Last year I planted 10 kinds of mint in this planter (Garden, Moroccan, Tashkent, Ginger, Chocolate, Basil, Lime, Apple, Spearmint, and Pennyroyal). Since then, they have gone through attacks of mint rust and a horrible cold winter, but the survivor…

Last year I planted 10 kinds of mint in this planter (Garden, Moroccan, Tashkent, Ginger, Chocolate, Basil, Lime, Apple, Spearmint, and Pennyroyal). Since then, they have gone through attacks of mint rust and a horrible cold winter, but the survivors have dispersed their seeds and fraternised with their neighbours, creating a messy new growth of varieties that must be smelled to be identified. Some have disappeared entirely, others have flourished. I have identified small amounts of the chocolate, large amounts of the lime and spearmint, but have yet to locate the others.

Pesto sauce made with basil and jack-by-the-hedge (Alliaria petiolata - aka hedge garlic, garlic mustard) crème fraîche and umeboshi plum seasoning. The garlic mustard was picked by forager and author Rachel de Thample who was selling it at the inaugural Crystal Palace Food Market last weekend.

Wood ants from north of Copenhagen. A good snack on a saturday afternoon

Wood ants from north of Copenhagen. A good snack on a saturday afternoon

Four years ago I planted a tiny horseradish seedling. Every year it grew up into a fine, broad-leafed plant, with what I always assumed would be a little horseradish root underneath, perfect to use in a single dinner sometime. I did nothing about it…

Four years ago I planted a tiny horseradish seedling. Every year it grew up into a fine, broad-leafed plant, with what I always assumed would be a little horseradish root underneath, perfect to use in a single dinner sometime. I did nothing about it, watching every autumn as the plant started to wither and vanish, wondering whether it would return each spring. It continues to do so, and I continue to look at it, every year, thinking about digging it up and cooking with it, and doing nothing. 

Maybe this will be the year

My favourite thing to ferment, which has gone through five different versions since summer 2012. This is the best so far. I shredded turnips, mixed them with 1.5% salt, left them to macerate for an hour, then added 150g live yoghurt whey and 80g raw…

My favourite thing to ferment, which has gone through five different versions since summer 2012. This is the best so far. I shredded turnips, mixed them with 1.5% salt, left them to macerate for an hour, then added 150g live yoghurt whey and 80g raw turnip juice. They have been in since 16th March, and are getting better and better. Spicy and savoury and electric with lactic acid.

Two members of the Brassicaceae family. Brussel sprout tops (Brassica oleracea) in 2% salt with Lapsang Souchon tea, Balm of Gilead (possibly Populus x gileadensis) toasted chipotle meco chile, bay, thyme and garlic. Started on 10th January, 2013. The texture is good, particularly the small, lighter tops, but the spice mixture is a little odd, a bit bitter and somewhat confusing. It was the first time I put spices in a ferment. I’m going to think carefully before doing so again

The leaf below is Mustard Spinach (aka Komatsuna) (Brassicaceae rapa) also in 2% salt solution, of which 15% is yoghurt whey. The biting pepperiness of the raw leaf has been lessened by the fermenting, and despite the fading of the colour, which was a deep, vibrant green, it is a pleasant thing to eat.

An onion, left in yoghurt whey and 2% salt for two months. The taste and smell of both the liquid and the onion are great, lactic and sweet, but the texture of the onion is slippery and mushy. The liquid will be the part to keep, perhaps s a seasoning or  to backslop a new ferment

Pickled vegetable testing day

Under the psychedelic layer of moulds that have taken hold in my month-long absence lies a hot pink, tangy and complex stratum of red cabbage, carrots, sesame and nigella seeds. It started as a salad on the French & Grace stall at Feast on March 9th, and these are the leftovers, to which I added 2% salt and 100g yoghurt whey.

A project to use up trimmings of beeswax and other parts of a beehive frame sent to Nordic Food Lab by a Spanish beekeper. He removed it from the hive as part of a strategy in apiculture that can mitigate the impact of the Varroa mite, which some believe contributes to Colony Collapse Disorder. The butter is sweet from the honey, both bitter and sour from the fermented pollen, and has the aroma of beeswax, made unmistakeable by a month of eating food infused with it. I seasoned it with about 0.5% salt. I made two batches, of which the other I brought to London from Copenhagen and have frozen. Based on this one, and the extra ageing, I can’t imagine what the new one will taste like, but will almost certainly be trying it on some pancakes.

An attempt to drain chunks of beeswax of the cream they have been infusing in for the last 36 hours, using the suction created by a chamber vacuum. First the pressure in the chamber drops and the cream boils at near 0 degrees celsius, de-aerating it. Then the pressure returns, dramatically altering the bubbling brew of honey, wax, cream and pollen, and dragging a little of the cream from the chambers of the beeswax

A slice of Mimolette, a cow’s milk cheese from near Lille, the crust of which is inoculated with cheese mites (Tyrophagus casei) during ageing, resulting in the weird moon-like grey texture. The taste is a little like cheddar, if nowhere near as interesting. The colour of the inside (from annatto) is off-putting but the way it breaks apart in geometric-looking waxy slabs is somewhat satisfying.

Fried pork skins with woodruff salt
Simmer pork skins in stock for three hours. Strain skins, lie flat, and chill. When the fat has set hard, cut and scrape it off with a knife, leaving just the skin. Shred. Dehydrate at 60C for 12 hours, until they…

Fried pork skins with woodruff salt

Simmer pork skins in stock for three hours. Strain skins, lie flat, and chill. When the fat has set hard, cut and scrape it off with a knife, leaving just the skin. Shred. Dehydrate at 60C for 12 hours, until they’re hard and slightly flexible. Deep fry in grapeseed oil at 180C for ten to twenty seconds. Drain and season.

A salad I made for staff lunch today at Nordic Food Lab. An iceberg lettuce with pine-infused oil and apple vinegar, compressed in a chamber vacuum machine, with toasted flax seeds and buckwheat. The compression idea is inspired by Ben Shewry’s ‘Lettuce in it’s natural state’ from his book, Origin

A bread mother which i started a couple of days ago on the Nordic Food Lab boat. I stoneground red wheat, buckwheat and rye grain in this great wooden mill, and when i next checked it, it had formed a bright purple skin, and smelled of tangy and sweet mushrooms