it's the cat's whiskers! smoked mackerel pâté

smoked mackerel pâté with
Peters Yard crisp breads

When Papa, Mama and Baby Bear returned home, they sensed immediately that something or someone had been eating their porridge and sleeping in their beds. When I walked into my parent's dining room to make some last minute checks before the party started, I immediately knew that something was wrong. It wasn't some kind of sixth sense or hairs rising on the back of my neck or even the pricking of my thumbs. My Goldilocks was right there, caught in the act.

a pickle for the end of summer: onion and cucumber relish

end of summer relish

I am in jam and pickling mode at the moment. I am not exactly in a frenzy (not a good idea when surrounded by sharp knives and hot syrup), but I am trying to preserve the moment and the end of season's treasures - so that we can enjoy a taste of the summer throughout even the darkest (and, most likely in the UK, the wettest) winter months.

a quick but soothing roast: lemon and herb crusted lamb rumps

lemon and herb crusted lamb rump

I don't often see lamb rump at my butchers. I have either led a sheltered life or more likely that I just wasn't looking for it. But a few days ago I returned home clutching half a pound of plump lamb steaks. In London butcher's terms that's "arfur pand" of meat. . . Arfur Pand, less a unit of measurement and more a Victorian music hall artist or cheeky costermonger - a name I must remember should I ever write a historical pastiche. And so back to the lamb . . .

beauty and the beast: celeriac and pear soup with bacon

beauty and the beast soup:
celeriac, pear and bacon

I have always liked a good fairytale and Beauty and the Beast was always one of my favourites, particularly illustrated by Anne Anderson. I thought the name was a perfect description for a celeriac, pear and bacon soup that contains, as I have mentioned before, one of the ugliest of all vegetables (the grotesque celeriac). Beauty and the Beast perfectly describes a soup where the flavours marry beautifully even if it isn't that pretty.

gorgonzola and pancetta pasta with red chard

penne pasta with gorgonzola
and pancetta

I like to cook, I really do. But occasionally I do want to get it over and done with as quickly as possible. I had come home last evening, feeling a little waterlogged (yes it is raining again) and battle fatigued (that's what travelling during London's rush hour does for me). Of course I wanted something delicious (what's the point otherwise?) but also something very quick and easy. I wasn't much in the mood for cooking.

what's in season: october

autumn leaves

I had recently read a reminder that while autumn is the time to start thinking of winding down the garden for the winter and clearing up, to leave some garden windfalls for wildlife. Chance would be a fine thing, since my local wildlife tends to get to the windfalls before I do.

love your leftovers with rachel's unpatented universal infinitely adaptable stew!

infinitely adaptable:
chicken, bacon and paprika stew

The problem with leftovers is not just in the name - reminiscent of dregs, scraps and dregs - the idea that you are scraping the bottom of the food barrel. One of the other problems is that sinking feeling of having met the food once before, like an unwelcome guest at a party.

pear purée with star anise

pear purée with star anise

We were having roast pork for Sunday lunch and I had forgotten to get any apples to make the traditional accompanying sauce. What I did have was my own not inconsiderable body weight in windfall pears and needed any excuse to use them up. It occurred to me that aniseed flavours go well with pears and have an affinity with pork (and this pork was roasted with fennel seeds), so I decided on a simple sweet pear purée with a hint of star anise.

high dumpsie dearie jam

perfect windfall jam

'tis the season to be foraging and scavenging for hedgerow treats and windfalls. Some mornings it is as if my garden has come under fire from pear cannons. The pears on my old pear tree have been thumping to earth like plump fruit bombs, leaving a trail of debris where they have exploded on impact or provided a tasty breakfast for the local wildlife (which include a noisy family of blackbirds, a couple of foxes and several squirrels, not forgetting the wood pigeons).

damson gin and a tale of unrequited love!

early days in damson gin
preparation

Having a Mogwai comes with rules and responsibilities. "But the most important rule, the rule you can never forget no matter how much he cries or how much he begs never, never feed him after midnight." The adorable furry Mogwai becomes a demented gremlin. 

Sadly, gin has the same effect on me. While I am not maniacally leering as I swing from the chandeliers chain-smoking Lucky Strikes, the change from happy Rachel to wailing Rachel is disconcerting to anyone who has ever had the misfortune to witness it.

another good sunday lunch: spatchcocked chicken in a smoky lemon marinade

spatchcocked chicken with smoky lemon marinade

There is nothing like a good word in the English language. There are words that look positively appealing on the written or printed page. I revel in their architectural appearance (and yes I am something of a font nerd). 

I once had an artist boyfriend, a funny, ebullient and very articulate chap, who could convulse me with laughter with a few pithy words and a raise of an eyebrow. Early on in our relationship, at a supposedly relaxing Sunday afternoon brunch, the artist thought it would be fun to do the Sunday newspaper crossword puzzles. While I love the English language, I am not very fond of crossword puzzles (or Scrabble for that matter); I suspect they bring out the worst competitive excesses in me. Since it was early on in our relationship, I was prepared to show willing, since he seemed so keen and enthusiastic. (Needless to say, that didn't last long!)

damsons: or what have the romans ever done for us!

a bowl of damsons

I have been feeling an Olympic-sized hole for the past few weeks - nothing to celebrate, I guess. London has settled back down to its normal grumpy self and I was feeling out of sorts. Until a trip to my local fruit 'n veg stall brought on a shout of sheer joy.

Damsons are in season. Hurrah!