Racing Away

Tags

Beetroot 'Chioggia', Centaurea americana 'Aloha Blanca', Centaurea americana 'Rose', Tomato 'Indigo Rose', Tomato 'Tumbler'

I’m feeling a little out of control. I’m someone who likes to plan and feel on top of everything but I’m having to accept this year that it just isn’t possible. The garden and allotment are racing away with themselves. One day away is all it takes and I have courgettes morphing into marrows and French beans well over a foot long. These are the same beans that less than 48 hours ago were tiddlers. The fabulous summer weather we’re having is making everything romp away and now we’re past the solstice plants are doing what they need to do to ensure survival – going to seed. Keeping up with the deadheading is a feat in itself. At least the recent rain has meant I haven’t needed to spend time watering.

It’s been a hectic few weeks with work and I haven’t been able to spend as much time as I’d like in the garden or on the plot. Blogging too has been neglected. I think I’m experiencing what might become known as the ‘August Dip’. I remember writing last year about losing my mojo around the same sort of time. A strange wave of apathy seems to descend upon me in August. Maybe it’s just I’ve run out of steam but I’m sure it’s also linked to the feeling that the both the garden and allotment have reached their peak. Once September arrives there’ll be a renewed sense of energy, well I hope so …..

The cut flower patch in August

The cut flower patch is blooming and it’s a real joy to see it teeming with insects. There was a day last week when I managed to get up there early, it was still and warm already. There was nobody else there. It was sheer bliss and all the effort felt worth it. The patch looks exactly how I wanted it to look. New varieties of flowers I’m trying for the first time elicit excitement when the first buds start to break. Gladioli are in full bloom and I walked back from the plot yesterday with a huge bundle of them. Centaurea americana ‘Aloha Blanca’ and ‘Aloha Rose’ have been great new discoveries for me. They seemed to take forever to open although their buds are so attractive – like botanical filigree – that this wasn’t a bad thing, I was just impatient to see the flower. And they’re fabulous, think huge fluffy thistles.

Centaurea americana ‘Aloha Rose’

On the fruit and veg front it has been a good year. Lettuce ‘Marvel of Four Season’ is my favourite and it has coped well in the face of not much rain. It’s only just starting to bolt, but as the name suggests I can sow now for autumn and winter crops. For once my successional sowing of lettuce has worked although that success might be come to an end if I don’t get sowing my next lot soon.

Centaurea americana in bud

Finally after 6 years of tomato disappointment we have our own home-grown ones. Our last tomato success came when we lived in Berkshire. It was a glorious summer with hardly any rain and we had a lovely sun trap where we gathered 15kg off only 6 plants. Ever since we’ve been defeated by either dodgy compost or blight. Having the greenhouse this year has made a huge difference and, so of course, has the weather. Although my nerves have been tested as I agreed to grow tomatoes for a magazine photo shoot. Fortunately the tomatoes survived and the photos are in the can. I can’t say the tomato growing has been a complete triumph though.

Back in March I was sent some plants of a variety called ‘Indigo Rose’. They have been bred especially to have black skins. The idea behind this is that the compounds which give the black colour – anthocyanins – are antioxidants which are believed to be good for us. Oh they looked so promising. The plants grew away strongly and seemed to be very healthy and dark fruit started to form. But they have taken such a long time to ripen and when they have finally looked ready to eat I have been unimpressed. Wellyman summed up their flavour as ‘out of season supermarket’. To be honest I think even that’s being a bit kind. Of course, it could have been something I’ve done, too much water perhaps or not enough feed. Although the simple ‘Tumbler’ tomatoes I picked up as young plants from my local farmers’ market have been grown in the same way and they taste fantastic and they’ve also produced ripe fruit much more quickly. I’m still waiting for fruit from my yellow heritage variety, the name of which escapes me at the moment. I’m just glad I didn’t rely on one variety. I’d have been so disappointed if, in this perfect tomato growing year, the only ones I’d grown were ‘Indigo Rose’. I’d be very interested to hear if anyone else is growing ‘Indigo Rose’ and what they think of the flavour.

Rainbow carrots

I’ve been delighted with my colourful carrots and beetroot. The book ‘Kitchen Garden Experts’ inspired me to grow some even though they weren’t part of my original plans. I thought I’d have enough to plants to grow with the list I needed for my new book but I couldn’t resist. OK, I’m not going to be self-sufficient in carrots – I only have a few large pots on the patio but they look so pretty and taste amazing picked, washed and eaten within minutes. I’ve also been very impressed with the flavour of the pink and white striped Beetroot ‘Chioggia’ which is milder than the dark red varieties and doesn’t make quite such a mess of your kitchen.

I hear a storm is on the way for Sunday so today will be spent staking plants on the plot. They’re promising strong wind and rain. I’m just hoping everything will be standing by Monday. Growing plants for a book is not for the faint-hearted and I’m wondering why I ever suggested I would do it for a second year in a row. Well I do know why, it’s because I love growing but it would be nice if the weather didn’t cause me so many headaches. So, wish me luck and lets hope the weather forecasters have got it wrong.

Frustration and Inspiration

Tags

Beetroot 'Chioggia', Cinead McTernan, colourful carrots, Jason Ingram, Kitchen Garden Experts, Le Manoir aux Quat'Saisons, Raymond Blanc, sea kale

Lettuce ‘Freckles’

My computer bit the dust the other day. It didn’t come as a great surprise, it hasn’t sounded healthy for a while now. The noise it was generating had become so loud I couldn’t concentrate, it was like I had an old diesel car under the desk. I had hoped it might limp on for a few more months and Wellyman had replaced a few parts. Then it took to shutting down without being asked to, but the final straw was the chequerboard screen of pinks and yellows which looked like a punk Harris Tweed – I knew then that the game was up.

I’m not a complete technophobe but getting a new computer is such a faff, why you would do it voluntarily I don’t know. We’d had this one for ten years and it’s incredible how much stuff ended up on it. All I can say is that thanks to Wellyman I’m up and running again but if it had been left to me, well I wouldn’t have known where to start. I’m embarrassed and frustrated by this. I’m generally a practical, can-do type of woman but when it comes to IT I can get by but if anything out of the ordinary happens, well I’m stuck. It’s rather worrying that so much of life is becoming ever dependent on technology that requires the brain and dexterity of a teenager to get through all the setting up stages and glitches that inevitably appear. And don’t get me started on the thought process behind the creation of Windows 8.1. It took 20 minutes and a phone call to Wellyman to find out what they’d done with spell check. Still at least the new computer is quiet – I barely know it’s on as it purrs gently like the most contented of cats. The Welly household must be a bit of a technology black spot at the moment as my ‘not so smart’ smartphone keeps having a hissy fits too. This particular problem has left even Wellyman, who spends his working days fixing IT problems, perplexed.

Green and red mizuna seedlings

At times like this I crave a simpler life. The closest I’m going to get to getting away from it all, for the moment anyway, is escaping to the allotment. There can’t be many better antidotes to the frustrations of modern life than a few hours weeding, tying in sweet peas and picking flowers. There’s a simplicity to growing which is good for the spirit which might explain why I have got a bit carried away this year with my growing. When I took on the allotment the plan was to keep all the veg growing there. It’s funny though how there is no longer enough space there for my ambitions and veg crops are now creeping into the garden again. Part of this is can be attributed to the idea that we may not have a plot or garden at all next year if we move so I’m going all out this year for a bountiful summer.

Kitchen Garden Experts

Inspiration has also come in the form of a book I bought a few weeks ago called Kitchen Garden Experts. It’s the creation of Jason Ingram, who took the photographs for my own book, and his wife, garden writer and editor, Cinead McTernan. They travelled the length and breadth of the country last year photographing the kitchen gardens of some of our top restaurants and picking the brains of the chefs and the gardeners who provide them with top-notch produce. I’ve found it a fabulous read. A few years ago I was lucky enough to meet one of the growers included in the book, Jo Campbell, who at the time was growing fruit and vegetables for Raymond Blanc at Le Manoir aux Quat’Saisons. Talking to her about how they work with the chefs to decide what to grow, how they can make the most of the produce when it’s brought to the kitchen and how they’re always looking for new crops, whether that’s seeking out inspiration from other countries or rediscovering forgotten native foodstuffs, was fascinating. It’s this relationship between the chef and grower which is the basis for this book.

Vallum Farm – Kitchen Garden Experts

Kitchen Garden Experts cleverly combines two topics close to many of our hearts – food and growing. It’s a combination of restaurant guide and gardening and recipe book. You could easily use this book as the basis for a foodie pilgrimage to top eateries but it’s not short on horticultural information. Cinead has packed it full of tips and techniques gleaned from experienced growers. I liked, grower for The River Cafe, Simon Hewitt’s policy of growing tomatoes originating from northern Italy as they are more adapted to our own cooler growing conditions. Dan Cox of L’Enclume in Cumbria recommends placing your veg crops into a bucket of cold water as you harvest, it helps to preserve their freshness, especially on a hot day, and makes cleaning easier once you get them to the kitchen. I will certainly be consulting the book when I make future seed orders, seeking out the recommended varieties, and growing home-grown sea kale sounds an intriguing prospect. But for now it has inspired a few last-minute pots of colourful carrots – purples and yellows, some yellow heritage tomatoes, which I might just squeeze into the greenhouse, and a sowing of stripey beetroot ‘Chioggia’.

The Star Inn at Harome – Kitchen Garden Experts

The recipes range from the simple but delicious sounding rocket pesto, squash soup and plum and almond flan to the dinner party type wet garlic barigoule and leeks vinaigrette. There are some recipes I probably wouldn’t attempt, but even these recipes provide inspiration in the form of flavour combinations and crops I’d like to try to grow in the future.

What I really loved about Kitchen Garden Experts is how it encapsulates how far British food has come in the last 10 to 15 years. Once derided by our European neighbours for our poor quality produce and indifferent restaurants we now have world-class eateries, chefs and artisan food. We’re learning to care about seasonality and appreciate the effort which goes into quality food production. Jason’s photographs are incredibly beautiful, not just capturing the stunning food but also a sense of place for each of the kitchen gardens. If his photographs don’t have you drooling your way to the kitchen, reaching for the seed catalogue or picking up the phone to book a table at one of the restaurants I don’t know what will.

 

Kale and hearty

Tags

club root, kale, Russian red kale, spanokopitta

Red Russian Kale

Kale has been one of those vegetables that has had a bit of an image problem in the past. Robust and super hardy plants, they have a certain don’t mess with me attitude about them and can cope with whatever the winter weather will through at them. I’ve been growing them since I took on my plot and they have stood unflinching through minus 15 degrees C, being buried under several feet of snow and this winter have coped with the deluge of rain deposited on them.

Popular in Britain as a crop for thousands of years, it’s thought they may have been introduced by the Romans. A rich source of vitamins and minerals kale, like its brassica cousin the cabbage, would have been an important part of the diet of our ancestors. There is an earthiness and sense of the peasant about kale and perhaps this is why it has proved unpopular in recent times. Competing with imported out of season tomatoes, aubergines and peppers, which bring a splash of the summer to our gloomy winters, is going to be a hard sell. Then there’s the taste, when you eat kale you know it’s good for you with its rich irony flavour. Palates used to blander tastes and imported vegetables are going to struggle with such a hale and hearty vegetable.

This is a pity though because kale is one of the easiest crops to grow and one of the most versatile in the kitchen. Curly kale is the classic variety, with cavolo nero being the most fashionable but my own favourite is Russian red Kale which I find to be sweeter than other kales. It must be up there as one of the prettiest vegetables, a must for any kitchen garden. Grey-green leaves with pink veins are an unusual and striking combo. And, as the light levels and temperatures drop the colours become more intense. The leaves are frilly and capture raindrops which glisten like droplets of molten silver. They look even better with a dusting of frost. Red Russian is one of the hardiest too, originating from Siberia.

Crimson stemmed red Russian kale

Brassicas are one of those crops which can break even the keenest and green fingered of gardeners. They seem to suffer from more than their fair share of pests and diseases. Club root, a fungal disease which causes the roots of brassicas to swell and the plants to become stunted can stay in the soil for over twenty years. No amount of crop rotation is going to eliminate this from your veg garden. Then there’s cabbage white butterflies whose caterpillars can strip a plant bare over night. If you’ve struggled with cabbages and are fed up with attempts to grow broccoli then you need to give red Russian kale a try. Club root is in the soil at my allotments but kale, and red Russian in particular, seems oblivious to this fact. Even the caterpillars of cabbage whites seem to show little interest. Perhaps this is because fellow allotment holders are kindly growing more appealing, and sacrificial, cabbages. White fly will take up residence but other than a plume of tiny winged creatures filling your kitchen they seem to be no problem for the plant itself.

The beauty of red Russian kale is you can have it pretty much all year round. You could sow throughout the year if you wanted baby leaves to use in salads and stir-frys. Sow in spring and you can crop from summer right through until the following spring or sow in late summer for plants which will go through the winter. Simply keep picking the leaves and they will go on producing. I find three or four plants are enough, as you never want to strip a plant bare, they do need some leaves to keep on growing. I always sow into modules or a seed tray and nurture young plants in my greenhouse or cold frame until they are big enough to go out onto the allotment. But I’m sure you could sow the seeds direct too, just make sure you protect the young seedlings from slugs.

Kales are becoming trendy again. We’re learning to embrace stronger flavours, we love the idea of super foods and are harking back to comfort foods and rustic cooking. Kale fits the bill perfectly. It’s getting easier to come by in supermarkets and farmer markets, particularly the curly and cavolo nero varieties but you’ll struggle to find red Russian. I’ve only seen it once in an organic shop in Hebden Bridge. I was so surprised I squealed ‘red Russian kale’, much to the consternation of the fellow customers. So if you’re going to grow one kale grow this one.

kale spanokopitta

As for what to do with it, well you can simply lightly steam it. It only takes a minute or two so don’t cook it into oblivion. You can add it to pasta sauces, frittatas and use it as a spinach substitute in dishes like spanokopitta. This is my own take on this Greek dish and is perfect in winter.

• Roast some butternut squash and red onion for about 30 minutes until soft.
• Steam a handful of kale.
• Mix these in a bowl with feta cheese, cashew nuts and hazelnuts.
• Season and then use as a filling, wrapping in sheets of oiled or buttered filo pastry.
• Bake in the oven for 20 minutes until golden and crispy.

Hops, squashes and the final push

Tags

'golden tassels', 'sweet dumpling', coppicing, growing squashes, hops

ripening winter squashes

So September has come and it’s the final push for my finishing my book. The photographs have all been decided and have gone off to the printers to be set and the text has been ‘jiggled’ about to fit. I’m pretty sure jiggled isn’t the technical term and the whole process required much more skill and expertise than that word conjures up, so apologies to the designer if she’s reading this. But I’m still not particularly au fait with the intricacies of the publishing world so jiggling will have to do. The next couple of weeks involve editing the text and proofreading and just when I think I’m finished I remember that there’s an index to do and I mustn’t forget those all important ‘thank yous’.

I do feel slightly like this summer has passed me by. I have got photographic evidence though that I was outdoors and gardening for some of the time at least. Maybe it’s because despite July and August resembling summer for a change that really has been it – just 2 months of decent weather. It’s all too easy to forget we had the coldest spring for 100 years preceded by such a wet 2012. And now we’re heading towards autumn and I don’t feel ready for it. An Indian summer would be nice, not only to give me a chance to get all manner of jobs done that have fallen by the wayside this year but also to ripen my squashes.

Last year was the first time I had grown squashes. I tried a few onion or uchiki kuri squashes and grew them up a wigwam so they didn’t take up much space. They weren’t a great success bearing in mind the rain and cold that was summer 2012 but a few fruit did mature and it was enough to make me want to grow some more this year. Whilst the harvest may not have been huge, growing them vertically worked well. So I came up with a plan for this year’s squashes which involved some coppiced posts, Wellyman, a mallet and some hops.

Hops and squash screen

The idea was to create a screen at one end of my plot, the end which sticks out into the rest of the allotment. Strict rules on the allotments mean we’re all a little limited with the type of structures we can erect and I didn’t want anything that would shade out any neighbouring plots. A green wall of foliage though would make life much easier over the coming months when I was having photographs taken, blocking out any water butts and blue carrot-growing bins.

I’ve always wanted my plot to look pretty. I like the make do and mend philosophy of allotmenteering but sometimes some plots can end up looking like a scrap yard with all manner of pipes, posts and tubing lying around. I wanted something that wasn’t going to break the bank but which looked rustic and natural at the same time. A bundle of coppiced posts from a local coppicer did the job. Tasked with the job Wellyman was in his element with his tape measure and mallet, working out the correct spacings for the posts. What resulted was a simple criss-cross pattern of posts pushed into the ground at an angle along the length of one of my beds. They were then lashed together with twine. At both ends of the screen I planted a hop. I chose the dwarf variety ‘Golden Tassels’ as it is a little less rampant than it’s taller growing cousins. ‘Golden Tassels’ can reach 3-4 metres, non-dwarf varieties can grow up to twice this. It’s also a pretty ornamental variety with lovely golden leaves. The idea wasn’t to harvest our own hops for beer making purposes but to cut down the long stems with their pretty green cones and dry them for decorating at home. The plan was for the hops to meet somewhere in the middle and then in between there would be squashes trailing up the posts too.

Of course, not everything went quite to plan. It turns out hops are prone to aphids and the cold spring meant I didn’t see my first ladybird until August. As a result one of the hop plants was a little stunted by the aphid infestation that took hold and never really recovered enough to reach its true potential. They’re perennial though so I’ll be prepared next year with my garlic spray at the ready. Despite this I’m happy with the overall effect. Hop number two grew as I had hoped, using the posts to climb upwards. The squash too are doing well. There was a point where I wondered if I was going to get anything from them. There were a lot of male flowers and no fruit to be seen. But I have nine fruits now swelling and ripening in the sun. They were meant to be a variety known as ‘Sweet Dumpling’ a winter squash with a creamy coloured skin and distinctive green stripes. Mine for some reason are lacking the green stripes. I could write a whole post about seeds not turning out to be what they should. Maybe I’ll do that next. I’m sure they’ll taste just as good though, whatever variety they are.

And breathe

Tags

blueberries, fruit netting, mangetout, successional sowing

Mangetout peas

I can’t believe it has been so long so I last posted. I’ve missed blogging but it has all been rather hectic here. My book deadline was today so the last few weeks have been spent writing, checking, writing some more, stressing about the weather and having photos taken. I have discovered a subconscious ability to predict rubbish weather. If anyone has a big event planned in the future but the date has yet to be confirmed you could ask me to pick the date and then go with the following day. So far every photo shoot has been cold, dull and decidedly not spring or summer-like. But as soon as Jason, the photographer, has left the clouds part and the sun comes out. It could have been worse, so far we’ve yet to be rained off but I’m touching wood as I write this, as I still have one photo shoot left. So fingers crossed July is wall to wall sunshine.

Yesterday I sent off the final draft of my book to my publisher. It was a strange feeling. With sweaty palms I spent quite a while rechecking and going to press the send button but not doing. A bit like when you’re a teenager wanting to phone up the boy/girl of your dreams but you can’t summon up the courage. It’s not as if I won’t see my words again. I now face the quite scary prospect of the editing process. But between now and October it should all start to come together and I’m really excited. Hopefully soon I should be able to say a bit more about it but for now I still have to keep it secret.

As well as the book it has been busy, busy, busy with plants. I’ve just about managed to keep up with the allotment. Of course there’s nothing like the prospect of having photos taken to spur on a weeding frenzy. My lettuce supply so far this spring and summer has been bountiful. I have more baby leaves coming through so I’m hoping for the holy grail of successional sowing this year . . . well with salads at least. I’ve been picking mangetout for the last few weeks and my broad beans are looking really healthy and are tantalizingly close to picking.

The first courgette

I’ve even got round to netting my blueberries and tayberry. Last year the blackbirds stripped 2 blueberry bushes dripping in unripe fruit. We didn’t get any, not a sausage. Much as I love birds and they do a good service in ridding my plot of slugs and snails I wasn’t planning on providing them with such fruity delights. I had looked into proper fruit cages but was taken aback at how expensive they are. So with Wellyman’s help we used some coppiced hazel poles and bamboo canes and made our own constructions for a fraction of the price. It was a bit of a faff and like any DIY job it always takes so much longer than you planned for. Hence us still being at the plot at 10pm one night wrestling with fruit netting.

Blueberries protected from rampaging birds

Not everything has worked quite so well. The topsy-turvy weather has meant some plants have sulked. The courgettes are finally looking happier but my squashes are still sitting there doing very little. The ornamental hops that I planted to grow along a trellis panel have not taken kindly to the gale force winds that battered the plot in mid-June when the weather resembled November and not the start of summer. Still, there are always winners and losers. We all dream of that perfect year when everything grows well, but I’m coming to the conclusion that it’s just a pipe dream, the dangling carrot that brings us back for more each spring.

I always think that this is a strange time of year. It feels as if the summer has only just got going, in it’s typically British unpredictable way but in so many ways the garden is what it is now for the rest of the season. The cold spring this year really compressed that short window of opportunity we have to sow, plant and divide. I catch myself thinking ‘oh I wish I’d grown that this year’ or ‘why didn’t I think of that?’ Then curse myself that I’ll have to wait until NEXT spring now to carry out those ideas. Still that’s what it is all about. I really must find a notebook though and write down those ideas.

I want to be an ostrich

Tags

autumn equinox, Florence fennel, French bean 'Blauhilde', leek moth

So it’s officially autumn. It was the autumn equinox on Saturday and from now until March the nights are longer than the days. The weather is distinctly autumnal and it’s cold enough to light the wood-burner. The problem is I’m in denial; I refuse to light the fire in September, it’s just too early. I even went into town last week in flip-floppy things, cropped trousers and no jacket. The sun was shining, which had lulled me into thinking it was warmer than it actually was but the nip in the air quickly made me regret my attire. It’s unusual for me to be under-dressed. I have never bought into the ‘a coat is not an option, even if it is minus 15 outside and blue skin is distinctly unattractive’ ethos that some of my fellow north-easteners have become famous for. I guess I’m still hoping that by some miracle an Indian summer will appear and my trips to the allotment won’t require layers of fleece just yet.

Of course, I know denial is futile. Burying my head in the sand like an ostrich might keep my head warm but it won’t do much for the rest of me. Do ostriches actually bury their heads in the sand or have they been badly misrepresented over the years?

Borlotti beans

I did make the most of Saturday’s lovely sunshine though, to start to prepare the plot for its winter slumber. We’ve been lucky to escape the early frosts that have affected some but the cooler temperatures had started to take their toll on the French beans and the weight of the plants on the teepee had caused quite an alarming lean to the structure, so with strong winds and rain predicted I thought it was time to remove them. They were the tall climbing bean variety ‘Blauhilde’ with long purple pods which I would highly recommend, partly because it coped with the worst summer any of us has ever known, and also because the beans were very tasty and never got tough or stringy. I harvested the last two Florence fennel bulbs and made the decision to pick No. 1 squash. It could have done with longer on the plant to ripen a bit more but after nurturing it for so long I didn’t want to lose it to frost. It’s now on the kitchen window sill where the skin can harden a little more but to be honest as it is our only decent sized squash curing the skin to prolong storage is not really an issue; I’m sure we’ll be cooking with it in the weeks to come.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time over the last couple of weeks moving manure from the allotment pile to my own plot. I can only really manage an hour or two before my back hurts so I try to do a little bit every couple of days if the weather allows and gradually the beds are being mulched.

Russian red kale

My plan was to have more winter veg this year so there’s some mizuna and cavolo nero kale in a bed along with some red Russian kale. This Russian kale is actually more bluey-pink and it’s particularly versatile. I love it wilted in omlettes and pasta dishes or in bubble and squeak. If you grow one winter veg I’d recommend this one.

The purple and white sprouting broccoli plants have recovered from the caterpillar onslaught. Even though I had covered them in enviromesh butterflies had still, somehow managed to lay eggs on them. Vigilance and judicious squishing saved the day but it just shows how a gardener can’t rest on their laurels even when pest controls have been employed.

My leeks have not faired so well, in fact they’ve been a bit of a disaster. It appears they have been subject to an attack from the leek moth. I perhaps wasn’t as vigilant with my leeks as I now realise I should have been. They had started to look a bit raggedy but I didn’t think much of it until an inspection last week when I discovered tiny little caterpillars chomping their way into the stems of my leeks. With little hope of some of the leeks recovering I had to remove them. So it seems I need to cover them too next year, with fleece or enviromesh. You never see the elegant kitchen gardens in sumptuous photo shoots swathed in fleece, do you?

Not wanting to end on a tale of leek destruction though, I have planted up some more biennials for early flowers next year. I love biennials as they give me hope at this time of year. It can be quite melancholic removing this year’s plants but biennials remind me of my plans for next year and they fill me with hope for good weather and bountiful crops.

Rich Pickings

Tags

borlotti beans, bubble and squeak, celeriac remoulade, Florence fennel, Sophie Dahl

Rich pickings from the plot

The blue skies and sunshine of the last week or so have been lovely but the resulting cold nights are much less welcome. Parts of the country experienced their first frost last night and, although it is the middle of September, it just feels too early to be having frost. I’m just not prepared for the colder weather yet, no logs for the wood burner, no pallets chopped for kindling. We were fortunate to escape the very low temperatures last night but the prospect of it spurred me on to go up to the plot this morning to harvest some of the produce. The French beans, courgettes and fennel will all suffer if the nights continue to get colder and it would be a shame to lose them, so I thought I’d better start harvesting.

It has been such a short growing season, with a lot of these plants only getting into their stride in mid-August coupled with the threat of frost putting the kibosh on ideas of an Indian summer. Still, looking at my basket of produce I’m pretty happy with what I’ve managed to produce.

I’m particularly chuffed with my celeriac and Florence fennel. Carrying them back from the plot this lunchtime felt like I’d been given a trophy. It was slightly tempting to raise them aloft as I walked past one of my fellow plot holders in a triumphant gesture to show I can grow veg and not just flowers.

I’ve never tried celeriac before and had read that it could be a bit difficult but it has been really easy to grow. I started off the seeds very early in mid-February and planted them out in May and other than pulling away any leaves that have fallen down around the sides I haven’t had to do anything. I think I have been helped somewhat by the wet summer. By all accounts, they don’t like to dry out but there wasn’t much danger of that this year. Today was the first harvest. A vegetable that wouldn’t win any beauty awards it has an unusual flavour, similar to celery but milder. It is something I had never even eaten until about 2 years ago when I saw Sophie Dahl use it in a recipe on TV, for a bubble and squeak type dish. The recipe looked so good I thought I’d give it a try and I wasn’t disappointed. Half of it will be used to make that recipe tomorrow night but, for tonight, I think a bit of celeriac remoulade is in the offing. It sounds really quite fancy, celeriac remoulade, but it’s only small batons of celeriac mixed with mayonnaise, lemon juice and I use a little dijon mustard. A very tasty accompaniment to all sorts of meals.

And, I’ve finally cracked growing Florence fennel. I’ve tried in the past but they’ve never got beyond seedling stage always devoured by slugs. This year, I managed to get 5 to a big enough stage to plant out at the plot and they have all swollen to very respectable sizes. OK, 5 fennel bulbs isn’t exactly self-sufficiently but I’m so pleased I’ve managed to grow them that I’m encouraged to attempt more sowings of them next year. My favourite way to eat the bulbs is to slice them into chunks and roast them in rapeseed oil. They are lovely mixed with other roast vegetables such as peppers and courgettes and go particularly well with fish and pork.

I’m picking so many raspberries at the moment. Pretty much a large bag-full every day, it’s a good job they freeze well.

The borlotti beans have been a real success. The opposite of the celeriac, these are real beauties. The pods start off green with the faintest mottling of red but as they develop the green turns to cream and they end up looking as if they’ve been splattered with a paint gun, as the red increasingly becomes more dominant. I have been picking them at this stage and then podding them and using them in casseroles and soups. The beans inside are stunning, creamy white or eau-de-nil, often with streaks of red on them, too; disappointingly this colour disappears once cooked. Their lovely creamy texture when cooked, a little like butter beans, more than makes up for this, though. Today’s harvest are destined for a minestrone soup at the end of the week. So not such a bad harvest after all.

Fruits of My Labour

Tags

Clifton, cooking with nasturtium flowers, Damson gin

Blackberry ‘Ruben’ will soon be ready to eat

Last week’s taste of summer, albeit late, was a delight. At the allotment the light on a morning and in late afternoon was beautiful. I’m not sure why the light in September is so lovely, maybe it’s the angle and the tone, there is none of the harshness of sunlight in high summer but crucially there is a warmth that isn’t there in spring. Shafts of light falling on the dahlias and rudbeckias and heavy dew glistening on the feathery foliage of the fennel meant the plot sparkled.

September is one of my favourite months, even though the prospect of winter just being around the corner doesn’t thrill me. There is something about the shortening days that makes me want to prepare the house for winter. To squirrel away fruit from the plot in the freezer, to dig out recipes for warming stews and to think about ordering our wood for the log burner. Food might have something to do with me loving this time of year so much. The month of harvest, even in a year where the weather has impacted so much on food production, September is the time to celebrate the best of our crops.

Damson gin

Unlike last autumn, where the hedgerows were laden with hips and haws, this year is looking a little bleak, certainly in my neck of the woods. We fancied making some damson gin for the first time but hadn’t been able to find any on our walks around the village. However, on Friday we spent the day in Bristol and were sat opposite a great greengrocers in Clifton, enjoying a spot of café culture when we spotted a large tray of dark, juicy damsons. Buying isn’t quite the same as foraging but needs must. So on Sunday we filled a jar with damsons that I had pricked all over, a fair amount of sugar went in and then I filled it up with gin. Sealed and stored in the larder I need to give it an occasional gentle shake and then after several months I can decant the liquor into bottles. For someone who doesn’t really drink it might seem like a strange thing to have done but there seemed something quite special about trying it at least. The colour of the liquid inside the jar, if nothing else, will remind me on a cold January evening of the warmth of a September day.

My autumn fruiting raspberries are producing a great crop. I have a mix of ‘Polka’ and ‘Autumn Bliss’ with the former having far superior berries and I’m picking enough to fill freezer bags full, for treats later in the year. Crumbles are a favourite dessert of mine and a versatile way of using autumnal fruit but even I can get sick of crumble. So I’ve started making the healthier option of compotes and purées. My favourite at the moment consists of cooked apple and plums with blackberries. I use eating apples and therefore don’t need to add any sugar to sweeten it. Apparently, in France there is no distinction between eating and cooking apples and it is perfectly acceptable to use what we would consider dessert apples such as Cox’s, in tarts and pies. I blitz my fruity concoction so it is very smooth and it’s yummy with porridge, yoghurt and ice cream. To make a compote, just keep the fruit quite chunky and add a little apple juice and cook over a medium heat until the fruit has softened. The pectin in the fruit should make for a slightly syrupy sauce and the colour will be amazing.

Nasturtium breadcrumb topping

I’ve even found a great use for my nasturtium flowers. They have added a real splash of colour to salads but I tried them in a breadcrumb topping a few weeks ago and it was a real success. Simply chop a good handful of flowers and add to some breadcrumbs, some grated parmesan and chopped sun-dried tomatoes, stir and then add a little rapeseed/olive oil, put in an ovenproof dish and cook until golden, in a medium oven. This topping is perfect with some grilled white fish and the nasturtium flowers add a real peppery flavour.

With the inaugural first harvest of celeriac, fennel and the prized No. 1 squash it looks like a tasty autumn ahead.

Kitchen Garden Delights

Tags

Abergavenny Food Festival, The Bell at Skenfrith, Xanthe Clay

Since having my allotment I have to admit my passion for productive growing has taken over my interest in ornamental gardening. So much so, that I’m always slightly disappointed if I visit a garden and it doesn’t have a veg patch for my perusal. The idea of kitchen gardens has always fascinated me. The first type of kitchen gardens were probably those created by the monks in the grounds of their monasteries but they were at their peak in the Victorian and Edwardian periods supplying large houses with all their fruit, vegetable and flowery needs. They went into decline fairly rapidly during the First World War as the men who worked in these gardens were called up to fight, and they never really recovered, that is until the last decade or so when their potential has been rediscovered. Not only are old kitchen gardens being restored but new ones are being created. I’d heard of somewhere local to me that had embraced the idea of establishing a new kitchen garden and I was really intrigued. Even better, the owners agreed to have a quick chat about their project.

The Bell at Skenfrith and its kitchen garden

The Bell, a 17th century coaching inn and now a restaurant with rooms, in the pretty village of Skenfrith, is a great example of the food revolution that has taken place not just in Monmouthshire but across the country. Celebrating local producers is the ethos behind the food served in the restaurant. This, in itself, is no longer that unusual but what does make The Bell different is that it has taken its interest in food production to another level. It had always been the dream of owners William and Janet Hutchings to have a kitchen garden that would produce organic, fresh and tasty produce for their chef. The dream became reality over 7 years ago when Helen Westendorp of Essence Garden Design took William’s ideas and sketches and translated them onto the fields behind The Bell. Raised beds were created and an irrigation system, fed by a spring, was installed by William.

Thornless blackberries growing up a pergola

Initially, it was very much a learning process experimenting to see what worked. They discovered their raised beds were much better utilised for baby veg than the perennial vegetables, such as rhubarb and asparagus that they planted at first.

Brassicas such as Cavolo nero and purple sprouting broccoli are popular with the chef

Of course, all gardeners know how addictive growing your own is and it wasn’t long before the kitchen garden had extended into neighbouring fields. They moved away from raised beds as they realised the quantities they needed to grow of crops such as leeks and brassicas were more practicable in open ground. Espaliered apples and pears were planted along the boundaries but it was the addition of two polytunnels that have made the biggest difference to what they can grow. With Candi Smith as their new head gardener they are experimenting with heritage tomatoes and aubergines. The tunnels have also been invaluable in allowing the gardening team to extend the growing season. In fact, Janet explained how they have actually acted as a natural larder, allowing them to pick baby vegetables throughout the winter whilst the ground outside was hard with frost or covered in snow.

Baby Florence fennel

Once a year, William and Janet sit down with their chef and gardeners and plan what to grow for the forthcoming year. Baby vegetables of crops such as leek, beetroot, carrot and turnip are particularly popular with the chef, as are herbs, edible flowers and unusual varieties which are otherwise difficult to get hold of, like Pink Fir Apple potatoes.

Every week they create a kitchen garden menu using whatever is in peak production at that time. Last week, for instance, there was a courgette and mint soup, a curry using runner beans, green beans and peas and a variety of side dishes including beetroot and home grown salad leaves.

Wild strawberries line the kitchen garden paths

I really loved how the kitchen garden was such an integral part of the business. Slops from the bar are used in beer traps to catch slugs and getting through hundreds of eggs every day provides plenty of egg shells, used as another effective method of slug control. Any waste from the kitchen garden is composted or fed to The Bell’s own pigs. Janet explained that from the very beginning they grew their own cut flowers for the restaurant and other public areas. It also felt that the kitchen garden had connected a building and business to the land around it and also the local community. Within the grounds of The Bell are two large, Monmouth Burgundy, perry pear trees, one of which is believed to one of the oldest in Wales showing the connection between the land and produce goes back a long way in this village. The pears will be picked later in the season and made into perry.

There’s also an inspiring bartering system with the local community where fruit such as plums and damsons from other people’s gardens and farms is brought to The Bell and exchanged for vouchers. The surplus fruit is then turned into jams and chutneys by the kitchen for use in the restaurant and for sale to guests.

This is a working kitchen garden and a really inspiring place. There are no airs and graces, no feeling that aesthetics are more important than the food they are producing. I came away with some ideas that I could quite easily use on my allotment and I especially loved the idea of growing thornless blackberries over a pergola.

William and Janet welcome visitors to the kitchen garden with an honesty box at the entrance and any money raised is donated to charity. With local produce playing such an important role at The Bell it is no surprise that they are taking part in the Abergavenny Food Festival this September. Xanthe Clay, the Daily Telegraph’s food writer, is hosting a special lunch which will include the opportunity to have a wander around the kitchen garden and enjoy some local Welsh wine.

For more information about The Bell and their kitchen garden take a look at their website skenfrith.co.uk.

Shopping Trolley Guilt

Tags

Charles Dowding, River Cottage, salad growing

It was all going so well. My plan this year was to get from mid April to October without having to buy any lettuce. After an inspirational day with Charles Dowding, the salad growing guru, I even harboured ideas of winter lettuce. Gone would be the bag of soggy salad leaves with all the verve and vigour of a teenager in the morning. We would be self-sufficient in lettuce and leaves; that shouldn’t be too hard. In the past it’s been my organisation, or lack of it, that has let me down. Starting off well, I then forget to keep up with the sowing regime for the holy grail of successional crops and, inevitably there ends up being a gap.

This year would be different and it really would have been, if it hadn’t been for the slugs and snails. It started well with harvests of ‘Freckles’, ‘Rubens’, ‘Dazzler and ‘Little Gem’ all from the plot. I was priding myself on how organised I was being by sowing some trays of salad leaves before we went on holiday, in June, so that these would follow on from those at the allotment. I prefer to grow salad leaves in containers at home. I did try them in the ground last year but they were quickly infiltrated by weeds and at one point it was hard to distinguish what was weed and what was edible leaf.

Well they say pride comes before a fall and, whilst my organisation skills may have improved, my ability to protect my salad leaves from slug attack hasn’t. Three troughs and a large pot have all been annihilated. One container was 6ft off the ground, for heaven’s sake. All I can say is slugs must have an incredible sense of smell. They even bypassed hostas to climb the equivalent of a mountain to them, to dine out on my specialist Italian salad leaf mix. The tiny seedlings which had appeared just before we went on holiday had gone by our return.

I’ve resown twice and moved the containers but each time, just as I see little green shoots emerging, they disappear just as quickly. Strangely lettuce on the plot hasn’t been touched, thanks I can only think to the resident song thrushes and blackbirds but in recent weeks with warmer weather my plot salads have bolted and now reside on the compost heap.

Plot lettuces

And so, with a sense of guilt and disappointment a bag of salad leaves and some cos lettuce made its way into the shopping trolley at the weekend. I never expected to be self-sufficient when I took on the plot but I think because lettuce is so easy to grow that I should at least be able to achieve it with them. We had some non-gardening friends stay with us back in June and when we were preparing food they kept asking what was from the plot and it felt a little embarrassing that so little of it was from there. Similarly, looking in the trolley at the weekend I did think we should be buying less vegetables in August. Surely the plot should be providing more. I’ve accepted that without a greenhouse and living in the damp west of Britain with perfect blight conditions that tomatoes are a lost cause. Carrots are impossible on the carrot-fly ridden allotment and although I’ve had tasty baby carrots grown in containers at home these were never going to mean I could stop buying carrots over the summer. The courgettes have been slow to get going and I’m by no means inundated. I’m actually missing my courgette glut. Peppers, and aubergines both need the extra warmth of a greenhouse. I had about a month supply of new potatoes but don’t want to devote more space to spuds.

My plot growing is still in its infancy, as this is only my second season, so some of it is learning what is most productive and easy to grow but it’s also accepting that the veg growing portrayed by the glossy gardening magazines isn’t always the reality that the majority of us experience. Just as with other aspects of the media constantly showing us images of what constitutes perfection, the immaculate house, the flawless body, the most desirable products there is a danger of ‘growing your own’ becoming another element of our lives where we feel we have to live up to ideas of perfection. There is an immense feeling of satisfaction when I can cook a meal from the plot but to do this is difficult to achieve over a sustained period. Perhaps the disparity between the portrayal of fruit and veg growing in the media and the actuality of it is one of the reasons why many new allotment holders hand back their plots after a few years. The idea of the River Cottage type utopia is very enticing but the reality is somewhat different.

I have salad seedlings on the go and I’m keeping a close eye out for further slug attacks but whilst I wait for them to achieve an edible size I guess I shouldn’t feel guilty that my plans didn’t quite come to fruition.