Category Archives: Autumn

The Real Spooks Of Halloween

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I’m not a great fan of Halloween.


When I was younger it was never a big deal, but the global spread of Americanisation and commercial pressure seems to have propelled it high in popular consciousness.
Even where we live, deep in the heart of rural Cornwall, it’s now not unusual to see “Trick or Treaters” roaming the country lanes on the evening of 31st October…!

If you keep your eyes open though, there are many more scary, weirdly beautiful and indeed deadly lifeforms to be found around the woodlands of the British Isles.

I’m talking fungi!

These fascinating lifeforms burst from cover as the days grow shorter, wetter and before the first frost occur. I love their variety and colours, from pale ghostly white through to vibrant orange, red, blues and browns.

Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria), definitely poisonous!

Walking through the woodlands, I love to see how fungi magically appear from the leaf litter on the forest floor; theres a silent eeriness about them….yet at the same time a beguiling beauty.

2022 seems to have been a spectacular year for fungi.
This Autumn around Dookes H.Q. we have enjoyed harvesting a wonderful bounty of tasty field mushrooms, Agaricus campestris.

The important thing when foraging wild mushrooms is to get your recognition right. There are over 1400 different varieties of fungi found in the British Isles, some are edible, but many more are not and some are deadly if eaten…you have been warned!

Yep, definitely field mushrooms!

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Ready for cooking.

Then, almost a quickly as they appear, their fleeting visit is over and they degrade into a wet slimy and often smelly mush…!

Farewell spooky friends, until next year!

Catch you soon,
Dookes

PLEASE do not eat any wild fungi unless your are 110% sure what it is.
Check with a real expert or better still don’t risk it, a mistake could be fatal.

The Birth of The Fine Bubbles

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There’s great excitement in the vineyard this week!

The last of this year’s grape harvest is ready for gathering and it’s also time to bottle last year’s vintage of rosé wine and start it on its way to becoming “Les Fines Bulles”….”The Fine Bubbles!”

Busy days.

Early this morning Alain Beteau arrived with one of his portable bottling plants, built into the back of a medium sized lorry. Alain has four of these vehicles and he serves various vineyards in the Pays de Loire around Nantes and Ancenis. His business saves the yards from having to purchase and maintain their own bottling equipment, which for a smaller producer could be a significant cost.

Today it’s the turn of Pierre-Yves to see his lovely “Murmure” rosé receive its initial bottling and start the “Method Traditionnelle” that will turn it into a wonderful vibrant sparkling wine, “Avec les fines bulles.”

Pierre-Yves keeping an eye on things.

In essence and to greatly simplify it, the wine is bottled into traditional “champagne” style bottles along with yeast and a small amount of sugar, called the “liqueur de tirage.”

It is then stopped with a metal crown cap and returned to the wine cellar to lie horizontally for a second fermentation lasting around 15 months.

After this time, the lees or sediment must be consolidated for removal. The bottles undergo a process known as “remuage,” I think the English translation of “riddling” doesn’t quite hit the mark though! Traditionally this is carried out in special racks that invert the bottle causing the lees to settle in the extreme neck of the bottle.

The lees removal process is called dégorgement, traditionally a skilled manual process where the crown cap and sediment are removed without losing much of the liquid. Modern automated disgorgement is done by freezing a small amount of the liquid in the neck of the bottle and removing this plug of ice containing the lees, before finally adding a small amount of sugar and adding the final traditional “Champagne” type cork….and then waiting another year before it’s ready!

Off to rest for a couple of years!

This “Domaine” is a family concern where passion for the vine and it’s produce has always been central to the family. They have been here a a long time too, since 1635, so I think that by now they really know what they are doing!.

Catch you soon

Dookes

Cooking in France….again!

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It had been a long tiring drive from Roscoff to the Val de Loire. OK, I didn’t make it easy by dropping in on friends across Brittany, but the last 180 miles were particularly tedious, especially the Périphérique around Nantes. We arrived at our friend Anne’s vineyard in time for aperitifs. She makes a rather special Coteaux d’Ancenis Malvoisie white wine that is….well….. to die for! It’s light, sweet, but at the same time quite forwardly acidic…all of which makes no sense at all, until you taste it; it’s heaven in a glass.

The road was telling and hurting, I hit the calvados.

Ask me to ride three to four hundred miles on a motorcycle and i’ll say “OK”…ask me to do it in a car and i’ll likely yawn!

Dookes don’t do cars!

Sunday morning dawned bright, sunny and warm.

I was still feeling yesterday’s miles, plus the effects of quite a lot of Calvados the night before!

Mrs Dookes and I wandered into the pretty village of Oudon and it’s Sunday market.

The Château du Oudon.

Un Marché le Dimanche matin is quite unusual in France and although this isn’t a big one it’s a good one. My mate Olivier was there with his olive stall, yeah, I know, “Olivier des Olives”!!!

I wandered over to Olivier as Mrs Dookes disappeared into her favourite patisserie adjacent to the market.

“Ça va Gallois? “Oui, ça va! Et tu?” “Ça va bien.”

Oliver paused to serve an annoying couple who were allowing their young daughter, of perhaps 10, to choose their olives. Maybe these, perhaps those…what do they tase like? Oliver was patient for a while, then just exclaimed “Ills ont tous le goût d’olive!” “They all taste of olive!” Father then decides and they go away happy!

I feel compelled to buy some saucisson from my friend..”Sanglier, noisettes, et bleu d’Auvergne!” Olivier exclaims, he knows me well!

Olivier looks around and produces a small bottle of Calvados, the Normandy apple brandy.

“Un pour la route eh?” One for the road indeed! The Calvados is rough, warm full of apple flavour and awakens my taste buds.

“Ok mon amis, maintenant tu vas cuisiner pour nous, le suis occupé”

“OK my friend go cook for us, i’m busy at the moment.”

“Cuisine une de ces recettes bâtardes de Normandie que tu et Floyd aime tant!”

“Cook a dish from those bastards in Normandy that you and Floyd like so much!”

We smile at each other. It”s been 13 years last Thursday that Floyd toddled off this mortal coil. I miss him dreadfully.

“OK mom amis, pour tu et pour Floyd!”

I scurry around the marché gathering the ingredients. A poulet jaune, fed with corn plump with yellow fat, haricot verts, carrots, a spaghetti squash, juicy pink garlic and as a surprise and only because a lovely lady is selling it, fresh Gnocchi: Floyd would approve. Oh and a rather special vin blanc du Chinon, one of my favourite Val du Loire wines.

Once back at our cottage I set about preparation: Floyd had a view that cooking shouldn’t be about being tied to the cooker and that the process should allow time to relax and enjoy the moment…so after prepping the chicken we went for a petit promenade along the banks of the mighty river Loire before returning to enjoy the meal and a gin and tonic before!

“Pour un Gallois tu cuisines comme d’un Français!” “For a Welshman, you cook like a Frenchman!” Oliver exclaimed. After a lot of wine and Calvados….that’ll do for me!

Et maintenant, le fromage!..cheese!

Oh…. and a bit more Calvados! I love this country and it’s people.

Here’s to you Floyd! I miss you.

Salut!

Dookes

Autumn Musing

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There’s an Autumn storm brewing.

The wind is rising and the barometer pressure falling. Leaves are whipping from the trees and swirling like a murmuration of starlings.

Heavy rain is forecast and localised flooding predicted.

I thought it was a good idea to get out for a walk with one of my canine pals before things got really wet and wild. Not a day for heroics on a motorcycle at all.

I feel that one of the nice things that stems from living in the cuds (middle of nowhere) is that it gives me space to think, drink in the silence and concentrate on the joy of life.

Autumn is definitely my favourite season, as the poet John Keats wrote “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun.”

Yes, Autumn sees the shortening of days, cooling of temperatures, the first frosts and heavy water-soaked soils. I find beauty everywhere, the colours of the season prevail. The last fruits of the year are gathered. Summer blooms begin to die, but bravely brighten grey days.

Still stubble fields, that only recently stood proud with wheat or barley, now feed wild birds with fallen seed. Cattle savour the last good grass before Spring and on leaden skies the migratory Woodcock returns to the British countryside for Winter.

Eurasian Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola). JJ Harrison

There’s a sweet smell of decay in the air and the tang of beechwood smoke drifts from cottage chimneys.

It all lifts my spirits and I feel like the luckiest man alive.

“Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.” Emily Brontë

Catch you soon,

Dookes