Last weekend, I took the kids to a pick-your-own farm in north London. The farm, sprawled across 20 hectares (49 acres), was bursting with summer produce: rows of ripe strawberries, towering sunflowers and more courgettes than we could carry. My kids, thrilled by the prospect of filling baskets to the brim, darted between the raspberry canes and beetroot beds, sneaking fruit from their punnets before we even reached the car.

When we got home, the kitchen counter was overflowing with our harvest. There’s something deeply satisfying about preserving the fruits of a day like that, and about knowing that those vibrant flavours will carry us through the cooler months. That afternoon, we set to work making batch after batch of pea and mint soup – the recipe’s in my book Simple – and ended up with enough to last us well into autumn. It’s a lovely way to spend a weekend, though I’m still finding the odd rogue raspberry in a corner of the kitchen, remnant of an impromptu battle.

Preserving summer isn’t just about stocking up for the winter, however. It’s about holding on to the warmth, the brightness and the memories of the season. Whether that’s making chutney, pickling vegetables or freezing berries, preservation allows us to carry the flavours of summer into the colder months.

People all over the world have their own ways of doing this. In eastern Europe, the end of summer is marked by neighbours coming together to pickle vegetables, turning the harvest into ajvar, a popular relish. In Italy, the making of tomato paste and puree is a communal event, with families gathering to transform the ripe fruit into a sauce. And in Japan, the practice of hoshigaki, or the hanging of persimmons to dry them, preserves not only the fruit but also the bonds between those who prepare it.

In our Feast column a few weeks ago, I shared a recipe for atchar, a south-east Asian condiment that can be crafted from nearly any vegetable you have to hand – courgettes, marrows, green beans and even baby corn. This tangy, flavourful preserve adds depth to a bowl of lentils or brings vibrant life to a simple salad, but the best part is it lasts for months, keeping the taste of summer alive long after the days have cooled.

Beyond making soups and chutneys, the sharpness of pickling and fermenting transforms the vibrant, sweet produce into something with depth and character. Fermenting is about the magical, bubbling relationship between bacteria and their surroundings. It’s amazing how even the most simple of ingredients, such as cabbage or cucumbers, can be transformed with salt and time. Take sauerkraut: it’s nothing more than cabbage and salt, yet, with patience, it turns into something tangy, crunchy and full of character. Or kimchi, that spicy, fermented staple of Korean cuisine that turns vegetables into something complex and deeply satisfying.

Pickling, on the other hand, involves soaking foods in an acidic liquid to achieve a sharp, sour flavour. A quick pickle is easy: just heat some vinegar, sugar and spices, pour it over your chosen vegetables, and leave them to sit. The result is a jar of bright, sharp flavours that can enliven all sorts of dishes. And while cucumbers are the classic choice, almost anything can be pickled – carrots, cauliflower, even watermelon rind takes on a new life with a splash of vinegar.

Our test kitchen head, Milli Taylor, shared a wonderful tip with me this summer for preserving sun-ripened tomatoes well into autumn. Take fresh tomatoes, halve them and bake with herbs and garlic until soft and fragrant. Then you simply bottle them in their own juices and good oil, and these jars of preserved tomatoes can become the foundation for a rich pasta sauce, a filling for stuffed peppers or even a quick midnight snack paired with oily anchovies and briny olives.

So join me in holding on to the best of the season by capturing its bright flavours in jars and ice trays. Take a moment now to preserve what you can, and you might just find that summer will last a little longer than you thought.

What I read | This week, I revisited Home Cooking by Laurie Colwin, which is a gem for any home cook. Her blend of anecdotes, reflections and straightforward recipes from decades in the kitchen is charming and practical, while her witty, no-nonsense prose mirrors the simplicity and honesty of her cooking. It’s a delightful read for the novice and the seasoned home cook alike.

Where I’ve been | Admittedly, I didn’t eat anything on this visit, but I couldn’t resist mentioning the Institute of Contemporary Arts in central London, where I caught the Chinese film Only the River Flows. While the plot left me a bit puzzled, the film was a visual feast, and the short stroll to Chinatown afterwards was a perfect way to digest the experience.

Where I’m going | While we’re on our book tour for Ottolenghi Comfort in the south-west, I’m hoping to fit in a visit to the Cornish Sea Salt Company. We use their salt in all our restaurants and are eager to learn more about where it comes from.