‘Mr MacClary worked for Mr Giles, the market gardener who lived in Asphodel (which means daffodil) at the top of Raginnis Hill. Mr MacClary lived in Gurnick Street but had meadows ‘up the Crackers’ and we got lots of vegetables from him, but I just remember the spinach. His wife was ill and prescribed lots of spinach to make her better, so he grew plenty and used to bring it down specially for Betty. So we had this huge bunch of freshly picked spinach. She would probably make eggs Florentine with it, using some of the black-market eggs from Raginnis Farm. And cream of spinach soup.
During the war the fields up there would be covered with strips of silver paper, called mirror, which was dropped from airplanes to simulate aircraft. Nowadays, you hear a crackling sound up Raginnis but it’s because the fields are covered with polythene. The Germans were looking for Porthcurno radio station. Our troops used blow-up lorries in rows to simulate troop activity in order to take them off the scent away from Porthcurno. Places like Paul and Newlyn were badly hit by bombs because the Germans on their return journey didn’t want to take their bombs back to Germany, so they dropped them anywhere.’
Ben John
Wild sorrel seems to flourish in temperate Cornwall, particularly in the sheltered hedgerows on the roads ‘up and over’ between Mousehole and Paul. This is one of my favourite walks, which I often do at the end of the day when the light is beginning to fade. It’s a typical Cornish country road walk, with fields on either side of thick, overgrown hedgerows. Each stretch of hedge is different, but all are fringed with wide grasses that sweep the road and clumps of pale green wild sorrel. The sorrel season begins in spring and seems to go on indefinitely, constantly renewing itself through summer and late into the year.
You have to be careful when picking sorrel because it looks rather like a clump of young dock leaves. Sorrel leaves are often compared with spinach, but they are a far lighter green and their texture is flimsy, like basil. Another distinctive quality is the scabbard shape of the sorrel leaf and its spindly stalk. The leaves, particular young ones, melt down to nothing once heated and, like basil, don’t take well to being cut. Sadly their vibrant apple-green colour is lost to heat, but cooking accentuates sorrel’s lemony flavour.
Behind the hedgerows on Raginnis Hill are large sloping fields planted with all manner of vegetables. I’ve seen potatoes, cabbages, corn on the cob and cauliflower. Sometimes there are black and white cows grazing in one particular field. They stop chewing the cud or flicking flies with their long pointy tongues (which fit neatly up their wide nostrils) and stare as you walk past. I like it when a tractor is working the fields, leaving behind a field full of black crows eager to poke their sharp beaks into the newly ploughed earth in search of worms. They crowd the sky at the sound of footsteps, gathering in small armies to swoop and weave, making graceful patterns in the sky before settling on the sagging telegraph wires and stretching them taut with their weight. The occasional tree grows out of the hedgerow, but its spiky branches have been shaped to a gradual slant by years of hard, blustery winds. In the distance the distinctive turreted L-shaped spire of Paul church beckons me onwards, and way beyond I can just make out the sea. It takes about forty-five minutes to walk this walk and if there’s sorrel to be had, I pick some to make sorrel soup or Betty’s creamy sauce to serve with sea bass. The distinctive citrus spinach flavour is particularly good with cream and eggs. The (French) chef at the Cornish Range, Mousehole’s only ‘posh’ restaurant, recommends using the young leaves in salads.
At the top of Raginnis Hill, when the road turns sharply to the right, a stream runs down both sides of the road in the grassy verge which edges a short stretch of hedgerow. This is where wild watercress grows. The leaves are smaller than usual and the flavour noticeably fresh and peppery. This is true of other wild watercress I’ve eaten.
Watercress is one of the world’s most ancient and vital foods and is thought to have originated in Greece. One of the top three most healthy vegetables – along with dandelions and nettles – it is high in vitamins C and the B group, and contains sulphur, potassium, phosphorus, iodine, calcium, beta-carotene and folic acid. It has a positive anti-cancer link and aids digestion. Watercress gets its pungency from the mustard oil present in all members of the nasturtium family. The bigger the leaf and darker the green, the stronger the flavour. Delicious in salads, or chopped and treated like a herb, it is interchangeable in any recipe that calls for rocket.
Irrepressible nettles flourish from March onwards in the hedgerows and edges of fields, along the coast path, everywhere, in fact, where they can get a foothold. Young nettles are delicious food for free and make excellent green soups. They taste a bit like spinach and are rich in iron, formic and silicic acid and natural histamines. Young nettle shoots are tender enough to cook whole, but as the plants become more forceful, just the crown of leaves at the top should be harvested. As spring turns to summer and the plants get coarser and develop seed heads and flowers, they are no good for the pot. But when established plants have been strimmed or mown, they quickly renew themselves and new growth is ready for picking within a few days.
Pack your Marigolds or a stout pair of gloves and a plastic carrier bag when you go nettle-picking. If you do get stung by their soft, furry serrated leaves, rub the sting vigorously with a dock leaf. A clump of these stout wide green leaves always grows conveniently nearby wherever ‘stingers’ grow.
Spinach makes a velvety, dark green soup, but unless it is very young and soft, it needs lengthy liquidizing to get rid of its fibrous nature. This spinach soup has a luscious texture and citrus creaminess because it’s finished in the Greek avgolemono style with egg yolks and lemon juice.
750g spinach leaves
1 medium onion
1 lemon
50g butter
salt and black pepper
1.5 litre boiling chicken stock or 2½ chicken stock cubes dissolved in 1.5 litre boiling water
3 egg yolks
cream and nutmeg to serve
If necessary, cut out thick central stems from the spinach, wash the leaves, shake dry and coarsely chop. Peel and finely chop the onions. Remove 6 strips of wafer-thin lemon zest from the lemon and squeeze 2 tablespoons of lemon juice.
Melt the butter in a suitable pan and stir in the onion. Season with salt and pepper and sweat very gently until soft and slippery. Add the spinach and let it sweat until it has wilted. Add the boiling chicken stock and simmer for about 10 minutes until the spinach is completely tender but still bright green. Liquidize the soup in batches for several minutes until very smooth. Pass through a sieve or the finest disc of a Mouli-legumes food mill directly into a clean pan. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt and pepper
Beat the egg yolks in a bowl with the lemon juice, then gradually beat in a cupful of hot soup, beating all the time. Return this mixture to the soup and heat very gently, stirring all the time until thickened. Do not let the soup boil once the egg mixture has been added.
Place a strip of lemon zest in each serving bowl and serve the soup with a swirl of cream and a little freshly grated nutmeg.
This is a lovely solution to an excess of spinach. Usefully, it can be made ahead and cooked as required. We like it on its own with roasted tomatoes – which can be cooked at the same time – but it goes further with lamb chops, sausages or chicken and is perfect to serve with simply cooked fish.
big bunch spinach, 600–750g
salt and pepper
50g butter
25g flour
300ml milk
nutmeg
1 heaped tbsp thick cream
2 eggs
40g fresh breadcrumbs
Pre-heat the oven to 350°F/180°C/gas mark 4. Squash the spinach into a large pan of boiling salted water and boil for a couple of minutes until wilted. Drain, splash with cold water and spread out in a colander to drain thoroughly and cool.
Meanwhile, make a thick white sauce by melting 25g of the butter in a medium-sized pan. Stir in the flour until it is amalgamated with the butter, then add the milk, stirring constantly to avoid lumps as it comes up to the boil. If it does turn lumpy, beat vigorously with a wire whisk. Reduce the heat, season generously with salt, pepper and nutmeg and leave to simmer gently for 5 minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the cream. Add the eggs, beating one at a time.
Squeeze the spinach against the sides of the colander or between your hands to remove as much liquid as possible. Chop the ball of spinach a few times and stir it into the sauce until evenly distributed. Tip the mixture into a 750ml capacity gratin dish. Smooth the surface and sprinkle with the breadcrumbs. Dot with the remaining butter.
Cook in the oven for 30 minutes until puffed and risen, with the top evenly crusted. Serve immediately.
Eggs Florentine is a comforting but rather elegant little baked egg and spinach dish. People used to make it for dinner parties and serve it in white ramekins, but it’s one of those simple dishes that can go disastrously wrong. What you’re after is soft, slippery spinach held in a well-seasoned, creamy white sauce. Just below the surface, hidden from view, is an egg, and the skill of the dish is serving it when the egg white has set but before the yolk has hardened.
One of my little innovations is to gratinée the top with a thin, crisp layer of grated Parmesan and breadcrumbs. I love the contrast of all that silky, smooth food with the crisp, thin crust on top, but I’m equally keen on the original. This version makes a great snack lunch or supper for two but quantities are also perfect for four starters.
1 small onion
300ml milk
2 cloves
1 bay leaf
salt and pepper
500g spinach
50g butter
freshly grated nutmeg
25g plain flour
2 tbsp thick cream
vinegar
4 eggs
3 tbsp fresh breadcrumbs
3 tbsp freshly grated Parmesan
Peel, halve and finely chop the onion. Place in a pan with the milk, cloves and bay leaf and a decent seasoning of salt and pepper. Bring to the boil, reduce the heat immediately and simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from the heat, cover the pan and leave to infuse for 15 minutes or longer.
Meanwhile, pick over the spinach, discarding any yellowing leaves and thick stalks. Shred mature spinach, but leave young spinach intact without bothering to discard stalks. If necessary, wash and shake dry.
Melt 25g butter in a large, shallow pan until it is just turning nut-brown. Put in the spinach, turning it through the butter. Season generously with salt, pepper and nutmeg and cook until the spinach is limp and just-cooked. Drain in a colander, pressing gently to extract excess moisture.
Melt 25g butter in a medium-sized pan and stir in the flour to make a smooth roux. Strain the seasoned milk into the roux, stirring constantly as the milk comes up to the boil. Whisk thoroughly to disperse any lumps and leave to simmer gently for 5 minutes until the flour is cooked and the sauce thick. Stir in the cream, taste and adjust the seasoning. Stir the spinach into the sauce. Keep warm. Half-fill a medium-sized pan with water and bring to the boil. Add the vinegar. Crack one egg after another into a cup and slip them, one by one, into the simmering water. After about 1 minute, when the egg white has set but before the eggs are completely cooked, lift them out of the water and rest on kitchen paper to drain. Tip just over half of the sauced spinach into one or two shallow ovenproof dishes, or four ramekins, making indentations for them. Slip the eggs into the hollows, and spoon the reserved sauce over the top to cover them. Mix the bread-crumbs with the Parmesan and scatter over the surface.
Flash under a hot grill or pop into a very hot oven (425°F/220°C/gas mark 7) for 4 minutes to crisp the surface.
In Spain they serve this warm or cold as tapas. It’s a great thing to have in the fridge as standby food – it will keep covered for a few days – for emergency meals. It’s good piled on to toast rubbed with garlic and dribbled with olive oil. Add a fried or poached egg and it’s even better. Or serve with grilled white fish or chicken kebabs.
500g spinach
1 small onion
2 garlic cloves
1 small red chilli
3 tbsp olive oil
400g can chickpeas
1 tsp ground cumin
juice of ½ lemon
salt and pepper
juice of ½ lemon
Three-quarters fill a large pan of water and put it on to boil. If necessary, pick over the spinach, removing any thick stalks and yellowing leaves. Wash thoroughly and shake dry. As soon as the water boils, stuff the spinach into the pan and let it boil for a couple of minutes. Drain and splash with cold water so that it is cool enough to handle. Leave in a colander to drain.
Meanwhile, peel and finely chop the onion and garlic. Split the chilli in half, discard stalk and white seeds and chop very finely. (Remember to wash your hands.) Heat the oil in a frying pan over a moderate heat. Stir in the onion, garlic and chilli, and cook, stirring every so often, until the onion is tender and beginning to brown in places. While the onion is cooking, tip the chickpeas into a sieve and rinse thoroughly under cold running water.
By now the spinach will be cool enough to squeeze between your hands to get rid of the remaining water. Shred it with a knife.
Stir the cumin into the onion, let it cook for about 30 seconds, then add the spinach and chickpeas. Stir everything together, season with salt, pepper and lemon juice. Serve hot, cold or tepid.
This rich tart makes a terrific dinner-party starter which can be made in advance and is perfect served before fish. As a supper dish, serve it with baked potatoes and stewed leeks which you’ve stirred with ribbons of Parma ham.
150g flour plus a little extra
salt and pepper
100g butter plus an extra knob
2–4 tbsp cold water
1 large onion
1 tbsp cooking oil
350g young spinach
2 eggs
300g Cornish clotted or other thick cream
50g grated Parmesan plus a little extra
nutmeg
To make the pastry, sift the flour into the bowl of a food processor. Add a pinch of salt and process briefly to mix. Cut the butter into small pieces directly into the bowl. Using the pulse button, blitz until the mixture resembles coarse breadcrumbs. With the food processor running, slowly add the water and process just until combined and crumbly. You may prefer to do this by hand (I do), rubbing the cold butter into the flour and salt and then stirring in sufficient water to make a cohesive dough.
Turn the dough on to a lightly floured surface and press into a ball. Leave to sit, covered, for at least 30 minutes, to allow the gluten to stretch and thus avoid the pastry shrinking when it cooks.
Pre-heat the oven to 425°F/220°C/gas mark 7. Smear the inside of a 24cm tart tin (preferably one with a removable base) with butter and dust with flour, shaking out any excess. This makes it non-stick. Roll out the pastry on the floured surface to fit and gently press in place, trimming the rim. Cover the pastry case loosely with foil and fill with pastry weights or rice and cook for 10 minutes. Remove the foil and cook for a further 10 minutes and leave to cool. Reduce the oven to 350°F/180°C/gas mark 4.
Meanwhile, peel, halve and finely chop the onion. Heat the oil in a frying pan and cook the onion for about 12 minutes until soft and golden brown. Bring a large pan of water to the boil. Add 1 teaspoon of salt and the spinach, pushing it under the water. Boil for 2 minutes until wilted. Drain, splash with cold water and squeeze dry with your hands. Chop roughly.
Break the eggs into a mixing bowl and beat with the cream until smooth. Add the Parmesan and season generously with nutmeg and lightly with salt and pepper. Add the spinach and onion and mix thoroughly. Smooth the mixture into the cooled tart case and bake in the oven for about 30 minutes until risen and browned but slightly wobbly in the centre of the tart. Rest for 5 minutes before removing the collar. Serve this hot, warm or cold. It looks attractive dusted with grated Parmesan.
Creamy and lemony.
1 onion
25g butter
salt
4 or 5 new potatoes, approx. 350g
500ml chicken stock (cube is fine)
3 large handfuls of young sorrel
2 egg yolks
150ml thick cream
Peel and finely chop the onion. Melt the butter in a medium saucepan placed over a moderate heat and stir in the onion. Season with salt, give the onion a good stir, then reduce the heat, cover the pan and leave to soften gently, stirring occasionally, for several minutes. Scrape the potatoes, cut into small cubes and rinse with cold water. When the onion is soft and slippery, add the potato and stock. Bring to the boil, partially cover the pan and cook for about 10 minutes until the potato is tender. Meanwhile, pick over the sorrel, discarding stalks and discoloured leaves. Wash thoroughly and shake dry. Add to the pot. It will wilt and turn dark green as it hits the hot liquid. Pass the soup through a Mouli-legumes or blitz to liquidize. Return to the pan. Scoop a little soup into a bowl. Add the eggs and cream and whisk thoroughly. Stir back into the soup, stirring constantly without letting the soup boil for a minute or so. Taste and adjust the seasoning with salt.
A lovely food-for-free sauce to serve with sea bass.
2 very large handfuls of sorrel
salt and pepper
75g cold, diced butter or thick cream
Pick over the sorrel, discarding stalks and discoloured leaves. Wash thoroughly and shake dry. Place in a medium-sized pan over a moderate heat. Turn with a wooden spoon as it melts down into a dark green purée. Once the wateriness has evaporated, season with salt and pepper and stir in the butter or cream. Serve immediately.
Essence of watercress with potatoes and cream.
3 small onions
100g unsalted butter
400g floury potatoes
salt and pepper
1.2 litre water or light chicken stock
6 bunches watercress, approx. 500g
250ml whipping cream
Peel and chop the onions. Melt the butter in a suitable heavy-bottomed pan, stir in the onions and cook gently until soft and slippery. Meanwhile, peel the potatoes, chop them into large chunks, rinse and add to the soft onions. Season with salt and pepper and cook for 3 or 4 minutes. Now add the water or stock and simmer briskly for about 15 minutes until tender.
Pick over the watercress, discarding any woody stems, rinse thoroughly and shake dry. Add the cream to the pot, return to simmer and then add the watercress. Liquidize immediately. Pass through a fine sieve, adjust the seasoning and serve.
The combination of succulent sweet pears and peppery watercress is a triumph. Serve hot or cold.
2 flourishing bunches of watercress, approx. 200g
3 large, ripe pears
900ml light chicken stock
salt and pepper
juice of ½ lemon
175ml thick cream
Pick over the watercress and set aside the leaves. Peel, quarter and core the pears and cut into chunks. Bring watercress stalks, pears and stock quickly to the boil in a pan with a generous pinch of salt and a few grinds of black pepper. Turn down the heat, cover and simmer gently for 15 minutes. Process in batches with the watercress leaves, then pass through a sieve or Mouli-legumes to catch the fibrous debris. Stir in the lemon juice and cream, taste and adjust the seasoning. Serve hot or cold.
Pesto is really prepared with basil, but a delicious peppery version can be made with watercress or rocket. It has all sorts of uses and is a great thing to have in the fridge on standby. Stir it into pasta with a few grilled cherry tomatoes or spread it thickly on garlic-rubbed, olive-oil-dribbled bread and top with tomatoes and roasted red peppers. Try it slackened with extra olive oil to make dressings for boiled potatoes, streamed fish and poached chicken. It keeps, covered, in the fridge for days.
3 tbsp pine kernels
2 plump garlic cloves
decent bunch of watercress, approx. 90g without big stalks
7 tbsp virgin olive oil
3 tbsp freshly grated Parmesan
Heat a small, heavy frying pan and briefly stir-fry the pine kernels until lightly golden. Peel the garlic. Place the pine kernels, garlic and water-cress in a food processor and blitz. When evenly chopped, with the motor still running, gradually add the olive oil and continue until nicely amalgamated. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the grated Parmesan.
This is a good alternative to parsley sauce and goes with simply cooked white fish such as cod, haddock, huss, ling or gurnard. It’s good, too, with boiled gammon or over cauliflower.
2 small onions
a few cloves
1 bay leaf
salt
500ml milk
2 flourishing bunches of watercress, approx. 200g
25g butter
25g flour
3 tbsp thick cream
Peel the onions and cut in half. Use a couple of the cloves to spear the bay leaf on to one of the onion halves. Place in a milk pan with a generous pinch of salt and the milk. Bring to the boil, simmer for 5 minutes, remove from the heat, cover and leave for at least 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, pick over the watercress, discarding yellowing leaves and woody stalks. Plunge into boiling water for 1 minute. Drain and refresh under cold water, then drain again before chopping finely.
Melt the butter in a second pan, stir in the flour until it disappears and then, away from the heat, strain the milk into the pan. Return to the heat and whisk until it thickens. Stir in the cream and simmer for a few minutes before you taste and adjust the seasoning. Stir in the blanched watercress, gently reheat and serve.
You’ll need to wear washing-up gloves to prepare this soup. The ‘sting’ disappears once the nettles begin to cook. Leeks, incidentally, give a silky and creamy texture to puréed soups like this one.
500g young nettles
1 trimmed leek or 4 plump spring onions
25g butter
salt and pepper
1 scant tbsp flour
1 litre light chicken stock or 1 chicken stock cube dissolved in
1 litre boiling water
2 egg yolks
2 tbsp cream or creamy milk
for the croûtons:
6 rashers rindless smoked streaky bacon
3 tbsp vegetable oil
2 slices bread
to serve:
thick cream and freshly snipped chives
Wearing washing-up gloves, pick over the nettles, discarding damaged leaves, then rinse thoroughly in a colander and shake dry. Discard gloves, trim and finely slice the leeks or spring onions and sweat in the butter in a suitable pan until limp. Stir in the nettles, season with ½ teaspoon of salt, cover and cook for 5 minutes. Remove the lid and boil hard for 30 seconds to evaporate excess liquid before sifting in the flour. Stir thoroughly as you pour in the hot stock. Simmer for 5 minutes and liquidize in batches. Return to a clean pan, scoop out a little of the broth and mix it with the egg and cream or milk. Stir the mixture back into the soup. Simmer gently for 30 seconds without letting the soup boil. Taste for seasoning.
To make the croûtons, slice the bacon across the pile of rashers into little strips. Heat the oil in a frying pan and stir in the bacon, adjusting the heat so that the fat melts as the bacon crisps. Scoop the bacon on to a plate, leaving all the fatty oil behind. Cut the bread into chunky squares and quickly fry in the bacon fat, tossing until crisp and golden. Return the bacon and toss again
Serve the soup with a dollop of cream, some of the croûtons and a shower of chives.