IN for A punnet

At Wimbledon time thoughts turn to strawberries. Your serve…

During a recent weekend heatwave, an impromptu al fresco lunch was a throw-it-together affair that relied on my proximity to a superlative deli, where fresh young goat’s cheese, ac rusty loaf and a pot of those oily, ricotta-stuffed pep pa dew peppers could be pro cured at speed. Skill involved in assembling the spread, save for throwing a dressing together and tossing leaves: zero.

But before heading out to the garden, id id chop up a punnet of strawberries that were on the turn, toss them in a spoonful of caster sugar and leave t hem covered in a bowl. they were leaching their ruby-red juices before i’d even left the room and, when eaten half an hour later with greek yogurt, tasted purer and more ampedup than any berry i’ve had this season. Macerating strawberries in this way, with a squeeze of lemon juice or splash of ba lsa mic v i nega r too i f you li ke, makes a speedy no-cook compote that t ra nsfor ms a n eton mess: brea k up shop-bought mering ue nests over a large plate, dollop with whipped cream mixed with thick yogurt, and slop over the strawberry syrup, which is especially good if macerated with Marsala. guests can all just dig in with spoons.

Last year, in the week leading up to and during Wimbledon fortnight, 11,231 tons of British straw berries were produced. On average ,62,000 lb (140,000 portions) of strawberries a reserved at the championships, along with 17,500 pints of cream – the rest of the tonnage is consumed by the rest of us in tarts and cakes or scoffed straight from the punnet. this week i’ ll be making mini messes, topping nests with lemon curd then cream and softened fruit, and finishing with torn mint and fresh berries, and wishing myself to Murray Mound.