An Ode to the Seasons

why eating the seasons brings me joy

Staring at this daunting blank page and flashing cursor, I realise that this is not the first time that I have set out to start a food blog. Between my first Blogger post of avocado toast aged 17; my restaurant guide YouTube channel with my best friend at university; and my more recent ploy to rope my boyfriend into a ‘joint’ food Instagram account, I’ve been looking for an outlet for my mad food ravings for the best part of 10 years. This time, however, I’m in it for the long haul. A recipe a week, ad infinitum, here we go.

Eating seasonally has increasingly become a defining aspect of the way I cook and eat. Growing up, our fruit bowl was always governed by the seasons. In the winter, it was a glowing beacon of orange, piled high with clementines and tangerines. In the early summer, a permanent punnet of ruby strawberries in the fridge, served simply, in halves, with lashes of double cream. Broccoli was for cooler months, whilst zucchini was for hotter. It was such a rhythm that I never questioned it, to the point that it would now feel sacrilegious to eat strawberries on my February porridge. Plus, who wants a bland, anaemic strawberry anyway?

I was talking to a friend the other day (about beetroot, as you do) who was shocked to learn that I knew about the provenance of my fruit and veg, let alone cared. To him, ingredient decisions were as simple as arriving at the supermarket and buying what was on offer, not questioning a perennial diet of carrots, kale and oranges. I tried to explain to him just why I cared so much.

Firstly, it was for the taste. Once you’ve had a good peach, fat on warm Mediterranean sun and dripping in nectar, there is no space in your life for a flavourless, woody substitute, least of all one that’s been flown across the globe to take up sad residence on a supermarket shelf. Which brought me nicely to my second, slightly more conscientious, point about carbon footprint. This one needed little explanation. But really, purple sprouting broccoli from Kenya?! We grow it HERE!

Thirdly, I live in a city, and I think it’s important to be somewhat in touch with what’s going on in nature, because sometimes the puddle of dog-trampled snowdrops in Hyde Park doesn’t quite cut it. It’s nice to be able to picture a blood orange growing on the slopes of Mount Etna, or radicchio being harvested in the Veneto. It’s escapism.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, it was about the excitement. The anticipation of these ingredients, reserved for a few special months or weeks a year, earmarking the passage of the seasons. There was nothing quite like the feverish hunt for wild garlic, or the first sighting of forced rhubarb at a green grocer. This was what brought me joy.

And on that note, here is a simple meal that brought me joy this week:

roasted squash, endive and hazelnut salad

(with quick white beans)

for the salad

1kg crown prince squash, cut into wedges

2 tbsp olive oil

maldon salt

2 spears of red endive

50g hazelnuts, lightly toasted

parmesan, shaved

for the dressing

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tsp pomegranate molasses

1/2 tsp runny honey

1/2 tsp dijon mustard

1/2 tsp red wine vinegar

Pinch of salt

for the quick white beans

1 tbsp butter

2 shallots, finely sliced

1 jar Bold Bean organic white beans

black pepper

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Preheat your oven to 200 degrees C. Start by preparing the squash. Arrange wedges in a single layer on a baking tray and drizzle with oil and a couple of pinches of salt. Roast for 30-35 minutes, until the squash is tender and golden brown.

While the squash is in the oven, melt a knob of butter in a small saucepan. Sauté the sliced shallots for 8-10 minutes until soft, then add the jar of white beans, juice and all. Turn down the heat and leave to quietly work its magic.

For the dressing, whisk together the oil, pomegranate molasses, honey, mustard, vinegar and salt.

Peel the endive into individual leaves and toss in a salad bowl with 2/3 of the dressing. Once the squash is cooked, allow to cool for 5 minutes, before laying on top of the endive. Top with the remaining dressing, toasted hazelnuts and shavings of parmesan.

Serve alongside your warm white beans with pepper and extra parmesan to taste.

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Thank you so much for reading! If you liked the recipe (or the ramblings) I’d love to hear your feedback 💛 and please do share the love using the link below.