August's Joyous Things
Welcome to an eclectic mix of ideas good and noteworthy: some to put on your might-do list, some over which we have a little control, some none whatsoever. Bring it all on, I say.
This post is free for everyone to read. If you’re new to KB’s Joyous Things, here’s who I am and what I do.
Intrigued? I hope so as I’d love you to join this warm and quirky little community. There’s still time left on my special subscription offer celebrating two years of KBJT:
Now on to the good-newsy stuff…
Fields of billowing flowers
There’s a gem not far from where we live called Grange Farm. Friends introduced us to it the week after we moved to the rural east Midlands, back in December 2024, as the place to buy Christmas trees (date not yet updated for 2026). Buy one we did and, in the process, were enchanted by the friendly scruffy donkey, sheep and large-scale model steam train chuffing its way round the Christmas shop, to the delight of every child in the vicinity. The Langton Brewery is on site as well. Good beer.
All very wintry, so why am I telling you about it now, while it’s topping 30°C (maybe even 35°C today) again?
There’s a regular gathering of female friends in our village, to which I was invited two days after we moved in. Big gatherings of women aren’t usually my bag as I’m more keen on threes and fours (more in-depth conversation etc), but I was touched to be invited, I went and was bowled over by the warmth with which this lifelong Londoner was embraced into the community. I met a midwife, a research scientist, a ceramicist (just look), a writer who specialises in farming, a teacher, an interior designer… so many wonderful people who are becoming friends. We share plums, we share damsons, we share grapes, we share quinces, we share apples (everyone else, not me, as our fruit trees from Mark Diacono’s Otter Farm were only planted this year). My contribution thus far has been cookbooks, flapjacks (here’s my recipe), wine and a gathering around our outdoor table a couple of weeks ago that went on well into the night, fuelled by rosé, my go-to canapé (I swap the spring onions for a tablespoon of finely chopped capers) and home-made brownies (recipe coming on KBJT soon).
If this taster of community is what country life means, I’m here for it.
Back to the flowers: there’s a WhatsApp group, of course there is, and the day after the gathering, one of our group dropped a newsflash about nearby Grange Farm Flower Meadow, which turned out to be right next to the Christmas tree barn and brewery (same farm, I believe). Two fields of pick-your-own blooms have been planted: one sunflowers, one a billowing meadow of yellow, pink and purple oh-so-delicate wild flowers. They give you a jam jar (small, £5, or large, £8) and a pair of Barbie-pink scissors, then you wade into the sea of blooms like a character out of a Hardy novel (minus the tragedy) and snip off as many as you can cram into your jar. I stood in the Canadian poppy shallows slightly worried about getting stung as I was (typically unsuitable attire) wearing a skirt and flipflops. Then waded on in with my pal Lyn (above, scissors aloft), who was visiting from Cornwall for the weekend.
Not only was it a joyful experience, but afterwards you can have tea, coffee and cake in the pop-up café at the edge of the field. You don’t need to pick flowers at all if you don’t want to: just drink coffee and look at them. At the hay-bale station under an awning, helpers wrap your flowers in a Columbia Road-esque cone of brown paper sealed with a Grange Farm sticker.
The experience is happy-making and one I reckon other farmers could replicate as wild flowers by their nature are drought-hardy and it gives another revenue stream in our increasingly water-challenged summers. The flowers are good for pollinators as well, and our bees/insects (not including bastard flies) need all the help they can get at the moment.
Post-picking update: I thought the flowers would last no more than a day and I cared not because the experience was such a joy, but these were the blooms on day three/four, still looking fresh as, yes, daisies…
Unexpected unity
Who knew an eclipse could be a trigger for bringing the nation together. Not world peace, sadly, but I loved that fact that last night crowds of people were taking to the streets at home and abroad, carrying colanders and pieces of paper, cereal boxes made into Blue Peter-like viewing contraptions, wacky glasses for wearing and sharing… After months of division and turmoil it seemed nothing short of miraculous. We were with our neighbours sitting on the brown-bristled coir matting formerly known as grass in front of our houses. The temperature dropped a few degrees (welcome) and the birds went quiet but it didn’t get anywhere near as dark as I was expecting. I remember 1999’s almost-full eclipse so vividly. It was late morning and the strangest of moments, everyone spilling out of their offices into London’s Golden Square and gathering round. All of a sudden the squawking pigeons of Soho went eerily quiet, then hunkered down on telephone wires and walls, fluffing out their feathers as the late morning sunlight faded abruptly to a properly dark dusk. It was eerie. We didn’t have any colanders, tho. That trick worked, didn’t it? Clever.
A bizarre story for you: my Cornish grandparents, in their 90s and beloved, both ended up in hospital at the same time during the week of the 1999 eclipse. Just after it happened, my grandad (known to us as Pop) pronounced in his broad Cornish accent, ‘I’ve seen the eclipse; I shan’t be here tomorrow.’ And he wasn’t.
My grandma (known to us all as Nanny) died that same week and they had a double funeral in the tiny Cornish village of Crowan. After Pop’s striking certainty of what was coming, it was an immensely poignant, strange, yet somehow fitting moment.
Solution to loneliness?
Here’s an idea founded in London but one that could and should be transported everywhere. Loneliness is a blight, particularly in cities. Walk & Talk is a solution that doesn’t involve swiping right: a way of meeting people and making friends safely and without pressure. How very old fashioned and wonderful. Find out how it works and where the walks are happening here. All ages welcome.
More avenues of plane trees, please…
…Like these snapped in France a couple of weeks ago, far away from the shocking fires in the pine forests. How the densely leafed branches cool the air in the shadows beneath, in marked contrast to the UK’s current preponderance for fake grass, the paving over of any flat city surface, the painting of everything grey and the creating of buildings out of chrome and glass without thought for what it will be like to live or work inside a glasshouse in summer. Imagine the cooling, not to mention planetary, costs involved in making it bearable to live or work in these buildings. It’s madness. Bring on the trees.
It’s love
I was introduced to the art of Robert G Schmidt in Chenonceaux (village spelled with an X, chateau without) and was smitten by the picture above, on display in the Auberge du bon Laboureur, where we stayed for a couple of nights (for future ref: a wonderful lowish-key place with a shady-breezy courtyard restaurant, a cheeseboard of dreams and a pool surrounded by trees).
Free food
Blackberries are early (ridiculously so). Joy! Let’s gather them from the hedgerows before they dry to husks, then make the most of the tart berries packed with so much more punchy flavour than the outsized cultivated varieties sold in supermarkets. Here’s a recipe for a drool-worthy mascarpone and blackberry tart by chef Ben Tish:
TIP To freeze blackberries (check freezer drawers for space and balancing capabilities before embarking on this bounty-preserving mission): give them a quick wash and a shake in a colander, leave to dry, then spread out on a baking tray and freeze. Once frozen, transfer the berries to ziplock bags or a lidded box. Received wisdom is to use them up within three months, but trust me: they’ll still be fine in a year.
Embrace your inner nerd
Yale has put a selection of its lectures online and they’re free, worldwide, for everyone to access. Find out more here
Online events with two outstanding novelists of our time
Great Taste Awards: three star winners
The results are in and here’s where to find them. If you see a label sporting one of the coveted three-star stickers above, you know it will be good as umpteen expert judges will have tasted the product, on different judging days, before the accolade was bestowed. Regional winners and the overall champion will be announced at a ceremony on 15 September (follow @guildoffinefood on Instagram for the results as they go live). Incidentally, here’s a post I wrote a little while ago about the palate-challenging honour of being a Great Taste judge.
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again…
A cooking class is better than a spa (IMHO)
Giulia Scarpaleggia runs inspirational ones in Italy and she needs support because, for some unfathomable reason, she’s discovered her website has fallen off Google’s radar, resulting in a huge dip in her web traffic and, therefore, bookings. Here’s a link if you’d like to find out more about Giulia’s classes. Can’t get to Italy? The website has wonderful recipes on it, too.
Don’t judge me
A couple of weeks ago, friends were descending, there was a lot going on and food plans had to be rapid so I included a couple of cheats. This M&S seabass with chilli, lime and coriander butter (below) is, of course, something you could rustle up quickly yourself, but time was of the essence and I wanted to spend as much of it as possible with our visiting friends. Plus it was HOT. So, in the oven with the fish for 15 minutes while new potatoes were boiling, then drained and tossed in a squishy dollop of salted butter and a generous sprinkling of these. Yes, there are mint and chives in the garden but they’re currently more parched and scratchy than lush and herby. Steamed runner beans for a finishing flourish. They were stringy, but still... Overall, okay. Good, even.
Pudding ease: strawberries and raspberries tossed into a purée made from rasps whizzed in my wannabe Nutribullet with a tablespoon of icing sugar or maple syrup. OR you could go a cheat further and use this. Serve with meringues and dollops of extra-thick double cream. Meringues can be shop-bought or home-made (always gorgeously chewy in the middle). I made (spot desperate attempt to restore food writer creds) a batch of brown-sugar meringues before we went to France, no piping, just rough dollops baked on a parchment-lined metal sheet. Meringues keep for weeks in an airtight tin so I tend to make more than I need: secret pudding bounty when time is of the essence or it’s too hot to turn on the oven (Wednesday 13 August, I’m looking at YOU). Even better is the joy of forgetting you’ve made them, then discovering a tinful in the cupboard, still perfectly crisp.
Here’s a video of Rachel Allen making brown sugar meringues with the simplest of methods, courtesy of the brilliant Ballymaloe Cookery School. Quantities are classic (4 egg whites, 100g soft brown sugar and 100g caster sugar, but she keeps back two tablespoons of the caster sugar to fold in right at the end). Cooking time: two hours in the oven at 110°C fan. Make sure you use non-stick baking parchment. I ran out once and tried using foil: disaster. But that’s what Eton mess was invented for.
For a full brown-sugar meringue recipe all in one non-Instagram place, this looks like a good one.
I’m loving these…
Lino Lord’s lino prints, particularly this hake head and this print of Mousehole harbour.
Team and heart
A great British pub is worth its weight in scrubbed wood tables, but the secret of a good one is as much about the warmth of the welcome and sense of community as it is about the chill of the rosé, the skill in pint-pulling or the crispness of the roast potatoes on a Sunday. Andy Burnham’s promised help for pubs is welcome, but I worry it doesn’t go far enough. Have a read of the piece below by Nick Gibson. His gaff, The Drapers Arms in London’s Islington, is an example of pub hospitality at its best. It’s also where the delicious. magazine team had its most memorable Christmas lunch: slow-roast lamb on a platter in the middle of the table for carving and sharing, bowlfuls of crisp roasties and perfect veg. Then a huge trayful of tender chocolate sponge and chocolate custard. All ridiculously good and perfectly judged for the occasion. Lunch finished at 9pm.
Adorable
I’ve watched this about 10 times, not just because the little boy reminds me of our nephew Chris when he was little.
Important read
Maria Elia
Not only a lovely person (we worked together a fair bit when I was editing delicious. magazine) but also a brilliant chef, and she has a Greek pop-up over the summer in Suffolk. There’s still time to get there. Email mariaatmb@gmail.com for reservations.
The rug addiction continues
This, in blue and caramel colours, from Nordic Knots, is the current object of lust.
Talking of lust, I’ll leave you with tango to make you tingle
I might have posted the link to this video before, but it bears a rewatch or three. So romantic, so smooth, so STEAMY…
Cold shower required, and not just because it’s now 35°C outside. I need me a Remeo lolly. I hate to say roll on autumn but, for the love of gardens and all that was once green, roll on autumn.
Oh, and…
As ever, if you feel your finger straying towards the heart button, that will help more people stumble across this missive from the almost-Rutland countryside.
Over and out. Happy August. More landing in your inbox soon…
So much to devour - thanks xx
Love the Lord Lino prints!