Tag: spring recipes

Cheese and Wild Garlic Scones

Cheese and wild garlic scones

rebecca@chateaudelaruche.com March 27, 2026 No Comments

I know spring is really here when the emerald green spears of wild garlic start to push their way through the earth in the woods. Their flat, pointed leaves appear…

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The air is soft again, all daffodils and violets w

The air is soft again, all daffodils and violets with a base note of wild cherry blossom catching on the breeze. A shift in seasons that happened between one day and the next, the woodsmoke and mineral metal scent of winter chased away by a sweet south easterly.

The clouds are gone too and the bright light of the earliest of spring days is reaching into every corner, twisting through the bare branches of the trees, coaxing life out of every dip and hollow. Celandines sparkle everywhere, strewn through the grass in the orchard and between the ground ivy in the woods. Flowers are all over, even in the shadiest corners where the summer sun doesn’t reach.

We turn our faces to the sun, breathe in the sweetness of the breeze, smell the shuffling of the seasons, throwing open the windows to let springtime turn out winter. Mindful all the time though that it’s still early, that winter might be waiting in the wings with a little bitterness yet to come.

What a boost, even if it’s momentary, this break from the cold and the wet, to feel the warmth of the sun on our skin and the promise of the longer brighter days to come.

I watch for their pale jade shoots in December, lo

I watch for their pale jade shoots in December, look for them pushing their way through the velvety brown leaf litter of the woodland floor. Each week they grow a little taller, leaping up a little faster with the tug of the full moon, until in early January the first white bud appears.

They stand tall at first, the snowdrops, starched and serious, a little uptight. But as the winter sunshine reaches through the trees, coaxing them outwards, they unfurl, dipping their heads shyly, their petals splaying to reveal their tiny bell shaped hearts, tipped with green.

I can see them from the house, a white gleam in the woods, shining out in the gloom of the dull February days, shivering and shimmering as a the prevailing westerly sweeps through the trees.

The snowdrops are always the first flowers in the garden, each one a promise that spring is on the way. The generous swathes of them planted by a long ago gardener, a message sent from one time to another, that even in the darkest days of winter there’s something beautiful to look for.

They’re getting tatty now, the fragile petals wearing thin in the wind, seed pods forming, their time coming to an end. In a few more weeks they’ll be gone for another year and spring will truly be on its way, the brighter colours of celandines and daffodils rushing in to take their place.

I make sure I walk through their path every day. Making the most of them lining my route while they’re here, thanking them for brightening up the winter in their own quiet way.

Last year we welcomed 358 guests during our summer

Last year we welcomed 358 guests during our summer season. A few less than the year before, but everyone stayed with us for longer each time, which we loved.

We set the breakfast tables 168 times, served 785 breakfasts, made 325 pots of tea and 489 cups of coffee. We bought 522 baguettes and 1470 croissants, fresh every day from our lovely local bakeries.

Throughout the summer we made 378 home cooked evening meals and 203 grazing boards. Tim poured 421 house cocktails and pulled the corks on 158 bottles of wine.

Rebecca baked over 600 brownies and made 30 batches of granola, getting through 12kg of oats, 450g cinnamon and almost 4 litres of honey over the summer.

We grew thousands of flowers in the cutting garden, harvesting enough home grown stems each week to fill the vases 960 times, filling the house with fresh flowers twice a week. Rebecca taught her very first floral workshop, sharing her cutting garden and love of flowers with the loveliest bunch of ladies.

We averaged 15,000 steps a day, getting up with the sun and working until late into the evening looking after our guests seven days a week.

We’re gearing up to do the same again this summer. We’ll be opening the doors on 24th April 2026 - are you coming to stay?

The first flakes started to fall yesterday afterno

The first flakes started to fall yesterday afternoon, gathering on the ice cold ground, prepared by a week of sharp frosts and icy nights.

At dusk the snow began to cluster on the branches of the trees, weighing them down with a cloak of white. Cats began to slope into the house, draping themselves over radiators and curling up by the fire.

We went to bed wondering if it would all be gone by the morning, but the temperatures just dropped further, ice forming on the inside of our bedroom window where I slept in a woolly hat, thick socks and jumper over my pyjamas.

At sunrise the world was white, the trees heavy under their blanket of snow, the birds already in search of food. A map of paw and hoof prints criss-crossing the paths, cat and dog of course, but deer, hare and badger too.

We’ve lit the fires and piled on the layers, hoping to stay warm as we work away through our snow day, wondering if there’s more to come.

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