I wandered around this morning with my daughter, we found several crab apple trees growing wild, in a couple of different locations.

Between us we picked a bowl full of crab apples.

We took them home, removed the stalks and cut the bases off of them.

We cut them all in half and then added them to a large saucepan.

Here is how to make the Crab Apple Jelly:

1/ Cover the crab apples in water. Add water until it reaches the top of the apples in the pan.

2/ simmer them in the pan for about 30 to 40 minutes. Mushing them up occasionally with a potato masher.

3/ Drain the apples into a bowl through several sheets of muslin, for several hour or even overnight. Do not squeeze or the jelly will be cloudy.

4/ Measure the liquid/ juice that you manage to obtain and then add 7 parts sugar to 10 parts juice.

5/A the juice of a lemon.

6/ Place the lot in a pan and then bring it up to a rolling boil.

7/ Boil for around 30-40 minutes, removing the scum that forms at the top regularly. If you don't remove the scum, the jelly will be cloudy.

8/ After about 30-40 minutes. Dip a spoon in and then place the spoon in a cool place. If the liquid sets on the spoon, it is ready.

9/Pour the liquid into a clean sterilised jar and place it in the fridge to set.

10/Try on toast instead of jam, it's delicious.

You can strain the pulp through a fine sieve, if you don't mind the Jelly being cloudy. It makes the process quicker.

Ingredients:

Crab Apples

A Lemon (juiced)

Sugar

Water

It tastes great on toast. I think that it will go well with pork, lamb or venison.

As soon as I put the gun down on another wildfowling season my thoughts turn towards the sport that bridges the gap and keeps me in wild places, catching truly wild things… sea trout.

These fish start life as humble brown trout but a migratory gene makes its presence felt after a couple of years and, turning blue-silver, some of these small fish head out feed in the estuaries and littoral areas of our coastline on sandeels, small fish and prawns.

They return in late spring and throughout the summer and unlike salmon, they’ll return year-on-year – getting bigger with each passing season – most salmon only get the one opportunity to breed and nearly all die in the process.

Like salmon, sea trout rarely feed once back in fresh water – which makes fishing for them seem a somewhat daft exercise. And they are the shyest of creatures, hiding their often substantial frames in innocent looking pools and in the smallest of rivers. Probably at one of the extreme ends of fly-fishing your sea trout fisherman is likely to be found waiting for dark before casting a line for them with a high sense of anticipation and equal measures of hope.

My river of choice is a small, unassuming and often overlooked gem that twists and gently meanders through a broad, lush valley in Devon.  Recent rain had pestered the region for the past fortnight and the river had just dropped and cleared enough to warrant a trip to try and catch an early season “silver tourist”.

I started as usual - obsessing about the weather, the moon, the tides and whether I have the fly in my bag that will tempt a fish into taking. The trip South has me day dreaming of the river, thinking about areas I want to cover with the flies and hoping I’ll have my favourite stretch to myself.

I arrived early, far too early to be honest, but I got the chance to wander downstream, cross a rickety bridge and settle myself on the bank overlooking a length that I know will have some fish moving at dusk. It’s a magical time, balanced between the nervous anticipation and just drinking in the surroundings – observing otters, herons, roe deer, mallard and egrets as they go about their business. I’ll set up my rods – one on a slow sinking line with two large fishy-looking flies and another on a floating line with a bushy surface lure to pull across the river in the dark. 

The sun sets behind the hills and slowly dusk creeps in – bats zip about the place, brown trout slash at a skittering sedge and then SPLA-DOOSH – the first sea trout makes its presence known 50 metres away. It doesn’t help matters, nor the other couple of fish that boil at the surface whilst I’m waiting – desperately wanting to make a cast but I won’t start until I can’t see the green of the grass on the far bank.

It’s gone 10pm and I can’t wait any longer. Picking up my rod I headed upstream, let out some line and start casting to the nooks and crannies between the reeds and bushes on the far bank. Each cast brings a heightened sense of expectation, anticipating the sudden and savage pull of a fish renowned to be the hardest fighting in British waters. I slowly move down the stretch, casting, gently retrieving the line and trying to be as accurate as I can as it gets evermore dark.

Passing behind a fallen alder I’m now “in the zone”, casting nicely and hearing fish jump every 15 mins or so above and below me. 10pm becomes 11pm becomes midnight ever so quickly as I slowly moved downstream. Then, at 12:30am, that long anticipated surge of life yanks me out of my thoughts and I lift into a decent fish that jumps, runs and strips line off the reel with alarming ease. I need to get control of the situation but the fish is having none of it – powerful runs and dogged spells of head shaking below the surface I’m now almost praying for it to stay on. Gradually I get into the game and can start to control him with the rod held high and line kept taut. 5 mins or so passes and eventually he comes to the surface on his side, I unhook the net and lean down to scoop him up and on to the bank… “My fish!” I call to the world at large and turn my back to the river to admire the prize from all this effort and concentration. He is a good fish, not huge but long, powerfully built and gleaming like a bar of chrome in the torchlight. I check he’s not a salmon (they’re protected here) before dispatching him and putting him in the bag. 

The pressure’s off, I’m calmer but more determined to get a second before I have to leave at 1am. Sure enough the fish have obviously switched on for a short period and it’s only a few casts and ten short minutes later when I get that second addictive take from a slightly larger fish that also gives me the run- around before coming to the net, this one fresh in from the sea within the last 48 hours as he still has sea lice on his gleaming flanks.

Time to pat myself on the back, neck a quick coffee and then head back to the car for the long trip home, beaming to myself with a sense of satisfaction that it all came together once again and wondering when I might next be able to slip away to put myself through that wonderful ordeal again.

The road leading upto Wickwar from the South has the largest quantity of Horseradish that I have ever seen. The road is lined with Horseradish for about 1/2 mile leading upto Wickwar Village.

Whilst out walking the dog this morning I came across a mass of wild horseradish plants growing at the edge of the road.

I dug up a few roots and went home to make some fresh wild horseradish sauce.

I cleaned the roots. Scraped off the skin with a knife. Chopped the horseradish root into slices and blended it with creme fraiche, 1/2 teaspoon of English Mustsrd. 1/2 teaspoon of sugar, a small squeeze of lemon juice, a large pinch of sea salt and freshly ground black pepper.

It tastes amazing!

At 4 days old I placed my Miniture Appleyard ducklings into the chicken coup for a run around. It was a hot day, the coup has a very fine wire mesh and so I thought my baby ducklings would be perfectly safe for a short period. I was wrong - very sadly.

I watched the for around 15 minutes and they were running around happily, foraging for food and splashing in the shallow water bowl.

I went back to them about 20 minutes later only to find one had had the end of its beak smashed off and a hole in its head. It was heart wrenching and horrifying!

We can only think that it must have poked its tiny beak out of the fine wire mess and was attacked by one of our bantams.

The duckling was obviously in a lot of distress. It's beak was smashed and had a piece missing. It's head was also bleeding.

We carefully cleaned it up with cotton wool, Surgical Difenfectant (Hibisrub), diluted in hot water.

After drying we very carefully glue the broken pieces back together with super glue. Trying to ensure that we didn't glue it's nostril, tongue or beak together. Tiny drops of super glue, carefully placed onto the cracks. Each time holding the duckling still for a few minutes until the glue had dried. We then checked that it could open it's beak.

We then spayed the wounds with a special poultry disenfectant.

We repeated this the next day.

We kept it safely in the plastic brooder, changing it's water regularly, fed it crumbled meal worms and chick crumb.

For the first 2 days it was very subdued. It drank and fed but only small amounts.

At 8 days old, 4 days after the accident, it is now feeding, drinking and behaving normally.The beak seems to be healing.

We are so pleased with its progress. Fingers crossed!!!

This field in Stoke Park Estate, Bristol is absolutely stuffed with Common Sorrel. It's a great place to go if you want to try its beautiful lemon flavour. Pick a young leaf and chew it and you will get a big burst of lemon flavour in your mouth.

There are also a lot of Pignuts in this field. But rembember the Countryside & Wildlife Act 1981, states that it is illegal to uproot any wild plant without the land owners permission.

Over the summer the Burdock plant and it's giant leaves can be found. It has a giant edible root.

This can either be roasted or peeked and sautéed.

In this case I sautéed slices of the root in butter garlic and a small amour of curry paste.

This is a fantastic foraging treat.

The root is very deep and will require a spade to get the whole thing out.

A friends Sloe Gin Recipe. I do love Sloe Gin. I have also made Sloe Vodka and Brandy.

4lb ripe sloes, 900g caster sugar, 4 litres of gin. Put the sloes in a freezer bag and freeze for a day or two, this will burst the sloes and saves having to prick the skins.

Add the sloes to a large sterilised jar (Demi John) and add the sugar and gin. Seal, shake and leave in a dark place. Shake bottle every few days at first then a least every week. After minimum of 2 months, strain through muslin in to sterilised bottles.

Drink straight, serve on the rocks or add a splash of the sloe gin, to champagne!

Happy days!

INGREDIENTS

4 litres hot water

700g sugar

Juice and zest of four lemons

2 tablespoons white wine vinegar

About 15 elderflower heads, in full bloom

A pinch of dried yeast (you may not need this)

METHOD

How to make elderflower champagne

1. Put the hot water and sugar into a large container (a spotlessly clean bucket is good) and stir until the sugar dissolves, then top up with cold water so you have 6 litres of liquid in total.

2. Add the lemon juice and zest, the vinegar and the flower heads and stir gently.

3. Cover with clean muslin and leave to ferment in a cool, airy place for a couple of days. Take a look at the brew at this point, and if it's not becoming a little foamy and obviously beginning to ferment, add a pinch of yeast.

4. Leave the mixture to ferment, again covered with muslin, for a further four days. Strain the liquid through a sieve lined with muslin and decant into sterilised strong glass bottles with champagne stoppers (available from home-brewing suppliers) or Grolsch-style stoppers, or sterilized screw-top plastic bottles (a good deal of pressure can build up inside as the fermenting brew produces carbon dioxide, so strong bottles and seals are essential).

5. Seal and leave to ferment in the bottles for at least a week before serving, chilled. The champagne should keep in the bottles for several months. Store in a cool, dry place.