Midsummer Cordial

Summertime and the living is easy…. well not if you have an allotment it isn’t. There are weeds to pull, seeds still to sow, plants to nurture. But there are times when the sun is high, the insects are humming and a midsummer drowsiness takes over. This is the time to stop and smell the roses or, in my case, the elderflowers. A large tree at the end of the allotment is aglow with creamy, sweet-smelling flowers, which at dusk become almost luminous. Now although I’m not really a hedgerow forager I think the elderflower tree has so much to offer. In the autumn the berries can be mixed in with apples or damsons for crumbles, or made into wine, but it’s the pale starry blossoms that inspire me. So I collect a basket full of sprigs which give off a heady floral scent and I hadn’t noticed this before but the flowers are slightly concave forming a hammock for lots of small insects to nestle. Now although you can buy elderflower cordial I fancy making some of my own and capturing the scent of summer. It couldn’t be easier.

Elderflower cordial

30 heads of elderflowers

1 kg sugar

3 ½ pints of water

7 lemons, sliced

Wash the elderflowers to dislodge any insects. Put the sugar and water in a big saucepan and heat until it just reaches boiling point. Add the lemon slices and stir . Pile in the elderflowers and let them steep in the liquid for 24-36 hours. Stir occasionally, then strain through a muslin. Now pour it into freezer bags and freeze. Now when you want a cool drink scoop a dessertspoon into a glass – it remains soft enough to do this –and add water or some soda water to taste. And at the end of hard day in the garden why not make an elderflower cocktail mixing the cordial with a measure of gin and some soda water. Now all you need is a veranda, a swinging seat and Oh yes, in summertime the living is easy.

Rhubarb, Rhubarb, Rhubarb...

Have you ever wondered what actors say to each other when they quietly chat to each other while the action is going on elsewhere? Of course, traditionally, it’s ‘Rhubarb, Rhubarb, Rhubarb’. I know this practice harks back to the time of Shakespeare, but why choose this particular word for these theatrical mutterings? I suppose it does move the mouth quite emphatically, but can those thespians keep repeating it over and over again while keeping a straight face on stage. It is somehow a comical word, strangely at odds with the plant itself which has a majestic stateliness, it’s large elegant leaves forming a lush canopy hiding stems of the prettiest pink. Our large, mature rhubarb plant in its flowering prime puts me in mind of a Victorian matriarch gathering her dark green skirts about her, with a feathered plume to complete her glory. So, why the comedy name? Well it’s more historical than comical. Marco Polo brought rhubarb to Europe from China and Russia where it grew on the banks of the river Volga; rha comes from the Greek for the River Volga and, intriguingly, this was coupled with barbarium or barbarian which means foreigner. So there you have it  - rhubarb to you.

This exoticism may surprise some people who think rhubarb is really the stalwart of English puddings - rhubarb crumble, rhubarb and custard, rhubarb trifle, rhubarb pie. I’ve made all of these over the last couple of months, but last week I felt I wanted to make something to celebrate the plant’s eastern origins. I certainly didn’t want to do anything too complicated so took a favourite summer dessert and added a little bit of eastern promise.

Rhubarb Fool with Cardamom and Rosewater

This is a traditional fool recipe but I’ve given it the Turkish Delight treatment. The cardamoms subtly perfume the fruit while the rosewater gives it that eastern promise. You can buy rosewater from Middle Eastern shops, don’t be too heavy-handed with it as it is a very concentrated flavour. 

You’ll need:

450 g rhubarb, trimmed and coarsely chopped

175 g soft brown sugar

6 cardamom pods

150 ml double cream

½ teaspoon rosewater

Preheat the oven to gas mark 5 or 190 degrees centigrade. Mix the rhubarb, sugar and a couple of tablespoons of water in an ovenproof dish. Add the cardamoms. Bake for 30-45 minutes or until the fruit is completely soft. Allow to cool completely and then remove the cardamoms. Puree the fruit, adding more sugar if it is too tart. Whip the double cream until just holding peaks stage. Be careful not to overwhip. Now fold this into the puree. Stir in the rosewater before spooning into individual serving pots. Chill before serving. Garnish with a few small rose petals if you have any to hand.