Gooseberry and Elderflower Tart

Gooseberries and elderflower come ripe in the same fortnight, and I have always taken that as a quiet instruction. Whatever ripens together belongs together. The hedgerows go cream-white with elderflower at the end of May, and by the time the gooseberries are heavy enough to bend the bush, the flowers are still on the trees. You can pick them in the same morning, walk home with both in the same basket, and have a tart on the table by tea.

A gooseberry on its own is a sour, surly little thing. Bite into a raw one and you'll know about it. But cook it gently with sugar and a slug of elderflower cordial and something happens that I can't quite explain. The sharpness softens. The flavour opens out into something muscat-like, almost grapey, with a faint perfume that belongs entirely to early summer. It's the taste of a particular fortnight in June, and you can't fake it the rest of the year.

The pastry is a plain sweet shortcrust. The custard is eggs and cream. There's nothing technical here. The whole tart depends on getting the fruit at the right moment and treating it gently. Cook the gooseberries until they slump but still hold their shape. Don't let the custard go past the faintest wobble. We're only making dinner, but on a warm June evening with the windows open and a jug of cream on the table, this is one of the more useful things you can do with an hour.

I wrote it down in the notebook the first year I made it: "Gooseberry. Elderflower. June. Worth the wait." That note has stayed.