I have no desire to go Live Off the Land, as one of my facebook contacts yearned to do yesterday. But I do love plucking food straight from Finch’s garden.
The first potatoes of the year, just before I went home last time.
Finch grubbing them out. I was freezing. He was in shorts.
I came back and harvested the last of the rhubarb.
I made Rhubarb Fool, a particularly English dish I’d never even seen before. It looked good, though apparently it wasn’t quite foolish enough. I had to confess I’d never even SEEN double cream before I’d met Finch.
You can whip that stuff stiff in about 4 seconds.
It *is* really magical to cook food that’s been in the ground 10 minutes ago. We had fresh spinach and potatoes with steak before the rhubarb fool, and I went back for another — truly final — batch of rhubarb today. This time for crumble, which is apparently different than crisp, though I’m not exactly sure how.
Now, I wonder if picking up one of those neighbourhood lambs would count as foraging..