The March Edition
Carrot cheesecake pudding, wild garlic butter pasta, Bucatini cacio e pepe, rhubarb fool & many more recipes + an interview with Spring restaurant's head chef
Welcome to the March edition of Seasonal, our yearlong celebration of the seasons. This month's newsletter brings you produce recommendations, a full menu of recipes (including carrot cheesecake pudding), thoughtful flavor pairings, and, for our In Conversation feature, a chat with head chef of Spring restaurant in London, Eleanor Henson.
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March is a season in argument with itself. Winter has not quite relinquished its grip, spring has not quite found its footing, and the kitchen sits squarely in the crossfire. This in-between month offers a fleeting, singular collection of flavors, neither fully of the frost nor fully of the thaw, rewarding the cook who meets the challenge with equal parts patience and mischief.
Cooking in March requires a finely balanced approach: the wisdom to coax winter’s veterans into one last moment of glory, balanced with the restraint to let spring’s debutantes shine. The cook who lavishes as much care on a waning cabbage as on the season’s first asparagus understands something fundamental: that good cooking always begins with listening to the land, and honoring its rhythms.
To understand this season is to befriend contradictions: sweet/bitter, earthy/verdant, restrained/anticipatory. Fruit is scarce, and vegetables are at their most depleted yet most complex. The earth is at its barest yet most promising. Forced rhubarb still lingers, snappy and as acidic as a Victorian governess, while the last of the celeriac, gnarled and faintly truffle scented, sits beside the first tender wild garlic, whose youth is an emerald green.
At this time of year, market stalls host a dialogue between generations with winter’s seasoned elders alongside spring’s eager newcomers, each offering vital wisdom. Listen closely as you fill your basket.
Today’s menu is a lesson in liminality. A carrot cheesecake pudding made with sweet ‘Sandy Dunkirk’ carrots, dense with spice, pine nuts and rum-soaked raisins, arrives to the table crowned with a thick layer of goat’s cheese, cream, and vanilla frosting- rich, gently tangy, and smooth against the warmth below. Foraged wild garlic, worked into a compound butter, turns lasagna sheets into something silken and fragrant, laced with the promise of spring. Bucatini cacio e pepe, thick and glossy, threaded with heat, leans into the last of the sweet shallots, folded into a beurre blanc that still remembers winter.
These are dishes that ask for creativity, quiet tending and most importantly faith that something good is on its way. They belong to now, shaped by sun-soaked morning frosts and the yellow daffodil bowing its head to the changing light. They are yours, completely, to make your own.
Agretti, also known as "salsola soda" or "saltwort," is a crisp, mildly salty green that thrives in coastal regions, where its delicate, grassy flavor is shaped by the sea breeze and briny soil.
Agretti and Fennel - I’ve created an agretti and fennel salad to pair with a French omelette, offering a light yet vibrant contrast. The crisp, tangy agretti and sweet, aniseed notes of fennel perfectly complement the delicate richness of the eggs, making for a refreshing Saturday morning breakfast.
Agretti and Pecorino – The bold, sharp, salty presence of pecorino amplifies agretti’s savory notes whilst adding depth and a satisfying richness. The agretti - delicate and fleeting like the whispers of spring in a Tuscan field - provides a perfect foil, balancing the intensity with its fresh, herbaceous bite. If I were you, I’d cook up some fresh pasta, toss it in a pan with good olive oil, add a generous sprinkle of pecorino and freshly cracked black pepper, then fold in some agretti for a simple supper.
Agretti and Miso – Miso’s fermented, umami-laden character brings out agretti’s earthy side and adds depth without overwhelming its delicate freshness. For a quick lunch, sauté agretti in a little sesame oil until tender, then stir in a small spoonful of white miso paste and a little honey. Serve over rice or toss with noodles. Finish with sesame seeds and a sprinkle of chili flakes.
Agretti and Burrata - Much like the chiaroscuro technique in painting, where light and dark coexist in delicate harmony, agretti and burrata create a striking contrast that’s both bold and balanced. The creamy, milky richness of the burrata surrenders to the agretti’s briny bite, a balance that feels both indulgent and restrained. When paired with winter tomatoes and butter beans, the dish captures a timeless lesson in Italian cuisine; opulence requires austerity to be truly appreciated.
Wild garlic and Lemon - Like the meeting of two gossips sharing the same secret, wild garlic and lemon converse in bright, astringent whispers. Their shared acidity doesn’t compete but amplifies - a phenomenon linguists call "phonological harmony" and chefs call perfect seasoning! Together, they transform everything from risotto to roast chicken with a spring-green vibrancy, making you wonder why anyone bothers with the domesticated bulb when this fleeting wild cousin speaks with such eloquence.
Wild Garlic and Egg - The sulfurous compounds in both wild garlic and egg yolk engage in a curious exchange, each tempering the other’s boldness. Imagine a barely-set five-minute egg, its yolk still soft and open to suggestion, topped with a tangle of wilted ramp leaves fresh from the pan and dripping with butter. Serve with toasted brown bread which introduces a third voice to this seasonal chord.
Wild Garlic and Dark Chocolate - Mole, that complex and decadent sauce born in Puebla, Mexico in the 17th century, is a triumph of unlikely ingredients. Dark chocolate, garlic, chiles and spices meld into an earthy, rich and deeply satisfying mouthful. The allicin in garlic and the theobromine in chocolate don’t just coexist; they elevate one another, creating a subtle, earthy bitterness that lingers long after the last bite. To explore this culinary magic yourself, try making a chili con carne with a generous helping of dark chocolate stirred in for a rich, velvety depth. Then, top it with a wild garlic salsa verde, where the herb’s sharp, bright notes cut through the chili’s richness, adding a fresh, almost mischievous contrast.
Wild Garlic & Blood Orange - For a lively appetizer, try making a wild garlic and blood orange crostini. Toast slices of sourdough bread, then spread a thin layer of ricotta or goat’s cheese. Top with sautéed wild garlic and a few segments of blood orange. Finish with a sprinkle of sea salt and cracked black pepper. The richness of the cheese, the vibrant citrus, and the earthy wild garlic make for a close to perfect bite.
Citrus
As March draws to a close, citrus season starts to slip quietly into the rearview, but in my kitchen, it’s still very much in the spotlight. The fragrant, tangy notes of these fruits offer one last burst of brightness before the delicate whispers of spring step forward. Buddha’s Hand, with its almost otherworldly zest, beckons me to experiment, playing with flavors that feel like the perfect punctuation between the lingering weight of winter and the lightness of what’s to come.
Buddha's Hand and Szechuan Peppercorns - The numbing, citrus-tinged fire of Szechuan pepper meets the intensely fragrant zest of Buddha's Hand in a marriage that recalls the controlled chaos of Zhang Daqian's splash-ink landscapes where technique and abandon exist in perfect tension. This pairing creates a culinary ma la effect (numbing-heat) where neither sensation dominates but each defines the other. Try infusing both into oil for a finishing drizzle that transforms even the most quotidian protein.
Buddha's Hand and Black Sesame- Black sesame provides the bass note to Buddha's Hand's soprano. The sesame's earthy bitter warmth anchors the citrus's perfume, creating dialogue rather than discord. Consider a black sesame shortbread subtly perfumed with Buddha's Hand zest.
Buddha's Hand and Burnt Honey - The honey, pushed just to the edge of bitterness through careful burning, creates a complex caramel foundation that elevates the citrus beyond mere brightness into something resembling coloratura. This combination would work very well in a creme caramel or baked custard dessert.
Buddha's Hand and Sugar - Speaking of sweetness, Buddha's Hand embraces sugar with a delicate flirtation that coaxes its floral fragrance into aromatic permanence. Unlike most citrus, this fingered curiosity contains no bitter pith or juice to temper sweetness, allowing its perfumed oils to bloom fully when preserved. Anna Higham's recipe for candied Buddha’s Hand from The Last Bite demonstrates the beautiful transformation of Buddha’s Hand into a delicate treat. The fruit’s yellow tentacles are slowly poached in a simple syrup until they become translucent and tender. This candy captures the fleeting fragrance of Buddha’s Hand, preserving its ethereal essence in a crystalline form. Here, sugar acts not only as a preservative but as an interpreter, transforming the fruit’s delicate aroma into a concentrated sweetness that lingers on the palate. Great for cake decoration.
Buddha's Hand and Carrot - As you will see, I decorated my carrot cake cheesecake with candied Buddha's Hands and carrots. Look away if science scares you, but technically this combination works through shared molecular compounds; the beta-carotene pathway in carrots produces many of the same terpenes found in Buddha’s Hand. When paired, they perform what musicians call "harmonic reinforcement," each making the other more resonant. In the art world, it's the same principle Monet employed in his haystacks series, where adjacent colors intensify rather than dilute each other. In this culinary pairing, the earthy sweetness of the carrots and the bright, fragrant citrus of the Buddha’s Hand amplify each other, creating a perfect balance of flavors that linger long after the last bite.
Carrots
Carrots may be available throughout the year, but they are deeply seasonal, twice over. Planted in early spring for a late spring harvest and again in late summer for autumn/winter, they bridge the gap between seasons. Fall carrots, often cellared or left under mulch to be pulled through winter, are why they remain a rare bright spot at the bleakest midwinter market.
While browsing Natoora’s selection, I discovered Dunkirk Sandy Carrots, their vivid orange skins still dusted with the soil that shaped them. Grown in the sandy fields of Northern France and pulled from the earth at the last possible moment, they are intensely sweet with a whisper of minerality. These carrots deserve more than a supporting role, so I baked them into my carrot cheesecake pudding, letting their natural sugars do the work, deepening rather than disguising their flavor..
Carrots and olive oil - In my carrot cheesecake pudding, I used olive oil instead of butter. Freshly grated Dunkirk Sandy carrots lend their natural sweetness, while a good extra virgin olive oil adds a silky, fruity depth that transforms the batter. A hint of cinnamon, nutmeg and cardamom, and a touch of orange zest/ juice plus rum-soaked raisins and pine nuts, creates a cake that is ridiculously moist, subtly spiced, and rather refined, if I say so myself. Recipe below!
Carrots and Cocoa Nibs – Bitter, floral, roasted cocoa nibs lend a compelling crunch and subtle decadence to carrots, with their nuanced bitterness, beautifully balancing the vegetable’s natural sweetness. Try pairing finely grated carrots with cocoa nibs in a cake or muffin. And whilst you’re at it, why not try pairing your carrot cake with a dark chocolate cream cheese frosting instead of the traditional vanilla?
Carrot and coffee - make an unexpected but delightful pairing. The earthy sweetness of carrot balances the rich bitterness of coffee, creating a harmonious contrast. In a Carrotmisu, the spiced carrot cake layers soak up the coffee, while the bitterness of espresso enhances the natural sweetness of the carrot. Recipe below!
Carrots and Yuzu - Yuzu’s complex, almost jasmine-like citrus cuts through the richness of roasted carrots. A drizzle of yuzu dressing over miso-roasted carrots atop a bed of whipped honey goat’s cheese and you have yourself the perfect alternative side dish for a Sunday roast.
Purple Sprouting Broccoli – The real star of late winter/early spring, purple sprouting broccoli is so tender and sweet it almost feels like a reward for surviving the winter. The broccoli has a nuttiness that emerges beautifully when roasted or steamed. I’d say it’s best enjoyed with olive oil and a squeeze of lemon or tempura-fried with a little aioli.
Spring Onions – These little beauties are so welcome after months of winter’s heavier flavors. With their crisp, mild bite, they add a freshness that just makes everything feel lighter. Scatter over a salad, or toss them into a stir-fry. My current favorite light supper is sushi rice, tuna, avocados and pickled cucumbers, topped with finely chopped spring onions and sesame seeds.
Parsnips - Parsnips possess a hidden allure beneath their unassuming appearance. Roasted to a caramelized sweetness, they transform into something almost sensual; mashed with butter, they become positively sexy. Their natural sweetness makes them the secret stars of baking — the unexpected understudy to carrot in a spiced cake. Last year I dined at Jeune et Jolie in Carlsbad, and I was served parsnip as a dessert. To my husband’s dismay, I set about deconstructing the dish and discovered that the chef had cut paper-thin sheets of parsnips and lightly caramelized them with what tasted like brown sugar. It was absolutely incredible and I am determined to develop a copycat recipe!
Medjool dates - California’s gift to the sweet-toothed, Medjool dates collapse on the tongue with a caramel-like intensity. These little gems are nature’s own confectionery, with their glossy, amber skin giving way to dense, treacly flesh. They’re as comfortable adding a touch of sweetness to a bitter leaf salad as they are pairing up with a nugget of salty cheese. I also love snacking on them with a mix of tahini and peanut butter for a quick morsel in between recipe testing. And, if you’re feeling adventurous, they’re incredible with homemade vanilla ice cream, a drizzle of extra virgin olive oil, and a sprinkle of sea salt.
Beets – Beneath their unassuming exterior lies a vegetable of surprising depth: sweet yet earthy, humble yet striking. March-harvested beets offer a deep intensity, the flavors held in deep crimson flesh that stains everything in its wake. I like beets roasted until they collapse into jammy sweetness, or grated raw for their percussive crunch in salads. Their natural partnership with goat’s cheese creates a perfect balance, earth meeting cloud.
Collard Greens – Initially standoffish with their tough, leathery leaves, collard greens can seem a little intimidating at first. But, with a modicum of patience and a gentle braise, they surrender completely. Softening until silky and rich in depth, their earthy flavor becomes more nuanced, almost buttery, as they take on the flavors of whatever you pair them with whether that be garlic, vinegar or a touch of smoked meat (ideally pork).
Forced Rhubarb –This wonderful, ruby-red vegetable grows in candlelit sheds in Yorkshire, where it thrives in the dark whilst quietly developing its uniquely tender, tart flavor. With its vibrant color and subtle sweetness, it’s perfect for everything from crumbles to compotes. For a complete guide to cooking with forced rhubarb, head here.
My sources in Italy (just call me the fruit and veg equivalent of gossip girl) report that the first emerald-green asparagus spears and tender fava beans have begun to appear at markets. Traditionally, asparagus season in Italy spans from March to June, with peak harvest in April and May. However, this year’s warmth has ushered them in slightly earlier than usual. Patience is key. Asparagus, given a little more time, develops a deeper sweetness. Fava bean season is brief and fleeting, but when it arrives, it offers a slew of creative recipe options, from vibrant salads to earthy stews, each one a celebration of spring’s fleeting beauty.
If you are in France or nearby, get excited. Gariguette strawberries have arrived, their perfume a reminder that winter is loosening its grip. If you are in Europe, you are in prime position to enjoy them at their best.
By the end of the month, also expect wild strawberries from Málaga - a delicate fruit that tastes like a distilled summer afternoon. Further afield, Japan’s strawberries are also at their peak.
Americans, (West Coasters specifically), don’t despair, California isn't far behind. Whilst strawberries are harvested year-round, peak season typically begins in early spring and lasts through fall, depending on the weather. When I’m back in San diego, I’m heading directly to Chino Farms to check on the progress of the Mara des bois variety. Not too long now!
In the Loire Valley, the early white asparagus is hitting its stride, nudged into existence by an ingenious network of heated pipes beneath the soil. It is spring by subterfuge, the illusion of warmth tricking the spears into emerging, pale and tender. Their season is brief, so take advantage while they are at their most delicate. If you’re London-based or passing through, I spotted some at a market in Marylebone High Street, send me a tip if you find them anywhere else!
Meanwhile, the last of the Seville oranges are hanging on by sheer willpower, their bitterness sharper, their pith more defiant. Make marmalade now! Blood oranges are still magnificent, but their days are numbered. Catch them while you can, before they fade into memory, leaving only the less dramatic citrus in their wake.
Bitter leaves are still delicious. Castelfranco is a painter’s dream, its creamy yellow leaves flecked with deep crimson. French red chicory, is at its most refined, crisp and elegant, demanding a good vinaigrette. If, like me, you appreciate bitterness in all its glory, now is the time to make a lovely winter salad.
Over in California, artichokes are coming into their own. The early crops, still small and tightly furled, have a tenderness that later harvests lose. Whether braised, grilled, or simply steamed with a proper aioli, they are a reminder that some of the best things in life require a little effort…and patience.
Wherever you are situated do let me know about the seasonal local produce that is appearing at farmers’ markets and on the shelves of the supermarkets, particularly those that support local growers. Better yet, join the chat for paid subscribers to share photos and get inspired.
I caught up with head chef Eleanor Henson from London’s beloved restaurant, Spring, to talk about the places and people that shape her approach to food. We discussed her favorite restaurant, the rhythm of a typical day in the kitchen, and the influences that inform her elegant, ingredient-led cooking.
March into April is a bit of a limbo/awkward month for produce (mainly fruit) - what ingredients are you most excited to work with right now?
It has come to the end of apple and pear season, which has managed to see us through winter, but thankfully rhubarb has arrived to tide us over until the wider selection of fruit becomes available to us in the latter part of spring. Forced rhubarb is one of my favourite ingredients to work with, its bright pink colour is such a welcome addition to the kitchen after long winter months of leafy greens, and its flavour is softer and more delicate than the more fibrous variant that comes later in the year.
Although it is technically a vegetable, the high acid content makes it work so beautifully in sweet dishes. At Spring we balance its sometimes-sharp flavour with sugar and vanilla, and currently have it on the menu in a beautiful latticed galette served alongside honey and Muscat ice cream.
How do you approach creating new dishes when the seasons are shifting, but certain ingredients haven’t fully arrived yet?
I love to use preservation techniques such as fermenting, smoking and curing. These are exciting ways to bring out the best flavours from ingredients which are on the verge of ending their season, or are not quite at their best yet. Kimchi, fermented chilli, sauerkraut, smoked fish are staples in my cooking and traditionally these methods were used to prolong the life of lovely ingredients during food shortages. It’s hard for us to understand the need for preserves now we have so much food security, but it doesn’t mean we should overlook such delicious and ancient techniques!
What advice would you give to home cooks who want to cook more seasonally but aren’t sure where to start?
Farmers’ markets are the best way to learn what’s in season. If you are buying local produce you’ll be eating seasonally without really realising you are doing it.
Do you have a specific process for developing new recipes, or does it happen more instinctively?
I tend to use recipes as a guide only, learning to cook instinctively is so important when using fresh produce as the flavours can change so dramatically from week to week. My favourite example of this is tomatoes, which really do develop their flavours as the season goes on. I can make the same recipe each week for a month and the seasoning they require will change so drastically from black pepper, olive oil and vinegar all the way to salt and sugar!
What first drew you to cooking, and how has your approach evolved over the years?
I’ve always been drawn to cooking and spent many hours in the kitchen with my family growing up on a farm in Lincolnshire. My mum is a fantastic cook, and we grew up surrounded by home-grown produce and delicious hearty meals made by her. After university, I trained at Ballymaloe Cookery School which refined and heightened my appreciation for the importance of beautiful produce in creating delicious food. Darina Allen pointed me in the direction of Spring where I found a team of professional and talented chefs, many of whom were women (particularly unusual 10 years ago). I couldn’t believe I was being paid, all whilst learning so much. I felt like I had found people speaking my language and I’ve loved being in the kitchens here ever since. The produce, the passion and the knowledge of everyone around me is forever inspiring, and not a day goes past where I don’t feel lucky to be part of such an incredibly tight-knit team.
Can you describe a day in your life from morning to night working at the restaurant?
Every day is so incredibly different in restaurants, that’s what makes it fun! I tend to start early, and spend an hour or two catching up on emails and office work. The rest of the morning is spent in the kitchen, either working on a new dish or helping the chefs with prep for lunch service. We have staff food at 11am, briefing at 11:30am and then into lunch service at 12.
Every day really does bring a new challenge, from burns, delivery problems, new chefs cooking things for the first time, illness, there is no such thing as an easy day! I love the challenge and the variety.
What is your favourite restaurant to dine at right now, and what do you order?
The Canton Arms is hands down the best pub in London. Amazing food, wholesome and heartfelt. Great selection of wines and house-made spirits. Friendly staff and always filled with people and dogs, I order house-made charcuterie with a seasonal negroni to start and then lamb shoulder, daily changing pie, or large fish to share as a main. The puds are small and not too sweet (just how I like them).
Favorite bakery?
Has to be Hart bakery in Copenhagen. I spent a week there last year for the MAD Academy sustainability course and had breakfast at Hart most days. Super fresh and seasonal produce respectfully turned into the most delicious and inspiring selection of sweet and savoury treats. Also some of the best sour dough in the world, it’s an absolute must-visit if you are in Copenhagen, but if not, Richard Hart has just announced he will be overseeing the new bakery offering in Claridges, so hopefully a little slither of the Copenhagen magic a little closer to home – I’m very excited to try.
Chef to watch?
Giovanni Sergantini, head pastry chef at Spring. He is my rock in the kitchen, and someone I have such a profound respect for. Over the past couple of years, Skye has really taken Spring out into the wider world, collaborating with artists and creatives, largely through dessert tables, and Gio has been the driving force behind making that possible. His eye for detail, carefully considered management style and pure talent in the kitchen is so deeply inspiring to me - I am in constant awe of what Gio and the pastry team are able to produce with such apparent ease (it is far from easy!!). It is, however, very easy as a chef to fall into a cycle of restraint due to concerns around taking on new things, and Gio is a constant reminder of what can be achieved if you allow yourself to lean into your creative brain and work out the logistics later.
Finally, any quick easy seasonal midweek recipe ideas or suggestions?
I’m a huge fan of risotto, I often make this midweek as it’s a great way to use up a dribble of wine left in a bottle and then fold through some sad looking vegetables or greens I find at the bottom of my fridge. Once you get the basic technique down (it needs much less stirring than everyone thinks) you can make it out of almost anything.
Agretti and fennel salad with French omelette
I am usually a sweets-for-breakfast kind of person, but sometimes I feel the need to lean into something more substantial. A buttery French omelette with plenty of black pepper, soft and just set, alongside a fennel and agretti salad with an impossibly simple lemon vinaigrette, is exactly what does the trick. Light yet satisfying, quick but considered, it is the kind of breakfast that feels quietly restorative.
Wild garlic butter pasta
This is effortless enough to impress guests. Take a few lasagna sheets, fresh or dried, and cook them for a few minutes less than the package instructions. Toss them in ramp butter, rich and fragrant, then scatter over anchovy honey breadcrumbs, which can be made in advance. If you feel inclined, make some olive oil confit eggs and finish with a tangle of agretti. The result is a restaurant-worthy dish, the kind that feels both elegant and deeply comforting, perfect for a gathering.
Bucatini Cacio e pepe
This cacio e pepe recipe, inspired by Bancone in London, takes a slight detour from tradition, but to marvelous effect. A beurre blanc makes the sauce (for want of a better expression), even saucier, while good-quality, simple ingredients (lovely sweet shallots and freshly cracked black pepper) do the rest. It is unapologetically rich, the kind of pasta that clings to your fork in silky, glossy strands. If you're in the mood for a restaurant-quality meal at home, the extra steps are absolutely worth it.
Carrot cheesecake pudding with candied Buddha’s Hand
This one’s for the grown-ups. An Venetian-style carrot cake, adapted from Nigella Lawson, impossibly moist and full of quiet complexity. It’s paired with a cheesecake-inspired topping that frankly could stand on its own, equal parts cake to frosting, the ideal ratio. The goat’s cheese adds just the right amount of tang, cutting through the sweetness in the most satisfying way.
Rhubarb fool
Absurdly simple. Take the recipe for rhubarb, champagne and cardamom jam, then layer it with a tangy vanilla cream. Finish with a drizzle of good olive oil (trust me on this) and a pinch of fleur de sel for a delicate salty crunch. The contrast is everything, sharp against sweet, rich against bright, silk against grain. If you are hosting, these can be made a day or two ahead and the jam keeps in the fridge for over a week.
Wild garlic & agretti butter beans with burrata & chargrilled winter tomatoes
Inspired by Canteen restaurant in Notting Hill, this is a perfect example of a throw-together lunch or light supper. It comes together in fifteen minutes or less. The butter beans turn frothy and brothy as they gently warm with a generous amount of ramp butter and chopped agretti. A final squeeze of lemon sharpens everything. The dish is finished with chargrilled winter tomatoes and an entire, yes, whole burrata, its creamy center spilling into the warmth below. It is my belief that good ingredients require little fuss. Treated with care, they need only heat, seasoning, and time to become something quietly extraordinary.
Are you hungry yet? Good, because it’s time to cook!
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