April is the cruellest month . . .

April is the cruellest month . . .Yes or no?

NO!

I know that Eliot meant to turn conventional ideas about spring on their heads: all that joy around rebirth (breeding lilacs!) and renewal.

But why pick on the lilacs? My favourite — an April icon. It is an amazing poem, I grant you. I just no doubt have a more conventional mind than those brilliant Modernists.

Talking of lilacs, I love a line from one of my first seasonal primers, Margaret Costa’s Four Seasons, referencing The Waste Land no less: “April can be the cruellest month for the obsessional store-cupboard cook (Of course, she could candy some of those lilac blossoms).” Too right. I have yet to candy lilacs, but this book taught me a great deal about seasonality. Published in 1971, before the rampant rise of food industrialisation, it sings of a bygone age:

“Pigeons, cheap, easy to cook, delicious, but a menace after the spring sowings, are always with us . . . If you live in a town, you may have to order them a day or two before from your poulterer.”

Reading it, I tumble straight back into the world of Ladybird books in which I grew up. It’s a seasonal bible — rich with recipes and a joy to read. Costa never acquired the iconic reputation of her near contemporary Elizabeth David, though she benefited from the culinary revolution David sparked. But her prose is every bit as pleasurable. Four Seasons is more or less her only cookbook — and it’s such a good one.

I do love April. I know one shouldn't have favourites when appreciating all the seasons, but it might be my favourite month of the year. I relish spring — the rebirth, the renewal, the sense of regeneration.

We are still technically in the hungry gap, though that’s no longer something most of us need worry about. There are nevertheless lots of delicious ingredients to cook with. I like to focus on these in April: wild garlic, rhubarb, spring chicken, young herbs — and asparagus, which appears towards the end of the month.

Asparagus season traditionally runs from St. George's Day, 23rd April, to the Summer Solstice at the end of June. It does sometimes appear a bit before that, in time for my birthday, which makes me very happy! When it first arrives, I want it simply cooked and served with melted butter — nothing more. I see recipes for asparagus soup or asparagus this or that as the season progresses, but I never tire of it enough to fancy embellishment.

I once owned an asparagus pan — tall and narrow, with a basket to protect the delicate tips while the woody ends cooked — but I don’t bother now. Snap off the ends (they break naturally where the toughness begins), bring a shallow pan of salted water (a frying pan will do) to the boil, and cook for a couple of minutes. Drain and serve. Don’t throw away the snapped ends. Freeze them and add to stock.

Which brings us neatly to stock.

Someone once asked me, “Isn’t life too short to make your own stock?”

I’d argue the opposite: life is too short not to. Stock is the backbone of good cooking — flavourful, nourishing, foundational. And it requires almost no effort. I keep a cheap old slow cooker for the job. Once we’ve had meat on the bone, the bones go straight in with a handful of aromatics, covered with water, left overnight. By morning: a pot of effortless, glorious stock.

Fish and shellfish stock, however, must not simmer all night. I made that mistake once with prawn shells, and the house stank to high heaven. Fish stock needs just 30 minutes. If you treat yourself to some quality fish on the bone: bass, sole or John Dory, for example, don't waste a bit of it; gather up the bones and left overs scraps, and simmer into a beautiful stock. This will enable you to make a delicious chowder, or sauce for fish later on. If you can’t make stock immediately, freeze the trimmings. (Ditto meat bones).

Angela Clutton has become a recent seasonal hero of mine, thanks to her truly wonderful book Seasonal. In it she offers a brilliant waste not want not stock idea: freeze your vegetable peelings (avoiding sulphurous ones like cabbage or swede) and build a seasonal collection of aromatics: in the spring, asparagus ends; summer: tomato/fennel/pepper trimmings; autumn: squash peelings — your stock evolves with the year. I do separate out onion skins as they will colour your stock. Useful if you want a bit of colour for a deeply hued dish, but not if you're making something pale, like a white winter vegetable soup.

For vegetarian stock, Rose Elliott once suggested saving vegetable cooking water — instant stock to hand. Or simply simmer a handful of those frozen peelings for 30 minutes.

Faff? Not really. Just habit.

But don’t just buy Seasonal for the stock idea – it is packed with fantastic recipes and seasonal information and inspiration. Also, visually, it is a very beautiful cookbook.

A note on freezing, whilst I usually use my stock straight away and get a soup on the go, I always keep a couple of 300ml tubs on hand - homemade equivalents of those supermarket cartons - useful for gravies and sauces. Label them, always. Too many times, I’ve defrosted fish stock when I needed chicken. Brown paper tape and a Sharpie in the kitchen drawer make that really easy.

Spring is when Margaret Costa includes a chapter on fish soups. She doesn't really say why they are particularly fitting for this season. I think they are good year round. She offers recipes for a Soupe de Poisson, Normandy Fish Cream Soup, and a Scottish-style fish soup, among others, lamenting the general lack of British examples, outside of the traditional Scottish dishes, despite our extensive coastline.

Soupe de Poisson is one of my favourites. When I was an assistante in a French Lycée once upon a time, in a dreary little Northern French town, my friends and I would occasionally treat ourselves eating out. Without much money we focussed on just one course, and I always went for the soupe de poisson as it seemed to offer so much value – a meal in a soup, with those lovely croutons and the rouille, all for 5-6FF. In my Recipes I offer a Soupe de Poisson “de mon placard” that you can assemble from freezer and store cupboard — provided you have saffron. (You don’t? You slacker!) It’s also a fine way to use up that anise-flavoured spirit lurking at the back of your drinks cupboard. Ideally pastis, but Sambuca or Ouzo will do. Let’s face it, you’re not drinking those! I did once serve flaming Sambucas at the end of a meal. It did not end well.

Other new recipes added this month:

Wild garlic pesto - an absolute spring delight. Wild garlic is around for most of the spring, but at its peak in April. This pesto is very easy to make and it can liven up so many dishes: stirred through pasta, rice or any grain, topping a spring shepherd's pie or bruschetta. I’m adding some right now to some pork meatballs. And don't discard the flower buds: separate them out, pop them in little bud vases and dot them round your kitchen; they will open and prettify the place, and when they're open you can use them to decorate dishes, as they are edible. (Wild garlic, mozzarella and prosciutto pizza, anyone?). I serve little bowls of this pesto alongside my soupe de poisson, for spreading on baguette croutons, in place of the traditional rouille, for a particularly spring-style soupe de poisson,

Rhubarb, Rye and Poppy Seed Cake - Rhubarb is the only native fruit in season just now, though as we know it's technically a vegetable. I buy it practically every week from the end of January. When it first appears it is the bright neon pink forced rhubarb, which is coming to an end at this point in the year, and is being replaced by regular outdoor garden rhubarb, more of a deep red in colour. Just as flavourful, maybe even more so in my opinion, more rhubarby!

Goat's cheese, jamón, honey and thyme - outside of a Stilton at Christmas, we don't always really think of cheeses as having seasons, but their flavours do change depending on the time of year. Spring is a great time to enjoy goat's cheese and here I give an idea for a divine starter. It's an assembly job rather than a recipe. I discovered this idea on a holiday in the Languedoc in 2003. One day, we attempted a walk in the Languedoc countryside, following hopeless instructions in a pretty rubbish handbook that led us to a field we were supposed to cross, a field which had a massive bull in it. Time to throw in the towel. As luck would have it, it was lunchtime when we abandoned the walk. We headed to the nearest village of Massaguel and found the Auberge des Chevaliers, where we had the most delicious lunch. Tom had this salad to start - dried magret de canard (it's South West France) paired with a young, soft goat's cheese, dressed with a drizzle of honey and fresh thyme. That's it. So simple, but the most amazing combination. If you can find magret de canard, use that, but it's not that available and Spanish jamón makes a fine substitute. And I can make my favourite joke: 'Jamón then! jamón!'. And what did I eat? A gorgeous tomato tarte tartin served with a creamy pea sauce. (Another dish I nicked and recreate at home). Followed by crayfish! It was amazing.

You might think I've got a good memory, remembering these details from 23 years ago. In fact, my culinary musings started back in 2002, when I began to jot down recipes and to keep notes of menus I served. This was prompted by my serving up the same thing to the same friends on consecutive dinners they came to. "Oh wonderful, we're having this again!". 'This' being an anti-pasti platter of salamis, roasted veg and olives. The remark was genuine and was meant kindly, but I thought I'd let myself down! Never again will I serve the same thing twice!

It's quite fun re-reading things from so long ago. Here's an extract from: Our Holiday in Languedoc - 16th August - 31st August 2003

We stopped over in a château near Limoges, en route to our holiday. This was a sumptuous bed and breakfast place. Our first gastronomic experience: we drove around looking for a restaurant, the one in the nearest village, recommended by the Count was booked. We ended up stopping by some rough looking place, neon lighting and all. It was getting late and we were starving, so we thought we'd just go for it. The entrance looked a bit empty, there was no-one on reception, there were empty tables . . . eventually, we found our way out back where there was a very convivial looking restaurant. I had a local soup: la Bréjaude (soupe limousine), a cabbage and potato chunky affair. Tasty, but I'm used to similar Polish concotions, which are superior.

Well! Despite not being impressed by our first foray into the cuisine of the Limousin, we did go on to enjoy some fantastic local boeuf limousin. "Very good" I noted.

So, that's what's new in this month's recipes. I do love coming up with seasonal menus in April as it's my birthday month! Here are some elements that are great for an April menu.

Cocktails usually include rhubarb.

Starters can include asparagus, goat’s cheese, seafood, wild garlic, radishes.

Mains are built around chicken, new-season lamb, or fish (if it falls on Good Friday). Once, I splashed out on fresh morels and made poulet aux morilles.

Accompanied by new potatoes, rocket, watercress, sorrel, new garlic.

Puddings are usually fashioned from chocolate, or rhubarb and custard in some guise.

To close, how about another poem? Poetry captures the seasons in ways prose rarely can. It gets to the nub of things.

This one is close to my heart: April Birthday by Ted Hughes. I can’t quote it in full (it's in copyright), but here’s the opening:

When your birthday brings the world under your window

And the song-thrush sings wet-throated in the dew

And aconite and primrose are unsticking the wrappers

Of the package that has come today for you

Isn't that wonderful? It goes on to reference lambs, pussy willow, swallows, chestnut buds, sizzling leaves, rabbits — it is a stunningly radiant evocation of spring. You can find it in the collection

And April, cruel? Not for me.

Enjoy this vibrant month!