It was a bit of a foodie Bank Holiday. Aside from drowning 'neath a sea of tomatoes, which are currently awaiting the magic required to turn them into passata, we tried Jerusalem artichokes for the first time, Andy had a hot experience with a chilli pepper and the elderberry wine window has come upon us.
The Jerusalem artichokes aren't really ready to harvest. They have grown to form a magnificent six foot hedge between us and our neighbour at the allotment, but haven't as yet flowered. However, Andy and I were both keen to find out what was occuring underground so we decided to dig up a plant and have a look.
'After all,' I said, 'they are clearly prolific vegetables and I think we can afford a plant to be sacrificed in the spirit of exploration.'
'Especially if they turn out to taste awful,' said Andy. 'It'll be one less plant to have to suffer.'
I love the relationship Andy has with vegetables. So positive, so adventurous.
Anyway, the sacrificial plant was duly uprooted. And where I had planted a single knobbly artichoke, there were now a collection of at least 50 knobbly artichokes. Small, but perfectly formed.
'Blimey,' I said. 'That's a good return for our money.'
Back home, I consulted many cookery books and found several suggestions about what to do with a Jerusalem artichoke. Some of them involved a lot of faffing, and as I was mid-way through cooking a roast dinner, I treated the artichokes like a potato and roasted them. Plenty of time for faffing later, I thought. Especially if they taste awful and I have to faff with things like curry sauce in order to make them edible.
THEY WERE DELICIOUS!! I can't really describe the taste. Andy, Heather and I sat around the table trying to express what they reminded us of but to no avail. The only thing I can say is that they are 'deliciously earthy.' So, Jerusalem artichokes - big tick, gold star, hurrah hurrah!!
The chilli peppers have been another big success this season. I won't be eating them I'm afraid. I can't do hot 'n' spicy. I've tried but I can't deal with the heat, the numbness and the general feeling of danger that eating anything beyond a korma induces. But Andy is a big chilli fan.
'Oooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaeeeeeeee!!!' was the cry from the kitchen on Sunday evening, as he tested a chilli. He appeared in the living room where I was sewing, a glass of milk in his hand and tears in his eyes.
'Cor,' he said. 'The chillis are hitting the spot.' A puddle of sweat dribbled from his forehead.
'Good,' I said. 'You've got a lot to get through over the next few months!'
And then there's the elderberry wine. Having gone through a literally explosive experience with elderflower champagne earlier in the year, Andy was up at the crack of dawn on Sunday in order to commit a furtive raid on the elderberry trees in the park, determined his elderberry wine would be a success. He returned as I was getting up, laden with bags full of elderberries, damsons and blackberries. He also brought back a selection of spiders, earwigs and other suspicious looking bugs, although I'm not sure how heavily they will be featuring in the wine-making process.
Autumn may be on its way, but harvesting continues apace. We've completed our third year at the allotment and already we are thinking ahead to next year.
'How about trying to grow our own peppercorns?' I said.
'There's an article about that in one of the gardening magazines,' said Andy.
Growing our own pepper. Who'd have thought it, eh?
Showing posts with label tomatoes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tomatoes. Show all posts
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Tuesday, 31 March 2009
Garden Hentertainment
'What's this then?' asks Mrs Pumphrey, eyeing the cabbage that's hanging from a string from the remains of the shrub in the back garden.
'It's a cabbage,' says Mrs Miggins. 'You know, the thing that's usually served up on the ground. Or shredded, if it's a pressie from Denise's mum.'
'Right,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'Cabbage doesn't usually give me headache.'
'Then stop head butting it, you numpty,' says Mrs Poo. 'You need to launch your beak into it. Like this,' and she gives an admirable demonstration, like a spike going into a balloon.
It only takes Mrs Miggins ten minutes to unstick her.
'Why's it hanging up?' asks Mrs Slocombe. 'It's like a pinata. Give me a stick so I can whack it and release the sweets inside.'
'There are no sweets inside,' says Poo, 'and it's all your fault we're having to exercise for our cabbage now, you and your 'I'm-so-bored-I-need-to-eat-all-my-feathers malarkey.'
'Yes,' says Miggins. 'It's supposed to be more entertaining for us. Keep us occupied and distract us from anti-social habits. I told you this would happen if we didn't keep up the knitting circle and bridge club.'
By now, the cabbage is swinging wildly on its string and there is much clonking together of chicken heads.
'And what's this shiny thing?' asks Mrs Pumphrey, who, being the tallest, is having more luck with cabbage catching.
'It's a DVD,' says Mrs Poo. 'Again, dangling there for our entertainment, like we're some kind of demented budgerigars attracted to shiny surfaces.'
'It is rather pretty,' says Mrs Pumphrey, primping her top feathers in the mirrored surface.
'What's it a DVD of?' asks Miggins.
'Cranford,' says Mrs Poo. 'Or possible 'Westlife's Greatest Hits, I can't read upside-down.'
'Oooh, I like a good costume drama,' says Mrs Slocombe who belongs to the 'Costume Drama Re-enactment Society,' and likes to watch 'Pride and Prejudice' and the like dressed in a sprigged cotton empire line gown and matching bonnet and gloves.
'Well, as soon as I can get the DVD player working we can watch it,' says Mrs Miggins.
I cast a fond glance at the hens as they play in their new play area with their dangling cabbage and DVD. I am in the greenhouse planting on the seedlings that are outgrowing their seed trays. Cabbage (red and white), cauliflower, lupins, basil and tomatoes, mostly. And I discover that there aren't 72 tomato plants. There are 74!!!!! Good grief. Needless to say, there is very little space left in the greenhouse now. Careful tip-toeing is very much the order of the day. The hollyhocks are looking good and the broccoli has made an appearance. The runner beans have also sprung to life, just as I was beginning to think I'd got a dud packet. Nothing as yet from the parsley or chives.
And against all the odds, there are things happening in the raised bed! Despite Mrs Miggins getting in there and having a kick-about, there are green shoots popping their heads above the surface hither and thither and definitely not in the nice neat rows they were planted in. I think it's the radish. But then it takes a lot to keep a radish down.
So Spring gathers pace chez nous. I am very dutiful, checking the crops every day, sprinkling a bit of water here and there, coo-ing encouragement to the seedlings just appearing, giving a tomato plant leaf an occasional gentle tweak between my fingers because already some of them are smelling like the promise of the tomatoes to come.
I see the hens have managed to wrench the cabbage from the string and are now kicking it around the garden in a revival of the winning goal of the '66 World Cup Final. I must go and hang it back up, I think. And in a few weeks time, I'll be able to give them home-grown cabbage.
Lucky chickens!
'It's a cabbage,' says Mrs Miggins. 'You know, the thing that's usually served up on the ground. Or shredded, if it's a pressie from Denise's mum.'
'Right,' says Mrs Pumphrey. 'Cabbage doesn't usually give me headache.'
'Then stop head butting it, you numpty,' says Mrs Poo. 'You need to launch your beak into it. Like this,' and she gives an admirable demonstration, like a spike going into a balloon.
It only takes Mrs Miggins ten minutes to unstick her.
'Why's it hanging up?' asks Mrs Slocombe. 'It's like a pinata. Give me a stick so I can whack it and release the sweets inside.'
'There are no sweets inside,' says Poo, 'and it's all your fault we're having to exercise for our cabbage now, you and your 'I'm-so-bored-I-need-to-eat-all-my-feathers malarkey.'
'Yes,' says Miggins. 'It's supposed to be more entertaining for us. Keep us occupied and distract us from anti-social habits. I told you this would happen if we didn't keep up the knitting circle and bridge club.'
By now, the cabbage is swinging wildly on its string and there is much clonking together of chicken heads.
'And what's this shiny thing?' asks Mrs Pumphrey, who, being the tallest, is having more luck with cabbage catching.
'It's a DVD,' says Mrs Poo. 'Again, dangling there for our entertainment, like we're some kind of demented budgerigars attracted to shiny surfaces.'
'It is rather pretty,' says Mrs Pumphrey, primping her top feathers in the mirrored surface.
'What's it a DVD of?' asks Miggins.
'Cranford,' says Mrs Poo. 'Or possible 'Westlife's Greatest Hits, I can't read upside-down.'
'Oooh, I like a good costume drama,' says Mrs Slocombe who belongs to the 'Costume Drama Re-enactment Society,' and likes to watch 'Pride and Prejudice' and the like dressed in a sprigged cotton empire line gown and matching bonnet and gloves.
'Well, as soon as I can get the DVD player working we can watch it,' says Mrs Miggins.
I cast a fond glance at the hens as they play in their new play area with their dangling cabbage and DVD. I am in the greenhouse planting on the seedlings that are outgrowing their seed trays. Cabbage (red and white), cauliflower, lupins, basil and tomatoes, mostly. And I discover that there aren't 72 tomato plants. There are 74!!!!! Good grief. Needless to say, there is very little space left in the greenhouse now. Careful tip-toeing is very much the order of the day. The hollyhocks are looking good and the broccoli has made an appearance. The runner beans have also sprung to life, just as I was beginning to think I'd got a dud packet. Nothing as yet from the parsley or chives.
And against all the odds, there are things happening in the raised bed! Despite Mrs Miggins getting in there and having a kick-about, there are green shoots popping their heads above the surface hither and thither and definitely not in the nice neat rows they were planted in. I think it's the radish. But then it takes a lot to keep a radish down.
So Spring gathers pace chez nous. I am very dutiful, checking the crops every day, sprinkling a bit of water here and there, coo-ing encouragement to the seedlings just appearing, giving a tomato plant leaf an occasional gentle tweak between my fingers because already some of them are smelling like the promise of the tomatoes to come.
I see the hens have managed to wrench the cabbage from the string and are now kicking it around the garden in a revival of the winning goal of the '66 World Cup Final. I must go and hang it back up, I think. And in a few weeks time, I'll be able to give them home-grown cabbage.
Lucky chickens!
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
You say 'Tomatoes- yuk!' and I say 'TOMATOES! YUM!' And you say 'Do we really need that many?'
The polytunnel has been ordered! It is on its way! Hurrah, because the greenhouse, 'conservatory' and Heather's bedroom window are starting to get a bit full as the seedlings grow and need potting on and take up more and more space.
I have started planning what to do with the new polytunnel. We've ordered a 12' x 10' size, this being the biggest one we can fit in the space available at the allotment. We actually measured the space properly on Sunday with a tape measure, instead of relying on our previous 'arms outstretched' method.' Where once our allotment seemed a HUGE space (especially when the weeds scored a minor victory late last summer), it now seems to be shrinking.
The polytunnel will be home to the tomatoes, aubergines and peppers. I'm going to turn the greenhouse at home over to the cucumbers so I can keep a very close eye on them this year as they have proven to be tricksy little beggars the last two years and I want to do better with them this season. You see how much my life has changed since I gave up teaching? The targets I was set in my last staff appraisal with my line manager at school were things like 'Achieve a 68% GCSE A*-C pass rate' and 'Identify underachieving boys (esp. those on the C/D border) and implement personal achievement plans for each student in order for them to reach their full potential'. And this year, my targets from my line manager meeting with myself are things like 'Grow a longer cucumber' and 'Give Jerusalem artichokes a go, they might taste better than they look.'
Of course, if my cucumbers do underachieve this year, I shall be bottom of the 'Cucumber Growing' league tables and am likely to have to go into a 'Special Measures' regime which will mean I shall be visited by a pompous cucumber consultant who will give me loads of old twaddle about how to maximise the potential of a cucumber even when they've never tried growing one themselves. Only this time, unlike teaching, I shall be able to tell the cucumber consultant to eff off and stick his advice where the sun doesn't shine!
So, here I am planning the polytunnel growing space. I think, 'I'd better check how many tomato/ peppers/ aubergine seedlings I am going to have to accommodate in our new gardening toy, bearing in mind I'll need to allocate space for a couple of deckchairs and a little table for the cucumber sandwiches and Pimms.'
Ooops!
Chilli peppers - 11 (don't listen to anyone who says 'You'll have trouble getting those to germinate'. They are WRONG!)
Sweet peppers - 7
Aubergines - 6
Tomatoes - 72
72!!!???!!! How did that happen?
'Do we really need that many tomatoes?' asks Andy. 'Especially as it's only you that likes them.'
Okay, so I may have gone a bit overboard with the tomato plants. I kind of chucked in a few extra seeds here and there just in case some of them didn't germinate. I planted 4 varieties - Moneymaker (because it was a variety favoured by my grand-dad), Tigerella (which I think are the scrummiest tomatoes EVER!), Garden Pearl ( a cherry tomato because a gardener should always eat cherry tomatoes straight from the vine) and Roma (a plum tomato so I can make passatta to store for winter and beat Sainsbugs at their tinned tomato game).
The trouble is, now I have planted, nutured and grown these little tomato seedlings, I am loathe to cull any of them. I'll find a home for each and every one of those plants even if it means taking the roof off the house, covering it with a gi-normous piece of plastic and turning the attic into 'Growing Facility Number 5.'
'Oi!' says Andy. 'Steady on there, you tomato maniac!'
And now, I'm afraid I shall have to go. I made a nice chicken 'n' sausage 'n' rice casserole thing for dinner last night which included a tin of kidney beans. And today I am having 'bloating issues'.
I have started planning what to do with the new polytunnel. We've ordered a 12' x 10' size, this being the biggest one we can fit in the space available at the allotment. We actually measured the space properly on Sunday with a tape measure, instead of relying on our previous 'arms outstretched' method.' Where once our allotment seemed a HUGE space (especially when the weeds scored a minor victory late last summer), it now seems to be shrinking.
The polytunnel will be home to the tomatoes, aubergines and peppers. I'm going to turn the greenhouse at home over to the cucumbers so I can keep a very close eye on them this year as they have proven to be tricksy little beggars the last two years and I want to do better with them this season. You see how much my life has changed since I gave up teaching? The targets I was set in my last staff appraisal with my line manager at school were things like 'Achieve a 68% GCSE A*-C pass rate' and 'Identify underachieving boys (esp. those on the C/D border) and implement personal achievement plans for each student in order for them to reach their full potential'. And this year, my targets from my line manager meeting with myself are things like 'Grow a longer cucumber' and 'Give Jerusalem artichokes a go, they might taste better than they look.'
Of course, if my cucumbers do underachieve this year, I shall be bottom of the 'Cucumber Growing' league tables and am likely to have to go into a 'Special Measures' regime which will mean I shall be visited by a pompous cucumber consultant who will give me loads of old twaddle about how to maximise the potential of a cucumber even when they've never tried growing one themselves. Only this time, unlike teaching, I shall be able to tell the cucumber consultant to eff off and stick his advice where the sun doesn't shine!
So, here I am planning the polytunnel growing space. I think, 'I'd better check how many tomato/ peppers/ aubergine seedlings I am going to have to accommodate in our new gardening toy, bearing in mind I'll need to allocate space for a couple of deckchairs and a little table for the cucumber sandwiches and Pimms.'
Ooops!
Chilli peppers - 11 (don't listen to anyone who says 'You'll have trouble getting those to germinate'. They are WRONG!)
Sweet peppers - 7
Aubergines - 6
Tomatoes - 72
72!!!???!!! How did that happen?
'Do we really need that many tomatoes?' asks Andy. 'Especially as it's only you that likes them.'
Okay, so I may have gone a bit overboard with the tomato plants. I kind of chucked in a few extra seeds here and there just in case some of them didn't germinate. I planted 4 varieties - Moneymaker (because it was a variety favoured by my grand-dad), Tigerella (which I think are the scrummiest tomatoes EVER!), Garden Pearl ( a cherry tomato because a gardener should always eat cherry tomatoes straight from the vine) and Roma (a plum tomato so I can make passatta to store for winter and beat Sainsbugs at their tinned tomato game).
The trouble is, now I have planted, nutured and grown these little tomato seedlings, I am loathe to cull any of them. I'll find a home for each and every one of those plants even if it means taking the roof off the house, covering it with a gi-normous piece of plastic and turning the attic into 'Growing Facility Number 5.'
'Oi!' says Andy. 'Steady on there, you tomato maniac!'
And now, I'm afraid I shall have to go. I made a nice chicken 'n' sausage 'n' rice casserole thing for dinner last night which included a tin of kidney beans. And today I am having 'bloating issues'.
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