Bumble pie

If drizzling honey on toast doesn't appeal, baking it into a fragrant cake or roasting it on chicken might just do the trick. Nigel Slater takes a dip

Many of the flowers I scattered among the vegetable patch were introduced specifically for their attractiveness to bees and butterflies. The oregano that ends its days scattered on anchovy-studded pissaladière and doughy focaccia has purple flowers that never seem to be without an accompanying bee. Likewise the bergamot (whose magenta crown appears to be among the richest pickings of all), hollyhocks, foxgloves, sunflowers and all the herbs I allow to set flower simply to please the local bee population. Yet nothing has proven more appealing to the bumblebees in my garden than a Brussels sprout plant I accidentally left to bolt, and whose buttercup-coloured flowers permanently buzz with honey-related activity. I knew there had to be a good reason to grow sprouts.

Right now, with air so arid and still in the garden you can hear the beat of a butterfly's wing, there seems to be more bees than ever, and I constantly find myself persuading them gently out of the kitchen. This is good news when you learn that London alone lost an estimated two-thirds of its hives last year due to viral infections. All over the country whole colonies have been wiped out. It comes as something of a relief to see my garden and kitchen still full of them, even if I know that many of them face a perilous future.

I like the idea of honey more than I like the actual taste. The notion of a foodstuff made by plump and beautiful insects whose furry coats are scented with the lavender and dog roses they have visited is as romantic as any food could get. Yet in reality I find one mouthful, spread thickly on toast, is usually enough for me. That said, I find honey endlessly useful in the kitchen. Its satin-coated sugariness is a good contrast to both hot chillies and any number of ground spices. Apart from the cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves so popular with honey-scented bakery goods, the amber nectar also forms an almost mystical alliance with cardamom and coriander seed.

Two particular honey recipes leave me gasping with pleasure: the pistachio-dusted pastries of the Middle East scented with orange blossom and accompanying ornate glasses of mint tea, and sticky pork ribs with a crust of honey and spices. But there are other, more subtle uses to which this liquid sugar can be put, too: as a sweetener for peaches poached with rosewater; spread thickly on slices cut from a crusty loaf and topped with raspberries; to sweeten a Lebanese rice pudding with lemon and sultanas; as a marinade with lemon juice and garlic for barbecued chicken wings; and as a rub with cardamom and cumin for grilled quail.

The recipe I have yet to try is Elizabeth David's curious Honey Chinchilla. The ingredients - honey, walnut and egg whites - are as dodgy as its name, which sounds more like a lap dancer than a pudding. Her method involves stirring liquid honey and chopped walnuts into beaten egg whites and baking them before turning them out and eating them cold. I shall pluck up the courage to try it one day. I find its very oddness tempting.

In the meantime I have made a cake with polenta and a honey and elderflower syrup. Rather refreshing as a moist summer cake - we served it with roasted gooseberries and thick yogurt and ate it, as seemed only fitting, in the garden within the sight and sound of my happy bees.

Honey polenta cake with elderflower and gooseberries

A moist, honey-scented, gluten-free cake with a slightly crunchy texture that works for tea or as a dessert. Serve with poached gooseberries and thick yogurt. Serves 8

220g butter

220g unrefined caster sugar

50g almonds

150g ground almonds

3 large eggs

200g polenta

1 lightly heaped tsp baking powder finely grated zest and juice of a large lemon

for the syrup:

the juice of 2 lemons

150ml elderflower cordial

4 tbsp honey

for the gooseberries:

450g gooseberries

4 tbsp caster sugar

to serve:

thick, cold yogurt

Line the base of a nonstick, loose-bottomed cake tin (about 20cm in diameter) with a piece of baking parchment. Heat the oven to 180C/gas mark 4.

Beat the butter and sugar in a food mixer till light and fluffy. Put the almonds in a heat-proof bowl and pour boiling water over them. Remove them a few at a time with a draining spoon and pop them from their skins. This will seem an endless task at first but it actually takes about 10-15 minutes. Discard the skins.

Blitz the almonds in a food processor until they are finely chopped (or chop them by hand) then add them, together with the ground almonds, to the cake mixture.

Break the eggs into a small bowl, beat them lightly with a fork and stir them into the mixture. Mix the polenta and baking powder, then fold it into the mixture, together with the grated lemon zest and juice.

Transfer the cake mixture to the lined tin, then smooth the top level. Bake for 30 minutes at 180C/gas mark 4, then turn the heat down to 160C/gas mark 3 for a further 25-30 minutes or until the cake is firm to the touch. Test it for doneness: a metal skewer should come out clean.

To make the syrup, put the lemon juice in a stainless-steel saucepan along with the elderflower cordial, then bring it to the boil and dissolve the honey in it. Keep it boiling until it has formed a thin syrup (4-5 minutes).

Spike holes in the cake (still warm in its tin) with a skewer, then spoon over the hot syrup. Leave to almost cool, then lift out of the tin.

For the gooseberries: top and tail the fruit, put it into a baking dish or small roasting tin and scatter with the sugar. Bake till the fruit has burst and the juices are starting to caramelise in the tin.

When the cake is cool, serve with the roasted gooseberries and spoonfuls of thick, sharp yogurt.

Roast honeyed chicken thighs

Two large free-range thighs are enough for most people, but some will need three apiece. This is just as good cold as hot. A rice pilaf is a good accompaniment, especially if you fold in some mint and sultanas at the end. Serves 4

4 tbsp mint leaves

4 tbsp coriander leaves

2 garlic cloves

50ml lemon juice

90ml olive oil

1 tsp ground coriander seed

½ tsp ground cumin

3 tbsp honey

8 large chicken thighs

Roughly chop the mint and coriander leaves and reserve 1 or 2 tbsp. Put the rest in a mixing bowl with the peeled and crushed garlic cloves, then mix in the lemon juice, oil and the ground spices. Lastly, stir in the honey.

Put the chicken thighs into the bowl and mix gently to coat with the marinade. Set aside for a minimum of an hour. Set the oven at 200C/gas mark 6. Transfer the chicken and its marinade to a roasting tin and bake for 45 minutes or so, till the chicken is golden and cooked right through. Remove from the oven, and scatter with the reserved herbs.


Today's best video

Today in pictures