From soups and greens to roots, how to survive the ‘hungry gap’

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Spring may have firmly sprung – I write this with a view of vivid yellow forsythia blossom in next door’s garden, and the melodious warble of full-throated birdsong – but though the greenery may be flourishing in our gardens, it’s a different story at the farmers’ market,Despite a few spindly spears of asparagus and miniature jersey royals making an appearance on our Easter tables last weekend, the new season of British produce doesn’t kick off in earnest for another few weeks yet,That means we’re now heading into the so-called “hungry gap”, an annual quirk of our relatively northern latitude, when temperatures are too high for much winter veg such as kale and brassicas, but too low for the more delicate likes of peas and broad beans to ripen – let alone high-summer treats such as berries, squash and stone fruit,Happily, many hardy winter crops store well, and are versatile enough to shake off their heavy winter coat of cream and butter in favour of a lighter treatment,The late Skye Gyngell gifted us a carrot, celery, farro and borlotti bean soup, Nigel Slater has an early spring laksa with purple sprouting broccoli (and some spinach, which I suspect you could use frozen), and Nicholas Balfe offers a ceviche with celeriac and a baked beetroot dish (pictured top) – both of which look just the thing to wake up your taste buds.

If it stays salad weather, I’m also rather taken by the sound of Thomasina Miers’s purple sprouting broccoli with sunshine dressing.Then again, with a name like that, who wouldn’t be?Spring greens have been knocking about for a while, and I often grab a bag as a far cheaper alternative to the more fashionable kale.Anna Jones’s herby cannellini beans on toast with wilted greens looks like a dream lunch date.And I cannot tell you how excited I am by the idea of Meera Sodha’s cheesy picnic focaccia, with what she describes as an “excessive amount of spring greens”, although I’ll probably end up eating it snug indoors.Of course, as gardeners know, one crop already flourishing is nettles.

Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall has a white bean and nettle soup and a nettle and ricotta gnocchi recipe, while Jon Tyler suggests a nettle pesto and Blanche Vaughan a nettle ravioli.And if you can’t quite face going out with your rubber gloves and scissors to forage, Joe Trivelli has some nice ideas for the preserved bounty of seasons past, including an excellent-looking Russian salad, which he says is “satisfying in every way – to make and to eat”.On the sweet front, Tim Dowling has put together a collection of 17 ways with vivid pink forced rhubarb, including my fool and Dan Lepard’s rhubarb upside-down cake.Or, if you, like me, have more fruit in the freezer than you know what to do with, Anna Jones has a couple of recipes that are actually better with the stuff, including a cherry and smoked-salt clafoutis that sounds the perfect vehicle for the frosty sour cherries I spotted in the local health-food shop.Meanwhile, Rachel Roddy suggests a simple panna cotta with a warm compote – and it’s always wobbly pud season, as far as I’m concerned.

Whatever the weather brings, enjoy it!Books, etcetera | A recent visit to Scotland for a family birthday happily coincided with the opening of the country’s only dedicated cookbook shop on Edinburgh’s Leith Walk, which we were chased into by some vicious hail.The new space includes a foreign language section and a children’s room, as well as some sweet food-themed accessories, including croissant earrings and pasta fridge magnets, and my favourite Norwegian salty chocolate snacks, Smash (clearly the place is owned by people of taste).Dogs and children encouraged.Leftover chocolate | This is very much a thing in my house.If you similarly can’t be trusted around half-eaten Easter eggs, may I recommend Yotam Ottolenghi’s pistachio and mint chocolate fridge cake? Don’t be put off if you have neither mint chocolate or pistachios: this recipe is adaptable to all sorts of chocolate and crunchy things (including the last few biscuits in the tin), and is great for taking to work or sharing with friends.

The green fairy | I developed an unexpected taste for chartreuse when I was in the Alps at the end of last month – in his cocktail Substack, The Spirits, Richard Godwin beautifully describes it as tasting “as I imagine Getafix’s magic potion tastes in Asterix, and at 55% ABV, it has a similar effect.But how, precisely, to describe it? Sunshine on dew? A memory of a forest … somewhere? The Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz? A rainbow?” Although I drank it on ice after dinner, I’ve developed quite a taste for the topically named spring green with elderflower liqueur and fino.In-N-Oot | In-N-Out is a Californian fast-food chain that has achieved cult status by doing one thing (hamburgers) well and for a limited audience – it only recently expanded as far east as Tennessee, so don’t expect to see it in the UK any time soon.If you’re in London this weekend, however, you can get an In-N-Out-inspired burger (and far better chips) at the Auld Hag in Islington, which is running an evening pop-up from 9-11 April to coincide with the release of James McAvoy’s new film, California Schemin’.Having sampled one last week, I strongly advise you to take your own napkins: it’s a deliciously messy affair.

Don’t miss the Irn-Bru milkshake, either.If you want to read the complete version of this newsletter please subscribe to receive Feast in your inbox every Thursday.
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From soups and greens to roots, how to survive the ‘hungry gap’

Spring may have firmly sprung – I write this with a view of vivid yellow forsythia blossom in next door’s garden, and the melodious warble of full-throated birdsong – but though the greenery may be flourishing in our gardens, it’s a different story at the farmers’ market. Despite a few spindly spears of asparagus and miniature jersey royals making an appearance on our Easter tables last weekend, the new season of British produce doesn’t kick off in earnest for another few weeks yet. That means we’re now heading into the so-called “hungry gap”, an annual quirk of our relatively northern latitude, when temperatures are too high for much winter veg such as kale and brassicas, but too low for the more delicate likes of peas and broad beans to ripen – let alone high-summer treats such as berries, squash and stone fruit.Happily, many hardy winter crops store well, and are versatile enough to shake off their heavy winter coat of cream and butter in favour of a lighter treatment. The late Skye Gyngell gifted us a carrot, celery, farro and borlotti bean soup, Nigel Slater has an early spring laksa with purple sprouting broccoli (and some spinach, which I suspect you could use frozen), and Nicholas Balfe offers a ceviche with celeriac and a baked beetroot dish (pictured top) – both of which look just the thing to wake up your taste buds

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Rachel Roddy’s recipe for hazelnut and chocolate cake | A kitchen in Rome

Having been kept waiting for three hours, Dick Dewy leaves Miss Fancy Day snipping and sewing her blue dress. The plan is that he will return for her a quarter of an hour later, however, Dick convinces himself that he has been scandalously trifled with by Fancy and decides that, to punish her, he will not return. Instead, he leaps over the gate, pushes up the lane for two miles, takes a winding path called Snail-Creep, and crawls through the opening to the hazel grove in Grey’s Wood.Getting a class of 15-year-olds to relay/read the opening of chapter four of Under the Greenwood Tree, which is memorably entitled “Going Nutting”, is an extremely effective way to engage them with the majesty of Thomas Hardy. And the title is nothing compared to the line (as Dick vanished among the bushes): “Never man nutted as Dick nutted that afternoon

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How to make cauliflower cheese using the whole plant – recipe | Waste not

This recipe, adapted from one in my cookbook, is a very elaborate way to serve humble cauliflower cheese. The whole plant, including the leaves and core, is seasoned with nutmeg and roasted, and it’s then dressed with a satisfying layer of rich cheese sauce and grilled until charred and bubbling. Choose a cauliflower with plenty of leaves, because they go deliciously crisp when roasted.This is perhaps the most decadent cauliflower cheese I’ve ever made. Inspired by an orange-coloured cauliflower I found sitting proudly in a box at my local Brockley Market in south London, I decided to make a vibrant and very orange cauliflower cheese using red leicester cheese and turmeric

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How to save limp herbs | Kitchen aide

What can I do with herbs that are past their best?Joe, by email Happily, Joe and his on-the-turn herbs aren’t short of options. “The obvious choice for hard herbs is to chuck them in a sandwich bag and freeze them for future stock-making,” says Alice Norman, founder of regenerative bakery Pinch in Suffolk. Alternatively, Sami Tamimi, author of Boustany, would be inclined to dry his excess herbs. In summer, he’d simply pop them on a tray and put them outside in the sun, but right now he “dries them in a 60-70C oven, then packs in containers, ready for the next time you’re short of fresh herbs”.Norman’s current MO is to blitz languishing herbs (“rosemary and/or thyme work best”) with a 3:4 ratio of fine salt

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‘Before I can stop her, my daughter is licking crumbs from the table’: my search for the perfect kids’ menu

Chips, fish fingers, pizza … restaurant food for children is depressingly predictable. Are there more adventurous options? I took my four-year-old daughter on a month-long mission to find outWe’re heading out for dinner. Before I tell my four-year-old where we’re going, she has already announced that she’s going to have fish, chips and lots of ketchup. It sounds delicious; a classic. But there’s the irksome feeling that the intrepid impulses of childhood should be met with food that expands palates rather than feeding into the well-trodden path to a beige meal

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Can’t face another mouthful of chicken? You’re probably coming down with the ick

Name: The chicken ick.Age: Chickens have been around since, well, eggs …Unless it’s the other way round. Whatever. The chicken ick, on the other hand, is new.And what is it, please? You know when you suddenly feel disgusted by the chicken you’re eating, possibly mid-bite, despite previously enjoying it?Er, not really, to be honest