Tom’s Ode to Autumn

Yes, I know the fellow Keats got there first (though his title is simply To Autumn). Odeless, one might say. But for all his talents, I don't think culinary skills were among them. Dying at 25, I don't suppose he got the chance to learn how to make a good risotto.

But I shall ode: I shall declaim from the roof tops: I shall shout HUZZAH! throughout the land. Autumn is here, by a light year the finest of all seasons for a cook.

The cooler days are ripe for slow cooked comfort food, braises, daubes, casseroles, stews, call them what you will. You think they all taste the same? Much joyful education to follow. You complain that most of them look a little brown? Yes, you may have a point, but look at the palette of colours we have to go with them. Vivid orange carrots, as striking as any beautiful redhead; saffron yellow turnip (swede to you lot furth of Scotland) with butter, pepper and nutmeg; the emerald green of steamed savoy cabbage. And let's not forget the spud, light or dark as you fancy. White fluffy mash to absorb glorious gravy, or with the crisp dark encasement of baked skin before you get there.

I'm slowly learning to love the squash family. To avoid them being rather dull you need to go to town with flavour. Stuffed full of lovely things they can be rather exciting. My tendency is to use them for soup where once again you can let your imagination go. The butternut variety with a hit of red chilli eased with coconut milk. Or our native soup delights. Leek and tattie, made properly. Lentil, so thick that the spoon stands up in it. Feeling a bit more luxurious? Rich, creamy Cullen Skink. Where do you think New Englanders got their clam chowder from?

Apple and Bramble Crumble

Fruit? Here, I suppose, we do have to bid a sad if fond farewell to some of summer's loveliness, but the anticipation will make next spring more exciting. But look what we get in its place. Our John (Keats) got it bang on when he wrote about autumn conspiring to bend with apples the mossed cottage-trees. And what do we have to go with the apples?  Brambles, of course. (Blackberries to you non Scots.) I'm a little disenchanted with much of modern journalism, but I did chuckle the other day at a lady who wrote, let's get ready to crumble. A toast to that.

Now as you know, we never need an excuse to visit our good friends out at Castle Game, but this is their high season for obvious reasons. I confess it took me a long while to become a competent game cook. All the more reason to make up for lost time. There is still the feeling out there that game is for posh folk and therefore expensive. Assuming you're not paying to go and shoot it yourself, nothing could be further from the truth. A fraction of the price of beef, game is virtually fat free and totally organic. Not sure what to do with it?  Look in Tom Cooks! We now have a fair number of recipes for pheasant, partridge, grouse and more. Go onto the Tom Cooks! home page. You'll see a box on the top right. Type in your key word, hit return, and there you go.

Out at Castle Game, Neil, Bernard, James and the team will not only advise you, they also have ready prepared oven ready birds, parcels, kebabs, pies and whatever to make it easy for you. The shop is open Thursday to Saturday. See you there this weekend.

John Keats Tomb

On a reflective note, I recall visiting John Keats's grave in the Testaccio district of Rome. No name on the stone, remarkably. It is headed, A Young English Poet, and ends, Here lies one whose name was writ on water. Moving. Worth a visit, as indeed is that area of Rome itself.

But back to the season. I made a glorious four hour stew last Saturday, and have menus planned out for some time to come. Autumn, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. (******! Wrong poet. Hey ho.)