by Max Akroyd
In the disarray that last year became growing-wise, I left a small row of garlic unharvested. Predictably each clove divided and the mother clove went to seed. Her offspring, though, started to grow in early January this year and provided me with a welcome, if undeserved, harvest which fills the fresh garlic gap before the wild stuff emerges next month.
If I was to describe the culinary experience kindly it would be “rustic”. But at this time of year I’m enthusiastic about anything that helps fill the yawning hungry gap.
Another winter offering yesterday came in the form of a massive boar in a trailer, bound and bowed. I misunderstood the injunction in French “to look at the big pig on the road” as a sign that one of our pigs had escaped again. In fact, it was a band of local farmers/hunters offering me this beast for sale, tusks and all.
I explained in my broken French that, by accident, we already had ten piglets – a tale which is probably doing the rounds of the local bars right now – after they’ve told the story of how they arrived with a boar to sell and left with their names on two of the Englishman’s piglets instead!