TABLE TALK #148
Summer has us downing iced coffees like our lives depend on them. Winter draws us back to hot chocolates, mulled wines, and endless pots of tea. Come Spring, we’re crunching through asparagus, and by Autumn, pumpkins are suddenly everywhere… but why?
It’s easy to think it’s all marketing - supermarkets nudging us toward what’s in season, restaurants showing off the latest harvest. Yet our seasonal cravings aren’t just whimsy; they have logic and ritual at the heart.
🍝 MAIN COURSE 🍝
Ever noticed how a sprout in July feels cloying, but in December it’s the most perfect thing in the world? Or how strawberries are delicious in Summer but sad in February?
There’s an old idea, in Traditional Chinese Medicine and elsewhere, that every season has its own energy, and our bodies often steer us towards what helps us adapt.
- Spring is damp and drizzly, so we crave crunch and freshness
- Summer burns hot, so juicy fruits, salads, and crisp wines feel right
- Autumn is dry and blustery, calling for softer, grounding foods like baked apples and squash
- Winter pulls us inward, and suddenly we’re all about spice, depth and warmth
Think of it as nature’s nudge. That clementine is December. That ripe peach is July. Sometimes our cravings are just our bodies tilting us back into balance.
Of course, in today’s world you can buy strawberries in November and asparagus in September. Global supply chains mean we could, in theory, eat the same things all year. And yet we don’t.
Part of the reason is cultural: the foods and drinks we return to aren’t only about physiology, they’re about ritual. A mince pie in July doesn’t taste right, no matter how buttery the pastry. The first roast dinner of Autumn feels like a seasonal event in itself. Ritual sets the stage for flavour - it makes a mulled wine taste not just good but right.
And beyond the calendar, there are moods. January and its “fresh start” salads. December indulgence. February comfort-eating, when the evenings feel endless. If seasonality gives us ingredients, ritual and psychology tell us how to use them.
🍮 SWEET ENDINGS 🍮
And then there’s our defiant, funny little rituals.
In the UK especially, food often becomes a way to will the weather into existence. The first glass of rosé drunk under grey skies in April. The barbecue lit in the rain, Dad insisting on wearing shorts. These aren’t logical choices - they’re hopeful ones.
In the UK especially, food often becomes a way to will the weather into existence. The first glass of rosé drunk under grey skies in April. The barbecue lit in the rain, Dad insisting on wearing shorts. These aren’t logical choices - they’re hopeful ones.
Which is maybe the point. Eating with the seasons isn’t only about balance or ritual; it’s also about delight, longing, and a kind of stubborn optimism. Proof, if you needed it, that what’s on our plate says as much about our human quirks as it does about the weather.
Did someone say rosé?!
Did someone say rosé?!
🍷 WHAT'S NEW
FROM
WEDNESDAY'S DOMAINE? 🍷
This weekend, we were the official non-alcoholic wine partners at We Out Here Festival in Dorset - a first, and one for the books. The festival calls itself “a space for connection, collective joy, and musical discovery,” and that felt like home to us.
It’s brilliant to see our wines doing their thing in moments like this - whether someone's having a fully alcohol-free day, or zigzagging between a glass of something stronger, then more mellow.
If you’re in Dorset and want to carry that festival vibe into your own weekend, we’re stocked at gems like The East Street Deli in Wimborne and The Pursuit of Poppiness Wine Bar in Dorchester.
It’s brilliant to see our wines doing their thing in moments like this - whether someone's having a fully alcohol-free day, or zigzagging between a glass of something stronger, then more mellow.
If you’re in Dorset and want to carry that festival vibe into your own weekend, we’re stocked at gems like The East Street Deli in Wimborne and The Pursuit of Poppiness Wine Bar in Dorchester.
Until next time,
Luke x
Luke x
