August, and the garden comes into the kitchen. Basil that has basked in the sun all summer long is used with lemon zest to season baked marrow; dill flavours a citrus dressing for prawns, and the dried leaves of thyme, mint and lavender buds add fragrance to a dish of baked chicken. Now is also time to roast peaches or apricots with thyme and honey, and bring edible flowers – there are more than you may think – into the kitchen to add a summer fragrance to leafy salads.
I grow herbs in pots, in light, gritty compost to provide the fine, nutritionally poor soil on which rosemary, thyme and marjoram do so well. Those that benefit from richer soil, the basil and mint family, still need good drainage (herbs hate getting their feet wet) so growing in pots is ideal, as you can provide the soil they like best.
Occasionally, I like to bring edible flowers into the kitchen. Marigold petals, nasturtium flowers and leaves, and the clove-scented fragrance of pinks find their way into lush green-leaf salads. It is pure whimsy, of course – they add little in terms of flavour, but their scent is hypnotic and their petals dazzling. They look charming tossed among green beans for a summer’s lunch. I also buy packets of edible flowers from the greengrocers, including snapdragons and tiny violas, to add to my own garden haul.
Herbes de Provence, the heavy scented mixture from the south of France, has rather gone out of fashion here, but it is a useful way to season a casserole or chicken sauté with summer flavours. I will also put in a word for it as a way to season roast tomatoes and tomato sauces. The blend changes according to whoever makes it, though thyme and summer savory are pretty much obligatory. It is one the few times I use dried herbs in the kitchen. Shortbread and biscuits aside, herbes de Provence is one of the few culinary uses I have for my homegrown lavender, which I have only recently succeeded in getting to thrive in the garden. Just be careful how much of this fragrant but potent herb you add.
Baked chicken with herbes de Provence (pictured above)
There is an affinity between this scented herb mixture and chicken, particularly when olive oil and garlic is involved. You could roast a whole chicken if you wish, brushing the bird with oil then rubbing the herbs into the skin, but I find it suits thighs or whole legs better.
A dish of potato dauphinoise, the slices of potato baked slowly with cream and garlic, would be my choice to accompany the chicken, and a salad to mop the creamy, chicken juices from the plate. The herb and flower salad below, or perhaps a simplified version of it, would make a deeply fragrant lunch.
Serves 3
chicken thighs 6
olive oil 4 tbsp
herbes de Provence 3 tbsp (see recipe below)
young garlic a whole head
shallots 4 large
lemon 1
Set the oven at 180C fan/gas mark 6. Brush the chicken thighs with a little of the oil, then season with salt and black pepper, and scatter them with the herbes de Provence. Place the chicken in a large roasting tin. Slice the head of garlic in half horizontally. Peel and halve the shallots lengthwise and tuck them, together with the garlic, among the chicken thighs.
Trickle over the remaining olive oil, then bake for 50-60 minutes or until the chicken is nicely browned on top and there is plenty of juice in the bottom of the tin.
Put the chicken thighs on to a serving plate, place the roast shallots and garlic around them, then squeeze a little of the lemon into the juices in the pan and spoon over the chicken.
Herbes de Provence
I rarely use dried herbs, but lifting the lid on a jar of lavender-scented herbes de Provence takes me back to working in restaurants, where the herb mix was an essential part of a classic sautéed chicken recipe. The mixture of dried herbs came in a clay pot tied with raffia, but we sometimes made our own version, using herbs from the garden.
The most fragrant of the dried herb mixtures, redolent of deepest summer in the south of France, some variations leave out the lavender. To my mind, the inclusion of the tiny mauve flowerbuds is what makes this the most interesting of the dried herb blends. I add dried summer savory if I have some: traditionally its inclusion is essential, but it can prove elusive. (You can buy it online at Wholefoods and Sous Chef.)
Once made, the herb mixture will keep for weeks – months even – tightly stoppered and in a cool, dry place.
Makes enough to fill 1 small jam jar
dried rosemary 2 tbsp
dried thyme leaves 4 tbsp
dried tarragon 3 tbsp
dried lavender 2 tsp
dried mint 1 tsp
dried summer savory 3 tbsp (difficult to find but good if you can)
dried fennel seeds 1 tbsp
Put the dried rosemary, thyme and tarragon in a large jar. Add the lavender and mint and, if you have it, the summer savory. Using a pestle and mortar or electric spice mill, lightly grind the fennel seeds – not to powder but just to break them up a bit.
Seal the jar with its lid and shake to mix the dried herbs together.
Green beans, watercress and flowers
Peppery watercress and crisp green beans form the base of this salad, but the rest is up to you. Herbs and edible flowers from the garden, sugar snaps or mange tout, a couple of sweet peppers roasted till soft and silky can be added as you wish. I like to add a few nasturtium leaves if there are some in the pots on the steps, for the gentle heat, and chervil too – a rare sight in the shops, but that is the point of such recipes, to use the herbs, leaves and flowers you have in the garden, allotment or window box.
Make sure any flowers you pick are both edible and unsprayed. Good seasonal choices are nasturtium, pinks, antirrhinums, cornflowers and marigolds. They are the sort that are included in the packs of edible flowers sold in farmers’ markets and food shops. Check carefully before using any you might be tempted to include from your own garden.
Serves 4
red or yellow peppers 2
olive oil 2 tbsp
sugar snap peas 250g
fine green beans 200g
watercress 3 large handfuls (about 80g)
edible flowers a handful
For the dressing
shallot 1
red wine vinegar 4 tbsp
dijon mustard 1 tsp
olive oil 3 tbsp
capers 1 tbsp
chervil leaves 2 tbsp
Set the oven at 180C fan/gas mark 6. Place the pepper in a roasting tin, pour over the 2 tablespoons of olive oil and bake for 30-40 minutes till their skins have blackened here and there. (You can also grill them, if you prefer.) Remove the skins from the peppers and discard, then slice the flesh into pencil-thick strips, saving every drop of the cooking juices (they form the heart and soul of the dressing).
Bring a deep pan of water to the boil and salt it lightly. Have ready a bowl of ice cubes and water. When the water is boiling, cook the sugar snap peas for 4-5 minutes – they should still be bright and crisp – then remove them with a draining spoon and drop them into the bowl of iced water.
Top and tail the green beans, cook them in the boiling water for 4-5 minutes till tender, then drain and plunge them into the iced water. Wash the watercress and let it chill in a bowl of iced water.
Make the dressing: peel and finely chop the shallot, drop it into a small bowl and stir in half of the vinegar. Set aside for 15 minutes. (This will remove the pungency of the shallot, giving a milder dressing.) Mix together the mustard, reserved vinegar, oil and capers. Add a pinch of salt, a grinding of black pepper and the roasting juices from the peppers. Chop the chervil leaves and stir them in.
Drain the peas and beans, shake them dry, then put them in a mixing bowl and pour over the dressing. Toss the beans and peas to coat them. Add the sliced peppers and their juices. Add any edible flowers or herbs leaves you wish and toss the salad gently and serve within a few minutes.
Prawns, avocado and dill
I often make a marinated mackerel recipe with citrus juices and dill, but in summer a lighter, less oily-fleshed fish seems more appropriate. I use prawns, but a white fish such as thick cuts of sea bass or halibut is a possibility. The onion is marinated in vinegar to soften its flavour, before being married with the other ingredients, otherwise it has a tendency to dominate. The balance between the chilli heat and the refreshing mixture of passion fruit and citrus juices can be tweaked to taste, with a little more lime juice or chilli as you wish.
Serves 4
prawns 450g
red chilli 1 medium
limes 2
passion fruit 4
pink grapefruit 2
red onion 1 small
cider vinegar or white wine vinegar 3 tbsp
avocados 2 medium
dill 20g
Peel the prawns and cut them in half lengthways and put them in a single layer in a shallow dish. Remove the stalk end from the chilli, then slice in half and remove the seeds. Slice the chilli very, very finely and scatter over the prawns.
Squeeze the juices from the limes – most efficiently done with a lemon reamer – and pour over the prawns.
Cut the passion fruit in half, scoop out the seeds and pulp, and add to the prawns. Cut one of the grapefruit in half, squeeze the juice and pour over the prawns, then cover and set aside for 30 minutes, during which time the prawns will become opaque.
Peel and very finely slice the onion into rounds, pour the cider vinegar over it and set aside. Halve the avocados, remove and discard the stone, then cut the flesh into small 1cm dice and add to the prawns.
When the prawns are ready, slice the peel from the reserved grapefruit, then using the knife, separate the segments from their skin. Halve the avocados and remove their stones. Remove the flesh from its peel, then dice the flesh into 1cm pieces. Finely chop the dill. Gently stir the grapefruit segments, diced avocado and dill into the prawns. Set aside for 15 minutes.
Remove the onion from its vinegar, scatter over the prawns and serve.
Roast marrow, lemon and basil pangrattato
Basil is easy to grow on a windowsill. This kitchen having no windowsills, my basil plants have to battle with the elements outdoors. I use a lot in the summer, for tomato dishes of course, but also for lemon-scented dressings on bean salads, for sautéed courgettes, and for mayonnaise destined for a potato salad. It is also, unsurprisingly, good with marrow.
I have never understood some people’s lack of enthusiasm for marrow, with its refreshing flesh and the way it has an affinity with garlic, tomatoes and summer herbs. A freshly picked marrow is a thing of beauty, with its creamy white and green stripes like an awning, and the way it holds a sauce or a filling of spiced minced pork or mushrooms.
Marrow works well when cut into thick strips and baked, preferably with a little sliced garlic. I like to scatter a layer of crumbs over the baked flesh, seasoned with grated lemon and basil, to which you could also add pumpkin or sunflower seeds.
Serves 4
marrow 1kg
garlic 3 cloves
olive oil 4 tbsp
For the pangrattato
olive oil 3 tbsp
soft fresh breadcrumbs 120g
lemon 1
dried chilli flakes ½-1 tsp
parsley 20g
basil 25g
Slice the marrow in half from one end to the other and scoop out the seeds and fibrous core with a spoon. Slice into pieces about 2cm in thickness. Peel the garlic, then cut into thin slices. Set the oven at 180C fan/gas mark 6.
Warm the olive oil in a roasting tin set over a moderate heat, add the garlic, let it warm for a minute, without letting it colour, then add the marrow slices. Leave the marrow to sizzle, taking care that it colours to a nice honey gold, but watching the garlic doesn’t burn, then remove from the heat. Transfer to the oven and roast till soft, tender and translucent, a matter of about 20 minutes.
While the marrow roasts, make the pangrattato. Warm the oil in a shallow pan, then add the breadcrumbs and let them toast for a few minutes, moving them round the pan, till they start to colour – you want them to be an even gold. Add more oil if the crumbs look a little dry. Finely grate the lemon zest and stir into the crumbs with the dried chilli flakes, and a seasoning of salt and ground black pepper.
Pull the parsley and basil leaves from their stalks and roughly chop them, then toss with the crumbs. Place the roasted marrow on a serving dish and scatter over the lemon and basil crumbs.
Peaches with thyme and honey
A thyme-scented sauce for sweet, luscious fruit. Use nectarines if you wish. You can veganise this by using agave syrup in place of honey.
Thyme does not like my humus-rich soil, preferring something lighter and better draining. but I cannot think of a garden without this most useful of herbs. I grow a couple of varieties in zinc tubs – a lemon-scented thyme and a more classic version for general use, plus a scarlet-flowered, creeping type that grows in the cracks on the York stone terrace.
Serves 4
honey 4 tbsp
thyme leaves 1 tbsp
orange juice 6 tbsp
juniper berries 6
peaches 4 large, ripe
blackcurrant jam or jelly 4 tbsp
blackcurrants 125g
thyme flowers to finish (optional)
Put the honey in a saucepan, add the thyme leaves and orange juice. Bash the juniper berries with the back of a heavy spoon or the end of a rolling pin to lightly crush them, and add them to the pan. Bring the mixture to the boil, then immediately remove from the heat and set aside. Leave to cool for the aromatics to do their thing. Set the oven at 180C fan/gas mark 6.
Put the kettle on. Put the peaches in a heatproof bowl and pour over enough boiling water to cover them. Leave for 3-5 minutes, till their skins loosen. (If you pinch the skin with your finger and thumb, the skin should slip off.) Remove the peaches from the water with a draining spoon and slide off the skins. If you wish, you could cut the peaches in half and remove their stones at this point, though I rather like the majesty of one, whole, plump peach.
Pour the syrup into a roasting tin, add the peaches, then bake for 20 minutes till the syrup is bubbling. Roll the peaches over, add the jam and blackcurrants, then cook for a further 10 minutes till soft and sticky.
Lift the peaches out into dishes and spoon over the herb syrup, adding a few thyme flowers if you have them.
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