I recently returned from a delicious week in Cornwall. Eating highlights included:
~ On arrival at the house, after a day of driving in sideways rain, a dish of burbling shepherds pie, pulled from the freezer that morning. With peas, because shepherds pie demands peas.
~ Local scallops, cooked over fire with nothing but salt and olive oil.
~ Cuttlefish rice, stained with saffron and just a little tomato. Brought to life with a spritz of lemon.
~ Post-swim breakfasts of rye bread and boiled eggs. The best way to start the day, on all counts.
~ A whole brill, so fresh the only sensible treatment was salt, olive oil and a short stint in the oven. Served alongside tomato-braised borlotti beans.
~ Scones, of course. Ingredients gathered from the shop in a scone-hankering frenzy. Dough stamped out with a water glass, because there were no cutters to be found. Eaten warm with dollops of clotted cream and jam trickling down the craggy sides.
~ Cucumbers. So many amazing cucumbers, in different guises. Some tossed with soft herbs and stuffed inside goats curd-slicked focaccia. Some cut into jaunty chunks, piled high on a small plate, draped with squiggly agretti and vinegar-soaked shallots. Some sliced into rounds, dolloped here and there with goats curd, and drizzled with lovage oil.
It was the many cucumber memories that pushed me into the kitchen the morning after we returned. Taking elements from each of our Cornish cucumber chronicles, I have landed on what I predict will be my salad of the summer: juicy cucumbers and soft herbs tossed in the vinegar that’s been used to soften thinly sliced shallots, blobs of goats curd (or soft goats cheese), and crushed chilli.

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