Most fruits and ­vegetables are ­synonymous with a season – asparagus for spring, ­tomatoes with summer, quince with autumn – and yet borlotti beans seem to belong to any time of year. Looking like kidney beans’ glamorous, partying sister, borlottis are picked for fresh beans in ­summer, left to half-dry for an autumn harvest, or dried to use in winter soups and stews. And here I am, a handful of seeds in the palm of my hand, enjoying sowing them in early spring. Every year since I got the gardening bug, I have grown borlotti beans. Scrambling two metres or more towards the sun, it is their beans rather than the whole pod that are the prize. Borlottis really grab the eye: while their twisting, leafy habit is a delight in itself, their long, plump pods look more like broad beans than those of a typical climbing bean, and are similarly split along the seam to get to the beans ­inside. By midsummer, the plants are decorated with red-spattered pods that boldly Jackson Pollock their corner of the garden. This bold speckle is the plant’s signature tune: the beans are loyal to the pod’s colour scheme too, though the redder the pod, the paler the beans and vice versa, as if each pod is allowed only so much red pigment. Borlottis are by some distance the most beautiful of beans, and even if you have no use for them in your kitchen, they are worthy of their place just for that vivid splash of colour. Borlottis are grown in the same way as you might any climbing French or runner bean: you can start them ­indoors from spring, risk sowing direct from May if you dare, and successionally sow for an ongoing harvest. Some form of support – I like hazel poles – is needed for them to clamber up. Despite their Italian provenance, borlottis are happy in our cooler climate: they just take their time over everything. The plants grow steadily rather than like Jack’s beanstalk, and the beans take time to ­mature; they also respond best to being cooked slowly, as if trying to retain the speckles that sadly fade to chestnut on cooking. I have a theory that, having bribed you into sowing them and seeing them through to harvest, their striking decoration has served its purpose. The beans mature in the heart of summer. Pick them regularly, when the pods are plump with beans – you can always pop a pod to check. You have a few choices when it comes to using them: they are superb fresh when the pods are fleshy and green, or you can leave them on the plant and pick when the plant is beginning to dry out as the cold weather arrives – the beans will be demi-sec (half dry). Or you can dry the beans more fully for eating through winter or for sowing the following year. To do this, pick a dry day and cut the plant above ground – the roots can be left to release nitrogen into the soil as they break down – and hang the plant upside down undercover until the pods and their beans really dry out. Shell the beans and allow them to dry for a few more days on paper, and store in a paper bag or jar to use through winter or sow in spring. If you have yet to try borlottis, let me reassure you of their deliciousness: they have a firm – almost meaty – texture and a wonderful, rich nuttiness that allows them to take on whatever bold ingredients are with them, while also being distinctive enough to go with little gentler flavours. Borlottis are also hugely adaptable: the Veneto – that region of northern ­Italy that bends around towards Slovenia – is their culinary homeland, where they’re commonly used in everything from salads to soups to stews. Their ­arrival in the heart of summer makes them perfect for making sunny weather dips, such as the hummus on these pages, and what might well be the ­perfect soup for summer and autumn, ribolitta, where the rich flavour and firm texture makes a fine companion to tomatoes, courgettes, chard, kale, herbs, garlic and so much of what is in season through those months. For the very best texture, I use Anna Del Conte’s method of getting them just simmering in a pan of water or stock before transferring to an oven at around 160C/140C fan/Gas 3 for an hour, maybe longer, depending on their size and whether they are dry or fresh. Dried borlottis are best soaked overnight ­before cooking. Happily, borlottis are hard to waste: any not used fresh in summer or dried in the colder months, can be sown – as I’m doing this weekend – to multiply into this year’s harvest. Try these.... Borlotti hummus SERVES four INGREDIENTS 400g de-podded borlotti beans 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped 5 tbsp olive oil juice of 1 lemon 12 mint leaves, chopped Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper A few leaves of Greek basil, parsley or mint METHOD  Put the beans in a pan, just cover with water and bring to the boil. Simmer for six to 10 minutes – longer if dried and soaked overnight – until tender. Drain. Put beans in a food processor, along with garlic, olive oil and mint. Process into a smooth purée.  Add the lemon juice and process again until incorporated. Add a little more oil if you think the texture or taste would benefit. Salt and pepper as you like. Spread on toast or good bread, splash with oil if you fancy and sprinkle over with Greek basil, parsley or more mint. Dried borlottis cooked under oil and water with sage SERVES four INGREDIENTS 200g dried borlotti beans, soaked in plenty of cold water overnight or all day ½ bulb of garlic, unpeeled Bunch of fresh sage, about 15 leaves ½-1 tsp chilli flakes (optional) 3 whole tomatoes (use tinned, drained of juice) 4-6 tbsp olive oil Salt and freshly ground black pepper METHOD Preheat oven to 200C/180C fan/Gas 6.  Put drained beans, garlic, sage leaves, chilli flakes and tomatoes into a casserole dish that will accommodate the beans – and fit in your oven!  Add enough cold water to cover the beans by at least 5cm. Add olive oil, enough to cover the surface with a film of oil.  Put on a lid or cover with foil and bake in the oven for one to three hours, until beans are tender. You may want to check them from time to time and top up with water. When the beans are soft, remove from the oven and season with salt and pepper.  To serve, drain the beans and dress with a little lemon juice and some extra olive oil, with salt and pepper to taste.  Gorgeouswith roasted meats or thrown into salads. From The Art of the Larder by Claire Thomson (Quadrille, £25). Order your copy from books.telegraph.co.uk