It’s been a hectic season in the Keane garden, and every time I open my store cupboard, I get a warm, strawberry-flavoured frisson of smug self-satisfaction. What a glorious array of bottles and jars! Myriad chutneys and jams, brandied fruit, gooseberry and elderflower cordial. Weeks of picking, shucking, boiling, stirring, sterilising, decanting… all those shimmering, summery flavours waiting to brighten up the duller days of autumn!
The freezer is chockablock too. Containers neatly labelled, bursting with stewed fruits waiting to be baked into pies and crumbles as the darker evenings creep in. Never mind Delia, I’m Martha Stewart (without the jail sentence, I hope)!
And what about my sun-dried tomatoes? No, we don’t live in a weirdly hot, sunny microclimate enabling me to sun-dry fruit in my corner of north…
