The sun has finally come out. But while we’re in raptures over the late summer rays (as is a pair of lurchers, languid on the lawn), Julius Roberts is waxing lyrical about the wonders of winter, of all things.
Wait. Did we hear that right? “Oh yeah,” he says, his enthusiasm palpable. “There’s such beauty to that time of year, a real magic. As a cook, I find it a really exciting, hopeful time – all that stocking of the larder, making the most of the garden before it goes. Part of me is always yearning for winter, I think.” We’re walking round his gargantuan veg patch, transformed from a disused tennis court at his home in Dorset. Down a winding farm track (and then another one) this entirely organic farmstead, which he shares with his parents, is about as rural as it gets, set amid 50 acres of undulant green.
On every side, the nearest neighbours are animals all – among them, 100 incredibly hardy Hebridean sheep, who at the end of their life will be butchered as hogget and distributed by the ethical suppliers Pipers Farm; 40 British Primitive goats; and 180,000 bees, who spend the summer filling their furry boots with the pollen from Julius’ wildflower meadows. The chickens, sadly, are no more after a bloody run-in with the fox, and Julius is taking a break from pigs, despite his love of the creatures. “We’re incredibly protective of the land here and they can be so destructive. I just need to find the right space for them.”
















