This Generous Earth

Even wild food has excelled this autumn. Having suffered from an absence of mushrooms (Boletus Edulis) for several years, we've now had a reasonable harvest. The freezer is full, we've eaten plenty of omelettes, and there's even been a few left over for drying. I slice them quite thinly, put them out in the sun on racks, and when quite dry I give them a final blast above our wood fired oven. I use these mostly in winter Risottos.

It's harvest time at Haddock's. Unfortunately we've had a shortage of Butternuts this year, these few will hardly see us through to Christmas. But there's always something else.

When, in 1950, Philip Oyler wrote his delightful book about this region, he didn't have to look far for his title. He called it quite simply 'The Generous Earth'. The Walnut tree (above) being one of the MOST generous. The nuts are just beginning to drop, and are looking good; in a bad year almost every nut can have a resident worm.

At this time of year, wherever one looks there's something waiting to be gathered, eaten, stored, or preserved. Photography can't do justice to my Bramley tree, it's both huge and covered in fruit, and the windfalls lie deep beneath it. I actually smuggled this tree into France, because (as any English cook will tell you) the Bramley is the most important apple of the year, and they are not available here.

Not quite wine-making time, but very soon the vinyards will be overflowing with foreign students and migrant workers, busying themselves with grape-filled baskets. All my farming neighbours used to have their own small private vinyards, usually making about 2000 litres per family, but sadly all these are long gone. What fun we used to have.

Ah! And at the end of the day, who can pass by a fig tree without stopping for a few of their delicious fruits.