Yesterday morning we woke to find Bridport clothed in a fine layer of snow. Only the third time for Fin in his seven years. As the morning wore on, salt breeze playing over the grass, sun warming the air a little, the snow melted back into the earth, leaving only a little slush in the gutter that splashed up our backs as we cycled home. Fin salvaged what was left under a bush on the sheltered side of the house and stashed it lovingly in the freezer.
The rest of the country came to a standstill, factory lines ground to a halt, lorries lay at the side of the road like earthworms dug up and blinking in the light, the snow fell, and fell, and fell, muffling the busy work day week into an unexpected holiday.
Nick indulged in an early night after a tense drive home from snowbound London. I couldn't sleep, so after a little stitching and television I found myself in the dark kitchen cradling a mug of chamomile, watching the night.
The snow had started to fall again while the house slept. Fat flakes fell in an endless drift from the sky, appearing from out of the blackness like magic and twirling their way inevitably down to land thickly on cars and roofs and trees. The lawn was already obscured by a white felt blanket that reached across our garden and into the road, rendering all vehicles caught in its wake like bumper cars abandoned here and there at the end of a ride.
Bushes on the lawn looked edible as crystalised roses, encrusted with sparkling white sugar, dredged on from above with a generous hand. I held my warm cup and breathed a steamy shawl around myself, like a child in a warm duffel coat misting the sweetshop window.
The night sky was alive with dancing snowflakes as they followed every gust of wind, chasing each other to the ground, sparkling miraculously through the inky night to appear like a shower of gold leaf under the sodium glow of street lamps. For such a show of sparkle and life, they fell in silence.
My ear waited for a sound to come, seagull or distant engine hum and yet there was none. The town slept deep, as though a spell had been cast, as though I had stepped through our kitchen door into Narnia, into a silent movie. Whilst I wasn't looking, the town had taken a sleeping draught and twelve princesses skipped away through forests of silver trees to dance all night and ruin their flimsy silk slippers, unseen by any but me.
In the midst of all this magical silence and chamomile scented imagining, a car crunched gingerly down the hill, rolling to a slow stop on the other side of the road. A pair of black tracks followed it through the pristine snow. The spell was broken. I drained my cup and headed for bed.
When it snows, you want to be out there enjoying the miracle - not stuck in the kitchen. So here's a soup that can be made in minutes, tastes as creamy, delicate and satisfying as something that you spent hours over, and features a super food centre stage. Get out there and throw snowballs with abandon, knowing you can be sitting down to a bowl of this almost before the snow has melted on your wellingtons.
Broccoli, Garlic and Lemon Zest Soup (SCD) (serves 4-6)
Broccoli can induce wind in some people, even when your digestive system seems to behave most of the time. If you know that brassicas have this effect on you then enjoy only a small bowl and save the rest for another day. When you reheat it, do so very gently or you will destroy the fresh flavour and end up with something rather cabbagy. It's best made fresh.
1 lb broccoli florets
1 oz butter
3-4 cloves of garlic
zest of 1 lemon
2 large pinches of sea salt
Wash and chop the broccoli into small florets.
Mince the garlic finely and melt the butter gently over a low flame in a medium to large saucepan. When the butter has melted, add garlic and sweat for a couple of minutes until translucent but not coloured at all.
Grate the zest from the lemon and add to the pan with salt and brocolli, stir to coat.
Pour over 1 1/2 pints of boiling water and bring back up to the boil again.
Boil gently - a kind of aggressive simmer, not a rolling boil - until the stalks of the broccoli are soft, but still bright green. Don't let the broccoli turn olive green or the soup will lose its freshness.
Puree in a blender (or with a stick blender) until completely smooth and creamy. Adjust seasoning to taste, adding more salt or some black pepper if you like, possibly a little lemon juice - but not too much.
Pour into bowls and garnish with a little yogurt.
The rest of the country came to a standstill, factory lines ground to a halt, lorries lay at the side of the road like earthworms dug up and blinking in the light, the snow fell, and fell, and fell, muffling the busy work day week into an unexpected holiday.
Nick indulged in an early night after a tense drive home from snowbound London. I couldn't sleep, so after a little stitching and television I found myself in the dark kitchen cradling a mug of chamomile, watching the night.
The snow had started to fall again while the house slept. Fat flakes fell in an endless drift from the sky, appearing from out of the blackness like magic and twirling their way inevitably down to land thickly on cars and roofs and trees. The lawn was already obscured by a white felt blanket that reached across our garden and into the road, rendering all vehicles caught in its wake like bumper cars abandoned here and there at the end of a ride.
Bushes on the lawn looked edible as crystalised roses, encrusted with sparkling white sugar, dredged on from above with a generous hand. I held my warm cup and breathed a steamy shawl around myself, like a child in a warm duffel coat misting the sweetshop window.
The night sky was alive with dancing snowflakes as they followed every gust of wind, chasing each other to the ground, sparkling miraculously through the inky night to appear like a shower of gold leaf under the sodium glow of street lamps. For such a show of sparkle and life, they fell in silence.
My ear waited for a sound to come, seagull or distant engine hum and yet there was none. The town slept deep, as though a spell had been cast, as though I had stepped through our kitchen door into Narnia, into a silent movie. Whilst I wasn't looking, the town had taken a sleeping draught and twelve princesses skipped away through forests of silver trees to dance all night and ruin their flimsy silk slippers, unseen by any but me.
In the midst of all this magical silence and chamomile scented imagining, a car crunched gingerly down the hill, rolling to a slow stop on the other side of the road. A pair of black tracks followed it through the pristine snow. The spell was broken. I drained my cup and headed for bed.
When it snows, you want to be out there enjoying the miracle - not stuck in the kitchen. So here's a soup that can be made in minutes, tastes as creamy, delicate and satisfying as something that you spent hours over, and features a super food centre stage. Get out there and throw snowballs with abandon, knowing you can be sitting down to a bowl of this almost before the snow has melted on your wellingtons.
Broccoli, Garlic and Lemon Zest Soup (SCD) (serves 4-6)
Broccoli can induce wind in some people, even when your digestive system seems to behave most of the time. If you know that brassicas have this effect on you then enjoy only a small bowl and save the rest for another day. When you reheat it, do so very gently or you will destroy the fresh flavour and end up with something rather cabbagy. It's best made fresh.
1 lb broccoli florets
1 oz butter
3-4 cloves of garlic
zest of 1 lemon
2 large pinches of sea salt
Wash and chop the broccoli into small florets.
Mince the garlic finely and melt the butter gently over a low flame in a medium to large saucepan. When the butter has melted, add garlic and sweat for a couple of minutes until translucent but not coloured at all.
Grate the zest from the lemon and add to the pan with salt and brocolli, stir to coat.
Pour over 1 1/2 pints of boiling water and bring back up to the boil again.
Boil gently - a kind of aggressive simmer, not a rolling boil - until the stalks of the broccoli are soft, but still bright green. Don't let the broccoli turn olive green or the soup will lose its freshness.
Puree in a blender (or with a stick blender) until completely smooth and creamy. Adjust seasoning to taste, adding more salt or some black pepper if you like, possibly a little lemon juice - but not too much.
Pour into bowls and garnish with a little yogurt.
