The simplest, and most profound, pleasures are often found in taste. Flavours so full, memories so vivid that a single lick can transport one to another time; to Pisco sours on a Cusco balcony, to a dark table ringed with friends, a double-stuffed, liqueur-laced cheesecake pierced with forks between, and to Grandma’s kitchen table, where beans on toast sprinkled with a kick of harissa steams from atop the gingham tablecloth. Of days when skipping through the world with nothing in mind but rollerblading down the steepest hill within ten minutes of home; sweet honeysuckle the relish to scuffed knees, sorrel the snack of woodland expeditions. Of mudded hands batted away from Dad’s allotment tomatoes, for he knew they were needed in the year’s darker days, left to cure in jars of olive oil and rosemary, saved for Friday night pizzas in the depths of winter.
You see, food is what brings us together; it refines experiences, making the mundane exceptional, the ordinary a phenomenon. So here’s one for the mixologists, bakers, and hash-slingers amongst you; the foodie’s guide to edible gardens.
Four Hundred Summers in Gloucestershire
If Peter Rabbit had found himself in The Cotswolds, rather than the Lakes, Four Hundred Summers’ walled garden would have been his chosen spot for strawberry raids and carrot collections. Here, beds are lined with potatoes, radishes, and crisp lettuce; the Victorian greenhouse a glut of heritage tomatoes, scrambling vines, and citrus trees (prime for adding punch to summer G&T’s). Come autumn, when evening chills call for slow-cooked stews and sweet crumbles, lift the lid on the terracotta rhubarb forcers to pick pink petioles; to the stone walls for tart apples. Rosemary, and mint for cold mojitos, or angelica for wild, candied treats.
Morwell in Cornwall
Over a cattle grid, beneath weighted trees, and by hedgerows coloured by soft, mauve sloes, Morwell hides beyond the realms of tourist tramps, hidden from view along the banks of the River Tamar, where salmon and trout swish beneath its dark surface. Within its 50 acres of meadows, orchards, wetlands, and woods, heritage apples hang from lichen-smothered, crooked trees, sweet mulberries stain children's cheeks, and late-ripening, caramel medlars soften to butter to melt into winter bowls of porridge. A well-kept allotment is stuffed with rainbow chard, raspberries, onions, and herbs; stretching the harvest season for homegrown suppers long into the Tamar Valley's wetter months.
Tincture in Powys
There are little places as wholesome as this; tucked beneath the ridge of a forcella in the Cambrian Mountains, an off-grid cottage that easily rides the tides of nature. In the acre that surrounds Tincture, purple chive flowers brighten lunchtime salads, while an abundance of herbs promise bold frittatas, and seasoned pies. Tiny, wild strawberries make the perfect table-top accompaniment to a glass of cold fizz, while (the many varieties of) raspberries will barely even make it back to the kitchen if little hands have a say in the matter. Japanese wineberry sorbet, freshly dug potatoes for Sunday roasties, and spring onions to char on the barbecue; the taste of self-sufficiency is yours here.
The Art House in West Sussex
A curated home surrounded by seven acres of gardens, The Art House is to London what The Hamptons are to New York. As spring climbs to summer, wisteria gives way to roses, and the kitchen garden a bounty of pabulum; peas twisting around bamboo tipis, onions poking from the soil, and tomatoes scenting the air so sweetly, one would likely choose to set up camp to read between their sky-reaching stems. Beans, mangetout, corn, and beetroot; strawberries, lettuce, courgettes, and herbs – for anyone who’s dreams gallop towards a homestead in the country, here is the place to put into practice the romance of all those farm to fork recipes.
Scarlet Hall in Cheshire
We are nothing if not a nation of fruit lovers. For every gnarled orchard, comes five hardback books of recipes laden with crumbles, and cakes, jams, steam puddings, and infused gin. Enter Scarlet Hall, who’s handplanted orchard is ripe with damsons, and pears, plums, and apples when autumn rolls around; a Chester estate where greengages punctuate the hedgerows, and walnut trees offer crunch to melt-in-the-mouth fruit tarts steaming on the counter. Come August, the large Morello cherry tree’s sticky black fruit are perfect for plucking straight from the branches and into breakfast bakewell pancakes; an appropriately indulgent start for weekends in a large country home such as this.
Aria in Somerset
A living piece of art in Somerset’s Quantock Hills, Aria’s walled garden is a herbalist’s dream; fennel for relaxation, marjoram for strengthening nervous systems, tarragon for the heart, and lavender for dreams. All the while, red nasturtiums clamber up walls, their peppered leaves deepening flavour, scarlet flowers balancing texture. Whipped goose eggs for breakfast, honey for hand-picked mint leaf tea; a home who’s aesthetics lift spirits, and titbits nourish the party. Beyond the walls, wild garlic covers spring woodland floors, bouquets of green turned into emerald soup, or a crunchy tempura amuse-bouche before supper's main event.
Feeling inspired? Read the full story behind Tincture's becoming in Off-grid living in Wales' Cambrian Mountains, or for more gastronomic insights, browse the Fare section of our journal.
With thanks to @melonmade_ and @twiggstudios for photography
