Eating Humble Pie

Turning a much loved traditional meat dish like cottage pie into a vegetarian option is likely to leave the meat eater feeling short changed. And that’s usually because the substitute ‘meat’ content feels and tastes the same as the topping because the gravy disappears into all the layers, homogenises all the flavours and turns it into something like baby food.

Florencia Clifford’s recipe for Lentil Cottage Pie from her book Feeding Orchids to the Slugs raises the bar and turns an old English favourite into a multi-cultural dish with ingredients from all over the world whilst firmly rooted in some very British vegetables. The recipe comes in two parts. It’s starts with Braised Lentils, a dish that is a complete meal or make a lot and keep some to use as the base for the Cottage Pie.

Braised Lentils. Flo recommends Puy lentils because they are more flavoursome than other lentils and keep their texture. Puy lentils come from a particular place in southern central part of France (the French are very precious about this fact, and rightly so) and are considered to be the Rolls Royce of lentils and probably the only lentil you’ll find served as an accompaniment in top restaurants.

Take: 345g Puy lentils, 1 large onion peeled and sliced, 1 carrot chopped in chunks, 3 celery stalks chopped in chunks, 1 red chilli, finely chopped small, 3 cloves of garlic, chopped, 3 Bay leaves, a bunch of parsley, a glass of white wine or light beer (optional), 1/3rd cup of Tamari sauce, 2 tbsp oilive oil, 1/2 tsp of cumin seed, 500ml home made strong vegetable stock. Flo’s recipe includes 2 cloves and 1/2 tsp of smoked paprika but she suggests you leave these out if you’re using the lentils for a cottage pie.

Toast the lentils in a pan over heat to bring out the flavour, set aside. Heat oil in a large pan add cumin seeds, cloves and onions. Cook gently until the onion is transparent. Add garlic, carrots, celery and chilli, cover and allow to sweat on a low heat. Next add lentils, paprika and wine/beer, mix well and simmer to allow the liquid to evaporate. Add Tamari. Pour enough stock to cover lentils and bring to the boil over a medium heat. Slow cooking is important, so as not to shock the gentle flavourings. Add bay leaves and half the parsley. Lower heat and simmer until lentils are cooked but not overly cooked, check at 15 minutes and thereafter in short intervals. When cooked remove cloves and add rest of the parsley.

Serve as a meal or side dish to fish or chicken or take it to the next level and turn it into Flo’s Lentil Cottage Pie.

To make the topping any root vegetable or combination works, experiment or go with favourites. Traditional cottage pie is beef, or lamb (shepherd’s pie) with mashed potatoes on top, grilled to make a crispy topping then serve with a green vegetable like peas or cabbage.

I chose parsnip and sweet potato for contrasting colours and textures placed as two separate layers. Celeriac and potato mixed together would work or a mash up of different root vegetables. Add butter or olive oil to the vegetables when mashing, this will hold the texture and flavours together and give structure to the pie. Use a shallow or a deep pie dish, it all depends on what you prefer. I went for a deep layer effect to make the most of the contrasting colours. Finish in a medium hot oven for about twenty minutes.

This dish is right up there on my list of comfort foods and as a complete meal in one very yummy. I’ve named my version the gourmand’s lentil layer pie due to the posh lentils and layers (your could have several vegetable layers if you were feeling up to the challenge . . . and more than three pans).



A Right Royal Salad

Here’s another recipe on trial (ahead of publication) from Flo’s book Feeding Orchids to the Slugs.

I’m making Quinoa Salad. Of course I resist the correct pronunciation which is keen wah salad and say it the way I read it in English: Queen Noah Salad. I shall adopt this one as not only is it a rather special dish but the ingredients remind me of another exotic dish, the middle eastern pilaf which you’ll find versions of all over the world. Anyway on with Flo’s recipe.

Take: 2 cups of quinoa, quarter of a cup of unsalted, shelled pistachios, 1 medium red onion, slice thinly, two thirds cup of olive oil, grated zest and juice of 1 orange, half a cup of unsulphured dried apricots, chopped, 2 handfuls of rocket or baby spinach, salt and pepper.

Roast the pistachios to bring out their flavour, either in a medium oven or dry roast them in a frying pan for a few minutes. Roughly chop and set aside.

Zest and juice the orange. Slice the apricots and leave to soak in the orange juice.

Rinse the quinoa in a sieve under flowing water until it runs clear. I cooked 2 cups of quinoa in 2 cups of boiling water and simmered until all the water had gone. I didn’t salt the water. You want to keep the tiny seed grains whole and avoid overcooking into a mush. It should be tender with a grainy texture, like couscous. Spread out on a baking tray and rake over with a fork to let the air dry it out as it cools down and stops cooking.

Fry the sliced red onion in olive oil, cook in a heavy based pan, until brown and a little crispy and caramelised. Leave in the pan with the oil to cool.

In a serving bowl combine quinoa, onion and oil from the pan and pistachio nuts. Drain the apricots, add to the salad. Use the juice to combine with the olive oil, zest and seasoning, mix well and pour over the salad. Add the rocket or spinach leaves to the salad or serve separately. The colour, texture and flavour of rocket combines well with the ingredients. I also think mint would complement the flavours. The orange juice and zest in this recipe is a masterstroke as it cuts through the sweetness of onion and apricot whilst bringing out the earthy flavour of the quinoa.

As with pilaf, quinoa salad can be served hot or cold, on its own or with another dish such as a meat or vegetable tagine. Don’t know why but the finished dish looks very feminine on close inspection. If you click on the photo above to enlarge the image, you’ll see what I mean. The quinoa seeds have expanded into a ripe fullness and released a little tail sprout not unlike frogs spawn (don’t let that put you off). Intriguing . . . and then there’s little wisps of orange zest, pieces of apricot, red onion and green pistachio nuts. Colourful, complex, mysterious and delicious. Well deserving of the title: Queen Noah salad.

Flo says if you’re lucky enough to find red quinoa, buy it. It’s even more delicious than the pale version you’ll find in supermarkets and health food shops. Quinoa has been identified as a super food due to it’s nutritional value. It works well as a lean alternative to cereal and pasta based salads.

Flo’s book is due out in November. Meanwhile I’ll be reporting next on her Lentil Cottage Pie.




Feeding Orchids to the Slugs

My late father-in-law, an orchid fancier and cultivator of rare orchids, would have turned in his grave at the thought of feeding slugs anything other than poison. No doubt, he would also have been puzzled by a new book, due in November, titled Feeding Orchids to the Slugs written by Florencia Clifford, a Zen cook with a very different take on slugs and their place in the circle of life.

Ahead of publication about twenty members of Vala Publishing, have been invited to test Florencia’s recipes. There’s a sneak preview of some of the dishes over on Vala’s Facebook page. Here’s the one I tested:

with this recipe I had the pleasure of discovering three new ingredients (Tamari, Mirin and Lovage) in Florencia’s Mushroom and Lovage Stew:

1 punnet of button mushrooms, 4-6 Portobello mushrooms, 2 celery stalks, 3 carrots, 4 garlic cloves, 2 medium onions, 1/3 cup of Tamari sauce, 1 tbsp of Mirin, Lovage, olive oil, vegetable stock. Serves 4

Roughly chop onions, celery and carrots into chunks. Quick fry button mushrooms whole or halved, in a wok with the olive oil. Cook in small batches and remove.

Chop the large mushrooms into thick slices and cook gently, keep them on the move. Mushrooms are thirsty, top up on oil as you go, avoid overcooking, they need to stay firm at this stage.

In a large cook pot with lid, heat olive oil and gently cook onions until soft. Add carrots and celery, cover and sweat just a few minutes. Add mushrooms, then garlic, stir, add Tamari sauce and Mirin.

(Tamari is a more wholesome, unadulterated form of soy sauce (wheat free) and Mirin is a Japanese sweet rice (wine) seasoning, apparently ideal for sushi and tempura dishes.)

Now is the time to add the vegetable stock, how much depends on whether you prefer your stew with more or less liquid. I added enough so the top layer of vegetables were just above the sauce. Tamari is already salty so taste the veg stock for saltiness and dilute as you like. Bring up to heat and simmer for 20 minutes. Check the carrot and celery to see if cooked but not too soft.

Allow to rest awhile before serving and allow the flavours to sip into each other and the juices to become inky. Add fresh or dried Lovage before serving.

In my neck of the woods I didn’t find lovage, dried or fresh. Thankfully, Vala’s resourceful editor, Sarah sent a small consignment in the post from Bristol.

Having already put the word out a friend discovered a single plant, pot bound and struggling for life in a local garden centre and brought it round in the middle of my recipe testing. How’s that for timing?

I’m glad I got to taste it fresh, the flavour is like celery only sweeter. The roots can be eaten like a vegetable or grated on salad. It’s a vigorous perennial and needs a lot of growing room. I added about half of this packet to the stew but couldn’t really taste it; a handful of chopped fresh Lovage would complement and balance the strength of flavours exceptionally well.

Making Florencia’s recipe has been a lovely collaborative, co-operative triumph (in the true spirit of Vala publishing) and, as for the finished dish, I have to say I was skeptical about calling it a stew, when it has no meat. But this is a delicious, rich, flavoursome meal without the heaviness of meat. The combination of two different mushrooms provides interesting textures, as well as structure and picks up on all the complex flavours from the Tamari and Mirin. I should also add, get hold of the best quality olive oil you can afford as the mushrooms are greedy consumers of whatever you throw at them and you will be able to taste, and see the difference.

I will be adding this recipe to my list of favourite hearty meals; it would go well with a big dollop of creamy mashed potatoes served in winter. Can’t wait to see this recipe in Florencia’s book and discover what really goes on with those slugs!






Every Cloud Has a Silver Lining

I spotted this lonely cloud on Facebook on Sunday and ever since it’s been wet, wet, wet, dry, wet. Perhaps I should have left the cloud where it was.

Meanwhile I’m gathering up steam in my kitchen preparing a wet weather picnic to share in the shelter of the Old Kitchen at Chawton House, Chawton village, Hampshire. The Great House, as it was known in the 18th century, belonged to Jane Austen’s brother, Edward.

A picnic in the grounds, if it had been a warm June evening would have been utterly charming as part of the preprandial activities of the Hampshire Writers Society Gala Evening. But what good fortune we had instead by sharing a meal in the kitchen where Jane, who now feeds our imaginations, perhaps once cooked. Literary events are noisy affairs . . . readers and writers are never short of words . . . no exception here. The buzz (on top of strawberries and cream and fizz) was all about a new book by Lindsay Ashford on the mysterious death of Jane Austen . . . Did she die of arsenic poisoning? Good job we took our own food although we did tuck into the house strawberries and cream, thankfully nobody died.

When James Ramsden’s recipe for some traditional picnic fare turned up earlier this month: an homage to Gala Pie come Scotch Egg, I decided to give it a try. My picnic at Chawton House version went something like this:

350g Jus Rol puff pastry, cut in half, 10 organic pork and leek sausages, skinned, 3 organic hen’s eggs, egg for pastry coating.

Pre heat oven 180C. Cut the pastry sheet in half. Hard boil eggs, about 5 minutes should do it, shell when cold. Remove sausage skins, easily done with a pair of sharp scissors. Spread half the sausage meat over the pastry.

Place shelled eggs and cover with remaining sausage meat. Brush the edges of the pastry with a little milk or egg yolk and cover with the other pastry sheet and close the edges together to form the pie. Cut three openings in the pastry. Brush with egg yolk. Place on baking tray or baking sheet and into the oven.

Mine was cooked in about 40 minutes; all golden brown and sausage meat sizzling through the pastry. Leave to rest about five minutes on a cooling rack and serve. For a picnic, wrap in greaseproof paper and foil and it might just stay warm enough by the time you get to the picnic.

Using hen’s eggs means that when you cut through the pie your piece of egg in the middle could be all yolk or all white, or nothing in between, so there’s an element of mystery, surprise and good or bad luck.

A suitable start to the event, eaten with a first crop of broad beans from the veg patch served up in a potato salad; organic potatoes from the veg box.

Every cloud has a silver lining, so I can forget about superstition and paranoia, for today at least and enjoy the feast.


The Watercress File

For the past couple of weeks it’s been all about watercress, what with the soup trials going on in my kitchen to find a winning combination for the World Watercress Soup Championship and now this weekend making Watercress and Onion Bhaji with fresh Watercress Coconut Chutney. I feel happily brain washed by the watercress campaign as I add this last recipe to my collection and close the file.

Onion bhaji is fast food to relish; street food for hungry people or at least that’s how communities in India eat this spicy snack. How appropriate that Sophie Grigson chose to show us how to cook a variation of it on the streets of Alresford at the Watercress Festival last week, accompanied by Watercress Coconut Chutney. Luckily I was near the front of the audience and got to sample a forkful of each as they were passed round. Hmm … extremely delicious and very nice experience sharing food; a few people got excited and suddenly chatty as the walls came down on our great British reserve for a few moments.

Watercress and Onion Bhaji

Take: 40g watercress roughly chopped, 1 large onion sliced thinly, 1 small potato grated, 30g green lentils, 75g gram flour, 1/4 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt, 1/2 tsp ground turmeric, 1/2 tsp ground coriander, 1 tsp cumin seeds, one and a half tbsp chopped coriander, 20g flaked almonds, oil for shallow frying.

Soak lentils 4 hours, or open a tin. Spread onion in a colander, sprinkle with salt and leave for 30 mins. Absorb moisture with kitchen towel. Mix and sift dry ingredients over a bowl, add watercress, fresh coriander, almonds, potato, onion and lentils.

Get stuck in with both hands and mix it all up until the ingredients are well combined. Make several patties (about 1 tbsp in size) and shallow fry in batches in hot oil, turning half way through cooking time until brown and crispy on both sides. Drain on kitchen towel and serve with Watercress Coconut Chutney.

Take: 120g desiccated coconut, bunch of watercress, handful of mint leaves, 3 green chillies, chopped and de-seeded, 4 garlic cloves, 1 tsp ground cumin, 1 tbsp sugar, juice of 1-2 limes, salt

Blitz all the ingredients in a food processor to a puree, add a little water if necessary, season to taste. Add a large helping to a plate of bhajis and enjoy the fusion of local and far away exotic flavours. Very moreish!


Real Fast Food @ The Watercress Festival

It was food heaven on the streets of Alresford today. The broad streets of this picturesque English market town were full of people marketing (in the real sense of the word) and cooking their own produce for people with an appetite for real food, by that I mean food that hasn’t been tampered with by all sorts of substances I wouldn’t normally keep in my kitchen cupboard, or processed to death in a factory.


There was a fabulous amount of choice and enterprise amongst the stall holders, a feast for hungry eyes.

The Isle of Wight came up trumps with some very fancy looking mushrooms, garlic and asparagus which I had to buy.


I’m always on a quest to compare and contrast my taste for asparagus. And for my supper I steamed it and served with lots of fresh leaves from my garden. Now that’s what I call real fast food. A well deserved 8 out of 10 for the asparagus.








Not all Hampshire food at the festival, a few neighbours had managed to cross the border.




This is jam heaven, a business entirely dedicated to one of my must have cupboard ingredients: Chilli Jam and not just one variant but lots of them as well as chutneys. How about one called Pearfection or a sauce called Mean Green?

I’d be in word heaven if it was my job to come up with all those product names. As the sign says: It’s cool to be hot!

Apart from a few men in black trying to look mean, the mood on the streets was festive. Real food events seem to lift everyone’s spirits; helped along by a rocking good jazz band and imbibation of local ales.








My debut into the World Watercress Soup Championship was Watercress and Wild Garlic (discovered in my local woodland), sadly not a winning combo. The winning soup for the traditional recipe was made with shallots and the winner of the speciality soup, called Soupe Henri Louis so named after the glug of Pernod that went into it. Congratulations to both winners! I had to say that didn’t I?

Sophie Grigson was out on the street cooking up interest on the many ways with watercress. I managed to get a taste of the Watercress and Onion Bhajee with fresh watercress coconut chutney as it went round. It was amazing, I’ll be trying that at home, more on than later.

That’s Sophie on the left, behind the smoke and mirrors doing a great job entertaining us with her food stories.

It was a grand day out!



World Watercress Soup Championship

The World Watercress Soup Championship is happening less than twenty miles away in the small Hampshire market town of Alresford on Sunday, 20 May 2012.

I’m on it, making soup and waking up in the middle of the night dreaming soup! Blame it all on the bunch of watercress in my salad box this week as a change from the veg box. I’ve ignored this Oh so good for you semi aquatic vegetable for many years for no particular reason. The Victorians believed watercress to be a cure for all sorts of ailments, even freckles, boy oh boy, wish I’d known that when I was twelve. Now it’s back on the menu I could be eating a lot more of it . . . found some great recipe ideas here.

There are two competition categories: best variant on the classic recipe and best speciality version. Had a go at a tried and tested recipe I’ve used before which is so simple and very delicious. Watercress takes on a sweetness of its own accord with an onion and a potato.

Take: 1 small chopped onion, 100g watercress, 1 medium potato diced, olive oil, 500ml vegetable stock, crème fraîche, seasoning

Heat olive oil, sauté onion until translucent, add potato, sweat gently for 2 mins. Add vegetable stock and simmer until potato cooked. Remove from heat, add watercress, stir. If you do it this way round it keeps the brightness of the watercress green and less cooking time is better for holding on to all the goodness. Put soup into food processor and wiz until potato is blended. I like to see and taste bits of green in my soup but some prefer to blitz until the whole thing has turned Kermit green and then stir in a white circle of cream, or crème fraîche for the finishing touch.

I’ve discovered a lot that’s really special about this unassuming plant like where and how it grows in Hampshire (and Dorset); fed by gentle chalk streams providing mineral rich spring water. Can’t think of a nicer place to be; hanging out with the otters and looking for fresh water trout. The watercress farmers are working together to make sure their practices support wildlife and the proof is: otters are back!  Meanwhile downtown in Alresford, a different kind of wildlife will be out on the streets, it’s going to be hectic, 15,000 people could turn up for the festival which celebrates the start of National Watercress Week. I know where I’d rather be but for the sake of soup I’ll be there!

Every Living Thing

In between showers this bank holiday weekend I moved the veg plants into their new homes: the Wall Patch (raised bed), the Salad Basket (trendy hazel wood patio container bought in a sale), overflow of potatoes (Amorosa x 2) tastefully planted in a flower bed alongside the Wall Patch and resembling a burial mound for a departed pet, complete with marker. There is also a Berry Bed (work in progress) for three flavours of currants awaiting a transplant. Note to self: don’t take on too much if as I have discovered you are a fair weather gardener or else put on the wet weather gear and get over it. As for the tomato plants and herbs they are all enjoying more space in the cool cupboard while I come up with an alternative address.

During showers I took to the sofa and carried on reading about a missionary who drags his family off to the African Congo in 1959, intent on taming every living thing:

‘But my father needs permission only from the Saviour who obviously is all in favour of subduing the untamed wilderness for a garden. He beat down a square of tall grass and wild pink flowers . . . and he began to rip out long handfuls of grass in quick energetic jerks as though tearing hair out of the world . . . to hack out a square dominion over the jungle, surely and soon to have tomatoes and beans coming out our ears.’

Well he didn’t get those things coming out of his ears instead it all ended in tears and a lot of things dying.

And I am trying to do the same, without the violence against nature, reading books (not all novels), reading the notes that came with my seedlings and searching the internet. George Monbiot (vegetable evangelist and nuisance to the government) has lots of good advice: keep compost heap hidden at least 10 feet away from your veg or every living thing in the garden will come and help themselves to your food. And why wouldn’t they?

Learning by doing is my preferred method of going about things but a plan is good and taking time to get organised could pay off quicker than jumping in.

So here’s my plan for the Wall Patch and one for the Salad Basket.


This is how it looks on the ground and the plan was made after planting (courgettes on the left, broad beans on the right) because that’s the way round I discovered the free trial for planning on the Veg Grow website.

I like the way it provides a space to hold the whole project all together and I can see at a glance order out of chaos, meaning all my scribbled notes and good intentions are now in one place. It’s free for a month and then £15 annual subscription if I decide to go with it.

Party Food

To celebrate my mum’s 80th birthday we baked a Betty Crocker Devil’s Food cake. I resisted the urge to add a vegetable and decided to follow the instructions on the packet for once. We were not disappointed it turned out grand as did the rest of the celebrations!

My daughter added the finishing touches with an American style frosting made up with butter, cocoa powder, cream cheese and icing sugar.

Before cake, of course, we feasted on Far Eastern Pie, a favourite recipe from Josceline Dimbleby’s recipe book: Marvelous Meals with Mince circa 1982 (2012 edition now available). It combines warmth, spice, meat, spinach under a creamy, crunchy coconut topping, you have to taste it to believe how moreish it is.

Take: 675g beef mince, 4 garlic gloves, 5cm piece of ginger, 3 tsp ground coriander, 2 tsp cinnamon, 1 tsp turmeric, 1 tsp chilli powder or fresh chillies, half lemon juice, 40g ground rice (rice flour), 900ml milk, 75g desiccated coconut, 50g butter, 450g fresh spinach. Serves 6

Preheat oven Gas 5, 190C. Simmer coconut in milk 5 mins, set aside. Wilt spinach in boiled salted water 1 minute, drain, set aside. Melt butter and add spices, stir to mix in, add chopped garlic and ginger, after 1 minute add mince, break up over low heat until brown. Add spinach and lemon juice. Remove from heat and place in a shallow ovenproof dish.

Make the topping: strain the coconut, separate the milk and heat in a saucepan until simmering add rice flour, stir and let it thicken. Season, add a pinch of chilli powder. Spread over the mince and spinach. Melt butter and add drained coconut. When the coconut has absorbed all the butter spread evenly over the meat mixture. Bake for 40 minutes until top is browned and crispy.

It went down very well with a green salad and a few glasses of sparkling wine. Followed by a photo call after lunch with the grand daughters and Robbie who decided to get in on the act. Happy Birthday to the Lady in Red xx

Rabi, it’s Kohl Outside

I’m staring at the weird and wonderful kohlrabi and wondering what on earth am I going to do with it.





And then I hear this little voice, ‘Baby, it’s cold outside, you know what you really, really want is a big bowl of hot steamy tomato soup straight out of a Campbell’s tin with several slices of thick white chunky bread slathered in butter’.

At moments like this I have to turn away and consult the Oracle. Third up on Google: Hugh Fernleaf Whittingstall, Hugh calls it a ‘vegetable sputnik’ but is a fan and turned his into a good looking Carpaccio (clock that for next time). Checking Riverford’s farm cook book sparked the idea of turning mine into an English variation of Som Tam aka Thai Green Papaya Salad.

Me_Thai Cookery SchoolI thrived on Som Tam during the three months I lived as a volunteer in Pakkred, just north of Bangkok. The local food vendors at the end of the road where we bought our dinners most nights could tell how long us ‘falangs’ (foreigners) had been in Thailand by the number of chillies we could handle in our Som Tam. Starting with one on the first week, you knew you were fully acclimatised the day you could hold up three fingers and ask for the equivalent number of chillies. Like many Thai dishes, Som Tam combines sweet, salty, spicy (hot) and sour ingredients all of which help to regulate the body’s temperature in a tropical climate.

With a leap of imagination I’m sure my improv version will increase body temperature without going comatose for the rest of the day as I would flat out on white bread and tinned soup.

Take: 1 kohlrabi, 2 carrots, 1 garlic clove, juice of 1 lime, 1 tbsp fish sauce, 2 tsp chilli jam, 1 tbsp crunchy peanut butter, coriander leaves

Peel the kohlrabi and cut into thin strips. Coarse grate the carrots. I started to grate the kohlrabi but it collapsed into a soggy mess.

What I’m after is a good crunchy texture like green papaya. The kohlrabi is a hybrid veg somewhere between a turnip and a cabbage stalk (how appealing does that sound?). But don’t be put off I think this is a FAB veg, very versatile and I like its clean taste. It works with this recipe because it takes on all the delicious flavours. It can be whatever you want it to be, that’s its secret.

Som Tam contains chopped roasted peanuts, instead I used a good quality crunchy peanut butter and mixed it with fresh lime juice and Thai fish sauce (Blue Elephant brand). I added finely chopped garlic and 2 tsp of home made chilli jam (very sweet so no sugar needed). Otherwise add chopped chillies (up to you how many) and a tspn of soft brown sugar. (Small chopped tomatoes and dried shrimps are usual in this recipe but not today.)

Good idea to mix chilli jam, peanut butter, lime juice and fish sauce together in a separate bowl and taste so you can adjust the flavour to how you like it before mixing it into the veg. Fish sauce is very salty, no extra seasoning required. Mix all the ingredients together with salad servers and it’s ready. I finished mine off with a few leaves from my Vietnamese coriander plant. Very satisfying to make and even more satisfying to eat!

Last word: Apparently kohl is German for cabbage and rabi means turnip. This veg crops up all over the place especially in Eastern Europe, Asia and in some parts, cattle are rather partial to eating it. Looking forward to eating my home grown variety: Azur Star in a couple of months.