A Life More Wild - Series 5, Episode 8

Has a soup ever marked one of your big life moments?  Well, for Mark Diacono, it has. Mark is a food writer, grower, photographer and cook. So, it's only natural that he turns to food when things get tough.

Join Mark now for a walk in the woods near his Devon home, on which he talks about the weekly online diary that became his book, Abundance, marvels at nature's bounty, and I mean the chocolate bar, by the way, and stops to sample the very same momentous soup.

I'm Mark Diacono. I'm a gardener, a walker. I cook and I spend a lot of my time thinking, writing and coming up with ideas for food. 

I live on the edge of Sidmouth with my family. We're just up on the cliff and this place has been pretty important to me for all kinds of reasons and it gets more important, oddly. It's a place that has taught me quite a lot up here actually because I get to pick things through the course of the year, you know, so there's a bit of a larder up here, of elderflower and elderberry and hawberries, there's gorse flowers which I use quite a lot, there's a whole range of nuts including hazels and chestnuts.

It's also a place that's taught me a bit about birdlife, with the wonderful Merlin app. You can lose yourself really quickly out here with the company of the birds and the wind blowing through the trees. 

This walk I like doing at different parts of the year because it's completely different.  Even, you know, one week to the next, the temperature's really dropped in the last week or so and so much more of the leaves have hit the floor.  Even your feet sound different as you're brushing through. 

One of the things about this walk, it's no coincidence that I've come up with the idea for a few books walking along here. Like I say it takes you out of the busy-brained place that you're often in and occupies your mind in just enough of a not-busy way to allow there to be bit of space for creativity or thoughts just to fall in without really meaning them to do exactly that.

So the book, my latest book, Abundance, the idea for it came really unusually. I almost always have a little germ of an idea and often if I'd come on this walk it will kind of develop into something, it might take four or five times, it might take longer, but this one came fully formed. I woke up one day and there it was, the title was there gleaming in the sun. 

Everything was in my mind and I had the good sense not to get distracted by coffee or  emails or any other things in my mind. I just got a piece of paper, I didn't even turn on the laptop, I just got a piece of paper and scribbled down everything that was in my mind about this book. I was to write about what was growing in my garden, what I was doing, what I was thinking, what I was making of whatever was around in the kitchen, what were the best things that were available in the shops and from people who had grown these amazing ingredients... and whatever really. 

It fell into my mind to do something with the seascapes and landscapes around where I lived as well as my garden. Part of the big thing about it was that I had to write it weekly and I think that was because I felt like I wasn't living in the now very much. I was kind of living parallel to myself and I think a lot of us have that. By writing every week it felt like I would be making an appointment with myself through the week, to pay attention, to stop, to give myself the excuse to go on that walk or be in the garden in a way that maybe life could be too busy to easily allow myself to. And that really worked and it was never intended as a book. I wrote it on Substack and I carry on writing it now, but once I started writing it every week, it drew a lovely kind of global audience and that included a few publishers who were keen to make it into a book. I was really keen to make it into a book as long as it wasn't squished in any way. It had to be... had to keep that spirit and the idea had to be there and that's what's happened.

The book itself is like such a gorgeous snapshot, a year-long snapshot of the ongoingness of abundance. The things I get from the walk, the things I get from writing, I always thought before I started writing that people thought something and then they wrote it as well as they could. And actually I find that the process of writing helps me understand what I think, what I mean, how I feel, the nature of the world and my place in it. That's why I love the fact that Abundance is an ongoing living thing. 

Extraordinary! Tiny little bird like a robin making such a distinctive... kind of sounds jolly too. Often they'll make a noise like “get out of my patch” but he seems very happy that we're in his company today. A robin making a noise for what reason? It's not calling for a mate or telling us to get out of it. It just seems to be for the doing and the pleasure of it.  

There's no question I do all my best thinking on this walk. It's something that settles my brain into a good place. This might be my favourite kind of day really. I'm a lover of the shoulders of summer rather than the actual body of it. So autumn and kind of late spring for me are the loveliest times.  And this is about the perfect day as far as I'm concerned. It's bright, glaring sunshine, cold as hell on your fingers. And where it's opening out a little bit now with the increasingly sparse pines, there's instead of just being sort of dappled light, you get the odd big beam hitting you square in the face and  kind of drawing you towards the coast.

The ground's got a little bit more stony, the geology is changing a bit as we're just  dipping down into a little depression before rising up again towards the cliff. And the hedgerows around here get a bit richer as it becomes less treed. There's lots of elder  and blackberry, the odd hawthorn.  So for the idle forager, just looking for some nice things to go with whatever comes out of the garden at the time of the year, you've got all kinds of things going along here. There's a bit of wild garlic. Most of that's back in the beech woodlands.   

So even, I don't know, 20 minutes into this walk, for good parts of the year you can be picking things, really special flavours, nowhere near the road. And there's plenty of it, so you're not depleting either other people's chance to pick or the wildlife's chance to enjoy. 

As someone who spent quite a lot of years growing some of what they eat, I kind of came late to foraging I guess. I went for the early, obvious stuff that most people get into, a few mushrooms here, some wild garlic there, elderflower.  You get older and you start noticing what's around you a little bit more. More and more of the deliciousness that awaits in the wild.  It's kind of open to all of us because if you want to grow some of your own food you need to have the space. But nature does a lot of it for you if you go out there. And one of the things that I love about this walk is that more and more possibilities have kind of fallen into my mind as I've just discovered what's going on or I stop being so dim!

 You know, I just remember to come back here when the elderberries are ready. And that, you know, that changes all over the place, depending on what the year's been like. And we've had a gloriously hot summer, but I've started using gorse flowers up here.  Gorse flowers are an extraordinary thing. You can see them for a lot of the year now as we're getting milder. But May, June, when there's a bit of warmth and 16 degrees is when the pollen really flies and you get all the gorgeous perfume.   

It just smells like a bounty bar, you know, it smells very coconutty and glorious and you can capture that amazing scent and flavour by picking a load of the flowers and then just kind of either in alcohol or in sugar syrup, it will take that wonderfulness out of the air and out of your nose and put it into a really glorious drink that you can use in so many kind of different ways. There's hazel up here, there's hawthorn which makes a really really good syrup and very high in vitamin C, very good for you, and delicious because I'm not worried about good for you if it's not delicious, you know!  

So again, there's so much to get out of this walk.  The ongoing journey of foraging is really something that I don't think is going to end for me. It just seems to keep finding... there's more, there's always more, there's always more. It's like life, there's always more. And it's a pleasure to be kind of discovering it.

And here we are, oh my god! Hit in the face by the sun. Always, always seems to be so calm. And even though, we're  a good way up here, usually, unless the wind is really against you, you can hear the waves kind of rolling in, gently washing on the stones down on the shore. 

There are a few little boats out there doing a bit of fishing. I mean honestly, you come up here on a winter's day and it's magnificent in its own way and here we are on what might be the perfect autumn day. It’s a bit softer under feet with the grass. My favourite elder  just in front of us to the side. Well, early in spring I come along and pick some of the flowers. But later in the year, kind of late summer, early autumn, I'll be in for the berries. You get so much out of this walk. Whether it's peace of mind, creative ideas or flavours, things to take home, whatever. Gorgeous. 

See even up here I can hear the waves. We're heading towards maybe the best seat in the world. It looks down to the east from the hill and straight down into the valley that comes out of the sea by Salcombe Regis. And someone had the good sense, and I'd like to shake them by the hand and pour them a large glass of whatever they fancy for putting a very simple seat that has certainly one of the best views that this middle-aged man has ever seen.

And here we are, looking directly east along the coast. I'm sat on the bench with maybe  the best view in the world. I want to say the best view around here, but maybe as good as anything I've ever seen. It's got everything. Come and find it. It's right out on Salcombe Hill, looking down towards the Salcombe valley and out to sea. 

So autumn last year we took our daughter off to uni and that was an interesting thing because I think you discover at some point that you're always letting your child go. And I think I felt that really keenly on even the first day when she went to nursery. And it was quite a terrible thing and a great thing. It was the time I've been most happily heartbroken, shall we say, that she was heading off and needed us less, which is exactly how it should be.  

We got back, my wife and I, and it just so happened that at that point the last of the tomatoes was ready and I had a load of ginger rosemary ready and I roasted all these tomatoes. There was just the right number. It was like an odd thing there was just the right number of tomatoes to fit the roasting tin and I cut the core out and I jabbed a piece of rosemary right into the heart of each tomato and a little sliver of garlic.

I just roasted them on, I don't know, 170, 180 until they just got tender. And at the same time, I'd wrapped up a couple of leeks with some garlic and olive oil and they went in the oven. Everything cooked together at the same time and then I swizzed it all. It couldn't have been simpler. It is just a really gorgeous, gorgeous soup that is really nothing more than leeks, garlic, pepper, salt, olive oil, tomatoes, rosemary. And it tastes like the changing of the seasons and that felt kind of appropriate to the nature of, you know, our daughter going off into a new life, which is just brilliant.  

And it's become a fixture, this soup now for us, even though it was just a year ago, you know, we've just made it again and brought it up here to sit on this amazing bench, looking out up the coast. This is really good because it just tastes like tomatoes that have been grown with love, which they sure as hell have been! 

The recipe is in the book, tomato and rosemary soup, in the late September part of the book. You might end up making this, you can make this in the middle of summer if your tomatoes are ready early. And if it's a less sunny year than it has been this year, you might be making it even in mid October.

Well, after a very, very  undeserved long sit at my favourite seat in the world, possibly.  We're heading directly along the coast, westwards towards Sidmouth. Sea to my left, countryside to my right. 

When I lived in London, without really consciously thinking of it, I felt like there were two seasons. You know, kind of warm and dry, cold and wet. And I really have taken to the idea that's much more commonly held in Japan, of there being these 72 micro seasons, you know, one every five days or so, characterized by small shifts. It might be the changing light, it might be that particular birds have particular behaviours, it might be  that blossom has come out or has gone over, all of that stuff.   

And  one of the things I get from this walk, I mean get a lot, I get whatever I need from this walk. But one of the things this walk has helped with as well as gardening, as well as, you  know, growing some of what I eat, is the idea that there are so many of these often connected changes. Things will be happening with a particular species of bird when elder is in full flower, but actually that it's such a moving thing. Every time I come up here it’s different. Every time I come up here, even in the same day of the year to the one previously, It's really likely to have not changed and I like that.

I think the idea of walking in general, it kind of gives me what I want, but this one in particular, you know, I think I get some of that from gardening, I get some of that from cooking, I definitely get it from writing. It helps me understand the world or how I feel about something. But this walk in particular, I think some of it is the variety, the fact that I'm now in a dead flat, pretty good, grassy field with a few stones. Very good for at least keeping some animals on.  But the hedgerows are really rich and diverse and mixed.  

I heard a bunting for the first time up here a few months ago. A walk, coupled with a couple of cheeky apps that help identify what actually is the noise I hear, really help place you more in the time of year, where you live, what's going on, why that noise, why do the blackbirds sing then, why don't they sing then, and then when do they start, why and when do they start singing again.   

All of these things are kind of quietly revelatory, I think. You feel more attached to the world in which you are. And I think if Abundance is anything, I mean I know it's got 90, 100 recipes or whatever, but if it's anything, I think it's an invitation to anyone who picks it up, to maybe see if there isn't a way in which they could live more fully in their life to get the rewards that are there around us, free and enriching.  Whether that's the same version that mine is or whether you have a different one, it's kind of an invitation to just maybe invite yourself to be where you are a little bit better.

So, heading back inland from the car, gone past the gorse, walking away from the sea and there’s distant sounds of civilization, having been so peaceful. But I don't mind that. So this walk... I walk a lot around this coast but this particular one always seems to have the answer, you know. It settles my mind. It shifts creative blocks. I get food from it, I get inspiration from it, I get just not being where I was from it and that's really  kind of handy and lovely. But also, you know, I came here first a lot when times weren't brilliant, you know, as happens in everyone's life. I was having a bit of a bad patch, and it just helps you put everything nicely in its right place. There's always another day, there's always another season.  It may actually be a micro season that you're in rather than a macro season.   

It's just, I don't know, it's kind of uplifting and rewarding and it always has more to discover. That's a matter-of-fact thing that I really love, but it's also a brilliant kind of metaphor that I really love too. 

So I'm walking back from the sea and you head towards other humans and the town and movement and people and noise and you know what I don't mind too much. That's where I live a lot of my life, but it feels much enriched for even that hour-long loop. 

If you've been inspired by Mark to start your own online diary or launch a commemorative soup range, it could be the beginning of your own reconnection with nature, so just go for it.  We'll leave you with a quick reminder to rate and review A Life More Wild wherever you get your podcasts and to check out our Quick Strolls mini-series while you wait to take a wander with another great guest.