Ingredient: Blackberries
When the Devil was flung out of heaven he landed in a bramble bush, and he spat on the fruit in revenge, so you’re not supposed to pick blackberries after Old Michaelmas Day, 10 October. And as old wives tales go, it’s quite useful: by mid-October the damp has brought on moulds and fruit-fly grubs, so late berries really do go sour and mushy in your hand.
Blackberries are odd things. There’s a whole field called batology devoted to studying them, and batologists have described over 300 micro-species in Britain and Ireland, because a bramble can set seed without being pollinated. So the hedge at the end of your road is arguably its own blackberry, different from one in Angus. The canes grow one year, fruit the next and then die back, which explains why untended brambles look like a wrestling match. Commercial fruit grows on tidy thornless canes under polytunnels, and out of season it comes in from Mexico, Morocco and Spain.
An 80g handful counts as one of your 5 a day, with vitamin C, manganese for your bones, and plenty of fibre for your gut because you eat the seeds too.
Buy plump matt-black fruit with no red shoulders, since they won’t ripen further. Freeze on a tray, then bag. Crumble with apple, jam, compote for porridge, or a spoonful stirred through gravy for game.
