Wild garlic is the epitome of spring – and incredibly versatile in the kitchen

The sweetest message from my neighbour pinged on my phone. Her daughters were selling wild garlic they had picked in Hampshire for £2 per 100g, and they had a spare kilo. Of course, I pounced at the deal, securing the whole lot – not just because of the excellent price (it’s £2.47 for 75g at Ocado, for comparison), and not just because I want to foster entrepreneurial spirit and neighbourly goodwill, but mainly because wild garlic is something we can never get enough of.

Wild garlic is the epitome of spring. Its deep, dark, shiny green leaves, sharp scent and delicate flavour make it something we crave in abundance. Every year, we gather as much as possible. We have our secret harvesting patches in London (exact locations not to be shared!) and visit our friend Rosie Sykes in Cambridge to harvest from her patches before heading back to her cottage for her delicious wild garlic linguine. This year, we also brought some back from a trip to Margot Henderson’s pub in Somerset – more on that adventure later.

This humble leaf is incredibly versatile in the kitchen. It can replace garlic cloves in recipes, adding that unmistakable punch. It can be used like spinach, gently wilted to bring out its irony, vegetal character. Or it can be sprinkled fresh like an herb to lift dishes and salads with its bright top notes. At work, we chop it into our labneh and serve it topped with other seasonal stars: broccoli stems seasoned with lime and spring onion salsa. We scatter it over a focaccia-style loaf with artichokes and goat’s cheese, and we fold it into a frittata bursting with broad beans and peas.

Wild garlic has a particular affinity with eggs. At home, we love nothing more than sauteeing it in butter (the smell!) before gently scrambling good eggs on top. Piled on to crunchy toast, it is one of life’s simplest yet most satisfying pleasures – and a ridiculously high return on very little effort.

We also adore Ravinder Bhogal’s simple dal recipe (pictured top), which pairs perfectly with the hot/cold mood swings of the season. And, of course, we always make sure to save enough for a big batch of pesto to stash in the freezer, bringing much-needed brightness to the darker months.

So when the message from my neighbour came, of course I pounced. I didn’t want to take advantage of the little kids, so I doubled their asking price. Some might call this bad business, but I stand by my logic – I want to keep them incentivised so that, next year, I get 2kg.

Dream pubs | A trip to Somerset is always a delight, so when our London neighbour Margot Henderson invited us to cook in her Batcombe pub for British Pie Week, we didn’t think twice. The Three Horseshoes is the kind of pub we dream of having in our own neighbourhood (though we can’t complain – our local, the utterly perfect Canton Arms, keeps us well-fed).

Go west! | In the culinary hub forming around Westcombe Dairy, where we stocked up on cheese, delicate salami, locally milled flour and sparkling wine, we visited Charles Dowding’s glorious no-dig garden, inhaling the surprisingly pleasant scent of his compost. We also connected with farmer Tom Jones, which will hopefully result in some delicious additions to our grill at Honey & Smoke.

What I’m reading | Caroline Eden’s books – a blend of her travel journalism and food – are evocative, insightful explorations of eastern Europe and central Asia, and her latest, Green Mountains, the final book in her colour trilogy, takes us to Georgia and Armenia. We hosted a supper club featuring dishes from the book: stuffed flatbreads, roasted aubergines, lamb with plums and beans, and an ethereally pure-flavoured tarragon panna cotta.