Today we stick with a fruity theme, for this weekend sees the very strawberriest time in the sporting calendar, the tennis finals weekend at the All-England Club, Wimbledon SW19.

And I thought my article should reflect the fact that strawberry sales will be going through the roof for the next week or so.

With perfect timing, the fields of Kent and other fertile counties are brimming with those fine red berries. At which point, I know you like your facts, so here’s one for the next pub quiz.

The strawberry isn’t actually a berry. It’s what’s known as a pseudocarp, or false fruit. It’s a very dusty old scientific discrimination, so let’s all just agree that we know what strawberries are to us, and live with it.

Strawberries are a delightfully fleeting pleasure, or rather they should be. I’m constantly warning people away from the watery, pappy airfreighted fruit we get in the winter months; a Mexican hothouse strawberry has no place on the Christmas dinner table, people!

Enjoy them over the summer, then move on. Because the flavour of a British or European summer strawb is so much better than its forced counterpart.

There are few greater pleasures than bending to pick a ripe strawberry from its stalk, the warmth of the sun still in the flesh, and scoff it right there in the middle of the patch.

Evolution, combined with just the right soil and weather, has brought this magnificent fruit to its peak, right here and now, and it should be duly respected.

There are some amazing varieties out there, from the tiny, deeply-flavoured wild strawberry – how exquisite to find an undisturbed bush on a walk in the country – to the widely-grown plump Elsanta. Look out for the ‘Cambridge Favourite’ or ‘Jubilee’ cultivars, too. They’re both popping with flavour and have a great firm texture.

And it you’re a keen gardener, I implore you to plant a row of ‘Mara Des Bois’, the finest strawberry of them all, in my opinion. A slightly smaller fruit, the Mara is mid-way between a regular strawberry and a wild type, bursting with flavour and deep perfume.

A strawb just perfect for eating as is, perhaps with a little dairy.

So this week, I decided to re-wire an old favourite recipe.

Many years ago, just after I started working at The Weavers Shed, I developed a recipe for a strawberry club sandwich. I was incredibly pleased with myself for having created something new, only for me to find out, via an in-flight magazine, that I’d been beaten to it by a New Zealand restaurant. By several years.

Undeterred, I stuck with it, and it proved a very popular summer dessert. It’s nice and easy, looks a million dollars, and tastes amazing. But I wanted to update the flavours, so I did some thinking.

Strawberries are surprisingly chummy with many strong flavours, especially certain herbs. Basil, thyme and rosemary all marry up nicely, as well as the traditional garden mint, but one you may not have considered is tarragon.

Used sparingly, its peppery aniseed flavour sits beautifully with the ripe, luscious fruitiness. Black pepper is also great with strawbs – try it just freshly ground over a bowl of berries and ice-cream – so I decided to replace the confectioner’s custard with a pepper-infused Chantilly cream, which also includes white chocolate, another classic accompaniment. It also makes things much lighter.

Layered up with sweet toasted brioche, it all comes together to make a delightfully summery pud, and a great way to showcase one of our most treasured local fruits.

FOR THE SANDWICH:

One 4-500g brioche loaf, made or bought

400g large fresh English strawberries

A small bunch of fresh tarragon

FOR THE GARNISH:

A handful of fresh strawberries

Olive oil

FOR THE SAUCE:

250g large fresh English strawberries

A little unrefined golden caster sugar

Lemon juice

FOR THE CHANTILLY:

240ml whipping cream

50g white chocolate

Fresh black pepper

EXTRAS:

Plastic sieve

Wooden sticks or skewers

Strawberry ice-cream

METHOD:

First, make the strawberry sauce. Chop the strawberries and place in a small pan with a sprinkle of sugar and a splash of lemon juice. Gently heat until the fruit is losing its shape, then push the purée through a plastic sieve, producing a smooth sauce. Adjust the flavours with sugar or lemon, and set to one side.

Next, make the Chantilly cream. Melt the white chocolate in a microwave or in a bowl over simmering water, and let it cool almost completely. Whip the cream until it forms soft peaks, add a third of this to the cooled chocolate. Whisk vigorously to incorporate, then fold in the remaining cream, adding freshly-ground black pepper to taste.

Keep in a cool place until you’re ready to go, but don’t refrigerate.

Trim the crusts from the brioche, and cut into neat slices. You’ll need three per sandwich.

Arrange on a grill pan, ready for toasting. Slice the strawberries for the sandwich filling. Dice the garnish strawberries neatly, and bind with a drop or two of olive oil. To assemble the sandwiches, grill the brioche until deep golden in colour, and pipe or spoon the pepper Chantilly over two of the three slices per portion.

Arrange the strawberry slices over the top, and add a couple of tarragon leaves.

Build the sandwich, and steady a skewer.

Pipe a little cream onto a plate, and place the sandwich on top.

Drizzle around some of the strawberry sauce, and dot with the olive-oil-dressed strawberry dice.

Finish with a scoop of strawberry ice-cream and serve straight away.

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