AUTUMN BECKONS

We haven't had much of a Summer this year, it seems wrong to wish it away, but I'm feeling the pull of Autumn as we reach the last week of August.

First there was the September issue of Vogue.

Then the first of the Toast Autumn catalogues.

A knee length cord skirt, silk long sleeved top, thick tights.

I started to think about a mustard scarf, a new leather bag, jumper dresses and navy blue moccasins.

I'll embrace Summer while it lasts, will gladly take any fleeting opportunity for bare arms or legs, for sandals, for painted toenails. I'll sit outside for as long as I can, I'll drink in the long days and hope for an Indian Summer with bright, warm September days but Autumn is reeling me in and I'm powerless to resist.

From top: Essie Stylenomics nail polish, Uniqlo dress, Uniqlo cardigan, Rib and Hull Heirloom Tote, Minnetonka moccasins.

STRAWBERRY SEASON

Before we left the strawberries were just appearing, not yet quite ready, picked too early.

In New York, Brian had tiny strawberries in his apartment. I would spoon maple yoghurt into a bowl, top it with grape nuts and a handful of those deep red berries and sit back with my iced coffee. In Maine, a day that started with strawberry muffins, continued with lighthouses, lobster rolls, and local strawberry soft serve. That night we ate burgers outside, coming in when the bugs started to bite to eat strawberry shortcake. We were well looked after.

When we got back I was keeping my fingers crossed for good Scottish berries not knowing how this wettest of Summers would affect them. Sylvie, Sylvain and Ellie came for lunch that first Sunday. We ate frittata and a salad of fennel, celeriac and pumpkin seeds, which we had eaten the Sunday before, sitting in Frankie's Spuntino, enjoying the AC and a meatball sandwich before heading back out into the heat. A week later, on a much cooler morning, I had baked a vanilla sponge. A softly simple cake that I would usually cover in vanilla buttercream, and sometimes, if it's a birthday and these things are called for, dolly mixture, they just seem to fit. This time I made buttercream but, instead of vanilla, I pressed a few strawberries through my smallest sieve, maybe six or seven in all. The icing turned pink, strawberries and cream against the vanilla of the cake. We watched the final of Wimbledon, balancing slices on our knees.

4 WEEKS AGO

4 weeks ago we were in New York.

4 weeks ago it was 37°C.

4 weeks ago it was the longest day of the year.

4 weeks ago we woke up, got ready, took a cab to city hall and got married.

4 weeks ago was the best.

All photos by Brian Ferry.

OATMEAL BISCUITS

I don't think it's ever going to stop raining.

That may be an exaggeration but I don't care.

I'm fed up of wearing a warm vest every day.

I'm fed up of wearing thick tights.

 I'm fed up of curling up at night in my sheepskin slippers and having a cold nose all the time.

I'm fed up of slightly damp feet.

Can you tell I'm over it?

But it's Friday. At 5pm Chris will come to meet me from work. We'll walk down the road, stopping to buy coffee on the way, maybe having a beer before heading home. Tonight we'll watch American Idol because I, without shame (well, without much shame) love it. I suspect Philip will win but think that Jacob should. Then, tomorrow, I'll try, sometimes I succeed, sometimes not, to get up in time for Saturday morning Zumba to jump and turn and shimmy (yes, shimmy) to some truly terrible music that makes me smile nonetheless and by the time I get home Chris will be up. I'll kick my trainers off and we'll sit down with coffee and the papers and I'll put the unbaked biscuits that are sitting in the freezer in the oven to eat with butter and a little of the end of last Summer's strawberry jam.

Oatmeal Biscuits
 From The Breakfast Book by Marion Cunningham

 ½ cup rolled oats
1 ¼ cups plain (all-purpose) flour
½ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon bicarbonate of soda (baking soda)
1 tablespoons (½ stick) butter, chilled
¾ cup buttermilk

Preheat the oven to 215°C and grease a baking sheet.

Combine the oats, flour, salt, baking powder, and bicarb in a mixing bowl. Stir and toss to mix and blend all the dry ingredients.

Cut the cold butter into pieces and add to the flour mixture. Using your fingers or a pastry cutter, cut or rub the butter into the flour until the mixture is in coarse, irregular bits. Add the buttermilk and stir the mixture with a fork until the rough mass somewhat holds together.

Gather the dough up and place on a lightly floured board. Knead about 10 times, pushing some of the pieces into the ball of this rather dry dough. Pat or roll into a ½ inch thickness. Cut into 2 inch rounds and place 1 inch apart on the baking sheet.

Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, or until lightly browned. Serve hot.

 Makes 12.

SHAVED ASPARAGUS PIZZA

I was going to tell you about oatmeal biscuits today but they'll have to wait. Not because they weren't good but, because, last night, I made these.

It's my usual pizza base, sprinkled with parmesan, topped with mozzarella (a 125g ball between the two of us), dotted with ricotta and chopped wild garlic leaves, then topped with shaved asparagus that had been tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper, before being finished with a final grating of parmesan. The pizza idea (and most of the recipe) came from Smitten Kitchen. The addition of ricotta from memories of last Summer and Brandon's amazing white pie. The wild garlic just because it's abundant here growing along side the Water of Leith, long wide green leaves, small white flowers. When they were cooked we drizzled over a little olive oil and sat down with pizzas that tasted of Spring.

FROM SUNSHINE TO SNOW

The weather was perfect last week. Not perfect for March. Perfect for March would just mean a few days of cool clear sunshine, daffodils blooming and no rain. This was perfect for June.

Sitting on the grass, the smell of barbecues in the air, the start of a tan. We don't get that many 20-something degree days in July let alone March. The forecast for the weekend was, not bad, but grey, rainy, a little colder. It was a joy when we were still sitting outside eating an ice-cream on Sunday.

It's snowing today, I'm wearing thick tights and socks and my warm waterproof boots. Last week I was digging out summer clothes, today I'm all wrapped up in wool. Last week we were making salads for dinner, last night I went to yoga, came home and made a bit pot of mince. The same big pot of mince that I have made countless times in the last year, the big pot of mince I meant to tell you about, the big pot of mince that is comforting, hearty, easy.

I make about half of the recipe for the 2 of us, 500g of steak mince, 1 litre of chicken stock (because I always have chicken stock and never have beef), about 10 or 12 small mushrooms, an onion, a few carrots and parsnips, I'm heavy handed with the mustard powder and the Worcestershire sauce. On the first night we eat the mince ladled over basmati rice, on the second the leftovers are warmed up to have with pasta and a hefty grating of parmesan. That second day's pasta is one of my favourite meals. I look forward to it all day. I've been looking forward to it all day.

Mince with hidden roots
From Kitchenella by Rose Prince

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 large onion, finely chopped or grated
900g/2lb fresh minced beef or lamb (or minced leftover meat)
20 button mushrooms, grated
2 carrots, grated
about 4 heaped tablespoons grated root vegetables - parsnip, turnip, swede, celeriac (or a mixture)
1 heaped teapoon English mustard powder
1 litre/1 ¾ pints beef stock
sea salt and black pepper
3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce (optional)

Heat the oil in a large casserole, add the onions and cook for at least 5 minutes over a low heat until lightly browned. Add the minced meat, the mushrooms and all the vegetables and cook, stirring, over a medium heat for 1 minute. Add the mustard, stir a few times and pour in the stock. Bring to the boil, then reduce the heat to very low and simmer for about 40 minutes to 1 hour, until the beef is tender. Add more stock or water if the braise is becoming dry. Season to taste with salt and pepper, then add the Worcestershire sauce if using.

Serves 6-8.

MORO'S WET BREAD

I made bread last weekend.

I've been saying I would over and over and over again and, on Saturday, I finally did it. I poured flour into a bowl, added salt, yeast and water. I used my fingertips, gradually bringing it together in the bowl. Then I covered it with a cloth, walked away, left it for seven hours. Later I heated a baking sheet, sprinkled it with flour, and poured the dough on.

This is not a neat round ball of dough. It's wet, so wet you think it can't possibly work, rising in the bowl, forming doughy strands that stick to the side of the bowl, strands that stretch as you tip the bowl onto its side, as you try to get the dough to relinquish its hold all the while imagining, wrongly, how horrific it will be to wash up the bowl that this dough has been clinging to with all its might. With a little help from a knife it eventually flops into place on the sheet and goes into the oven to bake.

This isn't a loaf to slice and eat warm, I left it to cool overnight, sliced into it on Sunday morning.

It's a craggy loaf, squat with a good crust.

It turns out that squat with a good crust works pretty well with butter and last summer's strawberry jam.

Wet Bread
From Casa Moro by Sam & Sam Clark

This dough is wet enough to make, knead and prove in one large bowl. Think of it as whisking water (with your fingertips) into flour to make a very thick batter.

Makes 1 x 1kg loaf

600g unbleached strong white bread flour
1 heaped teaspoon fine sea salt
1 level teaspoon dried yeast, dissolved in 1 tablespoon warm water
450ml warm water
semolina flour, for dusting (I used plain flour)

Place the flour and salt in a large bowl. Pour the yeast on to the flour at one side of the bowl where you intend to start working in the water. Add a little water, incorporate a bit of the flour with your fingers until smooth, add more water, mix in, incorporate more flour and knead in. As the dough increases in size, larger amounts of both flour and water can be added. use a beating action with your fingertips, breaking up the lumps that appear; this also kneads the dough at the same time. When all the water is mixed in, beat for a further minute with your fingertips. Cover the bowl with a cloth or oiled clingfilm and leave the dough to rise in a warm place at roughly 20°C/68°F for 4-6 hours.

About 20 minutes before you are ready to bake preheat the oven to 220°C/425°F/Gas 7. Place a large baking sheet or roasting tray (approx 30 x 30cm) on the middle shelf. When hot, sprinkle a liberal handful or two of semolina flour over the tray to prevent the bread sticking. Now gently pour the dough on to the tray and dust the top surface with a little more semolina. Return to the oven, and after 15 minutes, reduce the heat to 200°C/400°F/Gas 6 and bake for a further half-hour.

Lift the bread off the tray, loosening it with a large knife if stuck, then place directly on the middle rack, right side up. Bake for another 15 minutes to crisp up the base. Now turn off the heat and leave the oven door open for the bread to cool completely. Don't be tempted to slice the loaf while it is still hot or it will become stodgy.