Compendium 8: May 2025

White gazpacho, 7 recipes (well, 8 actually), an online writing course, a superb mojito (plus a superb upgrade on that cold Mexican beer), an excellent playlist (well, two actually) and more

Hello and welcome to the May 2025 Compendium.

This is the monthly place I share a few things I hope you’ll like, that I hope will feed your senses.

Thank you for the comments, emails and Notes relating to earlier ones: I’m delighted it’s being so well received.

1: Hello again

I was in London on Sunday, a day that was 25 years since the old man went toes up. 25 miles from a stone in a churchyard chosen by him for its view rather than his religious persuasion. It remains without flowers to mark this semi-random occasion; one day before long I will head that way, sit nearby and silently talk to that stone as if it was him, which is both ridiculous and pointless, but nevertheless.

I wrote about the day he died, and it set off two things - the first, a conversation on Sunday with my oldest friend about how he knew his dad had been admitted to hospital without having been told, and

Lesley

- having read my post - took the moment to write her own beautiful words. Three people who don’t believe in the thing that happened to them.

Death and cowslips

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2: Ears

Last month, I complained to myself that these playlists could do with more Killing Joke, Public Image or Gang of Four, but that as I spend so much time (happily) writing, most of what I listen to is on the quieter side.

So I made a playlist that is on the livelier side (as much as anything so I listened to something with a bit of energy to it).

And I made a quieter one, of some of what has filled my ears in May - some old songs, some new.

I hope you enjoy them.

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3: Eat

This soup is, for one of such Devonian upbringing, quite the cultural stretch - it’s COLD, made of (rather than served with) bread, where are the vegetables? - and yet, it is hard to imagine a more perfect lunchtime delight. It’s is so utterly delicious. And, happy days, can be made nicely ahead.

White gazpacho

I have never been to Andalusia - it is, like the West Highland Way and contract bridge, set aside for a time when I can dedicate proper time to it. If it is half as wondrous as this soup - also known as ajo blanco -from that region leads me to imagine, I shall be happy.

In all fairness, I have no idea why garlic (ajo, in the Spanish name for this, ajo blanco)) usually enjoys lead billing here: this is a soup where almonds are king and sherry vinegar is queen. At a pinch, you can swap sherry vinegar for another, but this is one where a good sherry vinegar shines. You can get away with ground almonds if you’re too idle to get to the shops for blanched, but the texture will suffer a little: the freshness and oils released by the blanched almonds makes such a difference. If you fancy, lightly toast the almonds in a dry pan first - it wafts a ghost of smoke across the soup. By all means, use green grapes, slices of a good sharp apple, chives, cucumber or peach instead of the cherries if you fancy.

Serves 4

200g crustless stale white bread
150g blanched almonds
600ml ice-cold water
3 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
Salt
150ml extra virgin olive oil, plus a little extra to garnish
2 tbsp good quality sherry vinegar
16 cherries, stoned and halved
A few basil leaves

Soak the bread in cold water for 10 minutes, then strain and squeeze dry.

Use a food processor to grind the almonds to a fine powder, then add the garlic, bread and salt and blend until smooth, adding a splash or two of the water if required. Taste to get a feel for the garlickiness, adding more if you like.

With the motor running, slowly add the rest of the water, followed by the oil and finally the vinegar. Blend until smooth, then season to taste with salt.

Chill for at least 1 hour.

Serve topped with the cherries, drizzled with olive oil and a couple of basil leaves - this may be frowned upon in Andalusia but it works.

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4: Join me on an online writing course

Once a month, I’ll be running a live gathering, using Zoom, where we’ll take one aspect of writing and focus on developing your skills and confidence in it.

First up, The Writing Process: Different methods. Drafting and crafting - one process or two stages? Getting it down on the page. Revising and editing. Prioritising the best time. Working on the hard days. Writing tools

Why trust me to help? Because no matter what the jury on my shoulder might still say, I’m objectively not rubbish at this - I’ve written 14 books, won 23 writing and photography awards (including Food Book of the Year and Garden Book of the Year twice each), been shortlisted for a James Beard Award - and because I’ve helped many writers in groups and 1-to-1.

It starts TONIGHT so sign up sharpish.

More below.

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5: Eyes

I knew

Molly Wizenberg

’s writing from her excellent substack (here) but it was only when we (and Felicity Cloake) were asked to teach at a week long food writing retreat in Tuscany this autumn¹ that I finally got around to buying her book A Homemade Life. @molly

I am an idiot to have denied myself 15 years of its company. I’ve been trying to read it as a reader and as a writer - to see if I might learn something from its magic, as well as enjoy the experience - and I’ve come to the conclusion that she did nothing more simple (and yet so difficult) then to remove from the page all the words she didn’t need.

When I messaged her to tell her how much I was enjoying it, she replied that it was so long ago it felt like someone else at its heart - which I kind of get, as A Taste of the Unexpected and A Year at Otter Farm feel like of a semi-different me - but whichever Molly wrote it, whats she’s doing now might not have been possible without it.

This is from the blurb, but it’s really so much more: [In it…] she recounts a life with the kitchen at its centre. From her mother's pound cake, a staple of summer picnics during her childhood in Oklahoma, to the eggs she cooked for her father during the weeks before his death, food and memories are intimately entwined.

Highly recommended.

Molly Wizenberg’s Substack

Her substack I’ve Got A Feeling is a reliable joy too: take a look for yourself.

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6: Drink

Chipotle michelada

Many years ago when I took idling to professional levels, the people I shared a house with would occasionally play a game called There Can Be Only One. We’d each buy a tray of the weakest supermarket lager, and return home to watch the film Highlander (from which the phase ’there can be only one’ came): the winner was the one who, having enthusiastically tucked in to his tray of weak lager, was the last to go for a pee. This - full of punch and lively flavours - is about as far away from that weak, cheap lager as you can get.

Kecap manis - an Indonesian sweet soy sauce - is a special departure from a classic michelada; use a little Worcestershire sauce and/or soy if you prefer. I’ve made this with lager-style beers from the Philippines to Germany, and while Mexican beer is authentic, it is the quality that is most important. The sriracha as optional: that hot, limey rim is plenty enough wakey wakey in itself, but if you’re feeling in need of a kill-or-cure then there can be only one avenue to take.

Makes two drinks

200ml tomato juice, chilled
1 juicy lime
600ml Mexican beer
1 tbsp kecap manis (see page xxx)
2 tsp sea salt
1 tsp chipotle chilli flakes
A dash of hot sauce, such as sriracha (see page xxx)

Swizz the salt and chilli powder in a spice grinder to reduce them to a fine-ish powder. Tip this onto a small plate.

Juice the lime and add it to a jug. Add the kecap manis and stir until well combined. Add the tomato juice, stir and pour in the beer carefully to minimise the froth.

Rub the lime flesh around the top of each glass and dip the rim in the chilli salt. Add a handful of ice to each glass.

Taste the beer and add sriracha - a teaspoon at a time, tasting - if using. Pour the beer into the two glasses and relax, ideally in the sun.

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7: Garden

Turkish rocket

Most of us love rocket, that pokey, peppery salad leaf perhaps best served with little ore than excellent olive oil and salt; Turkish rocket is a perennial that shares some of its qualities, with all parts edible. Delicious raw or cooked, the young leaves have a mustardy-broccoli flavour, and are very good in salads, while the flower heads and stems are superb eaten as you might sprouting broccoli.

Self-fertile, flowering right now (late Spring to early summer in the UK), it grows to around 75cm tall. It self-seeds if allowed - I like this, but if you don’t eat all the flowers before they turn to seed. It’s very low maintenance, drought-tolerant, a great mineral accumulator, and draws in plenty of beneficial insects. It dies back during winter, re-emerging in spring.

Plant it, water while it establishes, and that’s about it other than harvesting and enjoying its looks.

I wrote about it last week, in a roundabout way.

If you fancy one for your garden, here you go.

Don’t forget, if you are a paid subscriber in the UK you get 25% off all plants and seeds.²

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8: My other writing

Scribehound Gardening

Once a month, I write on Scribehound Gardening - subscribers get one piece of garden writing arrive in their inbox/on the app each day. This month, I wrote about the perfect orchard. I’m often asked to design kitchen gardens, edible spaces, forest gardens and orchards, and having planted dozens of my own, I’m confident I can help anyone thinking of planting an orchard - large or small - to create something that will give them and those who follow much produce, pleasure and satisfaction.

I hope you enjoy it.

To read, click here.

Ocado Recipes

I was asked by Ocado to come up with a menu of 5 recipes, inspired by my book SOUR, that were on the sharp side. They are all online, and free to access if you like the sound of trying them.

Rhubarb, Radish, Pomegranate and Feta Salad, below.
Wild Rice with Pickled Shallots, Cranberries and Pear
Pork Fillet with Crème Fraîche, Mustard and Caraway Sauce
Orange and Lemon Posset with Ginger Crumb
Elderflower Kombucha Mojito

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9: Thank Heavens For…Paulie Walnuts

Those familiar with The Sopranos will understand my love for Paulie Walnuts. I’ve expressed it here before. In the face of some competition, he proved himself the best swearer, was delightfully eccentric, and had one of the great haircuts. Of the many reasons to love him, this scene - a masterpiece of writing - might take the biscuit, but also, I love that when the casting director came knocking to see if he was interested in joining the cast, he was in his late 50s, living with his mum, and in need of a break. He sure got it.

[Warning: numerous swears]

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More soon…in the meantime, happy end of May

Mark

1. Please join us - it will be an extraordinary week of food, writing and creativity in the most lovely surroundings. Paid subscribers get £50 off the cost of the retreat

2. More info about how to do this here.