06 Aug 2025
Elena Hogg, founder of local culinary company FOOD by Elena, explores the delights of plums, greengages and gooseberries…
A month ago I wrote about the apricots that my husband’s beloved tree yielded.
Now, it is the turn of our plum tree. What a fabulous time of year this is, both for fruity deliciousness and, well, keeping regular, as it were.
The plum is actually a dual tree, which means two species are grafted together and intertwine. As a result, two kinds of plum grow from the same boughs and that feels like the ultimate in plummy decadence.
One type of plum is purple-ish and isn’t quite ready for picking yet. Its twin, however, has gifted us greengages: pale green, brimming with juice and honeyed in flavour.
These delicious orbs never made it into any dish or recipe, because they were almost too ripe to be cooked, if that makes sense.
Slightly firmer fruits that are not quite at bursting-point with juice are actually better for cooking with, which meant the greengages’ destiny was to be eaten minutes after picking in one gleeful gobble.
There is, however, a row of cherry-plum trees (which aren’t owned by anyone) near where I take my daughter for her swimming lessons. We probably looked quite the sight: my daughter, sporting just a towelling robe, on my shoulders reaching for the higher-up plums and dropping them into the shopping bag I was holding with one hand while the other clasped her shin in an attempt at steadying her. Needless to say, many plums missed the shopping bag.
We still brought home a fair few: most sunshine yellow, but some bright red ones in there, too. There’s something deeply gratifying about a haul of fruit picked by the side of a lane. It somehow tastes even better.
When considering what recipes to make with the precious loot, I landed on something cheekily indulgent, but with a nod to health, too. Perfect for the beginning of the school summer holidays, when snacks are sought nigh on constantly, but when sugar levels need nonetheless to be managed. Enter the plum slice.
Other than a dribble of maple or agave syrup, and a little bit of coconut oil, this recipe contains only healthy things: oats, seeds, fruit and ground almonds. You could use other nuts by all means, but almonds stem from the genus ‘Prunus’ and therefore, botanically, are themselves a kind of stone fruit.
Take about 300g of plums (from your garden, a country lane or the shops), remove the stones and stew down gently for 10 minutes in a pan, adding some maple or agave syrup depending on how sweet your fruit is. Meanwhile, tip about 120g of ground almonds (or other nuts) into a food processor, add 200g of rolled oats and maybe 50g of seeds (pumpkin, sunflower, flax – whatever you prefer).
Process along with a drizzle of syrup, a couple of tablespoons of coconut oil (or sunflower, but the nuttiness of coconut oil is ideal if you have it) and any other flavours you might like to add, such as a drop of vanilla or some cinnamon. A little (or large) pinch of salt is my guilty addition – not healthy but really brings out the sweetness.
Press the contents of the food processor into a lined tin. Spread your stewed plums on top, then sprinkle over some more seeds, nuts and oats. Bake in the oven at 180 degrees fan for about twenty-five minutes and cool, then slice and enjoy.
Before I leave you, I must mention our gooseberry bushes, which each year deliver a few punnets-worth of fruit. One of them is particularly intriguing because the gooseberries are a purple variety instead of the typical green. It’s a little like we’ve grown grapes instead of gooseberries, what with the similar size and colour. Even the feel of the breaking skin as you crunch down is similar to grapes.
Surely the flavour would be different, though? Gooseberries are sharp and astringent, after all. But no – these little beauties are treacly-sweet and quite unlike any gooseberry I’ve ever had. Perhaps one year, they’ll hang around long enough for me to bury them in a crumble, but so far, the only restraint we’ve mustered beyond cramming them into our salivating mouths is to eat them with yoghurt and oats for a lazy Sunday breakfast. Quite how the gooseberry became a term for ‘unwanted or unnecessary addition’ is a mystery to me. I can’t get enough of them.
