Sometimes it feels like cheating.

I came home today tired and not feeling like cooking. I had 16 litres of milk that needed to be made into cheese waiting for me in the fridge. Dinner was going to be a slap-dash affair cooked in the wait times during cheese making. I didn’t expect much.

But with vegetables so fresh they’re still photosynthesizing as they go into the pot, herbs snipped moments before cooking, and homemade cheese on hand, even a thrown together meal is bound to be something special.

I whipped up a pasta from whatever was on hand in the garden and could be picked in 6 minutes, threw in some feta cheese and a handful of olives, and had a meal I would have happily served to company.

You just can’t help but eat well when you’re eating out of the garden.