STORMY GRAPES

As the September storm clouds gather and burst, so too the grapes hang swollen and plumptious on the vine, miniature missiles raining down on parked cars, seated diners and passing goats. Huge majestic bunches in every hue from yellow to black form heavy weight canopies to shelter from the sun.

Too good to just be confined to a freezer and eaten as icy cold sugar bombas or snitched and eaten fresh from a passing bushel, I wanted to celebrate them in their roasted, caramelised glory; scattered in salt, sugar, red wine vinegar and olive oil and then roasted till they wrinkle slightly and give up a tangy molasses like juice.

I needed a fluffy tangy storm cloud to pair them with so hung a great udder of natural yogurt to make labneh. After just 24 hours mixed with a little salt and left to hang in a bundled muslin cloth, excess water dripping into a bowl beneath, the yogurt becomes like a chalky cream cheese. It develops a rich meaty umami, holding the same sway as feta in its intensity of flavour but its form is fluid, spreadable and welcoming to all who cross its path.

Use the back of your spoon to lift a great blob onto the centre of a small plate, press down on the centre and push round to the right until you’ve made a sea wall around the outside and a cavern in the centre. If you have a brightly coloured plate, this little window in the centre looks beautiful when you fill it with buttery olive oil.

I piled the roast grapes on the highlands of labneh, spooned its syrup into the central pond with some bright green oregano oil, a big spoonful of gravely dukka and a handful of lemon heavy dill. It’s a treat for the eyeballs and the taste buds and I suuuuurely hope you feel like hanging your very own udder of creamy dream one day soon.