to most things!)

This earthy, punchy sauce would be great with roast veg, halloumi/tofu kebabs, in a sandwich…it’s versatile!

A Pink Sauce

• One small beetroot, washed & grated

• One garlic clove, chopped roughly

• Tablespoon of tahini

• teaspoon dijon mustard

• Tablespoon of Natural Yoghurt or juice from half a lemon

• 2 tablespoons olive oil and same of water

• Big pinch salt and pepper

Blitz until smooth, add more water if necessary.