As the calendar flips over to September, the novelty of winter has well and truly worn off. I don’t hate our Tasmanian winters. Not the cold or the wet, the mud, the greyness, the short days and the insipid daylight. Winter is a time to slow down and revel in being at home. Of course, spring arrives at just the right time, when even I am beginning to tire of the monotony and indoor life. Spring is a fickle beast, more a promise of warmer weather and sunny skies than reality. There is the initial hint of warmth, longer days, the greening of the landscape, and pops of colourful blooms asserting their presence. The snowdrops are gone, replaced by daffodils, which, with their sunny-coloured trumpets, add a cheeriness that you can’t help smiling at. There are other bulbs as well. The green spears pushing through the soil, and while their flowers are a little way off, these signs of life are yet another indicator of activity beneath the ground. And there are blossoms, brilliant splashes of colour that brighten the countryside and are a harbinger of delicious fruits in the not to distant future.
Our sheep love this time of year. The grass grows almost before your eyes, and after a winter of slim pickings and silage, they gorge on the rich, new season grass. Our sheep are far from being lambs, but the longer days put a spring in their step. They frolic and jump in the air. They behave like teenagers, lining each other up for a half-hearted charge and head butt. They aren’t malicious, more keen to expend their pent up winter energy. They walk around with a lightness and a smile, content with the abundance in their world. The chickens are similarly enthralled, happy with the lush grass and increase in insects and are far more productive in their egg production.
There are often days when we step back into winter, a tooing and froing until a day arrives where the sun shines from dawn to dusk. The insects hum in the background all day, the mild warmth shimmers in the air, and the still unfurling leaves almost instantly take shape. They are the most magical days, ones where the outdoors calls and where all plans for productivity go out the window.
It is a time to prepare for the summer months. The green manure planted at the beginning of winter in empty beds needs cutting before it goes to seed and digging back into the soil. The vegetable seeds have been sorted. The young tomatoes and zucchinis had their start on the heat mat, the extra warmth encouraging their germination before they are moved into the hothouse to await post-frost weather. The bean seeds are starting to sprout. I love scarlet runner beans, and I’ve planted extra this year. I’ve been in two minds about the corn - it often requires a longer growing season than we have, although there is the option of growing them in the hothouse. Last year’s yield was variable; the best was the decorative glass corn with its small cobs of prettily coloured kernels, but I think I’ll dedicate the space to something more productive. It is a constant balance of space and over-enthusiasm.
What we eat starts to change as well. It’s not warm enough to abandon more hearty fare, but there are hints of lighter meals. Soups and casseroles are not quite so heavy, and salads are making a regular comeback. It is a tricky time for produce, often known as the hungry period. Winter crops are coming to an end, and those that thrive in the warm have yet to hit their stride. But the freshness of the first broad beans or the first asparagus spears is a joy.
The herbs are just starting to reemerge after the cold, and while none of them is abundant, there is enough of them to pick a few mixed sprigs and use in these mini savoury cornbreads. I like the sunny yellow of the cornmeal and paired with the honey mustard butter, they make a delightful garden snack. I like nothing more than to soak up the fleeting warmth and sun of a spring day, sitting in a sunny spot on the deck, admiring the vibrant green of the grass and pretending that it really is outside weather.
Mini Herb Cornbreads with Honey Mustard Butter
Makes 12
185 g polenta (cornmeal)
150 g plain flour plus a little extra for the tin
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
250 ml buttermilk
60 g butter, melted
1 egg
60 g sharp cheddar, finely grated
20 g mixed soft herbs, parsley, chives, chervil, tarragon are all good choices
For the butter
125 g salted butter, softened
2 teaspoons seeded mustard
2 teaspoons runny honey
Preheat the oven to 200°C. Grease a 12 hole muffin tin.
Put the polenta, flour, sugar, baking powder and salt into a large bowl. In a second bowl mix together the buttermilk, melted butter and egg. Pour this into the dry ingredients and stir until the batter is just combined. Take care not to overmix. Fold in the cheese and herbs.
Divide the batter between the 12 holes and bake for 12-15 minutes or until the muffins are firm and a light golden colour.
Serve warm with a little of the honey mustard butter.
To make the butter, mix all of the ingredients in a small bowl. I like to use a fork to mash and mix. If you have leftovers, store in an airtight container in the fridge.
Next week: elevenses + a sweet soda bread bun
Each week, I share the latest instalment of the book I am writing here on Substack, Home Baked: a Year of Seasonal Baking. A subscription will ensure you don’t miss any of the stories and recipes. You might also want to consider a paid subscription. A paid subscription will give you access to previous recipes, as well as printer-friendly recipe cards and bonus material. There is also an additional newsletter on Friday, which is a mixed bag and touches on all manner of food topics. I’d love for you to be a part of it.
Paid subscribers will find the printer-friendly recipe card by clicking on the button, as well as another cornbread variation from my cookbook.
As we turn towards autumn here in the Northern Hemisphere, which I love dearly, I’m looking forward to your springtime missives.
Love the writing and the recipe, Julia!