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INTRODUCTION

The rolling hills of Cumbria might not seem the obvious place for a city boy from Southampton to settle down, and once I thought so too, but now, sixteen years after setting up my restaurants and farm at Cartmel, I feel totally at home there. It is a place that has allowed me to fulfil my dreams, and to create the sort of food I have always wanted to, using ingredients produced to my specifications.

My passion for cooking began as a child, and by my teens I was working in the kitchens of some of the best restaurants in the world for the finest, most inspirational chefs. I was lucky to get such a fantastic training, but the basis of my cooking is not just about the combination of flavours, textures and colours on the plate; what matters most is the origins of the foods I am using. While working in other chefs’ kitchens I always knew that what I really wanted was to cook my way, using the freshest, most seasonal ingredients that I could find, whose provenance I knew.

Opening my own restaurant was, of course, my ultimate goal, but for me the vision didn’t end there. With taste and flavour at the forefront of my mind, my main aim then, as it is now, was to have a restaurant that used foodstuffs from its own world-leading, natural and sustainable growing operation. What I’d been dreaming of for so long was an organic farm designed by chefs, run by chefs for chefs.

My food philosophy has always been about connecting the restaurant and the food we serve to the local area and the seasons, but this also goes deeper. I believe, whether we are cooking at home or in a professional kitchen, we can’t truly understand our food if we don’t know where it has come from. The origins of our ingredients is crucial, not just for our enjoyment of it and our health, but also for the sake of our planet. We need to do more to protect the Earth; we are on the verge of a climate disaster and if we don’t make changes fast, gastronomy will not be sustainable, and may not even exist as we know it today. It’s not all doom and gloom, though; rather than be overwhelmed by anxiety over climate change, we should see this as the time to adopt a new approach, to create a positive future for the generations to come.

The way we eat now has shifted more in the last five years than in the last 10,000; we were once such simple creatures, working with the seasons and taking only what we needed from the land, but with the quest for cheap food and high profits we have created a world where any ingredient is available all of the time.

In the supermarkets, there are no seasons – you can buy tomatoes year round which are grown on the other side of the world, picked when green and ripened using ethylene gas. What you get looks like a tomato, but really it is just an idea of a tomato, lacking the flavours, textures and colours of the home-grown product.

This isn’t only true of the foods that are imported from around the globe; the majority of non-organic locally sourced vegetables you find in supermarkets are grown ‘conventionally’ – meaning they have been sprayed with seriously dangerous, toxic chemicals to ensure ‘perfect’ blemish-free crops and high yields. Chemical pesticides, herbicides and fertilisers are big business, and many farmers are wholly reliant on them. Thus the majority of commercial vegetables are actually bad for our health. To me, this just isn’t right.

This food revolution shouldn’t just be confined to fruit and vegetables, it is also relevant to the vitally important question of how we rear livestock. Fundamentally, although I do eat meat and would never call myself a vegetarian, I think we should eat less meat and try to change our mindsets so that meat and fish don’t dominate the plate. I cook meat in the restaurants, but often only as the protein element of a dish, which plays a supporting role to fresh vegetables and herbs.

I’m not anti-animal husbandry per se, but the commercial farming of livestock has a huge impact on both the environment and the health and happiness of the animals themselves, which in turn has an effect on the flavour of the meat produced. Most of the processed foods that we consume every single day have a connection to chemically produced corn, wheat and soy bean fields, and these three commodities are also fed en masse to the world’s cattle population.

Cows are not designed to eat these products, they are designed to eat grass and forage from woodlands, but instead they are pumped full of dangerous grains to fatten and finish them very quickly, then topped up with hormones and antibiotics to cope with the stress of such an unnatural diet. We are effectively producing meat that is damaging to our health.

Feeding these animals in this way has a very clear impact on the planet, as a staggering 45 per cent of the world’s land mass has been cleared for animal agriculture and to cultivate the grains to feed them. Producing meat and dairy products also puts pressure on water supplies – animals consume 30 per cent of the world’s water (humans consume 19.6 billion litres of water and 9.5 billion kg of food per day, cows 170.3 billion litres of water and 61.3 billion kg of food per day) and are fed water-intensive grains. In addition, waste and fertiliser run-off is the leading cause of water pollution and ocean dead zones, destroying habitats and causing species extinction on land and in waterways.

And the impact of commercially rearing livestock doesn’t end there. Raising cattle in intensive systems produces more greenhouse gases than the world’s transportation system combined. Livestock produce methane, which is 86 times more destructive than carbon dioxide emissions from vehicles. Animal agriculture produces both of these gases, along with nitrous oxide, which accounts for 51 per cent of ‘human-caused’ climate change.

To me, none of this makes sense. Nature provides such abundance when it is nurtured and respected, and in these days of overconsumption on a global scale, I believe we need to step back and appreciate what our local area offers us. And now is the time to make those major changes that are needed within our food system.

This wider environmental context was, and still is, very much a part of my vision and approach to food. As with everything we cook, I need to know that it has been produced in an environmentally sensitive way. If we purchase ingredients from outside of the farm, I want to know their history, and that they have been produced in a sustainable, organic way.

So, at the start of the new millenium, frustrated at the way in which I was cooking, I started to actively search for suitable premises to open up my own restaurant. Originally I looked in the area around my home on the south coast, but after months of searching and visiting sites, I drew a blank – nothing was quite right. Then, suddenly, I got a phone call from an old friend, telling me about a site … in a village in Cumbria. Once I’d worked out where Cartmel actually was, and got my head round the fact that it was hundreds of miles from where I’d envisaged being based, I agreed to take a look.

Having been lured up north by the promise of an 800-year-old former smithy in a picturesque Cumbrian village, I left the south coast on a wet Friday morning and arrived at Cartmel that afternoon. The building, in the process of being converted into a restaurant, was tucked away in the corner of a sleepy, twelfth-century village famed for its medieval priory, the smallest horse-racing track in Britain and sticky toffee pudding, set amongst the rolling hills and valleys of the Lake District. Although it was in the process of renovation, I could see its potential. I had been sold a vision – and I bought it. Here was a restaurant that could be everything I dreamed of.

The original idea behind the restaurant, of course, was to be able to cultivate our own fruits and vegetables, so that we could then get these delicious, lovingly nurtured products from farm to plate in minutes, fresh from our own organic soil, rather than be dependent on suppliers shipping in produce from distant shores or across the length of the country.

So once the building had been acquired, stage two of the plan was finding an organic farm near the restaurant who could grow this for us. Being 100 per cent self-sufficient was not the intention – we knew the limitations of our abilities, being chefs, not farmers – but we wanted what we served to our guests to be locally produced and seasonal. The surrounding woodlands, the nearby coast, all the many local artisans – the cheese makers, farmers and brewers – meant that in the Lake District I could create a business that was just that, one that connected and worked in total harmony with its environment.

We worked with the farm for a while, before we had the opportunity to take over the land. Soon, though, we had outgrown the site and found ourselves needing more space – and to be closer to the restaurants. So in autumn 2011 we took possession of a huge, flat grazing field on the outskirts of Cartmel. It was ideal for our purposes; very fertile, located in the bottom of valley with a beck running alongside for natural irrigation, and sheltered from winds by trees and hedgerows.

It took a lot of time and back-breaking work to get the land into shape for what we needed – we had to source a lot of good-quality soil to improve what was there – but it was worth it, because it is such a vital part of what we do in all our restaurants. Our Farm, as it is called, works hard for us, providing us with what we need for the kitchens on a daily basis, but also enough to preserve for the out-of-season months as well as to experiment with.

We grow our own not just because we fundamentally believe in strengthening the link between produce, its development, the environment and what we eat, but from a chef’s perspective, working with fresh ingredients gives us ultimate control in the kitchen – we are able to enjoy the most diverse seasonal produce picked fresh for the plate.

And not only can we grow what we want, need and love, and be able to use it fresh when we need it, we also know that everything that comes into our kitchen has been grown naturally, free from chemical farming and without the carbon footprint that comes with imported goods.

The early days (make that early years!) were a steep learning curve, and we’re still learning – even now we spend a lot of time researching how other people manage their organic growing operations around the world, and we have a go at putting the best ideas into practice on our own land. Some work, some don’t; these are the vagaries of our soil and our location in a valley in the north of England, but we learn and we move on, designing our growing systems to reflect our beliefs about food and to serve the needs and demands of the restaurant. And that is the joy of having our land, as it allows us to experiment. When you are able to grow whatever you want, you can try different crops, which is how we have discovered some incredible new tastes, flavours and surprising combinations. My work often takes me to far-flung places around the world, where I love to wander through the markets, taking in the sights, smells and colours of interesting and exotic foods, and it’s even more fascinating to watch what the locals do with them. I often come back from these trips with seeds for these unusual plants, which I have a go at planting at home. While most of the stuff we grow is indigenous (and it’s indigenous for a reason, because that’s what grows best!), if we can get an exotic seedling to grow and flourish in our soil without the need for expensive and unnatural special attention such as lighting and heating, I’ll give it a go. The beauty is in knowing that I can take a rare herb, vegetable or fruit from anywhere in the world and try to grow it in Cumbria, then without any point of reference it becomes a new food experience for our guests. Apple marigold is one great example of this; originally from South America, we grow it at Our Farm because it brings something unique to our dishes both sweet and savoury, and because, despite its origins, it thrives in our climate.

So sometimes these seeds work out, sometimes they don’t. We don’t push it – over the years, amongst the successes there have been many failures, but that’s Nature letting us know that it just isn’t right for us. If it doesn’t work, we let it go. It goes against everything we believe in to provide enhanced conditions for the sake of growing something – we have polytunnels but they are not artificially heated, and we won’t bring in extra equipment for the sake of cultivating an exotic species.

We grow many varieties of vegetables, fruits, herbs, young plants and shoots, and they are all carefully chosen for maximum flavour and nutrient content.

We are always aware of new foods making their mark on the culinary scene, but we don’t follow fads – what we grow, we grow because it works for us. We won’t fall into line with a trend, or sacrifice our principle or ethos for any movement or accolade.

This is true for all our crops, and so perhaps intentionally and perhaps because of circumstance (our colder climate), we cultivate our crops slowly. However, although slow means lower yields than commercial growers, it does allow our crops to develop their flavours properly. We are not forcing plants to overproduce, we are attempting to get the best possible flavour from individual plants.

And perhaps this has been the most important lesson that we have learned over the years, that in order to get the amazing flavours we want on the plate and to nurture the best-quality ingredients, we must feed and respect the soil in which they are grown and work with nature. The best dishes have the best ingredients. It is an obsession of mine. Flavour is all-important. And that’s our ethos; it’s all about growing the perfect carrot rather than cooking it perfectly. Over my career I have used many of the fancy techniques or equipment that you find in many top restaurants, but since I have had access to the very best ingredients we can produce, my style of cuisine has become far simpler – both in method and execution. With the right ingredients, you don’t need lots of technology and gadgets to produce amazing food. It is this simplicity that is the keystone of my recipes, and the foundation of everything we serve in our restaurants.

These amazing shoots and herbs can be simply dressed in a light vinaigrette and served up having only been growing in the ground half an hour before. You can’t beat that freshness, that flavour, that message.

The success of our restaurants in Cartmel and London is the result of team effort. The land in the Lake District is called Our Farm because everyone who works with me has a stake in it. It is a vital cog in the business; every member of the team – whether in the kitchens or front of house – must spend one month on the land before they can work in the restaurant. Most chefs who join us have little or no experience with growing, and they can be a little overwhelmed at the sight of the rows and rows of beds and polytunnels, but once they’ve had this hands-on experience with the ingredients they have optimum respect for them and understand completely what they are working with. There’s no set pattern to what we grow, and this is reflected in our menu, so the chefs need this knowledge to be able to think on their feet and be able to combine flavours quickly and effectively. You can go up to the farm in the morning and then later in the afternoon and in that time a bunch of flowers will have opened up, ready to use. It is that violently seasonal – you have to be there four or five times a day before you can make a final decision because stuff just appears from nowhere, and to use it at its freshest you have to be there, on site, ready to pick it. You need to know every single millimetre of the land to know what is going on – and to be able to realise its potential. I’ll admit that at times this might seem a real pain to the chefs, and undeniably it means more work, but it is such a beautiful and simple concept.

Having the input from the chefs is also crucial because it means we can grow according to how they want to use the ingredients, cultivating leaves to the perfect size, nurturing live shoots in trays that can be delivered to the restaurant still in their soil ready to be snipped fresh for each plate. This is where growing our own is truly invaluable; because we mostly use micro veg – such as baby leaves, pencil leeks and tiny sweet radishes – we have the opportunity to produce bespoke ingredients for maximum flavour and texture.

We use vegetables at micro size not just because of the way they look on the plate, but also because at this point in their growth they are very small, delicate, perfectly textured and at their flavoursome peak.

As we grow our crops slowly, it is really important to use every corner of the site. The polytunnels and beds at Our Farm are hard-working; from spring through to early autumn every available inch of space is crammed with seedlings or plants – we even have pallets hanging from the tunnels’ struts in order to maximise growing space. These tunnels allow us to extend our growing season in a more natural way, to get a head start in spring and protect the plants from the British weather. If we need extra heat in the winter, we use the traditional method of using hot compost heaps to keep the roots of plants warm. In addition, we will place cloches, cold frames and hot beds around the site to keep the more tender plants warm in frosty conditions, and we have areas which are left untilled, to encourage the growth of edible wild plants, which we also harvest. The orchard beyond the beds is carefully planted not only to provide fruit, but to act as a natural windbreak against the wind that sometimes races through the valley.

Spring and summer are our key growing periods, when we need to get cracking to produce as much as possible. Often when we get to August we have so much stuff we can’t get it all on the menu, there’s no space for it all. Winter is the only time when the soil is visible and we can at last draw breath, after a long year the last of the crops are harvested in autumn and stored to supply the restaurant through the winter. This is when we go back to our roots, embracing good old-fashioned preserving techniques.

All the traditional methods are employed to prevent wastage from our summer excesses – pickling, drying, fermenting, smoking, freezing, clamping (storing root vegetables in boxes filled with sand). Many of these processes even enhance the flavours of our ingredients; clamping vegetables encourages the carbohydrates to turn to sugar, creating a tastier, sweeter veg, while pickling and preserving allows us to add other flavourings and produce a whole different taste.

Our crops work hard for us – we study each plant at every stage of its growth, discovering new ways of using different parts of even the simplest varieties. When you’ve taken all that time to grow and nurture a plant you want to use every part of it. What’s left over and can’t be used gets composted – along with vegetable waste, animal manure, charcoal from the wood-burning oven. What we take out of the land we must put back, in order to maintain our mutually beneficial and respectful relationship with it.

Here again we can control what goes back into our soil, as we know that we are not introducing any chemicals into our compost and therefore the earth, so we can ensure it is healthy.

To me, this sums up so much of what we are trying to achieve in Cartmel. Experimentation is so much a part of what we do in the restaurants and the test kitchen; we are constantly trying to innovate and push the boundaries of what we can achieve, using all our natural resources to create new dishes and combinations.

In the sixteen years that we having been growing and cooking in Cartmel, we have made improvements year on year, learning from every mistake and every success. Weather and pests permitting, we now know what grows well, what doesn’t, and how we can get the best from what we are growing. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop there; the size of the farm has tripled since we first started and we now have chickens, pigs, sheep and cattle grazing the land around the tunnels and in the orchard, to produce a closed system where the animal waste is returned to the land, completing the circle of nature. This year we have our bees to provide honey and bee pollen – not to mention the benefits to our plants to have pollinators on site and doing our bit to help a dwindling bee population in this country.

For us, growing and rearing our own means being responsible for our levels of consumption – using what we have and not demanding more – and making best use of our natural resources.

We are proud of the unique way in which we stock our restaurants, and we are delighted to be at the forefront of a movement where chefs either produce their own ingredients or seek out local farmers to do it for them, with an awareness of the provenance of the food they are serving and a passion for their ingredients.

In the spirit of spreading the message and sharing our passion, this book was born. This isn’t a L’Enclume cookbook; you won’t find in these pages the recipes for some of the more complex dishes that we serve there, but these are variations of many favourites from our menu that have the essence of the flavours of our food. It isn’t an everyday cookbook, the recipes here are perhaps best used for inspiration and ideas for trying out new and exciting combinations, flavours and ingredients.

Of course, my cooking tends to use some more unusual ingredients or varieties because I’m lucky enough to be able to grow, source or forage for them in my local area. I know that some of these are hard to find for many, particularly if you are based in a city, so the recipes here mostly include ingredients that you can get hold of without too much trouble. Not everyone has access to woodlands on the doorstep for foraging in, coastal fish markets or 12 acres of land, I know, but we do all have access to good local markets and suppliers where we can buy organic fruit and vegetables, or meat, poultry or fish, knowing its provenance, and even local cheeses.

My journey from Southampton to Cartmel has been a long, and at times agonising one, but I would do it all again. For me, and the chefs who work with me, the idea of seasonality and fresh ingredients isn’t a gimmick, it’s our passion, it underlies everything we do. I am fortunate to have a restaurant and a team who have helped me to achieve great accolades in the culinary world, but I would cheerfully sacrifice any of these to uphold my principles about food production and the environment. It matters. It is our responsibility to future generations to nurture what we have now, and to leave them that legacy.

With this book I hope to share with you another way to eat – our way to eat – which will inspire you to demand more from your food. Think seasonal, think local, think organic, and if all else fails, think about the origins of your ingredients.