“Nothing behind me, everything ahead of me, as is ever so on the road”

On the Road, Kerouac, 1957

Later this summer my family’s boarding a train in Vienna for two weeks of Interrailing, and I’m hoping to catch some of that original feeling of wanderlust as the trains hurtle through Europe, and that some of it also rubs off on my 16 year old.

We’re heading through Austria, up and down the Alps, dipping into Lake Como, then flying home out of Zurich. We spent the colder months planning all this and now we have a rail pass each, a route planned, a higgledy piggledy selection of places to stay, and some train reservations that we may or may not manage to make.

There’s a famous travelogue by 1Paul Theroux (or as he’s now better known, Louis’ Dad) called The Great Railway Bazaar which is a love letter to his epic train journey through Asia that reads :

“Anything is possible on a train: a great meal, a binge, a visit from card players, an intrigue, a good night’s sleep”

I love the idea that the journey itself is as exciting, if not more so, than the destination. That trains are miniature worlds where anything can happen.

Packing for a trip like this is fiendish, lots of different temperatures and terrains, but also only minimal luggage as we’ll always be on the move. For me it’s also a small, ongoing negotiation about what I can get away in terms of photography gear and a small kit for any cooking along the way. I want the ‘right’ gear but not the weight of a full camera bag, and I want a proper knife so any cooking doesn’t involve hacking away with whatever disappointments I find in an Airbnb cutlery drawer or hotel buffet.

Add in the fact that we’re moving location every couple of days, travelling on a budget, and feeding three appetites, including one unfussy but un-fillable sixteen-year-old, and the whole exercise becomes a genuine packing puzzle.

Here’s what I’m thinking this year.

CAMERA KIT

My SONY A7iii is a great option for a travel camera as it packs all the professional gubbins into a relatively compact, lightweight mirrorless camera body, and it’s a lot lighter than my workhorse Canon5D. I’m only taking one lens, so I need something that’s hardworking and lightweight so I’ve treated myself to a 2Sony FE 28-60mm f/4-5.6 after being woo-ed by it’s “world’s lightest standard frame zoom” claims. It’s a great walk-around lens for street photography and landscapes zoomed out at 28mm, and will also work well for portraits, storytelling details and anything food-related zoomed in at the 60mm end, plus the actual barrel is so short it’s great for any top down food shots where you don’t want a dirty big lens shadow all over the plate.

One spare battery, a spare card, and that’s it.

A practical note for anyone doing the same, I pack the camera in this neoprene case inside an ordinary 3cross-body bag, not a branded camera bag. It’s easier to access, and it’s also better hidden and harder to steal. The case I use perfectly fits the dimensions of the Sony A7 body with the micro zoom lens attached, but it’s not one-size fits all. You’ll be able to find similar for whatever brand of camera you are using.

COOKING KIT

I also want to squeeze in a tiny cooking kit.

A folding travel knife (Opinel ones are fab) , a travel chopping board, EVOO and S&P. That way I reckon I can generally cobble together something good in the time it takes to open a bottle of local wine to wash it down with. This is not the time for complicated recipes.

As a family, we treat food shopping just like any other sightseeing that we do, noodling around local food markets is my happy place, plus my other half genuinely loves a European supermarket so that’s not a chore either. I’m lucky my teenager has grown up eating whatever I’ve been testing, styling or photographing, so there’s no negotiating a separate meal or hunting down familiar brands.

Train days need their own food plan. The food has to be easily portable, odour free and simple to eat, I’m thinking Bread, Cheese, Fruit and something Salty. And if it’s an evening journey, add wine.

My hope is that each stop will bring something new and delicious to the trip, from coffee and pastries in Vienna, Alpine cheeses, speck and schnapps in the Alps, fish, lemons, and long lunches in Lake Como, and one blow out good meal in Zurich before the flight home. So if you have any recommendations do let me know.

Six Songs and Six Books for the Journey

1. The Great Railway Bazaar by Paul Theroux

2. On the Road by Jack Kerouac

3. Stranger on a Train by Jenny Diski

4. A Cook’s Tour by Anthony Bourdain

5. Moonlight Express, Around the World By Night Train by Monisha Rajesh

6. A4 Sketchbook

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Welcome to Hero Harvest. Are you ready to geek out? This month’s peak season superstar is….. tomatoes.

So grab a fork (garden and eating) and join us as we explore how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

As usual, we’ve divided our geekery into two instalments:

Part 1 - eating: a proper love-in glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. Got a glut? Need inspiration? This one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Pull up a chair for lunch and join us behind the scenes for a video conversation in which we share tips on how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. If you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got lots to show you.

Recipes are all created by Kathy Slack with pics by Kirstie Young.

Join us around the kitchen table. Every month we celebrate one hero from the veg patch in food and pictures. Come with us as we capture the year.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

“We could do fennel flowers?”

“Bit niche”, comes the reply. Kirstie Young is, of course, right. Fennel flowers might be the most abundant thing in the new Welsh veg patch at the moment, but even we would struggle to make them into a compelling hero harvest.

You may be here for the fringes of seasonal geekery, but battered fennel flowers is esoteric even by our standards.

A wild Eden.

This is the first Hero Harvest we’ve shot from the new farmhouse in Monmouthshire. It’s a wild and beautiful Eden, and it’s so exciting to be able to give you a sense of the place in this edition. (Tune in for the regular Hero Harvest BTS video in a fortnight when we’ll be discussing in more detail how we go about shooting in a new space.)

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And, whilst there’s been a lot of weeding, there’s been very little gardening and even less rain since the move began, so harvests are snaffled, opportunistic raids on whatever was here already and happens to raise its head above the weeds – perennial kale, blackcurrants, rhubarb, and, of course, fennel flowers.

Fortunately, Eden has a corner shop.

By some miracle, there turns out to be an organic market garden not 5 minutes from the house. And, as that wasn’t enough, they deliver. Given that DPD can barely deliver to the end of this remote, untarmacked valley, and Ocado won’t even try, this seems wondrous, bordering on divine.

The latest delivery is a crate of tomatoes so juicy, taught-skinned and crimson, they are almost obscene. These will be out heroes. They arrived ready for their close up and we will gladly give them the spotlight (or, more accurately, the moody half-light of the pantry).

Ways with tomatoes

Raw. In August and September, top quality tomatoes should be served raw. No need to faff around, just get them on a plate. Room temperature please. At most, the citric acidy of raw tomatoes can take a hint of green dressing, but no more or you detract from the wonder biting into of a just-picked, sun-warmed, soft-fleshed tomato as the juices dribble down your chin.

Roasting concentrates the flavour and is a great way to deal with tomatoes that might be a tad watery or underwhelming because it removes the water and caramelises the sugars that are left. Never make a tomato sauce, passata or tomato soup without roasting the tomatoes first.

Pickling. The recipe for whole pickled tomatoes below might seem odd, at first but when you pop a cherry tomato gobstobber in your mouth and it bursts you will be converted by the sweet-but-sour explosion that can pep up virtually any dish from salad to pasta.

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We celebrate significant Birthdays significantly in our family. My own half century involved persuading some of my favourite humans to come to New York for a long weekend, go on a Harlem Jazz Tour, eat Hot Dogs in a speakeasy and try the Tacos in the secret downstairs diner of a gas station during Halloween. And it was EPIC!

This year, my other half smashed into his own second half with a Cocktails and Raclette party, a voucher to throw himself out of a plane (with a parachute … I paid the extra), and last weekend, four days in Porto with some more excellent friends.

Obviously a big part of the attraction was the food, and Porto did not disappoint. There was a pledge to eat a 1Pastel de Nata every time we passed somewhere selling them. There was first breakfast of pão de queijo or a Pastel do Nata with Coffee, and then a 2second egg based affair to fuel us up the steep streets each morning, followed by a seamless slide into cold vino verde and excellent boards of cheese and cured meats for lunch.

There were 3Port tastings, 4craft cocktails, and tiny wine bars. And there were three, very different 5delicious dinners. But for me, it was the bright and beautiful tins of Sardines that felt so perfectly Portuguese.

During one of the hot street meanderings, we ducked into what looked like an old-fashioned confectioners, stacked floor to ceiling with tiny treasures. But this wasn’t a sweetshop, it was so much better than that. This was exquisitely designed, tiny tins of fish. Sardines, mackerel, tuna and octopus all tucked into miniature works of art, with hand-drawn illustrations and vintage typography, all just a ring pull away from something really special inside.

In the same way that I want to collect 6beautifully designed books, I was really drawn to these. The pure pleasure of having something so beautiful, affordable, but also, lunch!

Decades of students twanging cheap tins of tuna into pasta and optimistically calling it dinner puts tinned fish into a very different category in the UK, a completely different postcode to the luxury food aisle where good tinned fish hangs out. In Portugal, like much of Europe, these tins are displayed like artisan chocolates or fancy preserves. They’re like a little pocket sized story of the sea, the people and the traditions and are perfect eaten casually from the tin, with good bread and wine.

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With over 800 kms of coastline, fishing has been a big part of Portuguese life for centuries, long before the chilly luxury of a fridge, so canning was obviously vital, and their beautiful packaging started as a fierce marketing tool back in the 1900’s. This has continued as a celebration of Portuguese heritage, plus a lot of the historic brands still preserve these fish by hand, so the packaging truly reflects this artisanal craft.

Unsurprisingly, I have come home with more than a few tins and a determination not to just fling them into the back of the cupboard for the “right” moment, but instead to eat them over the next few days and extend the celebration just that little bit longer.

These are the scribbled notes I made today to lure you into this fishy plan of mine.

On Toast - Sourdough, toasted & rubbed with Garlic + Sieved Tomatoes + Sardines + Lemon. A drizzle of Sriracha to finish, if that’s your bag.

In Pasta - Pasta + Breadcrumbs crisped up in Olive Oil, Garlic & Chilli + Sardines + Squeeze of Lemon. Extra Olive Oil and Parsley on top if you fancy.

On a Rice Bowl - Rice + pickled red onions + avocado + kimchi + Sardines. Fried egg cooked in sesame oil if you can be bothered to turn the hob on. A drizzle of soy sauce on top.

In a Salad - Radicchio + Olive Oil & Lemon + Almonds + Garlic Breadcrumbs + Sardines

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There’s some more inspo in the book Lunchwell - pictured below are Sardine Tartine Picante, plus a riff on a Lettuce Wrap.

Recipes by Fern Green

Photography by Kirstie Young

Other greedy highlights from Porto include

A Port tasting at Augustos

The best Pastel De Nata bakery in the city

A lunchtime visit to Bolhao Market

A trip to taste and buy Olive Oil at Fabrica do Azeite

So if you happen to find yourself in Porto this year, grab me a few more tins of Sardines would you?

Welcome to Hero Harvest. Are you ready to geek out? This month’s peak season superstar is….. strawberries.

So grab a fork (garden and eating) and join us as we explore how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

As usual, we’ve divided our geekery into two instalments:

Part 1 - eating: a proper love-in glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. Got a glut? Need inspiration? This one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Pull up a chair for lunch and join us behind the scenes for a video conversation in which we share tips on how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. If you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got lots to show you.

Join us around the kitchen table. Every month we celebrate one hero from the veg patch in food and pictures. Come with us as we capture the year.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

Behind the scenes

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Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. So, if you have a glut, or want inspiration for peak season produce, this one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Then, we follow up a fortnight later with a videoconversation to chat more about our hero and share some behind the scenes stories of how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. So, if you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got plenty to show you.

Recipes are all created by Kathy Slack with pics by Kirstie Young.

We’d love to have you at the table with us.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

The Hero Harvest basket is groaning

Asparagus, kalettes, purple sprouting broccoli – it’s all a bit green and savoury though, isn’t it? This month, redress in the form of strawberries.

The accidental strawberry patch

The little veg patch we shoot Hero Harvest in does not have space for strawberries. But the offer of free, excess plants from a friend was irresistible and so a corner was found and a dozen plants were packed in to the edge of one raised bed in the shade of a magnolia tree. Sub-optimal conditions, to say the least.

But they have thrived

Miraculously, they begin their second summer robust, rambunctious and weighed down with green strawberries. With such productivity comes special treatment – a bed of straw to prevent the strawberries rotting, and a net to deter raiders (mice, birds, spaniels). We watch and wait for them to ripen. Updates as we get them.

In the meantime, this month’s feast supplies us with new and classic ways to enjoy the coming crop.

Ways with strawberries

Macerating, which involves nothing more than tossing in a spoonful of sugar and setting aside to rest for a couple of hours, draws the juices out of strawberries, creating a syrupy sauce with zero effort.

Roasting might seem certain to result in a mushy pulp, but in fact, does not. Whereas macerating keeps the strawberries firm but juiced, roasting makes them soft, but still whole and juicy – like a tinned strawberry. A wonderful warm, sweet topping for cold ice-cream.

Herbs and spices. Chefs can get a bit smug about adding “unexpected” flavours to strawberries. A whisper of basil in an Eton mess makes a chef feel clever and ‘inventive’. But they, the strawberries not the chefs, do enjoy a herbaceous hum or a sharp, spicy kick so some smugness is allowed.

Basil and black pepper are the most common, but I also like the floral notes (floral notes? See, I warned you this made chefs go all flouncy) of thyme and rosemary. So too, tarragon’s aniseed tang, which seems unlikely to work, but does. Chop any of these into a bowl of halved strawberries and give it 5 minutes.

More traditionally, rose and vanilla are common sweet pairings, but go gently with them: they are heady, soporific flavours that can dominate and make a dessert taste more like soap than strawberries.

Acid. Adding lemon to strawberry jam is a must, not just for the pectin (of which strawberries have none), but as a seasoning to bring out the flavour.Sumac, with its citrus hum, does the same in a strawberry salad. And balsamic vinegar has become a paradoxically classic novel pairing. It must be balsamic though, not any old vinegar, the sweetness is key to bridge the gap between acid and strawberry.Further afield, try Ed Smith’s Strawberry and fennel conserve for rice pudding. Along similar lines, Esther Clark has a strawberry fennel shrub recipeyou will love. Sophia Real | Real Simple Food makes great use of strawberries and sumac. But leave room for Anna Jones classic strawberry shortcakes.

On the menu

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Welcome to Hero Harvest. Are you ready to geek out? This month’s peak season superstar is….. asparagus.

So grab a fork (garden and eating) and join us as we explore how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

As usual, we’ve divided our geekery into two instalments:

Part 1 - eating: a proper love-in glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. Got a glut? Need inspiration? This one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Pull up a chair for lunch and join us behind the scenes for a video conversation in which we share tips on how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. If you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got lots to show you.

All the recipes are created by Kathy Slack and the images by Kirstie Young.

Join us around the kitchen table. Every month we celebrate one hero from the veg patch in food and pictures. Come with us as we capture the year.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

Do you have smelly wee now?

We certainly did after this month’s feast of asparagus, and no shame. Here’s a recap of what we cooked:

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Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. So, if you have a glut, or want inspiration for peak season produce, this one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Then, we follow up a fortnight later with a videoconversation to chat more about our hero and share some behind the scenes stories of how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. So, if you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got plenty to show you.

Recipes are all created by Kathy Slack with pics by Kirstie Young.

We’d love to have you at the table with us.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

A diva at home in the spotlight

So far in Hero Harvests, we’ve focused on plants that don’t often get much opportunity to bask in the spotlight - PSB, rhubarb, kalettes. Perhaps rhubarb gets a brief moment of fame, especially the forced type, but it’s not as if the nation is awaiting it’s next outing with all the anticipation of a new Taylor Swift album.

Unlike asparagus. We all know when it’s asparagus season. You can’t miss it. It’s piled high in the supermarkets.

(As I’ve said before though, do be cautious if buying from the supermarket. Asparagus is often displayed proudly at the store entrance under a daffodil-clad banner announcing it to be ‘Seasonal’. Which it is, but not this lot because, when you check the maddeningly plastic packaging, you see it’s come from Peru.)

Worth the price tag

The first bunches can be upwards of £8, coming down to around a fiver by now. Which seems a lot. Until you try your hand at growing it.

Asparagus requires time, effort and space. It’s a proper diva.

It stays in the ground all year. You need, in my view, a minimum of 4m² in which to grow it otherwise your crop will amount to barely a single bunch.

The ground must be free draining. But never dry. So you’re going to have to water. It can’t get thirsty.

It will tolerate absolutely no competition. So weeding is essential. But it’s a thin little whip of a plant so the ground it grows in is often bare, making it a haven for weeds.

But you can’t hoe the weeds because asparagus roots are shallow and run horizontally so hoeing would break them. You must hand weed. Constantly.

And don’t imagine you can harvest it when you like either. Once you plant the dormant crowns it grows from, you have to wait three years for the plant can establish itself before you can pick it.

See. Serious diva energy.

If you manage to grow it, do let us know. We’ll send you a medal.

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Ways with asparagus

Rule one of asparagus cooking:

Never, ever, boil asparagus

Which, incidentally, is the same as the first rule of cooking with purple sprouting broccoli, as you’ll recall from last time. Instead:

Steam: for 2-3 minutes max. In a single layer so it cook evenly until hot but still crunchy. Serve immediately or plunge into cold water to prevent it overcooking. From here, butter as below, use to dip into a boiled egg, or add to salads like the asparagus, Jersey Royals and broad bean salad I made at Fortnum’s last year.

Char: either on a bbq or griddle, or in the oven. Take the charring to new heights by adding salty flavours like in these asparagus bundles wrapped in parma ham and rolled in asparagus.

Raw: only for the freshest, sweetest, least woody of pickings. shave into ribbons using a potato peeler then make my raw asparagus, lemon and pine nut salad from the Borough Market archives.

Still hungry? Try these:

Spring panzanella and other ways with asparagus

24 APRIL 2024

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Asparagus, chilli butter & dukka with wild garlic focaccia for mopping up

14 MAY 2025

Read full story

Why I’m getting an allotment (spoiler: to grow asparagus for this recipe)

17 APRIL 2024

Read full story

An asparagus feast

Call us gluttons (fair), but we think all three of these dishes would be glorious served together for an Asparagus day celebration. Outside. With rosé. Weather permitting.

On the menu:

The salad has all the best bits of a Caesar - crunchy croutons, creamy dressing, salty anchovies - mixed with all the best bits of a Waldorf - sweet pops of sultanas and apples, tannin-heavy walnuts, crisp peppery celery. All of them in support of the asparagus.

Once you’ve tried grilled asparagus you’ll be addicted. Charred hot and fast it caramelised on the outside, but retains its crunch in the middle. Perfect with salty feta spread over charred toast, but equally good piled into flatbread.

And finally, simple asparagus with butter, toasted until it becomes magically nutty. This dish (and images) has St JO

HN energy - purist, unadulterated, confident, quite messy. It’s a real class act. And dribble down your chin delicious.

We’d love to hear which recipes you try.

Or if you have other favourite ways with asparagus, leave us a comment and we’ll make an asparagus recipe catalogue.

An asparalogue, if you will…

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Asparagus Caesar X Waldorf salad

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Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beauti…

Read more

Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. So, if you have a glut, or want inspiration for peak season produce, this one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Then, we follow up a fortnight later with a videoconversation to chat more about our hero and share some behind the scenes stories of how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. So, if you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got plenty to show you.

Recipes are all created by Kathy Slack with pics by Kirstie Young.

We’d love to have you at the table with us.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

Do not grow PSB

Yes, that might sounds defeatist given the aim of this feature, but it’s important to be honest: purple sprouting broccoli is an absolute sod to grow. Really technical.

It takes at least nine months in the soil to grow, needs loads of space, is susceptible to cabbage white butterfly caterpillars in the summer, ravaged my pigeons in the winter, hates to be rocked by the wind, doesn’t like it too hot, doesn’t like it too dry, or too wet. You get the idea. If you can grow PSB, you can grow anything.

But, if you have time, space and an inclination to mollycoddle something, then do have a go because, as well as being tricksy, it is also utterly delicious and cropping at a time, February to April, when almost nothing else does.

But since each plant requires four square feet in the beds and take a full year from sowing to cropping, it’s really a plant for those with allotments. Or a gardener. If you’re up for a challenge, read this excellent How To guide from Gardeners’ World.

A (small) harvest

Uncharacteristically, there is a small harvest of PSB to pick this year. Planted from bought plugs in early summer, it has grown slowly but without drama all year, survived winter, and is producing a small crop now. Don’t get excited though, there’s maybe a kilo of florets in total. But it’s a partial success. And, with PSB growing, that’s something to celebrate.

Ways with PSB

Steamed: never, ever, boil PSB. It drains it of both colour and nutrition. Instead, steam the spears for 3-4 minutes at most.

Charred: better even that wet heat, is dry heat. Either place on the grill of the BBQ for 2-3 minutes. Or toss in oil (a little salt, garlic powder and chilli flakes would help too) then roast in a hot oven for 8-10 minutes until charred and crispy.

Salty things: charred or steamed, PSB, loves to play with salty flavours. Think anchovies (as below), blue cheese (also below), feta or miso.

Wholesome savouriness: the mild bitterness of PSB goes well with earthy flavours like beetroot or spelt grains.

Eggs: nothing like a dippy egg. And charred PSB is perfect for dipping. Or steam and top with poached eggs when you’re feeling fancy.

Here’s more details on some of those ideas, all free to read, all from Kathy Slack archives:

• Eggs and anchovy PSB soldiers

• Charred PSB and eggs on fried bread

• Beetroot, PSB and feta flatbreads

• PSB and spelt salad

3 Ways to Celebrate PSB

And here are 3 news ways to love PSB. On the menu:

The tahini dip can be used for dunking steamed PSB, or as a dressing when PSB is a side, or the base for a salad (add, perhaps, pomegranates, almonds, kale, avocado, shaved cabbage as your larder allows).

The gratin is flexible too. Serve the leeky, PSB, bean and blue cheese base on its own as a stew, or top with breadcrumbs. (The breadcrumbs are handy for topping all sorts of things too).

Finally, pizza with a spelt base that brings nutty depth, and a touch of goodness, to a regular pizza. The rosemary and anchovy paste, used here instead of a tomato topping, is a great dressing for PSB on its own too.

Recipes of all these ideas, below. And stay tuned for our behind the scenes video of this shoot, coming in a couple of weeks, when Kirstie Young explains how she sets up a food shot to tell the story of the dish and make you hungry.

Make sure you’re fully subscribed and it’ll come straight to your inbox:

Purple sprouting broccoli and blue cheese bean gratin

Serves 2, greedily

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 2 leeks, sliced

• 1 garlic clove

• 75ml white wine

• 1 x 570g jar Bold Bean butterbeans

• 35g breadcrumbs

• 15g walnuts

• 10g parsley

• 15g butter

• 125g blue cheese, like Stilton

• 200g purple sprouting broccoli, broken into small stems

Find an ovenproof frying pan for which you have a lid and set over a medium heat. Warm the oil the add the leeks to sweat, lid on, for 15-20 minutes until very soft. Add garlic for the last couple of minutes but do not let it brown.

Remove the lid, add the wine and beans (including the stock they come in) and turn the heat up until the mixture simmers gently.

Leave the juices in the pan to thicken, roughly 5 minutes, and make the crumble topping. This is simply a matter of blitzing the breadcrumbs, walnuts, parsley and butter in a food processor to make a green rubble.

Pre-heat the grill to medium.

Once thick and creamy, remove the beans from the heat and stir in three-quarters of the cheese. Lay the purple sprouting broccoli on top of beans then bury the whole thing under the breadcrumb topping. Crumble over the remaining cheese.

Grill until golden and serve bubbly hot.

Tahini sauce for dunking or drizzling

Serves 4

• 50g tahini

• 1 lemon, juice and zest

• 1 fat garlic clove, crushed

• 1 tsp honey

• Pinch salt

• Sumac, to serve

Put everything except the sumac in a high-speed blender with 3 tablespoons of cold water. Whizz until smooth. Pour into a bowl and sprinkle with sumac before serving alongside steamed or roasted purple sprouting broccoli

Purple sprouting broccoli, spelt and anchovy pizza

Serves 2

• 1 tin anchovies, with oil

• 1 fat garlic clove

• 3 sprigs rosemary

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 100g purple sprouting broccoli

• 1 lemon, zested

• 20g blanched hazelnuts, chopped

• Parmesan, grated, to top

For the dough:

• 200g spelt flour, plus extra for dusting

• 200g strong white bread flour

• 1 tsp dried quick action yeast

• 2 tsp flaky salt

Get the dough going first. Mix the flours, yeast, salt and 265ml of lukewarm water in a bowl and knead for 8-10 minutes. You can do this in a freestanding mixer with a dough hook if you like. Cover and leave to rise somewhere warm, like an airing cupboard, for at least an hour, but ideally two.

For the topping, keep 6 anchovies aside and whizz the rest, plus the oil from the tin, with the garlic, needles from 2 sprigs of rosemary and the extra virgin olive oil to make a rough paste.

When the dough has risen (it will double in size), pre-heat the oven to 250C and put two baking trays in to heat up. Dust the dough and a work surface with flour, divide into two equal pieces, then use the flat of your hand to press each piece into a thin oval. You will yearn for a rolling pin, but resist: it makes for a characterless pizza with thin edges that burn. Each pizza should be around 5mm thick.

Working quickly, take the trays out of the oven, dust them with flour and lay a pizza base on each.

Spread the anchovy and rosemary paste over the dough, then arrange the remaining anchovies and purple sprouting broccoli on top. Pick the needles from the remaining rosemary sprig and scatter over the pizzas and finish with the lemon zest, hazelnuts and as much grated parmesan as you see fit.

Bake for 10-15 minutes until the edges are crispy and the cheese molten and golden on top. Slice and serve immediately.

Next month, our Hero Harvest is asparagus and will be for paid subscribers. See you there x

©Kirstie Young

This is from my Behind the Shoot series. How to develop ideas for shoots and projects. This will be a dive into emerging photography styles and broader food trends that influence visual storytelling, as well as challenges and experiments, creative prompts and seasonal projects.

Green

There’s a particular shade of green that arrives around this time of year. It’s not the saturated green of high summer, or the muddier greens of Autumn, but something altogether softer. It shows up at first in your periphery - tiny weeds in the cracks, a shoot popping up when your back’s turned. You don’t notice it all at once then, BAM. The whole vista is a soft fresh green and the season has shifted.

This April, I’m starting with that shift, and instead of chasing ideas or subjects for my personal projects, I’m starting with Green.

Why Green?

Photography has a tendency to drift. We are curious creatures, and while most of my client work is food and drink, that’s not the only thing that I love to shoot. Some days it’s faces, the next it’s light, or architecture, or dogs. And some days, absolutely nothing holds my attention.

That’s when something like Green comes into its own. Green is a subject without any specifics. And in April it’s perfect - it’s everywhere, but in a million different ways, and it forces you to slow down and play a little, like you did as a kid with those brilliant I-Spy books that were handed to the backseat on long car journeys.

Paring down a personal project to something as basic as Green removes the pressure to find something interesting. When colour is the thread that you are pulling on, everything else can be ordinary.

The ‘rule’ (with a very small ‘r’)

The ‘rule’, such as it is, is straightforward. Every image must contain green. Not as an afterthought, but as a main character. That doesn’t mean it has to be dominant, but it always has to be intentional. And that means letting it be what it is, with minimal editing. And no heavy cropping to ‘find’ the green after the fact. Put a reasonable amount of resistance to everything that offers itself up, and you should come away with a glorious set of surprising images.

What’s the point?

The idea with this kind of creative playing is to change how you move through your day. It’s not just about looking at trees and leaves, it’s the “aha” of a green door, a signpost, car, or reflection that’s suddenly a reason to stop and really look. Things that would have been background noise become treasures for you Green I-Spy collection, and hopefully you’ll feel a skip in your step and really deep in your bones that finally, Spring is here.

Repetition and Variation

Working this way with a single colour will inevitably bring repetition, it’s easy to feel like you’re just shooting the same leaf again and again. But that’s when the work deepens, and you start to look for variation within the sameness.

Different light qualities at different times of day. Contrast between natural greens and artificial ones. Texture - soft, glossy, rough or decaying. The way green interacts with other colours like brick or sky. What feels like repetition at the start of this project will shift to a study of all the subtleties, and as you build your bank of green images they will start to naturally pair up in the most interesting of ways and go from snaps to a bonafide creative project.

©Kirstie Young

©Kirstie Young

The invitation

If your own practise is feeling scattered or overcomplicated, you could do worse than pick a colour and follow it around. For an hour, a day, a week or a month. Until something shifts.

For now, I’m following green. Not because it’s the hardest or the most interesting choice, but because I love it, especially in Spring.

And that’s enough.

Because sometimes the simplest constraint is the one that brings you back to the work.

Bonus 1 & 2

A Playlist to get you in the Green Mood, and a recipe for a 9-plant Green Smoothie!

Read more

Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beauti…

Read more

©Kirstie Young

I have realised that around this time each year, when the Daff’s and the Tulips start to sway in the breeze, rather than bend in the storms, I start to think of all the ways I should be re-inventing who I am and what I do. There’s a noisy push and pull of ideas that buzz around my head like the new gang of bees that have taken up residence in my garden, and I’ve struggled to focus on any one thing long enough to put it into practise.

This generally goes on for about a week, as I get more and more introspective until something pops that maddening bubble and I start to get things down on paper, work on tangible ways to make them happen, and just generally stop listening to the annual “what’s it all about’s?” that crowd my over-thinking brain.

I am way too much of a 70’s kid to lean into any notion that I might be suffering from stress, and have a Scottish mum who’s never held truck with the idea of sadness as a valid emotion, but by the end of this long winter with the world news being what it is, I think I came as close as I ever have to both those things.

This year, as always, food, mates, new books and decent wine are the magic ingredients that push back those clouds and have me engaging with new plans again.

©Kirstie Young

Food

One of my better decisions this month (because there have been some absolute howlers) was to become a member of - one of the most wholesome places I’ve ever been. Part Vegbox scheme, part community space, part honesty box this is a gentle antidote to all the 1tomfuckery that’s happening right now. You join as a member, choose how much organic, biodynamic veg you think you can feasibly munch through each week, then you arrive at the packing shed each weekend to weigh out your share and take it home. Worms and all.

©Kirstie Young

There’s a “Gift Box” where you put any Veg that you’ve pre-paid for but don’t particularly fancy eating that week, and other members can help themselves to it at will. I’ve been promised that later in the year there will be Harvest-Yourself rows so you can really indulge your inner Tom & Barbara (told you I was a child of the 70’s…).

They are always keen for new members to keep the farm viable, so do have a look at their website for more info on all the brilliant reasons to sign up

Also worth a read if this kind of food chat is your bag, is She writes with a down-to-earth sensibility that I really appreciate, and from the knowledgeable POV of a self-taught farmer. I also really like a Somerset food journalist who writes a lot about sustainable farming. And if you are on the path of trying to make a living as a food writer yourself, then this is a great piece:

Freelance Writing Jobs

Lessons learned from freelance food writers

Read more

6 months ago · 57 likes · 8 comments · Sian Meades-Williams

A lot of people have written about the revelations of Redzepi’s abuse towards his staff at Noma, none better than this piece from by James Gabriel Martin. The quality of writing on Substack continues to inspire me.

The Leviathan Journal

Oh No, Another Noma Thinkpiece

It always seems to start the same…

Read more

6 months ago · 33 likes · 2 comments · James Gabriel Martin

Books

One of the easiest ways to find my mojo when it’s been buried under a pile of everything-is-awful is to 2furtle around in a good bookshop. And when a new one opens it feels like maybe everything will be OK. This month Borderless Books opened in Stroud - which can now boast of two independent bookshops which says all the right things about a place. The owner, Myla, is an absolute wealth of book knowledge and enthusiasm and has launched a monthly bookclub in the shop too, which I obviously signed up for straight away and was doubly delighted to realise that the 3first book was a food-adjacent one.

Another book which lifted me this month was Tamar Adler’s “Feast on Your Life”. It’s a dip-in dip-out kind of book full of beautifully written reflections on moving through the year, seen through the lens of someone who looks at her day-to-day through food.

The poem on the first page “Love After Love” by Derek Walcott was the reason I bought it.

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Drinks

One of my favourite shoots so far this month has been for the family-run Cider company Isaac Cider. Based in Dorset this is a company with a really extraordinary story behind it.

The family used to sell the apples from their orchard to several of the big commercial Cider producers until they discovered through some ancestry research that they were descendants of the great renaissance scientist Sir Isaac Newton, and had their own Eureka moment. And in a twist that you couldn’t make up, they managed to bag one of ten saplings that were propagated from the apple tree that inspired Sir Isaac Newton’s theory of gravity, and have added it to their Orchard. I know. I had to check out too. But it’s true

They contacted me to book a studio session for some standard “bottles against a white background” kind of shots as most drinks distributors need these for their online sites, but I couldn’t resist just a little bit of creativity at the end of the day.

©Kirstie Young

OK, that’s me. Thanks for reading and have a great week.

Rumour has it the sun will be out.

Thanks for choosing to follow my Substack, it means a lot! The posts follow this (rough!) pattern each month -

In My Head. A round up of the creativity, inspiration, trends and ideas that I have stumbled across that month and want to share with you.

Behind the Shoot. How to develop ideas for shoots and projects. This will be a dive into emerging photography styles and broader food trends that influence visual storytelling, as well as challenges and experiments, creative prompts and seasonal projects.

On the Plate. Basically food chat. New and classic cookbooks, stand out restaurants and meals, chef interviews, pop ups, market trips, food travel, small scale producers & artisans, ingredient deep dives, and seasonality. I’m really keen to forge some collaborations with other creatives for this section so do drop me a message if you have an idea that you’d like to collaborate on.

The “In My Head” posts are free for all, with the others being for paid subscribers only. Sometimes these posts will be quick thoughts, sometimes they’ll be deeper dives, but my hope is that together they add up to a year of curiosity, conversation and some new discoveries along the way.

Subscribe now

If you enjoyed it, please help me spread the word by sharing it.

Share

If you’re able to become a paid subscriber, you’ll get access to all the content for far less than a coffee and piece of flapjack each month (hitting the button does not commit you to anything, it simply takes you to the options). Thanks for your support!

Subscribe now

Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. So, if you have a glut, or want inspiration for peak season produce, this one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Then, we follow up a fortnight later with a videoconversation to chat more about our hero and share some behind the scenes stories of how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. So, if you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got plenty to show you.

We’d love to have you at the table with us.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

Wakefield forms the southern corner the Yorkshire Rhubarb Triangle (which, depending on your definition, is more of an oblong or blob, but neither sound quite as poetic as triangle. Yorkshire Rhubarb Oblong. Nope.)

The area is famous for rhubarb growing thanks to its wet, free-draining soil, and frosty winters, all of which rhubarb loves, but also because the proximity, once upon a time, of cheap fuel, coal, meant that rhubarb could be grown in sheds in the dark, heated and so tricked into producing sweet stems for harvest in early spring – forced rhubarb.

When to eat rhubarb

Forced rhubarb is in season from late Feb to April, after which the maincrop harvest takes over. Most recipes can be made with either forced or maincrop, but the latter is chunkier, tarter and less pink than it’s delicate little sibling. Like Cindy next to Barbie.

Since maincrop rhubarb is allowed to grow outdoors and at its own pace, the season is much longer (April-end of August) and only stops when rhubarb growers have to exercise zen-like restraint and sit on their hands, resisting the urge to pick the abundant stems that continue to grow in profusion so the plant can gather its energies before winter hibernation.

Ways with forced rhubarb

Savoury: the sweet-but-sour tang of forced rhubarb is the absolute business for cutting through fatty and rich meats like braised duck, mackerel pâté and rich vegetables as in this celeriac soup with pickled rhubarb. It also loves a lemony, creamy cheese. Pickle it in a liquor recipe made from equal parts vinegar and sugar and go from there, even if it’s just atop a pork chop.

Sweet: poaching, using the method described below, opens up a world of options from yogurt and granola to homemade ice-cream. In this sweet form, forced rhubarb pairs well with herbs and spices. Most commonly honey, ginger and vanilla (for a trifle of dreams), but saffron is also definitely worth a try (try this rhubarb and almond cake), thyme and rosemary (as below).

A rhubarb feast

The forced rhubarb season is fleeting. But this brevity only heightens an eagerness to indulge in it at every opportunity. As in this menu, which would be a joy served all together at your own personal at-home rhubarb festival. On the menu:

Read more

After a two hour drive to the Bath & West showground in Shepton Mallett it’s not ideal to walk into the trade show and hear that the coffee beans have not been delivered to the cafe. No coffee available. At all.

Deep breaths.

Trade shows are a lot. From the fluorescent lighting and the weirdly hard concrete floors to the smell of fryer oil, artisan cheese and charcuterie all mingling in the air. Lanyard and game-face on, I brace myself for the overwhelming few hours ahead.

Trade shows as a food photographer are 50% rejection, 20% genuine connections and 30% awkward hovering.

They are also a mind boggling mash-up of delicious tastes in strange surroundings. Flavoured artisan Rum in a metal shed, followed by a scoop of marmalade ice cream. At 10am. Anyone?

In the space of 4 hours I have chatted with a bee farmer (apparently the term “bee keepers” is strictly for the hobbyists) about how to judge the hive temperament, I have discussed wine-washed rinds with a weirdly whispery cheesemaker, and I have met an absolute life-force of a woman who created herb focussed, small batch cocktail bitters to make your G&T taste better while fixing your hot flush. It was a strong start.

I have by now forgotten about the coffee catastrophe, and remembered how much I really love meeting real humans who make real things.

Then onto the “big stands”. The corporate, mega-stands where upwards of 14 people stand in front of a branded wall of images.

I spot a major food delivery company I’ve worked for in the past, and whose stand is full of the images I’ve taken for them. A big hug and lovely chat with the team makes my imposter syndrome shuts up for a hot minute.

But generally there’s some fast footwork required to dribble past the front line of social media interns, weave around the midfield of brand managers and find the gap that leads to the marketing team to score the metaphorical goal of engaging in some meaningful chat that might lead to getting on the list of photographers they want to work with.

It’s brutal. Way less fun than chatting to the cheese-making, bee-charming bitters-alchemists of the earlier part of the day, and even writing about it makes my toes turn under and my palms feel sweaty.

The ‘business’ bit of running a photography business is all the unseen, unpaid work that goes on behind the scenes. You can’t make a career out of being a food photographer unless you genuinely want to get involved in the minutiae of it all. People who work in the food industry have a passion for what they do, at least the ones that I want to work with have, and want to work with a photographer who can match that wonderfully, nerdy passion.

So even though Trade Shows are faintly ridiculous, chaotic and exhausting, they’re also where you get to take a deep dive into the small details that make a product stand out, and chew the fat with some excellent people who care about where their food comes from.

Somewhere between the honey tastings and surviving the slightly fermented feeling of trying all the new booze brands, I’ve come home with some cracking samples in my tote bag, and a couple of phone calls booked in. Can’t say fairer than that.

Top 4 tips for surviving a Trade Show

1. Work out which brands you would be a good fit for. It’s impossible to talk to everyone, so decide in advance which brands you’d love to shoot for and then figure out the most genuine way of approaching them.

2. Have a story not just a portfolio. Be ready to talk about the way you work and what makes your perspective different.

3. Be human. And curious.

4. Follow up thoughtfully. With a detail from the conversation you had, rather than send a mass mailout.

5. Always make sure you have a coffee before you get there. Because sometimes the beans will not have been delivered.

Thanks for choosing to follow my Substack, it means a lot! The posts follow this (rough!) pattern each month -

In My Head. A round up of the creativity, inspiration, trends and ideas that I have stumbled across that month and want to share with you.

Behind the Shoot. How to develop ideas for shoots and projects. This will be a dive into emerging photography styles and broader food trends that influence visual storytelling, as well as challenges and experiments, creative prompts and seasonal projects.

On the Plate. Basically food chat. New and classic cookbooks, stand out restaurants and meals, chef interviews, pop ups, market trips, food travel, small scale producers & artisans, ingredient deep dives, and seasonality. I’m really keen to forge some collaborations with other creatives for this section so do drop me a message if you have an idea that you’d like to collaborate on.

The “In My Head” posts are free for all, with the others being for paid subscribers only. Sometimes these posts will be quick thoughts, sometimes they’ll be deeper dives, but my hope is that together they add up to a year of curiosity, conversation and some new discoveries along the way.

Subscribe now

If you enjoyed it, please help me spread the word by sharing it.

Share

If you’re able to become a paid subscriber, you’ll get access to all the content for far less than a coffee and piece of flapjack each month (hitting the button does not commit you to anything, it simply takes you to the options). Thanks for your support!

Subscribe now

Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. So, if you have a glut, or want inspiration for peak season produce, this one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Then, we follow up a fortnight later with a videoconversation to chat more about our hero and share some behind the scenes stories of how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. So, if you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got plenty to show you.

We’ve made this first Hero Harvest free to all subscribers. But from next month, it will be for paid subscribers. We’d love to have you at the table with us.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

Subscribe now

Behind the scenes

Credit: Kirstie Young

Have you had time to try out the recipes in our first Hero Harvest feature? We’d love to hear what you think. Here’s a reminder:

Now, we promised you a bit of behind the scenes chat and that’s what you’ll find in this video. In it, you’ll hear how we came to be shooting these kalette recipes, a tumultuous tale that led us to this series, plus a bit about what we have planned here.

We hope you’ve enjoyed this taster of Hero Harvests. From next month, paid subscribers can keep track of all the previous features in the archives and stay tuned for next month’s Hero Harvest which is….. (drumroll)… rhubarb.

Welcome to Hero Harvest. Each month we take one vegetable, or fruit, in peak season and geek out - exploring how to grow it, classic flavour pairings, endless recipe ideas & new ways to put it centre stage.

Part 1 - eating: The first instalment will feel like a proper glossy magazine feature (which is no less than these veg deserve) of recipes and beautiful images that give each harvest its moment in the spotlight. So, if you have a glut, or want inspiration for peak season produce, this one’s for you.

Part 2 - creating: Then, we follow up a fortnight later with a video conversation to chat more about our hero and share some behind the scenes stories of how we created, cooked and captured the star veg. So, if you’re into the creative process (of recipe development and photography), we’ve got plenty to show you.

We’ve made this first Hero Harvest free to all subscribers. But from next month, it will be for paid subscribers. We’d love to have you at the table with us.

We hope you’re hungry.

Love,

Good genes

When Brussels sprouts and kale had a lovechild it was bound to be a beautiful one. The frilly softness of kale provided good looks; the earthy, mineral-y flavour of sprouts made it interesting - things could only go well. And sure enough, the kalette grew up to be a proper heartbreaker.

Eas(ier than sprouts) to grow

Kalettes are available, roughly, December to February and are also known as flower sprouts.

Unlike Brussels sprouts, which are, frankly, a complete sod to grow and ‘blow’ (ie: form loose balls of mishappen leaves rather than tight little cabbages) at the slightest hint of hardship whether that be drought, drenching, wind rock or pests. Kalettes are far more amenable to a (my) haphazard growing style since they are supposed to blow.

Credit Kirstie Young

Just like a sprout, kalettes have fat trunks on which grow little baby cabbages. But the Kalette’s mini cabbage is a loose-leafed floret of wrinkly leaves rather than a tight ball of smooth ones. They look like mini butterhead lettuces, plucked from the kitchen garden of a doll’s house.

And tastier too

Credit: Kirstie Young

Kalettes are sweeter than Brussels sprouts too, and have a better PR team (just like all the pretty young things), so do not induce the same face-wrinkling wince when you serve them up.

They steam in moments, crisp up when roasted, and taste sweet and fresh when macerated and eaten raw.

Ways with kalettes

With cheese: as illustrated in the tartiflette inspired recipe below. But also (and significantly healthier), I saw Tim Spector on Zoe’s Instagram encrusting sprouts with Parmesan and thought it might be even more glorious with kalettes since their lovely petals catch the parmesan and crisp up. I warn you, they are addictive. Just toss raw kalettes in a little olive oil, toss in grated parmesan, press onto a silicone baking sheet and roast at 190C for 15 minutes.

With citrus: blood oranges (or any oranges) love kalettes. As illustrated in the recipe below. For something even simpler combine kalettes and oranges with daubs of goat’s cheese and a few flaked almonds.

With miso: like their parent, kale, kalettes love umami flavours like soy, miso etc. They make an excellent addition to a miso and noodle soup. Or brush them with miso before roasting in the oven.

(Almost) raw: in Kathy’s book, Rough Patch, you’ll find a recipe for kalettes which have been barely glimpsed a pan of boiling water before being plunged into cold water, then drained and tossed with apples, blueberries, avocado and spicy seeds.

More specifically, I can recommend Catherine Phipps recipe for a sort of saag aloo with kalettes. And Riverford do a lovely crispy kalette and aioli number. Similarly, the kalette marketing board (actual thing) have a tahini stirfry that’s a must.

A feast to celebrate the kalette harvest

Credit: Kirstie Young

Time for the main event. A menu that puts kalette front and centre. All three dishes would work gloriously and indulgently together, but feel free to make them one at a time as well.

On the menu:

Creamy, cheesy kalettes

Credit: Kirstie Young

Serves 2

• 400g kalettes (trimmed weight), trimmed and halved

• 150g smoked lardons

• 20g butter

• 100g shallot, finely sliced

• 1 fat garlic clove, crushed

• 2tsp chopped thyme leaves

• 100ml dry white wine

• 100ml double cream

• 250g ripe camembert (1 wheel)

• Crusty bread and a crisp salad, to serve.

Boil the kalettes in salted water for 1 minute then plunge into iced water to cool. This stops them overcooking. Drain and leave to dry out a little.

In a frying pan set over a medium-high heat, fry the lardons until the fat is released and the bacon browns. Fish out the lardons with a slotted spoon, leaving the fat behind.

Turn the heat down a touch, add the butter and, once it fizzes, tip the onions into the pan, sweating slowly for 20 minutes until soft but not browned. Add the garlic and thyme to soften for a couple of minutes.

Now is the time to pre-heat the grill to medium.

Add the wine to the frying pan and bring to a bubble, simmering until almost totally evaporated. Turn the heat down to low and stir in the cream, lardons and plenty of salt and pepper.

Tumble in the kalettes and stir through. Slice the cheese into 5mm thick pieces and lay on top. Grill for 8-10 minutes until golden and bubbling then serve with a crisp salad and bread for mopping up.

Crispy kalettes with three dips

Serves 4 as nibbles

For the kalettes:

• 600g kalettes

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

• 1 tsp garlic granules

For the harissa dip:

• ½ jar butterbeans

• 1 tbsp harissa

• 1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

For the feta:

• 200g feta

• 2 tbsp full-fat plain yogurt

• 1 tbsp dukka

• A few pistachios, chopped

• Extra virgin olive oil, to serve

For the tahini:

• 4 tbsp tahini

• 1 lemon, juice and zest

• 2 tbsp full-fat plain yogurt

Get the dips ready first.

For the harissa dip, tip the beans and their juices into a food processor with the harissa, olive oil and pinch of salt. Whizz until smooth then scoop into a bowl and finish with a dab more harissa.

For the feta, rinse out he food processor, crumble in the feta and add the yogurt. Whizz to a smooth, whipped paste then spoon into a bowl and top with the dukka, nuts and a little olive oil.

Finally, the tahini is just a matter of stirring together the tahini, lemon juice and yogurt and some salt in a bowl. Top with the lemon zest and a turn of pepper.

When you’re ready to serve. Pre-heat the oven to 210C. Toss the kalettes in the olive oil, sprinkle over the garlic granules and season liberally with salt and pepper. Arrange in a single layer on a baking tray and roast for 10 minutes or until charred at the edges. Tip the crispy kalettes onto a board, nestle the bowls of dip amongst them and serve.

Kalette winter salad

Serves 2

• 350g kalettes

• 2 blood oranges

• 1 tin anchovies

• ½ tsp honey

• 1 tsp apple cider vinegar (optional)

• 1 small apple

• 1 stem forced rhubarb

• Handful walnuts, toasted

For the croutons:

• 150g sourdough bread

• 2 garlic cloves

• ½ tsp flaky salt

• 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

Start with the croutons. Pre-heat the oven to 200C. Tear the bread into rough, bite-sized pieces. Put the garlic and salt in a pestle and mortar and pound to a paste. Stir in the oil. Drizzle the garlicky oil over the bread, then toss, making sure each piece is evenly coated. Arrange the croutons in a single layer on a baking tray and roast for 7–10 minutes, turning over halfway through, until the bread is crisp and golden. Remove from the oven and set aside (far away from where you are cooking, or you’ll eat them before you finish the salad.)

Boil a pan of salted water and plunge the kalettes into it for no more than 90 seconds. Drain and tip into a bowl of iced water (this stops them overcooking and helps them stay green).

Cut the peel and pith from the oranges and slice the flesh into rounds. Put the flesh to one side and collect the juice released while slicing in a salad bowl. Drain the oil from the anchovy tin into the dressing bowl, add the honey and whisk together to make the dressing. If the oranges are not very tart you may need the cider vinegar to balance the sweet and sour flavours of the dressing. You decide.

Add the anchovies to the salad bowl. Finely slice the apple, chop the rhubarb into 1cm pieces and get them in the bowl too. You can add the walnuts now as well. And the croutons.

Finally, drain the kalettes, pat try and add to the bowl, tossing everything together with gentle hands. Serve immediately.

Next month, our Hero Harvest is rhubarb and will be for paid subscribers. See you there x

Portraits

I had two very different portrait shoots recently. One was an environmental portrait of an off-grid Potter who works from a log cabin deep in the woods, and literally uses fire to fire her work. Elemental, slightly mythical fire. The other, a polished Corporate headshot for a Commodities broker who came to the studio for less than 30 minutes with 3 different shirt and jacket combinations. He wanted clean, straight headshots. Neutral background, good posture, and expression that conveyed competence, trustworthiness and an understanding of spreadsheets.

And it got me thinking about what portrait photography actually is, and the photographers who really excel at it. These are two of my favourites.

Arnold Newman

A New York Photographer who was seen as the pioneer of the environmental portrait. Flicking through his work is an absolute masterclass in using environment as biography. He photographed artists, writers, musicians, politicians, scientists and celebrities. From Picasso to Marilyn Monroe, from John F Kennedy to Yaser Arafat, framing them with objects or architecture that revealed their identity or work.

"I didn't just want to make a photograph with some things in the background," Newman told American Photo magazine in an interview. "The surroundings had to add to the composition and the understanding of the person. No matter who the subject was, it had to be an interesting photograph. Just to simply do a portrait of a famous person doesn't mean a thing."

Platon

At the other end of the scale, Platon is a British1photographer known for his tight, stark, graphic headshots, often of political and cultural leaders. They are uncompromising, fearless and not always flattering, but definitely revealing in their own way.

The Potter’s studio was all texture and dusty, clay hardened surfaces. The light came from the late afternoon sun, and felt alive and full of opinion.

The brokers set up was the complete opposite, controlled precise lighting and a neutral background. A well behaved setup, designed not to surprise anyone.

Both honest in their own way. Both telling the truth about the worlds these people moved through.

I think, at its core, a portrait isn’t really about what someone does, it’s about who they are while they’re doing it.

When you are taking someone’s photograph, there is always that slightly awkward beginning. There is a little small talk and they ask what to do with their hands, how to pose, where to look. But the solution is rarely about better posing, it’s about conversation and time. It’s about finding a human connection so that the camera is forgotten, the conversation opens up and any performance fades away. That’s usually where the real photograph sneaks in.

On both shoots there was a moment, where the person in front of me stopped trying. Nothing dramatic. Just a tiny exhale of effort. And that’s the whole job really. Noticing when someone becomes themself again. And pressing the button.

Thanks for choosing to follow my Substack, it means a lot! The posts follow this (rough!) pattern each month -

In My Head. Something that’s inspired me creatively that month that I want to share with you.

Behind the Shoot. How to develop ideas for shoots and projects. This will be a dive into emerging photography styles and broader food trends that influence visual storytelling, as well as challenges and experiments, creative prompts and seasonal projects.

On the Plate. Basically food chat. New and classic cookbooks, stand out restaurants and meals, chef interviews, pop ups, market trips, food travel, small scale producers & artisans, ingredient deep dives, and seasonality. I’m really keen to forge some collaborations with other creatives for this section so do drop me a message if you have an idea that you’d like to collaborate on.

The “In My Head” posts are free for all, with the others being for paid subscribers only. Sometimes these posts will be quick thoughts, sometimes they’ll be deeper dives, but my hope is that together they add up to a year of curiosity, conversation and some new discoveries along the way.

Subscribe now

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My weekly shop has increasingly become a bombardment of high-protein, high-fibre, gut-friendly, blood-sugar-balanced packaged foods staring back at me. From bars to cereals, wraps to yogurts, everything is “optimised”, fortified and promises to fix something. As if somehow, just eating real food wasn’t enough.

I’m not anti-protein. Or anti-fibre. Or anti-convenience. Some of these foods are genuinely helpful, and delicious. But I increasingly feel completely exhausted with it all, and with the sense that eating has become another performance, another place where we’re expected to “do it right.” according to age and gender.

If you’ve been paying attention to food long enough, you’ll recognise the pattern. Low-fat becomes low-carb becomes keto becomes protein-forward becomes fibre-maxing becomes gut health.

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Kale used to very much be a background character, literally animal food. It was traditionally grown because it could survive cold weather and poor soil. It was sturdy, bitter and deeply uncool. It was the sensible pair of shoes that could see you through the winter, but brought no joy.

Then somehow it was given a glow up, a rebrand, it became the darling of influencers, piled high at Farmers markets and a staple in every wellness smoothie. It was turned into chips, and salads and became a shorthand for health itself.

My theory is that this shift reflected the general shift in food trends where bitter flavours became considered sophisticated (Negroni, anyone?) and “ancient” foods like Teff grains, unleavened bread and sauerkraut felt new again. The rise of Kale also tracks with the rise of a population looking for transformation in some form. Kale didn’t change, we did.

When I shoot single ingredients, I initially don’t think about how they taste, what they pair with, or how to cook with them. Instead I look for patterns and tones. I want to explore their shape and their repetition. Creating a contemporary image means stripping the ingredient of its usual role as, well an ingredient, and spending time looking at how it reacts in different light and from different angles.

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There is something about winter light that really resonates with me. Bluer than a cartoon whale, a January morning appeals to me so much more than the warm hazy daze of late July. A crunchy winter morning is my happy place, heading out with the dog before heading to the studio, or an extended tramp further afield at the weekend is how I get my kicks on these wintry days. It’s the feeling of a new page, sharpened pencil at the ready, and I love it.

As the dog isn’t a great conversationalist, most days I listen to a Podcast. My go-to’s are unsurprisingly based on food, books, travel or politics and I often send voice notes mid-walk to my forgetful future self when I hear something that peaks my interest. On the days I’ve forgotten to charge my phone I plan out the week in my head, and today’s phone-free ponder was about how I can change my Substack content to reflect how I’m feeling about 2026.

I’m still going to write about Food and Photography, but with the emphasis on the why rather than the how.

I have been reading lately about a brilliant, deeply humanist writer, art critic and painter called 1John Berger whose core idea was that the way we see is influenced by culture, politics, memory and experience, and I really want to lean into that as an idea.

“We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice”. John Berger.

Most of his work was centred on resistance, social justice, and solidarity with the under represented and the marginalised, but his last book was a very simple and deeply personal one. The title Over to You comes from the phrase he would yell during table tennis matches with his son years earlier, and this book gathers the letters they exchanged over the years reflecting on the emotions and memories stirred by works of art. I think that’s such a lovely concept, and it’s inspired me. In a practical way, I want to find time to doodle and sketch more this year, as a way of exploring ideas. But I’m also inspired to change the way I approach commissions and photography in general, where I want to be less constrained and more curious.

In essence I want this Substack to be a place where food meets ideas, and photography is used as a tool for curiosity. I hope it will be thoughtful and conversational, and I’m aiming to break it down into three clear-ish sections each month.

1. In My Head. A round up of the creativity, inspiration, trends and ideas that I have stumbled across that month and want to share with you.

2. Behind the Shoot. How to develop ideas for shoots and projects.

   This will be a dive into emerging photography styles and broader food trends that influence visual storytelling, as well as challenges and experiments, creative prompts and seasonal projects.

3. On the Plate. Basically food chat. New and classic cookbooks, stand out restaurants and meals, chef interviews, pop ups, market trips, food travel, small scale producers & artisans, ingredient deep dives, and seasonality. I’m really keen to forge some collaborations with other creatives for this section so do drop me a message if you have an idea that you’d like to collaborate on.

The “In My Head” posts are free for all, with the others being for paid subscribers only. Sometimes these posts will be quick thoughts, sometimes they’ll be deeper dives, but my hope is that together they add up to a year of curiosity, conversation and some new discoveries along the way.

Subscribe now

This is a free post for all subscribers. If you found it useful, please help me spread the word about the newsletter by sharing it.

Share

If you’re able to become a paid subscriber, you’ll get access to extra, exclusive content for far less than a coffee and piece of flapjack each month (hitting the button does not commit you to anything, it simply takes you to the options). Thanks for your support!

Subscribe now