My heavy-based casserole pot sits on top of the stove even when it's not in use. It's covered in cooking stains, burnished marks that each tell a story...Vegetable laden curries, pot-roasted chicken complete with potatoes, cream and mustard, and slow-cooked lamb shanks have all added their splotches and splatters over time. In the early hours of the morning, at least once, if not twice a week she warms her insides up in the heat of the oven. Waiting patiently to cocoon the soft, pillow-like sourdough rounds that have been resting on the bench. She also makes the most perfect vessel to serve whatever it is that has been prepared in her, picked up from the stove and taken straight over to the

They are the final addition to my basket, their long, slender rosy-red stems balance on top of a beautiful snow-white cauliflower, a butternut pumpkin, locally grown potatoes, broccoli, long green beans and brussels sprouts. I enter the large shed at Hawkes farm; an Aladdin's cave of inspiring produce. My mind happily racing, concocting ideas as my hands pick up whatever catches my eye at the time. I invariably leave with my basket overflowing and find myself saying to the staff every single time, "I knew I should have bought another bag in with me!" Crimson rhubarb and raspberry jam with a hint of floral essence from my last remaining bergamot gifted to me from Kath www.kulinaryadventuresof