Stuffed Marrow

Late August, and the marrows have arrived. Not gracefully, not in modest quantities, but with the blunt insistence of something that grew while you weren't looking. One day the courgette plant is producing slim, mannerly fruits. The next, there's a pale green torpedo hiding under the leaves that weighs more than the cat.

This is what you do with it. Halve it, scoop out the seeds, fill it with something savoury and good, and let the oven do the thinking. The filling here is mushrooms and rice and tomatoes, cooked down with garlic and thyme until it smells like the sort of evening where nobody checks the time. No meat. The mushrooms give you that deep, savoury warmth, and the tomatoes bring sweetness and body. A handful of grated Cheddar over the top goes golden and crisp while the marrow softens underneath into something almost silky.

The whole thing takes about an hour in the oven, which is exactly the right amount of time to set the table, pour a glass of something, and let the kitchen fill with the smell of a meal that's looking after itself. We're only making dinner.

I wrote it down in the notebook last September: marrow, mushrooms, rain on the window. Some recipes record the weather as much as the food.