Foraging nuts and chilli jam

When did it get so dark in the mornings? I mean, I know we have this blackout blind now, which has done much to throw my natural body clock into disarray, but this morning I got woken by Andy's phone alarm. I thought, it can't be time to get up, it's still dark. But as I blundered onto the landing I discovered that it was, indeed, time for Andy to rise (which is late for me) and that it was darkish outside because of the murky rain clouds.

After a few weeks of lovely warmth and sunshine, our belated Summer, it is now raining. But not yet cold, thank heavens, as I don't really do cold.

This weekend, Andy and I were mostly foraging. Well, I spent Saturday morning writing as Andy was at work. And Saturday afternoon I did some more writing as Andy was tired and in slump mode because he'd been at work in the morning.

But on Sunday? Well, we were down the allotment first thing to lift the rest of the potatoes (just as well given the amount of rain we've been promised in the South of England this week.) There were also many aubergines to be had, which caused me a minor fiscal thrill as, I have discovered, aubergines are quite expensive to buy. And then there were the chilli peppers.
'There are a lot of chillli peppers,' I said, in the manner of someone who doesn't like chilli.
'Not to worry,' said Andy. 'I'm making chilli jam this afternoon.'
'Okay,' I said. Chilli jam?

Once Andy had explained that the chilli jam is a Hugh F-W concoction and not a recipe he was going to cobble together himself, I was happy to let him proceed.
'But first,' I said, 'we are going foraging for nuts.'

Now, there were two types of nuts I was after, namely conkers and chestnuts. Andy persists in getting these two varieties confused, mostly because he insists on calling conkers 'horse chestnuts' which I know is basically correct but doesn't help him in the matter of differentiating them from ordinary chestnuts.

'You need to know the difference,' I said. 'In case you eat the wrong type of chestnut one day when I'm not looking. So think 'conker' and 'chestnut'. Don't involve any horses.'
'They are both nuts,' said Andy. 'There is no danger of me eating the wrong type because I don't eat nuts. Full stop.'

Andy doesn't do nuts.

But I think he might change his mind when I've made chestnut puree and incorporated it with chocolate in a rich chocolate and chestnut cake, all squidgy and gooey and yum.

And the conkers? Well, I want to mix those with vodka to make a potion to smooth into my lower legs where some veins are starting to make themselves visible. We have veins in my family. My Mum's got 'em, and it looks like I'm heading the same way. But I intend on giving this conker 'n' vodka thing a go. Apparently, conkers are rich in saponins which improve the strength and elasticity in the walls of veins. And I guess the vodka is for drinking when you can't stand the sight of the veins any longer and want to blur them from your vision.

Off we yomped for our forage, after a lovely roast dinner which consisted vegetables all grown by ourselves (potatoes, carrots, broccoli and runner beans) and chicken (not grown by ourselves as Mrs Miggins is too old to eat, Mrs Pumphrey is too good an egg-layer to eat and Mrs Slocombe is too mad to eat; we don't want to run the risk of catching mad chicken disease.) I couldn't remember how many conkers I needed so came back with about 5 times too many. And the chestnuts were a lot more prickly than I the ones I remember collecting in my youth.

But we have gathered bounty this weekend, that grown by us and that grown by Nature.

And today I am re-boiling Andy's chilli jam which didn't set very well, and I am going running in the rain because it is absolutely tipping it down now, but I've caught the running bug and need to run regardless of inclement weather conditions. Then I'm peeling and squishing chestnuts and drinking vodka and rubbing conkers up my legs.

It's all go here at Much Malarkey Manor!