What a scorcher! Cool balm to read in breezy shade...

The UK has a heatwave. Whether you're here or further afield, I bring you Joyous Things to inspire, watch, go to, experience, read, support and ENJOY – and a sorry tale of throwing stuff in the bin

Welcome!

A practical note: this newsletter contains more pictures than usual so it’s a little chunky for email. If you find it’s cut off, click ‘view entire message’ and that should sort it.

A first-rate read: You may remember I included a glowing review of Rose Tremain’s novel Absolutely & Forever in a recent newsletter. Soon after sending that out I realised I have two copies on my bookshelf (no idea how that happened; I’m an idiot), so I plan to send a new, pristine, unread hardback edition to the first person who takes out an annual subscription using the button below. Consider it a kind act of decluttering!

First, a moment of beauty

A sculpture by Nic Fiddian Green. More about where to see this awe-inspiring artwork later…

One quick thing to tell you about before I get on to the inspirational stuff: a short tale of waste and woe

I defrosted the freezer this week.

Not deliberately.

The one in our kitchen is smallish, so we have a second freezer in which cumbersome, pricier items are stored. Meat for special occasions, like a hefty hunk of gammon being saved for a crowd-filled gathering; four beautiful, thick pork chops; and posh sausages fatter than a weight lifter’s fingers. The latter two porky treats were from the brilliant Coombeshead Farm, bought in readiness for a visit from dear friends from far away. There was a guinea fowl, too. And several homemade things squirrelled away for when time is short (that’ll teach me).

The soggy discovery was made five days ago, after the hottest days of the year so far (typical) and after everything had thoroughly defrosted, was just the wrong side of warm and well on its way to going off. One drawer was leaking a marbled greenish-pink sludge of juice from bags of thawed raspberries and a packet of chopped spinach (appealing mix). In another setting the intermingled colours might have been beautiful, but not leaking out of a freezer drawer. The only salvageable item was that big gammon, now boiled to ease the salt content and given to a dog in the village, who thinks Christmas has come early. Several Christmases, in fact. His elderly owner, apprised of the origins of said gammon (fear not), was almost as delighted as the dog, who was spinning in excitement once his nose had caught a whiff of what was in The Heavy Bag. Dognip.

I don’t know why I was worrying about telling the owner the full story as I’ve read India Knight’s hilarious tales of her dog Lupin eating and rolling in putrefying dressed crab. Clearly dogs’ stomachs are made of stronger stuff than ours.

Suffice it to say, freezergate was galling. Not the cost of it so much as the sickening waste. Apparently I need to get over it. I wonder if our friends from overseas will mind going vegan for four days (only joking, Nicky).

Enough of that. On to the subject of this newsletter (get on with it, KB): things of deliciousness, beauty and wonder.

Two cooling ideas for scorchio days…

• A recipe for my favourite sorbet. This was created by friend and former colleague Rebecca Woollard, working to an idea I/we had for making a sorbet out of Campari and freshly squeezed juice, with something alongside that included salted almonds – akin to having a snack alongside a not-too-sweet cocktail. Only it was to be a pudding. If you don’t like Campari, don’t reject the recipe on that basis because the flavour combination and icy coldness soften the drink’s bitter twang. Note: l don’t add the egg white mentioned in the tips. Serve with toasted almond shortbread (recipe in the same link, above). Ridiculously good. I made both for Heston Blumenthal several years ago, which I hope doesn’t sound too name-droppy; I’m telling you because what the heck was I thinking inviting one of the world’s best chefs for dinner at home? It all started when a mutual friend told me he never used to get invited to anyone’s house for dinner and I thought, ‘What a shame; let’s put that right.’ I do have my mad moments – but regrets? There were none. That’s a story for another day and it’s coming…

• If it’s too hot to cook (not that making sorbet is technically cooking, but you know what I mean), try a pudding that brings with it two magic words: effortlessly glam. Buy a tub of Remeo Sicilian lemon sorbet (I can only find it on Ocado – here), scoop it into small/pretty/elegant (pref all three) glasses, then pour over a generous splash or two of ultra-chilled cava or prosecco and serve with little spoons. Maybe pop a fresh raspberry or two on top. It soon eases into a delightfully icy-slushy mush and is the simplest interpretation of a refreshing Venetian invention called sgroppino, where the two ingredients are whizzed into frothy gorgeousness and served as a cocktail. Sometimes it’s made with vodka; sometimes both. It works with mango sorbet too, and I’m sure other lemon sorbets would work fine but Remeo is my fave. The company also makes excellent pistachio ice cream. And chocolate. You’ll want to re-use the elegant tubs. I just wish they were bigger.

World class theatre on tap

I had an email a few days ago about National Theatre Home. I had no idea you could watch, from the comfort of your squishy sofa – or (why not?) lounging in the coolness of the evening outside, laptop on lap) – so many of the plays you were hoping to get to but somehow didn’t. Top of my hastily made watch list is A View from a Bridge, starring the outstanding Mark Strong and Nicola Walker. There are umpteen evenings’ worth of entertainment on the website: have a browse. You can rent plays individually or buy a monthly or annual subscription. Or give a sub as a gift. How perfect a present would that be? There are versions with British sign language, too.

Have you heard of the Nevill Holt festival?

I hadn’t either.

Turns out it’s close to where we’ve moved to which, now I realise how special this month-long event is, seems peculiarly serendipitous. When I heard about it, I assumed the festival was just opera on a posh estate with a view. Not that I dislike opera – love it, in fact. But those productions by their nature have a big cast, a sizeable orchestra and a set, which immediately means the cost of the tickets is likely to be out of many people’s price bracket. Turns out Nevill Holt has a far broader offering than that – have a look here. And (joy) a lot of FOOD.

Good news: there are still four days of it to go.

It felt as if a little bit of home (as in my old one) had landed in the countryside not far from us when I discovered several food writers and a chef I’ve known for years were coming either to talk, be interviewed or cook: Ben Tish of Cubitt House, Prue Leith, Sophie Grigson, and Jeany and Stephen Cronk, founders of my favourite rosé, Mirabeau. When I was editing delicious. magazine we told the Mirabeau story alongside sun-dappled photos of Jeany’s recipes shot on location in Provence (dream – rare – assignment). Incidentally, Jeany has just published her first book, a collection of her favourite recipes – have a look here.

Maison François, one of my favourite London restaurants, has a pop-up on site for the festival, too. They give a welcome as warm as the weather.

So far (to whet your future appetite) there’s been Mozart’s Così fan Tutte, performed by the world class Opera North; jazz by the Ronnie Scott’s orchestra; Irish folk (Martin Hayes trio); talks with sportsmen (Tuffers, Aggers and the popular like); artists (Yinka Shonibare, among many); actors (Richard E Grant; who doesn’t love him?); a news/radio presenter (the inspirational Mishal Husain, below, who has a new book about the precious and broken threads of family history); a fashion icon (Paul Smith); a former intelligence officer; poetry; comedy; yoga; events for children; brass bands; plus lots of free music soaked up by people sunning themselves in Jigsaw deckchairs (Jigsaw as in the fashion label, not the builder’s tool – that wouldn’t have quite the same vibe). Lots of sunburnt noses. I’m sure I’ve forgotten some of the festival’s glorious mishmash of elements, but you get the gist.

Mishal Husain caught mid-smile while signing books

Nevill Holt has been, and continues to be, a Joyous Thing. If you’re within travelling distance of beautiful rural Leicestershire, have a look here for the last four days of events. Three things to shine a light on: this, this and Jalen Ngonda’s finale gig on the last night (22 June).

ben.tish

A post shared by @ben.tish

If I had to pick one high point alongside Ben Tish’s glorious sunny-Saturday lunch (see Ben’s Insta post above), it would be this: singer Shenel Johns (below) and a group of jazz/blues musicians celebrating icons including Billie Holiday, Bessie Smith and Ethel Waters. So jaw-droppingly good I was in tears of awe. Shenel is a woman to seek out, wherever she performs (she’s based in the US).

Incidentally, entry to the Nevill Holt grounds costs just £5 (festival days only and you need to book). The gardens aren’t normally open to the public because NH is a private estate owned by David Ross. I’d describe the planting as my fantasy blend of wild, arty and organised, especially the kitchen garden. An hour of wandering – or wandering then picnicking – minus the 20-deep crowds of Chelsea Flower Show, is indeed a Joyous Thing. Nic Fiddian-Green’s many-metres-high horse sculpture pictured at the top of this newsletter is the first thing you see as you enter the grounds. It. Is. Awe-inspiring.

Just a few of the pictures I've overloaded my iPhone with over the past couple of weeks

KB advice: if you can’t make any of the final events or a garden visit, sign up for the mailing list so you can get first dibs for 2026.

…And worth noting for next year: I peeked through the window of this Air B&B, called The Old Bookshop, in the nearby market town of Uppingham yesterday. It’s two more Bs: bijou and beautiful.

Did you know there’s a problem with olive trees?

It’s a disease called Xylella and it’s killing millions of trees in southern Italy and beyond, some of which are thousands of years old. Just think what those trees have seen. Sophie Grigson, who appeared at the Nevill Holt festival and stayed with us, told me about this scheme where you can adopt a tree and help to replant the tree-decimated region. Bonus: you get oil from your adopted tree.

The sun is shining, which means…

…The season of GRILLING is upon us. If, like me, you need to blow the dust off your open-fire skills, Honey & Co are holding a few events in July where you learn from the masters (as in H&C’s joy-imparting founders, Sarit and Itamar), then sit down to eat together at the end. Hard to resist; find out more here.

A helping hand for nature – and the planet

The National Trust is creating six ‘nature supersites’ nationwide, each in a different key habitat: mountainous, wetland, woodland, meadowland and so on. The Adopt A Plot scheme is about protecting, supporting and restoring the natural environment and anyone can get involved for as little as £7.50 a month. Find out more here.

Something to amaze you

This man is 70, for goodness sake.

storiesmatter

A post shared by @storiesmatter

Talking of achievements at a marvellous age, I watched the 2017 film Edie for the first time the other day after hearing its star, Sheila Hancock, being interviewed. She described what it was like playing a woman who shuns the idea of going into an old people’s home and, instead, decides to reclaim her fitness and climb a mountain in the Scottish Highlands. Sheila was 83 when she filmed it.

83.

And it wasn’t filmed with a green screen – she really did climb that mountain.

There’s hope for me yet.

Have any of you seen The Salt Path yet? A virtual trip to my beloved Cornwall (yes, please) and I can’t wait to see it. Those rugged cliffs.

Musings

I read an article by Simon Kuper in the brilliant FT Weekend magazine two or three weeks ago. The title was ‘Seven intellectual habits of the best thinkers’. I can’t link to it as I bought an actual newspaper (Saturday Joyous Thing) and the FT is subscription-only online, but the four headings that stood out to me were these (words in brackets mine):

Read books (best mind-enlivener and antidote to doom-scrolling)

Don’t use screens much (need to do better; see above)

Always assume you might be wrong (generally do quite well on this one)

Keep learning from everyone: there’s much wisdom in this section of Mr Kuper’s article, but the last sentence says it all: ‘I remember being at a dinner table where the two people who talked least and listened hardest were the two Nobel laureates.’

On which note, I saw this sign at Nevill Holt last week…

(I appreciate the irony as this newsletter is long).

Click here for an FT subscription offer (no, I’m not on commission). And if you’ve never read the FT Weekend before, maybe seek out this Saturday’s paper. It’s pink and it’s a treat.

A word about basil

Who knew there were so many varieties? Queen of herbs Jekka McVicar writes about a few of them and their uses: culinary, medicinal (and – who knew? – fly repelling) on Scribehound Gardening here.

While on the topic of Scribehound, for which (full disclosure) I work as an adviser/curator for the food channel, here are a few articles I’ve enjoyed over the past few weeks:

Bee Wilson on how an ordinary kitchen object like a saucepan, cake tin or knife can have an emotional resonance way beyond its obvious usefulness in the kitchen.

Comedian George Egg on an obsession with barbecues – barbecues that don’t require you to take out a mortgage before buying.

Fuchsia Dunlop, with a fascinating account of culinary history: in China, food is revered more than in almost any other culture, so why are the chefs who create and cook that food so undervalued?

Angela Hartnett on how to run a happy and successful kitchen, create a good menu – and a recipe for agnolotti.

Gurdeep Loyal on ‘ear to tongue’ eating. I’ll let him explain. Incidentally, Gurd’s new book, Flavour Heroes, is published today and it’s a genius of a cookbook (heart emoticon for the cover). Look out for a taster recipe in an upcoming newsletter.

Worth noting: You can either read or listen on Scribehound. I almost always do the latter as each piece is read aloud by the author and I enjoy hearing their different voices talking to me, surprising me, making me laugh and teaching me things I didn’t know as I walk or travel or get ready in the morning. It’s become a daily ritual straight after BBCR4’s Today: a soothing, surprising, entertaining antidote to the relentlessness of the news (not knocking the Today programme as I wouldn’t be without it).

Fancy a guided tour of Paris?

• Not long ago, after years of being in touch via Instagram, I met chef and teacher Signe Meirane, who, in October, is organising a 1.5-day Parisian food tour. It will take in markets, artisan food shops off the tourist trail and a veritable feast of good eating and drinking. The price is on the higher side (around £850), but you’ll be getting gold-dust information first hand as the tour is led by Signe herself (she knows her stuff), and it includes an overnight stay in one of her favourite central-Paris hotels, meals in restaurants she rates highly, plus in-between tastings and experiences. Find details here. Signe also runs cookery courses in Burgundy and the south of France, which I’ll be writing about in a future newsletter, including her failsafe recipe for robust yet melting sweet pastry – just like French patissiers make it.

• If you can’t stretch to a personal Paris tour, The Eater Guide to Paris by Lindsey Tramuta (published last month) is an intricately researched, eminently usable, practical guide to get your hands on.

• I love the look of this book, Timeless Paris, too.

And finally… It’s never been more important to have cake in the tin

I’m saying this because sometimes (especially now?) solace in the shape of cake, a tender crumb and sweetness is the only thing that will do. Even when it’s as hot as the Sahara outside.

• Here’s a link to my last newsletter, free for all to read, with a recipe for Stephanie Alexander’s rhubarb cake. I’ve been making it for years and it never fails. Thanks again to Stephanie for giving me permission to reproduce the recipe. Rhubarb is coming to the end of its summer season, but you can still get slender British-grown stems at our local market or the supermarket – and if you grow it at home, no doubt it’s busy getting out of control. Make the cake soon, though, as home-grown stems are verging on being too thick and stringy, especially in this heat.

• Try my peach cake, which you can make with new-season apricots (we bought some of those wonderful rosy-pinky-orange ones from the market last week) – or with peaches/nectarines as soon as they come into high-summer season.

• And if you’re not keen on fruity cakes, these are my failsafe flapjacks.

I’d love you to hit the heart button if you feel your finger straying towards it.

Thank you for reading – and for supporting this newsletter. You’re appreciated muchly.