Before the Carols Start: A San Martino Supper for a British November

There's a moment in early November when Britain seems to hold its breath. The fireworks have fizzled out, the last of the garden tomatoes are done, and yet the Christmas adverts are already trying to sell us a feeling we won't actually reach for another six weeks. It's a strange, in-between stretch. Italy has a name for this sort of pause: San Martino.

On 11 November, Italians mark the feast of St Martin. It's not a national holiday in the way that Easter or Ferragosto is, but it's a date that quietly matters, especially in the countryside. It's the feast of new wine, of chestnuts pulled from the fire, of the last outdoor tables of the year. And this year, 2026, it lands on a Wednesday — which is as good a reason as any to cook something generous on a school night and call it a celebration.

What San Martino Actually Is

The story goes that Martin of Tours, a Roman soldier, cut his cloak in half to share it with a beggar during a cold night. That night he dreamed of Christ wearing the half-cloak, and he later became a bishop. His feast day, 11 November, became associated with generosity, harvest and the turning of the season.

In Italy, San Martino is tied to the first taste of the new vintage. 'Vino novello' — young wine, barely fermented, fruity and light — appears on tables alongside roast chestnuts and, in some regions, goose. There's also a meteorological footnote: 'l'estate di San Martino', St Martin's summer, the brief mild spell that often arrives in early November. It's the last gasp of outdoor weather before the damp settles in.

What I find interesting is that Britain has its own version. Martinmas was once a major quarter day here, a time for hiring fairs, settling rents, and eating goose or beef. The old customs have faded, but the date still carries a faint echo. So this isn't about importing an Italian tradition wholesale. It's about recognising that we had one too, and that a shared feast day is a nice thing to revive.

The Table Before the Noise

The reason I like San Martino is that it's cheap. Not in a miserable way — in a sensible way. Christmas entertaining has become a performance: the right bird, the right crackers, the right amount of matching crockery. San Martino asks for none of that. It asks for a bottle of young red, a bag of chestnuts, and whatever apples and squash are sitting in the veg drawer.

It also asks for people, but not too many. Four to six is ideal. A Tuesday or Wednesday supper, not a Saturday night do. You can send a text that afternoon and still have time to shop. That's the sort of gathering I want in November: low stakes, warm room, something bubbling on the hob.

A One-Pot Braise for the Middle of the Table

For the centre of the table, I'd do a braise of British sausages, squash and chestnuts. It's a one-pot dish, which means less washing up and more sitting down. The Italian note comes from a soffritto base and a few sprigs of rosemary; the British note comes from the sausages and the cider.

You'll need:

• 6 good pork sausages (herby, not too lean)
• 1 small squash or a quarter of a large one, peeled and cut into chunks
• 2 apples, cored and cut into wedges (skin on is fine)
• 200g cooked chestnuts (vacuum-packed are perfectly good)
• 1 onion, finely chopped
• 1 carrot, finely chopped
• 1 celery stick, finely chopped
• 2 cloves garlic, sliced
• 1 tbsp tomato purée
• 300ml dry cider
• 200ml chicken stock
• A few sprigs of rosemary
• Olive oil, salt, pepper

Brown the sausages in a heavy casserole with a little olive oil, then set them aside. In the same pot, soften the onion, carrot and celery for ten minutes. Add the garlic and tomato purée and cook for another minute. Pour in the cider and let it bubble for a moment, then add the stock, the squash, the apples, the chestnuts and the rosemary. Nestle the sausages back in, cover, and simmer gently for 30–35 minutes, until the squash is tender and the sauce has thickened. Season to taste.

Serve it with bread and nothing else. Maybe a sharp green salad if you're feeling virtuous. The point is that it's all in one pot, and it tastes like more than the sum of its parts.

The Wine, the Nuts, the End of the Evening

For the wine, keep it modest. A young red — a light Valpolicella, a young Montepulciano, or a Beaujolais-style bottle — served slightly cool. You're not looking for complexity; you're looking for something juicy and unpretentious that tastes of fruit rather than oak. If you want to nod to the Italian tradition, look for a 'novello' on the shelf, though they can be hit and miss in the UK. A cheap, cheerful red will do the job.

After the braise, put a bowl of chestnuts on the table. You can roast them properly — score the skins, 20 minutes at 200°C, wrapped in foil — or buy them ready-cooked and warm them in a pan. Either way, they're the right thing to eat with the last of the wine. If you want a pudding, bake a couple of apples with a little honey and cinnamon. That's it.

A Reason to Gather Now

The older I get, the more I think the best gatherings happen before the calendar gets loud. Once December arrives, every weekend is booked, every meal is an event, and everyone is a little bit tired. San Martino offers a different sort of evening: a Wednesday, a one-pot braise, a bottle of young wine, a bowl of chestnuts. It's not a replacement for Christmas. It's a pause before it.

This year, 11 November falls on a Wednesday. You could ignore it. Or you could text a few people, buy some sausages and a squash, and light a candle on the table. That's the whole feast. The rest is just November.