Garden Harvesting Through the Summer

Summer doesn’t simply arrive on a date on the calendar; it creeps in through the warming of the earth, it announces itself in the flush of early foliage, and it settles itself into a steady, rhythmic hum across the garden.

Despite this summer being particularly dry this year, with our lawns turned to crisp, the vegetable garden and polytunnel at Newsham have produced plentiful quantities of goodness for us to enjoy.

From the tender first picks in June to the heavy, sun-drenched baskets of August, harvesting through the summer is a craft of timing, restraint, and deep connection to the land.

The First Flush

Early summer harvesting demands agility. Growth is rapid, but yields are often light. It is a time of delicate flavours and vibrant, fresh energy on the plate.

With my dogs trailing behind me through the dewy grass, the early summer mornings belong to the salad greens – picked before the sun gains the strength to wilt their tender leaves.

There is nothing quite like a wicker trug filled with young spinach, peppery mustard greens, and butterhead lettuces – quickly put into the fridge whilst they are still cool and full of morning moisture.

Radishes pop, and my favourite way to serve them is alongside a homemade anchovy crema (Julius Roberts’ recipe is brilliant!). The rich umami of the crema cuts through the radishes’ sharp, peppery crunch, making it our go-to pre-dinner snack. 

Yet, I would gladly step over the salads and radishes to reach the sweetest gift in the garden; the first pods of sugar snap peas. Snapped fresh from the vine and eaten on the spot, they are devoured by children and adults alike. We are lucky if any make it back to the kitchen.

The Midsummer Glut

By mid-July, the energy in the garden shifts from quiet anticipation to full-blown abundance. The long days bring the heat, and with heat comes the relentless tide of summer gluts.

This is the season of the daily harvest. If you leave a courgette or broad bean on the plant for even a day too long, you’ll return to find an overgrown monster.

Broad beans are shelled from their plush velvet jackets by my young children’s hands, whilst runner beans begin their climb to top the canes. Inside the polytunnel, the warm air sills with the unmistakable, intoxicating scent of tomato foliage.

Harvesting in midsummer is hard, satisfying work. The baskets fill quickly, heavy with tomatoes ranging from deep purple to sunny yellow, glossy aubergines, and crisp cucumbers. It is when the connection between healthy soil and nourishing food is most vivid.

My personal favourite garden item – almost a byproduct of the season - is the abundance of courgette flowers. I pluck, stuff, batter and fry them for the ultimate indulgence. I fill the blossoms with a mixture of Katy’s White Lavender cheese from Shepherds Purse, fresh thyme, rosemary, sage, and generous crack of black pepper, then lightly batter and fry them until crispy. Finished with a heavy sprinkle sea salt, nothing beats it!

Late Summer Reflection

As we head into mid-August, the light across the Yorkshire countryside turns golden and long. The harvest loses its frantic morning rush and settles into a richer, heavier tempo.

Our focus gradually shifts to crops that have spent the entire season quietly gathering substance beneath the surface or under thick protective husks.

Sweetcorn is checked by peeling back the tip of the husk and pressing a kernel to see the milky sap burst, a sign it’s at peak sweetness. Wrapped in foil and cooked in embers, then covered in so much butter you are left licking sticking fingers.

Nearby, beetroot bursts from the soils, dense with sugar built up over months of summer light. Roasted and turned into salads, pink residue left on the kitchen counters. Meanwhile onions, squashes and pumpkins begin to turn the warm colours of autumn, prompting thoughts of drawing warmth indoors and cooing deep, earthy soups.

Summer in the garden has taught me to slow down and notice every subtle transition. It is a constant reminder that good food isn't manufactured; it's grown with patience, harvested with respect, and best shared around a full table…. Letty x