As barbecue season rolls in, I found myself craving the cucumbers I grew up with — gently fermented the Lithuanian way. No vinegar, no sharpness, just time, dill, garlic, and a method passed down (with a quick phone call to my dad for reassurance).
After weeks of testing cakes for cafés, a quiet baking day and a simple apple tart felt just right. Rustic, forgiving, and rooted in the kind of recipes that are shared, adapted, and made by feel rather than strict rules.
A spring visit to my London garden, a childhood love of sorrel soup, and my mum’s genius trick for making spinach taste like something else entirely.
