MONITOR: You can buy walnuts in packets, but they are nothing compared to the ones you crack open yourself

WRINKLED, GNARLED, NUTTY and oh so seasonal. I’m not talking Brussels sprouts here, but walnuts. The nut that opens not with a nutcracker, but a knife inserted right at the top, or by crushing two together in the palm of your hand. Walnuts are part of the autumn feast, and if you shop in farmers’ markets you’ll still be able to get hold of them. But don’t delay, they are drying out by the day.

As a child, a favourite Christmas decoration of mine were the walnut babies, a pair sewn into the comfort of chequered duvets nestling in two walnut halves. Even as a child I wondered at the dexterity of whoever had sewn them into place. Miniature beds nestling in the sweet pine-infused haven of the Christmas tree.

The Romans thought walnuts were a good cure for headaches, maybe because they look a bit like miniature brains. They may have been a little wide of the mark there, but they have healthy properties.

Archaeologists have found petrified walnut shells in southwest France (home to some of the world’s better walnuts) that are more than 8,000 years old. While the walnut may have been with us for some time, it is youthful specimens you want. Buy heavy and often, because if the kernel dries out the nut will be light and not much fun to eat.

Nibble on a walnut and you will be imbibing a source of antioxidants, folic acid, vitamin E, iron and magnesium as well as more omega 3 than any other nut. You may choose to nibble them with a glass of sherry – oloroso is a personal favourite – Madeira or even port.

As with many nuts, there is versatility in use, from sweet through to savoury. Walnuts turn up in breads, stuffings and confectionary in both French and Italian cookery. In parts of Spain they feature in the utterly delicious romesco sauce and in Italy Ligurian pesto is occasionally made with walnuts, particularly the pale, milky, early-season specimens.

In the Middle East they turn up in baklava – which, when well made, can be as fine as any French patisserie – and in two sauces that are perfect for the coming festivities, tarator and muhammara. At a time when tradition dictates so much, it is useful and refreshing to be able to twist things ever so slightly. Tarator comes in many variations – blitzed pine nuts or tahini occasionally replacing walnuts – but in essence it is a garlic and nut sauce that is emulsified into a couple of slices of soaked bread, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and pepper. It is heady, aromatic, refreshing and an ideal accompaniment for fish or grilled meat – even turkey – or as a dip. There are lots of different recipes for both tarator and muhammara available on the internet.

Muhammara is a paste or dip made with crushed walnuts, mixed with roasted red peppers (buy a jar, red peppers at this time of year are not worth the trouble), breadcrumbs, olive oil, garlic, lemon juice and pomegranate molasses. Similar but altogether different.

Soaked bulgar wheat gives a lighter result than bread (for two slices of soaked bread substitute two heaped tablespoons of bulgar, covered in boiling water, left to soak for 15-20 minutes and then drained).

If pomegranate molasses is proving hard to find, buy a carton of pomegranate juice; you need four cups in a saucepan with half a cup of sugar and a tablespoon or two of lemon juice. Reduce over a low heat for an hour or until the liquid is thick, dark and syrupy. If you are tired of balsamic vinegar in your salad dressing this makes for a pleasant change.

And given the pomegranate season is in full swing, why not liven up your muhammara with the seeds from a fresh one? Golden nuggets of seasonal celebration.