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By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Aug 14 2017 09:06AM

As I find myself saying every year, August is the month when we first have to start thinking seriously about bottling some of the summer's bounty for the colder months ahead. Many of my recent weekends have been spent making chutneys and jams with surplus from the vegetable patch and orchard, but this last Sunday, with the hedgerows brimming with blackberries my thoughts turned to booze.

My favourite hedgerow tipple is undoubtedly damson gin. No doubt that's in part, due to my childhood memories of picking damsons on the family farm. We had twenty or so wild trees and the annual harvest was something of a tradition. (Looking back now I see I was shamelessly conned into it by my parents who didn't actually let me taste any of the end product until I was well into my teens. How innocent I was.)

But there are still a couple of weeks to go until this year's damson harvest and finding a half bottle of whisky at the back of the spirits cabinet led me to this recipe.

Much like sloe and damson gin, blackberry whisky is a long term investment. Although technically drinkable by Christmas, it will definitely still be pretty punchy, with harsh, peaty notes of the whisky. Leave it for a year and it will mellow to a smooth, port-like drink that is definitely more than the sum of its parts. Even if you don't like whisky, there's a fighting chance you'll love this.

I was quite happy with half a bottle but if you have the volume of fruit, then just double up the recipe for a bigger batch.

Blackberry Whisky Recipe

400ml whisky (the cheap stuff be fine. In fact, it's a great way to transform it into something drinkable.)

300g blackberries (picked on the day)

200g caster sugar

Simply place the blackberries in a half litre jar or the empty whisky bottle if it was a 750ml one. Pour over the sugar and add the spirit. gently turn to start the sugar dissolving then turn again every couple of days until entirely dissolved. After three or four months strain the fruit out through a fine muslin (they can develop a woody flavor if left too long). Pass the spirit through the muslin for a second time, to ensure it is crystal clear. Then leave to mellow for at least a year, ideally two. Enjoy neat or with chilled apple juice for a glassful of early autumn.

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Jul 23 2017 08:00AM

As any long-term readers of the blog will know, I've been influenced by River Cottage since the original television series back in 1999 (I was a student at the time and yes, I know that dates me.) You'll also know I strongly believe that, however skilled we think we are in the kitchen, we can always improve our knowledge. So, I was particularly excited recently to receive an invitation from the River Cottage team to attend a wild food cookery course at their Devon HQ - the perfect opportunity to learn some new things and enjoy some good food at the spiritual home of seasonal eating.

After a very pleasant night at the Talbot Arms in Uplyme (which deserves a brief plug, as much for their warm welcome as their enthusiastic replay of the winning Lions tour game) I took the short drive north to Park Farm, a.k.a. River Cottage HQ, on a beautifully bright Sunday morning. Anyone who, like me, dreams of downshifting to the West Country will be in jealous awe of the home that Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall and the team have made for themselves here. With stunning views stretching for miles across the Axe valley, the location alone will have you mentally drafting your resignation letter. The 17th Century farm house is instantly recognisable to fans of the more recent TV series and doubles as the perfect venue for the various cookery and self-sufficiency courses now run under the RC banner.

After a quick coffee and introduction to the course from Connor, our host for the day, it was down to business. We were led through some basic knife skills and, quicker than you can say 'smoking twelve bore', were stood at a trestle table, each clutching a very dead rabbit. So, one obvious point to make is that this is definitely a "wild food" course, not only foraging. If you don't want to get to grips, literally, with dead things of one kind or another, you might want to choose an alternative option from the many on offer (a bread making session was running in the adjacent barn...). But with a commendable lack of squeamishness, everyone in the group set to work skinning and jointing their hapless classroom assistant. At this point, I should confess, I was momentarily distracted by a passing buzzard (no, really) and found myself winning the prize for first knife injury of the day. My trophies were a snazzy blue plaster and a resigned expression from Connor, suggesting he was not expecting me to be the last.

Back to our well-equipped kitchen work stations and, with a bit more chopping, some herbs and accompanying vegetables, the jointed rabbits were ready for braising in what would become genuinely one of the tastiest rabbit dishes I've had in recent years; testament to the transformational qualities of slow cooking. (Check out the receipe below and I really, REALLY recommend you try this one.)

The rabbit dish was going to take up to three hours to cook so there was plenty of time for the next part of the course - a stroll around Park Farm and a foraging lesson. What struck me here was the depth of our tutor's knowledge. I like to think of myself as pretty well versed in the art of finding wild food but Connor was in a different league when it came to spotting and identifying the various edible greens on the farm. Among others, we sampled wild sorrel from the field, dandelions from the hedgerow, goose foot from the vegetable patch and watermint from the stream. A truly fascinating ramble which also took us into the famous polytunnels and outhouses of the farm, being introduced to its other residents. If I'm ever reincarnated as a pig, I want to live at Park Farm and will cheerfully be made into River Cottage chorizo.

On a baking hot day, it was a relief to be back indoors and onto the fish course. Filleting and stuffing a mackerel (with our foraged herbs made in a bespoke salsa verde) made the perfect early lunch and set us up nicely for the afternoon session. Throughout the day Connor was happy to answer all of our questions in good humour, however basic or tricky they might have been. There was too much to report on each dish and activity individually, but the full 'menu' for the day (broadly in order) was:

- Knife skills (cutting and sharpening)

- Braised rabbit (including skinning and jointing)

- Foraging

- Herb stuffed mackerel (filleting and pin-boning)

- Cockles and mussels with chorizo, Sea Purslane and samphire

- Smoked rabbit loin (hot smoking)

- Watermint sorbet (palette cleansing revelation)

- Meadowsweet pannacotta (a real highlight for me and proof that "wild food cookery" can be as simple as finding a stunning new flavour for a traditional dish.)

You certainly won't go hungry on this course. If anything, there is too much food to eat and I certainly regretted starting my morning with a full English. It seemed a shame to leave some of the food uneaten and although bags were readily provided for anyone able to take their excess home, I think the day might benefit from preparing one dish to be taken home, rather than aiming to eat everything there and then. Without doubt though, this is a hands-on, comprehensive and fun course with plenty of opportunity to get involved and no waiting around. RC have obviously thought carefully about the day's content and aimed to pack it with a broad range of skills and dishes. Obviously, the exact content changes throughout the year and I particularly liked how several of the dishes had been adapted to suit ingredients that happened to be to hand on the day. For example, the samphire was a fitting late addition to the cockle dish, simply because it was abundant that week - it's exactly what seasonal cookery should be about.

As with any course, just as important as the content is the attitude and approach of those teaching it. What has always struck me about RC is that it manages to attract staff who, without exception, are universally 'on message' when it comes to the seasonal, ethical focus on our food. I have yet to meet anyone working either at HQ or in any of the Canteens who is not a wholehearted supporter of the cause and an exemplary ambassador for the brand. The same was true on this visit (both to HQ and the Axminster Canteen the night before). This is not just about an efficient training program (though no doubt that exists) but an ethos that clearly permeates everything about the business.

The 'project' has morphed in recent years. This seems to have been a very conscious move away from Hugh (who along with Jamie and Delia, needs only his first name) as a personality. Not only is this a shrewd business move, it's also entirely appropriate if the message is truly about spreading the word as widely as possible rather than celebrity of an individual. Having followed it for some two decades now, I've witnessed River Cottage's various stages of evolution and I'm delighted to say that it continues to thrive as a fantastic example to us all. As a budding food writer, if I can achieve a fraction of what the team have managed at River Cottage, and now Park Farm, I will be a happy man.

If you're tempted to try your own River Cottage cookery course, you can book your own HERE. If you use the discount code WELLSEASONED before 31 December you'll get £50 off any course. Tell them I sent you and that I'm planning to come back very soon. Possibly as a pig.

Coq au cidre (actually Lapin au Cidre)

Traditionally coq au vin is made with a cock bird and red wine, and very fine it is too. This adaptation using rabbit and cider is, I think, every bit its equal. You can cook it in the oven (at 160°C/Gas mark 3) once you’ve added the cider, if that’s more convenient.

Serves 4

Rabbit legs, about 1.6kg, jointed into 8 pieces

50g butter, softened

3–4 tbsp olive oil

150g pancetta or unsmoked streaky bacon, cut into small cubes

10 eschallots or large shallots, peeled

8 garlic cloves, chopped

A good handful of thyme

4 tbsp brandy (ideally apple brandy)

3 bay leaves

700ml dry cider

200g small dark-gilled mushrooms

25g plain flour

A handful of parsley, finely chopped

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

Have the rabbit joints ready to cook. Heat half the butter and 3 tbsp olive oil in a frying pan and brown the rabbit in batches on both sides, seasoning with salt and pepper; don’t crowd the pan. Transfer all the rabbit joints to a flameproof casserole that will accommodate them in a single layer.

Add the pancetta to the frying pan and fry until lightly browned, then remove with a slotted spoon and add to the rabbit. Add a little more oil to the pan if it is dry and cook the shallots gently, stirring frequently, for 15 minutes until soft but not brown. Add the garlic and thyme, cook for 2–3 minutes, then add the brandy.

Tip the contents of the frying pan over the chicken in the casserole and add the bay leaves. Pour in the cider, cover and simmer gently for 45 minutes. Stir in the mushrooms and cook for another 15 minutes. Check that the rabbit is tender and the juices run clear when the thickest part is pierced with a knife. If not, cook for another 10 minutes and check again. Transfer the rabbit, bacon, onions and mushrooms to a warmed serving dish and cover with foil to keep warm.

Bring the cidery liquid to the boil and reduce it by about a third. Meanwhile, mix the flour and remaining softened butter to a paste. Add about half of it, in pieces, to the liquid, whisking all the time. Keep whisking the bubbling liquid to cook the flour and thicken the sauce, adding more of the paste if needed, to thicken it further. Pour the sauce over the rabbit and serve sprinkled with chopped parsley.

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Oct 10 2016 08:47AM

Ancient hedgerows are a haven for Britain's wildlife. These complex ecosystems act as an important refuge for birds, small mammals and insects. For the forager, they're brimming with fruits and nuts in early autumn.

Hedgerows traditionally marked the boundaries between estates and parishes. Some are the remnants of ancient woodlands but most were planted by landowners keen to protect their territory and to prevent livestock escaping. In particular, the Inclosure Acts of the 18th and 19th Centuries led to hedges been planted all over the country. You might think they’re a common sight in the countryside but after the Second World War thousands of miles - up to one third - of Britain's hedgerows were lost as a result of modern agricultural methods. The industrialisation of food and mechanised farming meant a demand for bigger fields in which large machinery could easily operate. These days we have a deeper understanding of the hedgerow's importance as a habitat and they are protected by law.

Hedgerows are home to hundreds of different plant and animal species. They also provide safe corridors for wildlife to move between larger areas of woodland. On an autumnal ramble, why not play a game of I Spy, spotting the different plants and creatures hanging out in the hedgerow?

For accurate identification arm yourself with a guide and look out for:

• Trees like oak, ash, elder and crab apple.

• Thorny shrubs like hawthorn, blackthorn and wild roses.

• Small mammals like voles, weasels, squirrels, hedgehogs and bats.

• Insects like stag beetles, bees and butterflies.

• Birds like blue tits, chaffinches, and blackbirds as well as pheasants and partridge during the game season.

How old is your local hedgerow?

While you're enjoying your ramble, try working out the age of your local hedgerow. Hooper's Hedgerow Hypothesis works on the rule of thumb that one new large species will establish itself in a hedge every century. So, pace out a 30 metre stretch of hedge, count the number of different woody species you find and multiply that number by 100 - you'll have the approximate age, in years, of your hedge. The oldest man-made hedgerows in the UK are thought to have been planted nearly a thousand years ago.

Did you know...? The word hedge actually comes from ‘haeg’, the Anglo-Saxon name for the hawthorn. One of the reasons the hawthorn was so commonly planted is that its wood burns slowly and produces lots of heat; it was the perfect fuel for stoves and fires.

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Feb 15 2016 11:37AM

We got quite excited this week when we heard about a wild plant identification app that has been re-released for Android phones.

The idea is that when you're out and about you can take a simple snap and, by using a combination of a comprehensive image sharing library and user input, it will help you identify more than 6,000 wild plants.

Well, as keen foragers and naturalists anything that helps us work out what we're looking at, especially in a convenient smart phone format, is a welcome addition to the rucksack. And with four French research organisations feeding into the Pl@ntNet project, there are some sharp brains working on it.

So, is it any good? Maybe.

We gave it five images to identify and it got three right. It nailed a crocus, crabapple and blackberry but failed with both the holly and the ivy (isn't there's a song about that?). With a hit rate of 60% it was a little disappointing and didn't exactly set our wild world alight.

But it's worth saying that the project is in the early stages in the UK and so no doubt will improve with time. As with so many crowd-sourced products, it will work better when it had developed a critical mass of engaged users. It's a French-designed app and whilst many of our native plants grow on the continent, not all of them do, so this might account for some of the confusion.

What it definitely goes to show, however, is that knowledge of plant life is not something that can be shortcut or learned overnight. Good foragers acquire their skills and knowledge over a number of years with patience and dedication. If you do want to try the App you'll find it (for free) in the Google App store. PL@ntNet is an interesting technological development and one that might improve with time but not one we'd recommend relying on just yet.

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Aug 31 2015 10:00AM

We've been talking a lot about food recently but as you know, this blog is about more than just seasonal food. it's about seasonal living. So we're going to try to redress the balance a bit, with a few more non-food pieces....like this:

It's always with a tinge of sadness that we acknowledge we're coming towards the end of Summer. Hopefully we've got several weeks of good weather still to come but, as we head into September and on into October, we'll definitely be seeing wetter and cooler weather.

BUT, without doubt, autumn is one of the best times to be out and about in the countryside. The hedgerows are bursting with food to forage and the cooler weather means we can hike for miles without collapsing in a heat-exhausted pile.

The wetter conditions also mean softer ground and the opportunity to collect animal track casts - one of our favourite past times with children and a great way to spend the last few weeks of the school holidays.

How to Make Animal Track Casts

You will need:

A 1kg tub of plaster of Paris (try any art supplies shop)

A 1 litre bottle of tap water

An old medium-sized mixing bowl or plastic container

A wooden spoon

An old 2L plastic bottle, cut into sections about two inches thick

Some old newspaper

Plastic bags (for the messy bowl and spoon)

Vaseline or other petroleum jelly.

First, find your tracks. Look on soft ground near to shelter or food and water sources – under trees or near streams in woodland or field edges. Once you find a good print, clear away any loose twigs and stones so the print is as clear as possible. Smear a thin layer of the petroleum jelly around one of the plastic rings (this will make it easier to remove later), then press into the ground around the print, making sure the print is centred. Press the ring a couple of centimetres into the ground so that, when you pour the plaster in, it will not leak out. Now mix your plaster in the bowl. Follow the directions on the packet to get the right plaster to water ratio (usually about 1.5 to 1). The mixture will get hot as you mix it. You should have a glossy liquid, similar in texture to double cream or pancake batter. Once mixed, leave for a minute or two and gently tap the mixing bowl to ensure any air bubbles float to the top (trapped air bubbles will weaken your cast). Now pour the plaster into the plastic circle, filling to just below the rim. Don't pour the plaster directly onto the print but off to the side, letting it run into the impression. You now need to leave the cast to set for at least half an hour. Mark your spot with a tall stick (so you can find it again!) and hunt for more prints or go for a circular walk. When you are ready to remove the cast, very carefully lift it (including the plastic collar) and wrap it in the newspaper. Don't worry at this stage about cleaning any mud off - it is still very fragile. Leave to dry for another full day at home. The cast will then be properly set and you can cut off the collar and rinse off any mud. You can paint the cast to highlight the footprint if you want to, or varnish it to give it extra strength. Be sure to label it with the species you have identified and the location you found it. As you add to your collection you will learn quickly gather more information about the animals and their behaviour. What sort of woodland do deer like to live in? What do wild board like to eat? It's a fascinating way to learn more about the animals that live in our countryside. Incidentally, if you're lucky enough to find larger animal casts, such as a badger's, you can also use long strips of card, secured with paper clips to surround the print, instead of the plastic rings.

And five points to the first person who can identify this print....

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Aug 23 2015 07:05PM

It’s been a fantastic year for fruits and wild ones, including damsons, are no exception. These little purple plums are ripe and ready for picking right now (about a month earlier than we’d usually expect.) Like their smaller and sourer wild cousin the sloe, damsons make an excellent gin. Make it now and it’ll be ready to enjoy for Christmas.

Damson Gin

450g damsons (available from your nearest hedgerow)

250g caster sugar

1 litre good quality gin

Wash the damsons and prick each one a couple of times with a needle or fork. Place into a large jar or empty gin bottle. Pour in the sugar and top up with as much of the gin as it takes to fill the bottle. Screw the lid on well and give it all a good shake. Store in a cool, dark cupboard and give the bottle another couple of turns every week for at least two months. Eventually, all the sugar will dissolve and the damson juices will have infused into the gin.

The result is a sweet, ruby red spirit. A delicious warming nip on its own, it will also add a fruity kick to mulled wine and, added to champagne or a good sparkling wine it makes a classy Christmas cocktail. Do not feel obliged to polish it off in one go – it will keep for years and only improves with age.

But wait...there's more!

Damson Membrillo

This recipe is perfect for a glut of damsons, especially if you can’t face picking the stones out of damson jam. We call it a membrillo but, strictly speaking, that requires quince. Whatever you call it, the end products is a block of sliceable, tangy fruit jelly that is the perfect accompaniment to cheese (especially a punchy blue) and biscuits. One extra step (see recipe below) converts your membrillo into a fantastic tangy sweet.

To make a 500g block of membrillo you’ll need:

1kg damsons

350g granulated white sugar

Rinse the damsons and add them to a large sauce pan. Add 50ml of water and bring to a simmer over a medium heat, stirring occasionally. The damsons will break down into a deep purple pulp. Once completely soft, pour through a sieve to remove the skins and stones. Give it a good scrape with a wooden spoon to get as much juice as you can. Discard the pulp. You’ll be left with about half a litre of thick, rich puree. Pour the puree back into the (rinsed) pan and add the sugar. Return to the heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar and then simmer for about an hour to reduce the puree until it is really thick and glossy. When you can drag a wooden spoon across the base of the pan and glimpse the base for a second or two, it’s ready. Pour into a shallow plastic container and leave to set. Once completely cooled, remove your block of membrillo from the container, wrap it in cling film and store in the fridge (where it will keep for many months). Serve in slices on your cheeseboard. To make scrumptious damsons sweets, simply cut 1cm slices off your block, cut into cubes and dust each cube in caster sugar. If you're a real glutton for punishment, use a half-and-half mixture of sugar and food grade citric acid (available from most supermarket chemists) for a super-sour sensation that will make your eyes water!

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Jul 17 2015 10:00AM

Serious Topic Alert. There is a slightly dark tone to this blog piece but a necessary one.

Last weekend we killed and ate our dinner. We stabbed it twice and then barbecued it. Ask yourself honestly whether you were at all uncomfortable reading that? If you were, can you put your finger on why? Is it because you find the idea of eating an animal unpleasant or merely the idea of being invovled in its death?

The meal in question was a large spider crab that we caught diving off the Dorset coast. We killed him in the recommended way (the crab is pierced, once between the eyes and once on the underside, to kill both its nerve centres) and then barbecued him on the beach. It sounds brutal, and it is, but is also about as quick and "humane" as killing an animal can be. He had lived a long, entirely free range life and when the end came he died quickly. Yet some people will be uncomfortable with the idea of being present when their dinner dies.

As society evolves, most of us are increasingly detached from the source of our food and we're increasingly unaware of what goes into its production. Surely we owe it to ourselves, not to kill all of our own food or even to witness its death, but at least to understand where it comes from and what it goes through in order to arrive on our dinner plate. Whether we're talking about a fish, game bird, cow or a crustacean, every time we eat meat or fish an animal dies to feed us and buying the produce from a shop invariably shields us from the worst of the process that is involved in taking its life. It is an unpleasant and sometimes barbarous process. Yet, without understanding where our food comes from and what it goes through in order to reach our plates, how can we decide if it's something we want to be part of?

As with so many things, the answer is to to educate ourselves. Rather than seeing meat and fish as sterile, packaged commodities on the supermarket shelf, we should make it our mission to understand as much as possible about how it got there. How was it born, how did it die and how was it treated every step of the way? The more we know, the more we can make informed choices and the more we, as consumers, can make the food chain an ethical one that we are happy to be at the top of.

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Apr 13 2015 08:00AM

Mushrooms are usually an autumnal thing. One of nature's great compensations for the Summer coming to an end is that the cooler, wetter weather provides perfect conditions for all sorts of magnificent mycellium. But it's a mistake to think that autumn is the only time of year that we can find good culinary fungi. This month sees the welcome return of St George's Mushrooms.

Named because they invariably appear around the saint's day on 23 April (in fact this year a few weeks earlier), these little creamy white beauties can be found in fields, on limestone soil, often growing in "fairy ring" circles or little clumps. They are one of the few good eating mushrooms that grow in the spring and, if you can find them, they will add a real touch of wild class to a spring chicken and mushroom pie.

It goes without saying (hopefully) that you shouldn’t be eating any kind of mushroom unless you're 100% sure of its identification and there are some very similar looking but poisonous varieties out there. So, before you even think about going foraging, arm yourself with a good field guide (there are plenty of good ones out there, so absolutely no excuses for poisoning yourself!) and keep an eye out for these fantastic fungi from now through to June.

(Find pictures and identification tips at foragingguide.co.uk).

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Mar 17 2015 05:45PM

Last weekend we ventured down to the South Coast with our new prize possession - a lobster pot. Lobsters are the king of crustacea and a real prize if you can catch one yourself. Although available all year round, they are in their best condition from the Autumn and into early Spring (ie. around now) before they start to moult.

The law on catching your own lobsters is irritatingly difficult to fathom (pun intended). Your local fishery will almost certainly have its own bye-laws and in some places (such as the North West fishery) you'll need a permit. Although a tedious process, it's worth spending some time on the internet researching your local fishery's regulations before you put any pots out. At best you risk having your catch confiscated. At worst, you'll lose your kit and be faced with a fairly hefty fine.

Wherever you are, two laws will definitely apply:

First , the minimum landing size for a lobster is an 87mm carapace (from the back of the eye socket to the end of its body). To be honest, anything smaller than that will look pretty puny anyway, so really you're after something considerably larger but certainly anything smaller will have to be returned to the water.

Secondly, there is a system of protecting "berried" (egg bearing) and breeding females by cutting a small notch in their tails - although recreational fisherman don't have to v-notch lobsters themselves, it is illegal to be in possession of one and you face a fine of up to £50,000. So if you ever catch one, however big it is, it also has to go straight back.

Legal research done and after sourcing one slightly smelly mackerel as bait, we braved the icy seas of the English Channel at low tide and placed our pot on a sandy patch in a small rocky cove. The trap was set and surely all we had to do was wait overnight, haul in our prize catch and prepare the boiling pot. Well, it'll come as no surprise to learn that it didn't exactly go to plan. Returning to the cove on Sunday morning, the icy cold water was still there. So was our pot. And so was our smelly mackerel. No lobster. Not even a crusty old crab had been willing to throw himself in. How shell-fish of them (geddit?). Still, we resolved to keep trying and will be back next weekend. We'll keep you up to date with our progress.

In the meantime, if you've had more luck than us or (more likely) happen to have a friendly local fishmonger and fancy cooking lobster, here's James Martin's traditional lobster thermidor recipe which is actually remarkably easy to make. "Saving with Jamie" it certainly ain’t, but a seriously tasty, decedant Spring dish it definitely is.

By The Twig - Well Seasoned, Feb 26 2015 12:34PM

Most commonly-foraged species of shellfish and crustacea have a minimum legal catch size. It’s dead easy to work out what the legal limit is – you just have to check the EU statute then the supporting UK legislation and then the local fisheries regulations! Unfortunately for the amateur forager, this patchwork of regulation and regional variations has led to very a confusing mish-mash of laws. Add to this the fact that it's not always obvious which measurement you should be taking and you've got a recipe for a fine from the local fisheries officer.

If you're planning a beach foraging trip this Spring (which, let's face it, you definitely should be) and would prefer to avoid getting your collar felt by the local fish police, you might want to take a copy of this handy size guide with you. We've looked at all of the regulations and rounded up to the highest number so you won't go wrong.

Happy foraging!

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