Down here in deepest Devon the Rights of Spring are upon us.
· we real at the smell of fresh antifouling in the Yard,
· we avert our eyes from the randy ducks in the Creek,
· we close our ears from the blasphemy of yachties, head down an the engine box, scuffing their knuckles as the spanner slips off yet another seized nut,
· we wonder at the simple beauty of the primroses nestled in the mossy bank.
Are these proof of the arrival of spring?
Noooo, it is the arrival of the wild garlic, in drifts under the coppiced trees in the Raleigh woods (that’s Raleigh the buccaneer not the bicycle)
So Sunday lunch today follows a millennia old local tradition, well at least two years old anyway. Half a leg of Devon lamb from a farm just 8 miles away, Riverford organic veg from up the road, and a good handful of wild garlic collected on this morning’s bracing walk.
Roasted and sauted to perfection
Served with a rich red wine gravy and wild garlic salsa.
A spring sacrifice we could all die for.
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