The secret to mastering strawberry ice cream

When I was first playing about with the recipe, the sun was shining. Every day was hotter than the last, and I found myself seeking out dishes that were cooling, that were fresh, and made me feel like I was on holiday. Looking ahead to when this recipe might go out I was fairly confident that it would hit the right note at the height of summer: July might have a damp day here and there, but overall, it seemed a relatively safe bet for days and nights of heat, the kind of time where there’s a sudden run on paddling pools, and ice cream becomes near medicinal. But as I write this, August is letting me down. The early summer spells have vanished and it is looking distinctly autumnal outside the window. My neighbour has just run past the window in a raincoat. The sky is so dark that we had to put on the big light at 3pm. I’m considering making soup.

But while it may not look terribly summery outside, you wouldn’t know it from my strawberry pot. I’ve never really grown fruit or veg before, beyond an apple tree in the garden that I didn’t plant. Last year, we half-heartedly tried to coax some bits and bobs out of the garden with little success. This year – with more time on our hands – we went in with a little more planning, and renewed hope. It’s made me appreciate my little patch of grass, and slightly wonky raised beds; it’s made me grateful for the showers, looking outside and sagely saying, ‘well, at least the plants will be happy!’. And I find that I don’t even mind braving the rain to pull the little strawbs from my pot, and gather them damply in my kitchen. And if I churn them into an ice cream, the flavour, and the memories that go with it, can almost convince me I’m sitting somewhere warm and sunny, rather than tracking the raindrops down my window.