I love the days of Easter, which seem to have their own natural flow. I like to treat Good Friday as one of preparation for more celebratory days ahead, so by necessity, as well as bringing a great sense of satisfaction, the tasks tend to be good, practical, sober, with time for reflection (as in my own peculiar way I think Good Friday ought to be)….picking, chopping, stirring, skimming, straining, baking.
I began with a huge batch of veg stock, followed by one of chicken; first picking from the garden, collecting from the cellar. That should set us up for a few weeks to come….
Then it was off to the garden again, to collect a dirty big bunch of rhubarb to cook for the breakfasts ahead.
The fig trees are coming to the end of their annual production. Not as sweet, plump, or ripening to the deep purple hue of a week or so ago, I selected the best to accompany blush-pink prosciutto and quail eggs on Sunday, while lightly cooking the rest (I find the black Genoas don’t make good jam) for a dessert of some kind in the coming days.
I baked our favourite apple cake, made a batch of sorrel soup….the first warm (and so deliciously light & tangy) soup of the season.
All accompanied by one of the very last heads of pale lemon Champagne ginger we’ll see this year. I’d call it a worthy kind of day, which set me in good stead for visitors who stayed or called in over the delightful weekend. I hope you had an enjoyable Easter too.