The plan, kept since replanting
The Garden.
One acre inside four Victorian brick walls. Nine beds, a glasshouse, and a plan that is argued over more than any menu. Choose a bed to see what it is growing and the dish it becomes this week.
The glasshouse, rebuilt pane by paneEvery bed, written out
Leeks, alliums, overwintered garlic
→ Onion broth with burnt leek hearts
Chioggia beet, carrots, salsify
→ Beetroot cooked in its own leaves
Black kale, sprouting broccoli
→ Kale thinnings, cold pressed oil
Tayberries, currants, wall-trained figs
→ Tayberries, meadowsweet cream
Bitter leaves, chicories, herbs
→ The picking salad, dressed at the table
Courgettes, squash, their flowers
→ Courgette flower, curd, pine nuts
Tomatoes outdoors in a good year
→ Tomatoes with last summer's vinegar
Sweetcorn, borlotti, runners
→ Sweetcorn, first pick, brown butter
Artichokes, asparagus, rhubarb
→ Artichoke, aged cheese, honey
Padron, cucumbers, the tender things
→ Padrons blistered over the fire
Four gardeners, five cooks
The gardeners outrank the cooks on Mondays. What they lift, cut and doubt decides the week, and the kitchen's job is to be worthy of it by Friday.