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FOR some, it’s that first taste of British asparagus, sliced from the crown mere hours before, swiftly steamed and lavished with butter. The very quintessence of late spring. For others, roast grouse, sweet and heather-scented, a sign that summer’s fading and autumn’s marching in. Or native oysters, at the start of September, back after a four-month break. That’s the joy of British seasonal eating—food devoured at its peak.
Once its time is over, it exits, stage right, to be replaced by something new. The sadness of parting is soothed by the knowledge that it will return again next year, as it always does. The eternal consolation of continuity. Sure, in this modern, global age, we can eat strawberries at Christmas, blackberries in spring and tomatoes on the chilliest of February days. If that’s what you want to do, then fine —dogma and finger wagging should have no place when it comes to eating.
この記事は Country Life UK の December 29, 2021 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
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この記事は Country Life UK の December 29, 2021 版に掲載されています。
7 日間の Magzter GOLD 無料トライアルを開始して、何千もの厳選されたプレミアム ストーリー、9,000 以上の雑誌や新聞にアクセスしてください。
すでに購読者です? サインイン
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