Waiting for Strawberries

I’m thinking of holidays, again.  A warm heat, lazy afternoon tiredness, barefoot in the sand, ripe tomatoes and peaches, exploring the village sort of holiday.  A proper trip away from it all. When I was an angsty, feisty teenager our parents took myself and my brothers on a summer holiday to Austria.  At the time I dreaded being pulled away from my friends and missing out on the weekends, I was rolling my eyes, huffing, irritated and annoyed. 

Trying to be summer out the Glen

Dad had planned our trip very carefully, making sure we were as close as possible to the total solar eclipse, this prompted more eye rolling.  We drove, racing to the best possible spot (the path of totality), in convoy with others until we quickly pulled over by a field to watch the phenomenon.  The small crowd who’d gathered were quiet, hushed with anticipation.  As the moon approached the sun we used binoculars to focus the image on paper, we had special glasses too.  During the seconds of totality there was a sudden rush of dappled light refracted through the clouds onto the ground, washing over us from the far horizon until it was twilight darkness and the air was cool.  In that moment, looking at the corona of the sun, everything I knew seemed squished into a microcosm of humanity, a new perspective, how small and insignificant we are.  How huge the universe is, how quickly a scowling teenager can be changed; a memory that will remain one of the most amazing sights of my life.

Sea Pink or Thrift, growing in rocky places like Edleweiss!

Then followed warm apple strudel, schnitzel, glaciers, gondolas, museums, galleries, searching for edelweiss and hiking in the mountains.  All massively inspiring, character forming and thought provoking stuff; the architecture, art, nature, culture flooding my brain, overflowing with awe, an awakening and a realisation that there was a whole world of angsty teenagers who had come before me. I wanted to be part of this creative society of global citizens.

Beloved north coast, home. But there’s so much more out there!

I am blaming the beautiful Letita Clarke for my holiday lust, her new book Wild Figs and Fennel is a dreamy love letter to Sardinia, the pages dripping with delicious, simple, seasonal Mediterranean food.  Here the garden is sunny but not so hot we need to shade, the beach is beautiful but not with balmy warm water and the need for ice cold drinks, the evenings are getting brighter but not in a listening to the cicadas whilst cooking outdoors sort of way. 

But so far, so good, we’ve done our best with some delicious outside feasting, lots of gardening and eating the season’s best.  May is an undeniably beautiful month and when the weather teases with sunshine and warmth it feels like a taste of what’s to come, we’ve emerged from winter, we’re budding, we have our summer plumage. 

Eggs on the beach after a swim with my girls this week

The food I want to eat right now mirrors what is readily available; asparagus, zingy sorrel, peppery rocket, vanilla woodruff, luscious earthy sweet and sour rhubarb. I toy with whether it’ll be salad or a spring stew for dinner, watching the clouds carefully, should we have a hearty rhubarb crumble with custard or simply poached with cold cream and shortbread?

I await the imminent arrival of strawberries.

My parent’s front garden

Jumbo Sorrel leaf

Woodruff

Woodruff buttercream sandwiched oat biscuits, woodruff cream topped rye and brown sugar cake with rhubarb

Garden Rhubarb

It’s impossible to defend this selfish privilige, especially now. All eyes on Rafah x