How to Make Fresh Basil Pesto...and tomato soup concentrate & gazpacho

The fruit harvest throughout France has been greatly reduced this season. Instead of several bushels of plums,  I have just a few small baskets from our trees.  Happily, I will be able to make a few pots of jam and maybe some fruit leather.

Purple ente plums and mirabelle plums

When I get a little down because of having so much less fruit for preserving, I walk by the Rose of Sharon bushes with their pastel clouds of flowers and immediately feel better.

Dayo, being his own man, likes to wander off by himself in some undisclosed corner, usually tucked away in a veggie bed.  Just as I wonder where he might be, I look down, and there he is, inspecting the basil with me.

Basil is a very attractive green herb with an alluring aroma and taste.  It goes well in many dishes, especially tomato-based ones.  It is simple to grow an ample harvest from seed:  sow in early spring indoors in a plant incubator or on a heat mat and transplant when weather is reliably warm, mid-May in my garden.  Several weeks after transplanting, a new flat of freshly sowed seeds is a good idea, as basil bolts and goes woody, that is, flowers usually by late July which makes basil a bit bitter.  This way, as the first succession is pooping out, you have a nice new planting rearing to go for flavouring late-season tomatoes. For basil to stay bushy, it helps to harvest frequently.  Pinch as soon as there are six leaves--leaving four--and repeat pinching/harvesting.  My preferred method of serving fresh basil is by making a chiffonade.

Basil can be preserved by first washing, then chopping and adding either olive oil or a little water, placing in ice cube trays, freezing, and then separating and putting into freeze bags.  Individual leaves can be frozen also--wash, pat dry, and freeze on a tray, with space in between each leaf, then place leaves in freezer bags.

Since the walnuts grown near Grenoble in southeast France are so good--light golden brown without a touch of bitterness--I use those instead of pine nuts for making pesto.

For a cup of pesto, toss in an 1/3 cup of shelled walnuts into the food processor for a few pulses, then add two cups of washed and dried, packed, fresh basil leaves along with two fat, crushed garlic cloves and pulse a few times more.  Then add an 1/2 cup of a good quality olive oil and an 1/2 cup of freshly grated Parmesan and blend until smooth, scraping down the contents at least once. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

It goes beautifully on top of your favourite pasta or spread on French bread.  Actually if you love its taste, it can go on just about anything--baked potatoes, a smear on hard-boiled eggs, as a dip for  crudités, etc.  Pesto can be prepared for the freezer by leaving out the cheese and adding it after defrosting and before serving.  Upon exposure to air and freezing, the bright green colour changes to an olive green but its taste remains vibrant.

Mildew has attacked tomatoes in many gardens and fields throughout France.  It is very contagious and before you know it you are staring at dry and lifeless plants.  Since I eschew all chemical treatments for my edibles, all I can do is to remove infected leaves when I see them.

One hot and windy day, Madame M and I were in our individual gardens at the same time picking off infected leaves from a total of eighty plants between the two gardens.  After a bout of huffing and puffing, we would rest an arm on a tomato stake, look across our garden to the other's and laugh at ourselves.  The small mountain of yellowed leaves were not put on the compost, but carefully bagged.  So far, I have harvested enough juicy beefsteaks to make tomato soup concentrate and other goodies.  Hopefully, the remaining green toms will mature into plump globes of irresistible flavour.

Note the yellowed, brown spotted leaf in the upper right corner

It is an absolute delight to have a plentiful supply of ripe, juicy tomatoes.  I consider it an honour to figure out what to do with them all.  The Calm One has a knack of incorporating our garden produce into our routine dishes.  He makes a mean top-of-the-stove macaroni and cheese with three different cheeses and three different pastas.  His embellishment during tomato season is to put the macaroni and cheese in an oven casserole, top it with thickly sliced tomatoes, add additional grated cheese on top and place it under the broiler for about five minutes until nicely browned and the tomatoes have become more like a sauce.  I added some basil to mine, but he didn't as he already had reached his daily quota for green things on his plate.

Making a concentrated soup base is a good way to preserve tomatoes, serving as a base for both cold and hot, late summer/fall soups like my creamy tomato with Edam and brown rice soup--look out for the recipe around autumn.  For cold soups, I add either some cream or crème fraîche and add appropriate garnishes.

Dice tomatoes and add garlic, onions, celery/lovage, carrots, black peppercorns, heaps of fresh basil, and a bouquet garni, barely covering the whole lot with water.  If you have some rind ends of Parmesan, toss those in too. Fish them out before serving; they can be cut into small pieces and are quite delicious to eat on the side.

That's lovage on the bottom left

Simmer about an hour--the veggies should be very soft to make sieving easy. A thorough sieving via a Foley Mill is all that is necessary to have a thick soup base which can then be frozen. 

Another way to use tomatoes is to blend them raw along with other tasty ingredients.  Since gazpacho has many recipes whose creators insist are the true version on the Web, I decided to add to the already huge collection.  I am attempted to call mine the omission/addition gazpacho recipe because it lacks all the ingredients I did not have on hand while using all the ones I had and thought would go well in this kind of cold soup.  I was very pleased with how it came out.

Instead of bread--some admonish those who use bread, but I recommend ignoring those people--I used some leftover buttered cous cous which imparted creaminess and a slightly nutty taste.  I didn't have green peppers, and besides I don't care for them much which is probably why there weren't any around.  Now red peppers are another matter; I adore those but my garden ones are not yet ready for harvesting.  Note to self:  get some shelf-loving powdered paprika.  I also think that raw onions when blended can be too overpowering so they were left out even though I have heaps of those from the garden.  Of course, gazpacho is all about tomatoes, so unless you can get wonderful, ripe, flavoursome tomatoes, it is probably not worth the effort.

Chop 1 kilogram of unpeeled ripe tomatoes, crush one fat clove of garlic, and peel and chop a medium cucumber.   A couple of slices of bread, soaked in water and squeezed out well can easily be substituted for an 1/3rd cup of left-over, cooked, buttered cous cous.  Measure out 50 ml of olive oil and 1 tablespoon of apple cider vinegar.   Fill up the blender with one third of the ingredients, blend till mushy, add another third, blend again, and then add the final third, blending this time several minutes until very smooth.

Sieve or not to sieve?  I consider both versions to be delicious, just different--the sieved one is undeniably more smooth and a bit more urbane while the not sieved one is somewhat boisterous with its more grainy and earthy texture.  If a food processor is used instead of a blender, sieving may be more compelling.  Dilute with a little water if too thick for your taste--I found the thickness to be as satisfying as a nice substantial porridge.

To chill or not to chill?  So many important questions when making such a simple soup!  If most of your ingredients came from the fridge, the soup will be cold enough to scoff down right away.  If not, then chill in the fridge for an hour or so.  Garnish with cucumber ribbons, minced flat leaf parsley, and finely chopped hard-boiled egg.  Serve with tortilla chips.

Bon appétit!

RELATED POSTS AND LINKS

Raw tomatoes stuffed with tuna served on a bed of cous cous
A superb collection of creative gazpacho recipes at Scoop.it!

How to Make Chilled Cucumber Soup...and raw stuffed tomatoes

It was the front garden which caught my eye when we were looking at our place for the first time.  Though it was very neglected, overgrown, and smothered with five-feet-high weeds, I could see its lovely structure and over-all potential and barely paid attention to The Calm One's concern that there was a commercial refrigeration truck depot behind the property.  This is France with its unique approach to zoning after all.  Rejuvenation for various shrubs and trees, especially the lavender hedges, is still on going but marked improvement can already be seen. I am mightily encouraged.

Lavender, Shasta daisies, purple plum tree, and Rose of Sharon bushes

Dayo loves to play hide and seek in the lavender hedge, sleep in the ample crotch of the Box Elder tree, and hang out on the balcony while checking out the street action.

Reminding me that summer is in full swing which will morph too soon into early autumn are grapes beginning to colour.  There are enough starlings in my quartier to form murmurations.  Though I keep the bird bath full, it seems a refreshing drink of grape juice is still very attractive. Now that Dayo is with us, this is the first season in three I think I may be able to harvest a nice amount of grapes for making grape jelly.  To be on the safe side when Dayo is napping which takes out a huge chunk from his time spent as a grape guardian, I have pinned horticultural fleece using clothespins over the vines to ensure the grapes can continue to soak in the sun and mature to full sugary goodness.  I  have left a few vines for the starlings.

The prunes d'ente will be ready for harvesting in a couple of weeks.

The flowers taking the spotlight now are white and pink Rose of Sharon bushes and Black-eyed Susan vine.

Latin name:  Hibiscus syriacus

Black-eyed Susan is a cheerful vine with canary-yellow flowers boasting deep brownish-violet throats.  Though not hardy here, it is easy to grow from seed indoors starting in February.

Latin name:  Thunbergia alata

The cucumber patch is going bonkers with about four to five medium cucumbers daily with a handful of baby ones.  I chose this variety because it can be harvested both for tiny cornichons for pickling and also for salad cucumbers.  It starts out with a rough texture and then smooths out as it grows.

Chicken broth often is used as a base for cold vegetable soups, but as home-grown veggies are full of fantastic flavour, I made a veggie alternative, keeping out of mind the awful salt water passed off as commercial vegetable broth.  Goodness, what delicious stuff!  Of course, it is only as good as the veggies, so please if you do not grow your own, barter with your neighbour who does or get some at a farmer's market.

Carrots, onions, and celery or lovage is a good base.  Lovage is a perennial stand-in for the annual celery.  Once common in the kitchen garden, it has an intense--celery with a touch of anise--flavour so a little goes a long way.  For my broth, I added to this base scrubbed potatoes with their skins, green peppers, carrot tops, and overgrown green beans along with parsley, black peppercorns, bay leaf, and thyme.  I forgot to add my own mushrooms from the kit in the sous sol and will definitely do the next time.  Carrot tops were a revelation as I thought they would be bitter but they were sweet and oh so carroty.  Put what you have gathered in the right sized pot and cover with water.  Bring to a simmer and cover.

Within approximately thirty minutes and after straining, you will have an excellent veggie broth, and thanks to the carrots, it even looks like chicken broth!  The broth can be poured into ice cube trays, frozen, separated, and put into freezer bags.

The tender potatoes, robustly flavoured by the other veggies, were reserved to make potato salad.

Sliced potatoes, chiffonade of basil, and minced onions dressed in Mayo diluted with vinegar

Both cucumber skins and seeds can add not only a disagreeable texture but also bitterness so I peel and seed them, using a peeler to do both tasks.  Apparently, cucumber flesh itself can be amazingly bitter, so test a few peeled, seeded slices to make sure that the finished soup will be edible. 

Put in a blender the following ingredients until very smooth, about three minutes:

• cucumbers, seeded, peeled, cubed, about 5 medium cucumbers, 4 cups
• vegetable broth, 1 1/2 cups
• garlic, one clove
• green onions or chives/small onion, chopped, about 1/2 cup
• lemon juice, freshly squeezed, 1 tablespoon

The green onions or chives tint the soup a nice light green.  Since it is easy to underestimate seasoning when a soup is served cold, I reserve doing that until it is well chilled. Pour into a suitable container and put in the fridge overnight or at least several hours.  Add 1/2 cup of  crème fraîche/sour cream, mix well.  Be aware the substitution of yogurt for the  crème fraîche may result in a less smooth texture as the lemon juice seems to curdle it.  If too thick for your tastes, dilute with some more vegetable broth.  Season with salt, freshly ground black pepper or red pepper flakes, add more lemon juice if preferred--common complaint with cold cucumber soup is that it lacks ooomph--and garnish with chives, sliced cucumbers, and shrimp.  A little lemon zest would be nice also. I like to serve this refreshing soup with French bread topped with shrimp salad.  It makes approximately four servings.

Ah, the tomatoes are turning red.  A favourite way of my using hefty beefsteak tomatoes is stuffing them with tuna salad and serving them on a bed of cous cous, with the whole garnished with chiffonade of basil, cucumber slices, capers, chopped garlic, and fleur de sel.  Though more expensive than regular salt, it does last a long time because it is not for cooking as its taste-boosting edge would be lost, but is reserved just for before serving.  I find if the best and most flavourful ingredients are used, portion control is much easier to implement.

In the bottom pot of a double boiler, barely cover the cous cous with boiling water.  Cover for about five minutes and let it absorb the water.  Using a fork, fluff it up with butter and season with salt.

Then transfer the cous cous to the steamer basket--filling the bottom pot with a couple of inches of water and steam it for about five minutes, occasionally fluffing it with a fork.

Wash and pat dry the tomatoes.  Carefully carve out the core with a knife and scoop out the insides with a small spoon, leaving enough wall to maintain shape.

Squeeze the scooped-out tomatoes over a bowl, then finely chop.  I freeze the juice to add when making tomato soup.

Mix tuna and mayo well, and then add chopped tomatoes and mix again, season with salt and freshly ground pepper if desired.

Stuff the tomatoes well--firming each spoonful before adding another, finishing with a mounding at the top--and place on the centre of serving plates.  Spoon cous cous around it, add sliced cucumbers, sprinkle with minced garlic, chiffonade of basil, capers, and fleur de sel.  If you want everything to be very cold, put in the fridge for about an hour.

Bon appétit!

How to Compost...and galettes de sarrasin

Our Rose of Sharon bushes are starting to flower, lending an exuberant, tropical accent to the garden.

I love how the vivid, carmine centre weeps into the white petals

When harvesting, sometimes I am surprised by Dayo, who loves to sleep among the veggies.  He also dozes in Madame Ms glorious, eight-feet-high sunflower 'forest'.  He is sometimes subjected to non-voluntary showering by our careless use of watering cans and hoses.

Dayo snoozing in the three-feet-high tater bed

Sometimes summer harvesting is serendipitous--a meal that I have been planning appears in the garden, like the ingredients for cold cucumber soup. Other times, it is just potluck, and I got to wrack my brains to devise something tasty from what can be harvested and what's in the larder and fridge.  Recently potatoes, basil, carrots, beets, green beans, and onions from the potager along with eggs and  Galettes de Sarrasin from the fridge/freezer posed such a challenge. 

Galettes de sarrasin are savoury buckwheat crêpes, a speciality from the Bretagne region.  They are very thin and crisp, requiring some skill in making them well so I rely on my trusty neighbourhood Picard to supply me with a decent enough frozen version.  They are usually stuffed with some mix of ham/cheese/egg and veggies like mushrooms.  My version is a complete meal like the traditional stuffed one and surprisingly tasty despite the departure from the norm.

That's a folded Galette de Sarrasin on the lower left

Most of the veggies could not be easily stir fried, so into a pot of boiling water they go--first the whole small potatoes and carrots until almost tender, then the green beans for several minutes longer, with the beet being cooked separately.  Leave about an inch of stalk on top of the beet to prevent bleeding and loss of flavour, peeling the beet after it is tender as the skin will slip right off under running cold water. Then the lovelies get  sautéed in some olive oil, starting with sliced onions/peeled potatoes, letting them colour a bit.  Toss in chopped basil, sliced beets/carrots, and green bean pieces and cook a minute or so more, adding salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

The beets impart a rosy glow to the medley

I butter a heavy skillet and place the crepe. 

Then I put the veggies in the middle, formed into a triangular shape.

I make a little shallow depression in the centre and slide an egg into it, tucking the three sides up and over most of the filling, showcasing the egg yolk.

The skillet is covered and remains on low heat until the sunny side up egg is cooked to preference.

Voila!  It looks like tricorn hat.

A recipe for making galettes can be found here.  The traditional way is a four-sided fold, but I swear I encountered this tricorn version in St. Malo!  

A gardener grows her soil, not just plants.  I enjoy collecting vegetable matter for composting, because I take an active part in the fertility cycle of my garden.  I use recycled, lidded,  plastic gallon containers for collecting veggie trimmings and peelings.  Dead-heading of flowers is such a joy because it generates a lot of good stuff for the compost piles.

There are three main ways of composting: sheet, trench, and pile.  Sheet composting comprises covering up the growing weeds where they are, usually with a slow decomposing cover like heavy cardboard or several layers of newspaper.  Though plastic or heavy synthetic carpets can be used in a pinch, they may adversely affect the balance of microorganisms in the soil. Lasagna gardening involves this approach using only organic materials--if done in the fall, by spring the area will be ready for planting.  For areas with very entrenched weeds like nettles, some digging and/or mowing down weeds may be required before sheet composting.  The trench method involves laying down of kitchen scraps in a dug trench and covering them with soil. Planting then is done next season on top of the decayed materials which are close to the growing roots thus making this a great way to grow root veggies.  The directions below are for a fast-decomposing pile which takes about two months and usually destroys weed seeds, which of all the methods, can be the most labour intensive.

COMPOSTING INSTRUCTIONS

1)  Collect materials, a minimum for a small pile is about three feet high and three feet square.  Dog and cat feces and animal flesh/fats are not eligible, otherwise just anything else organic can be composted.  If you have any doubts, check the web for more information.  I put nut shells and large pits on my slow compost heap.  A combination of fast (usually green-coloured like grass) and slow-to-decompose (usually brown-coloured like leaves) materials will keep the piles smelling fresh. In addition, comfrey is a great boost for the health of compost piles.

Ever since I identified that patch of large-leaved, blue-flowering shrubby patch at the back of the garden as comfrey, I am amazed how fresh and sweet smelling their leaves keep my piles which are often shock-a-block with fast composting stuff like windfalls of fruit.

Usually one application of comfrey is enough for a pile

If your pile is composed of slow-to-decompose stuff like leaves and cardboard, then some nitrogen fertiliser can be added to the pile.  If your pile goes too fast and gets smelly, then add a bit of crumpled-up paper towels or cardboard.  I use the scraps of cardboard left from my sheet composting.  Use your nose as a guide to the health of the pile and adjust according. 

2)  Place your materials in a place where it is easy to work the pile--away from tree roots which could grow up into the pile, making turning difficult--any dripping roof gutters, and in a sunny location to speed up decomposition.  My pile is free standing, but bins can be bought or built to house the piles.

3)  Chop materials up with a spade, secateurs, or a woodchipper.   When deadheading, weeding, pruning, I will cut the stuff into smaller pieces with secateurs and put them right away into my nearby compost bucket.  For leaves, I just chop them first one direction with the spade, and then in the other direction.  But I do envision a chipper in my future fairly soon.

4)  Turn the pile with a pitchfork.  The more frequently turned, the faster it will decompose. The organisms that do the heavy decomposition are aerobic, requiring a steady diet of oxygen.

A common gardening joke is that the biggest crop is what randomly takes root in the compost area.

Ringing the pile are tomato plant volunteers

5)  Keep piles moist, not sopping wet though.  If your climate is very wet, then protection from excessive moisture may be required via a tarp.  When touching the pile, it should feel very warm to the touch; if not, then more watering/turning/material are probably required.  Once it cools down, the aerobic bacteria will have done the most they can and the worms will take over, for a week or two of curing during which no new materials should be added.  You can start a new pile--I usually have two or three piles in various stages of decomposition. When the worms are mostly gone and the majority of the material has been transformed into rich, fresh-smelling compost, it is ready for the next step.

6)  Sieve it--I shake the sieve and push stuff through via my gloved hands--and put the non-decomposed bits back in the composting area.  Luckily I inherited a sieve when moving here.

But there are easy instructions on the net to make one.  If your climate is really hot, it may not be necessary to sieve.  Partially decomposed material is OK for topping up beds, but not for forking into the soil, because the further decomposition will require nitrogen which can be robbed from the soil, thereby depriving plants.

I do love the smell of fresh compost in the morning, but I suspect my garden loves it more

I usually make about six fast piles yearly.  If you do nothing, no watering, no turning, it will takes about two years on its own.  I have two composting areas, one for slow decomposition--usually comprised of large weeds with earth attached to their root balls--and another for fast composting. I use the sheet composting method also and will start the trench method in the fall for next season's root veggies.  As our winters are so short, I find that dumping materials on top of a cold/frozen pile poses no problem, but if your winters are long and cold, you may want to insert a wide hollow PVC pipe into the centre of the pile before it freezes so you can continue to add to it.

Sieved compost can then be dug into new and annual beds and placed on the top of already established beds as a mulch that will eventually become part of the soil.  I tend not to use the cold pile for incorporating into the soil as weed seeds are mostly likely plentiful--though if small quantities are cooked in a solar oven it will be weed-seed free--and reserve it for just topping up for already planted areas.  Weeds growing from the top are easier to pull.

Preparing for Fall/Winter harvests...and an apéro dinatoire

Blackberries have made their welcomed appearance in our daily berry harvest.  They are the first fruits I harvested out in the wild when I was a kid, and they bring back my wonderful childhood summers in a way that nothing else can.

Raspberries, blackberries, and strawberries

I usually reserve my working in the front garden in the evening so as to avoid the enthusiastic representatives of various companies who want to improve our less than pristine dwelling--concerned insect killers, mowers of imaginary lawns (that's a prairie, Monsieur), insulators against Arctic weather, earnest eaves painters, facade cosmeticians, cladding pushers, and distinguished proponents of fire extinguishers.  Though Dayo likes to hang out with me wherever I go, he seems to stay particularly close to me at twilight.

Dayo is thinking:  Our house is pretty enough, no?

Recently we were invited over for an apéritif  held to celebrate the high school graduation of a young woman whom I had tutored in English for several months.  On the morning of the apéro, she gifted me with a large potted bougainvillea to my great delight as I always wanted one.  It will need to be carefully overwintered however because of our short but cold winters.

I did not bring my camera because we understood an apéro as meaning a few snacks and some drinks lasting the most an hour.  Well, this turned out to be an apéro dinatoire, that is, essentially a banquet lasting hours though no cutlery was needed as all the food was in mouth-sized bites.  Toothpicks sufficed. The superb food was so plentiful I can't see why I ever need to eat again.  Platters just kept being placed on the table for nearly forty people:  foie gras on herb-speckled brioche, warm creamy quiches and tantalising frittatas, carmelised plantains, salmon mousse gracing small circles of the softest imaginable bread, and sizzling pizza squares smothered with  Gruyère cheese.  We won't mention the wine, the punch, the chouquettes, and assorted delights like olives, peanuts, spicy tortilla chips, cherry tomatoes, and the biggest and fattest seedless green grapes I have ever seen.  Madame M told me the younger guests were singing and having great fun till the early morning.

Another guest's garden flanks my host's garden and we were all gaping at his tomatoes, some of which were red, not many, but still red tomatoes in a neighbourhood filled with green ones were quite an attention getter.  He said that it is an old wise French saying, that in order for tomatoes to blush, one needs to drop their pants.  So, does that mean...?  Next morning, both Madame M and I rushed over to our tomato beds expecting a miracle--perhaps some nice person did the necessaries?  Alas green tomatoes greeted us, but with encouraging signs of yellowing.  Often it is yellowing, as in peaches, and not necessarily reddening, that gives the earliest indication of ripening.

Fall and winter harvests are as important for us as the summer one.  In our climate with short, cold winters, I harvest beets, broccoli, and peas before frost sets in and the more resistant-to-cold leeks, turnips, mache, escarole, Brussels sprouts, and certain carrot varieties throughout the winter until early spring, providing cold protection via horticultural fleece if necessary.  As these crops will mostly be fully grown as frost sets in, I am using the soil as storage.

Preparation started six weeks ago by my sowing broccoli and Brussels sprouts in flats.  About a month ago, the seedlings were transplanted into separate pots and are now ready to go into their prepared beds.  These beds were recently harvested of their onions and garlic.  I don't call my garden souped-up for no reason!

Brussels Sprouts seedlings

Broccoli transplants in their bed, awaiting mulching

Thankfully I had broccoli seedlings to spare because some caterpillars went by unnoticed and chomped away on a few.  If you look carefully you will see a green caterpillar on the plant in the photo below.  It has since been well squished along with other members of its family via my gloved hand. I never use pesticides on my crops, relying instead on hand removal and mechanical barriers.

Leeks which were seeded mid May are close to being pencil size and ready to be transplanted into their regular bed. 

Because our frost date is usually around mid December, I will hold off sowing the crops with shorter maturation times like carrots, mache, beets, turnips, lettuce, spinach, escarole, and peas till mid August or until beds become free as summer harvesting is completed.  If your frost date is earlier, then sowing can begin sooner.  If the weather is hot, water the soil well and cool it down by covering it with burlap, shading cloth, or boards before sowing.

Though I tend to focus on annual flowers sparingly, preferring the more environmentally friendly choice of perennials, I choose those that will give a long blooming period. Pansies sowed in their flats six weeks ago are ready to be transplanted into bigger pots for eventual setting out for autumn through next spring blooming.

The zinnias sowed around end of May are ready to be transplanted for summer-through-autumn bloom.

If you keep your eyes out for cool-weather vegetable seeds/transplants, you too can harvest good food throughout autumn and/or get an early start for next spring, for example, by sowing and overwintering cold-resistant lettuce.  The shorter days will make it impossible for lettuce to mature outdoors during the winter, but they will have formed good roots and sturdy little plants ready to burst into growth when the days become longer in early spring.  Working the soil in late summer/autumn is usually easier than doing it early spring, a time that can be too hectic in the garden.  Choosing the right varieties and sheltering overwintered plants under the appropriate layers of horticultural fleece will keep them in most cases cosy.