It may be futile to publish a recipe calling for damsons and green tomatoes so late in the season, but I had to give the chutney a couple of weeks to settle-down to see if the flavour was what I was looking for.  It's still a question of faith as it won't really be ready until Christmas, but I'm now pretty certain that this is a winner!

When it comes to spices for chutney, I think it's a personal choice.  I prefer to put all the spices into a spice bag (or tied in a piece of muslin) rather than leave them in the chutney - when left in they can continue to exert their influence the longer the pickle is kept (dried chilli in particular).  I'm leaving the fresh ginger in, however.

The base recipe is taken from The River Cottage Cookbook and is - shock horror - in metric.  Really, as a thirty-something man, I really should do everything in metric but I can't bring myself to do it.  Anyway, that aside, the essence of the River Cottage recipe is really quantities of fruit/veg to dried fruit, sugar and vinegar.  Once you've got all that sorted, you can use whatever you have a surplus of...

This is a time-consuming recipe - you need to set aside the whole afternoon to make it.  Don't be tempted to chop the vegetables with a machine, or you'll end-up with something way too smooth.  Dice the vegetables by hand to around 5mm cubes.  This will, of course, take ages, so just put on some good music, sharpen your knife and relax!  Soon, your house will be filled with a delicate chutney aroma...

Damson & Green Tomato Chutney
(Makes 5-7 1lb jars) 

Spice Bag:
1tsp black peppercorns
1tsp coriander seeds
1/2 tsp fennel seeds
1 star anise
1/2 tsp crushed dried chilli
12 cloves

5cm Ginger, finely diced
500g Damsons
500g Courgette - diced
1kg Green Tomatoes - diced
500g Cooking apple - peeled and diced
500g Onion - diced
500g Sultanas
500g Soft light brown sugar
600ml White wine vinegar

Put all the ingredients in a large non-reactive pan and bring slowly to a simmer.  Simmer for around two hours, stirring occasionally and removing any damson stones when they float to the surface.  The chutney is cooked when it's rich and thick and when you draw the spoon through it, you can see the bottom of the pan.

Pot into sterelised jars and hide away somewhere dark for at least two months...

Best served with a proper strong cheddar cheese... or maybe a little cold roast pork...

As ever, it's not what you know but who you know...  On holiday recently in the Scottish Borders, we were introduced to a very nice chap who just happens to own a whopping great shooting estate in the Lammemuir Hills.  And, being the very nice chap that he is, he gave us a brace of grouse for our tea.  And suggested we ransack his garden for some appropriate vegetables.  As I say, a very nice chap.

Grouse is a rare thing this far south of the border and I'd never had the chance to cook it before, so armed with the limited tools of a self-catering cottage, I set to.  First, pluck and draw your grouse.  Probably best done in the garden to avoid the ire of both wife and landlord.  Once all done it's cooking time. 

Traditionally, grouse would be served roasted on its own toast with bread sauce, game chips and a good rich gravy.  I decided that the Co-Op Sliced Wholemeal wouldn't do for either the toast or the bread sauce and I burnt my game chips to a cinder.  A good gravy I did manage, particularly given that I had some chicken stock in the fridge and the trimmings and giblets from the grouse.

I'm not sure if it's a romantic affectation, but I always thing that grouse has a tiny taste of heather about it.  Not surprising, really, given that pretty much all it eats is the tiny young shoots of heather.  Either way, I don't think it needs much more in the way of flavour other than a little seasoning and a touch of smokiness from the obligatory bacon.

Stick a knob of butter in the cavity of the grouse and season inside and out.  Each grouse should be covered with a couple of rashers of bacon and roast in a hot oven (200-220°C) for about 20 minutes - until the bacon is cooked.  It's as simple as that.  Allow it to rest for 10 minutes and ensure any drippings from the pan and any juices that escape while resting go into the gravy.

It is with a heavy heart - though little surprise - that I read of Keith Floyd's demise this morning.  Throughout the '80s and early '90s his TV cooking programmes redefined the format.  No longer tied to a studio kitchen, Floyd and his production team took cooking out on the road (or sea or air or... anywhere really).  Part travelogue, part cooking show, part pure entertainment, the Floyd series got me into the kitchen at an early age.

While the obituaries are bound to focus on his four failed marriages and his drinking, the one thing that stands out for me is his passion for food and cooking.  Sure, there was a glass of wine on hand in all of his 'sketches' as he used to call them, but it was the food he was telling us about.  TV cooking hasn't been the same since he stopped making programmes but his style and legacy have influenced almost every cooking show since.

Rest well, Mr Floyd, I admired you.  And thanks for the entertainment.