End-of-the-Week News

Nettle beer update: Yesterday, Andy decanted his nettle beer into wine bottles. All six litres of it. Andy reckons it looks like dishwater. Last night, one of the bottles expelled its cork across the room. I reckon it could be pretty potent stuff. I shall be sending Andy for an eye test after he has finished drinking it.

Allotmenteering : on the plot first thing this morning before Andy knew what was happening to plant out pea seedlings, runner bean seedlings (I say 'seedling'. Most of them are a foot tall) and start clearing the space in readiness for polytunnel construction. We have a new friend at the allotment. His name is Julian and he is a blackbird. And, oooh, isn't he bold?? He comes right up to you and stares with his beady blackbird eye. I could have reached out and patted him on the head with my trowel this morning. I nearly did, too, because he had a beak full of slug.
'Take your slug away,' I said. 'Don't you be dropping slugs near my newly planted pea and bean seedlings.'
'Mmmmfffhhmfffmppphhhh,' said Julian.
'Aaaargghhhh! Save me!' yelled the slug.

Bees: Our friend, Jean, popped in for coffee this morning. During general chatter we did some accidental bartering whereby we got another compost bin, some flower pots and a big bunch of canes and string in exchange for some strawberry plants, seed potatoes and tomato plants when they are a bit bigger. Jean has also offered to bring slugs, snails and cabbage leaves for the chickens. 'I'd thought about bringing them before and leaving them by your back gate,' she said. 'Only I didn't want you to think you were being stalked by some weirdo with a cabbage and mollusc fixation.'
Jean has also offered part of her huge garden as a site for our bee hive. We are very tempted to take her up on this offer. Very tempted indeed. The bee-keeping plan is becoming way over-due in its implementation.

Running: This week I am going to start psyching myself up to start the running programme proper. In preparation for this, my left leg has developed a pain that stretches from the middle of my calf down to the outside of my ankle. I think this is from excessive digging this week, so at the lottie this morning I took special care to dig with my right foot instead, in a sort of cross-legged need-to-go-to-the-loo-motion.
'What ARE you doing?' said Andy, in fond admiration of my yogic contortions. (Either that or he was trying not to laugh.)
'Saving my left leg for jogging,' I said.
'And mucking up the right one in the process?' he said.
'I feel it's important to maintain a balance,' I said.

Cooking: Now Heather has returned to university, I have to remember to cook for two instead of three. Or four, for the time when Chris was still living at home. I anticipate there will be excess foodage this week whilst I adjust so if anyone wants to pop in for dinner, please do. There will be plenty.

Greenhouse: having shipped out the peas and runner beans this morning, there is now space for part 2 planting which will be more beans (French), sweetcorn, lettuce and late leeks. The coriander has gone from being virtually non-existent to rampant in 3 days flat and I'm not sure what to do with it now so will need to research next stage coriander growing. The parsley, too, is doing extremely well and has just started to go curly. My Auntie Nece, who visited this week from Scotland, said 'If parsley flourishes in a garden it means the woman is the dominant partner in the house,' and she gave me a bit of knowing look. I think she was trying to say, in the nicest possible way, that I'm a bossy moo.

Chickens : Mrs Miggins's erratic, weird-shaped, flimsy and broody egg-laying seems to be subsiding and she's getting back to normal. Well, about as normal as a chicken can be, given that they are quite the most beserk creatures I've ever looked after in my life.

Cats : we still have two cats. I have a few names lined up for any others that drift our way...

...and that's about it.

Like Mrs Miggins's 'plant 'n' kickabout raised vegetable bed', (which is doing very well, even if it is a bit difficult to decipher what is coming up where. Carrots, peas, kale, radish, lettuce, it's all in there, jostling for position) this week has been an eclectic mix of the normal and bizarre. Still, we muddled through, the sun is shining and no doubt the world is waiting to present more opportunities and challenges in the week to come.

I'm off to make crumble now, for tonight's pudding. Rhubarb up one end for me, apple up the other for Andy. A bit of an odd combination, maybe, but rubbing along side by side in sweet counterpoint nonetheless.

Andy makes nettle beer -Part One

Andy has been cultivating a patch of nettles on the allotment with a view to making nettle beer. I say 'cultivating' but what this really means is that I've been banned from weeding them until they have reached 'peak plucking time.'

Which they did this weekend.

Now, recipes for nettle beer, elderflower champagne and dandelion wine are very vague in their specifications for how much nettle/ elderflower/ dandelion you actually need. The recipes say things like '2 litres of flower heads' and 'about a small carrier bag full.' It's all very subjective. I mean, one person's small carrier might be another's medium. And how do you measure 2 litres of flower heads? Flower heads are solid. Does the 2 litres include air gaps or do you have to squish them in as tight as they'll go?

It's all very confusing...

Anyhow, Andy picked a 'large bin bag sackful of nettles'. For a scientist, he isn't very exact sometimes. I guess it's all part of the fun of home brewing, the experimental elephant, I mean element bit. I'd like to get more excited about the brewing process but because I have hypersensitive taste buds which means all alcohol tastes like vinegar and battery acid to me, I just can't work up the enthusiasm. This is one part of the self-sufficiency bus that Andy drives without a co-pilot.

Here is Andy in action yesterday, getting the brew on the go.

First, wash nettles to get rid of traces of cat/dog/fox wee/poo and/or birdie droppings. Wear gloves. Here, Andy is modelling the latest in latex. After emptying the kitchen cupboards of every large container he could find, he decided to wash nettles in the bath. And use my preserving pan for cooking them in.

Put 6 litres of water in preserving pan. Unfortunately, the measuring jug is currently in the fridge holding my latest batch of home-made chicken stock (I am very into home-made stock at the mo. It makes the house smell like you've got a roast dinner on the go, for a fraction of the cost.) So Andy was going to use the only other measuring receptacle we have which ladles out 200ml at a time. It was going to be a long process to reach 6 litres and I could see him losing hope before he'd even started.
'Why don't you use an empty squash bottle?' I said. 'That'll measure out a whole litre at a time.' 'Good idea!' said Andy, immediately back on the beer trail.
I was going to offer him one of my growing collection of squash bottles that I am saving to build an eco-greenhouse with, but luckily he found one he'd finished that morning so I didn't have to reveal the eco-greenhouse plan to him just yet and he can remain under the illusion I am still clinging on to sanity.

When water is boiling (this would have taken less time if the lid had been on the pan, but I was keeping schtumm at this point), add the nettles, turn OFF the heat, and allow mixture to cool for an hour. I think if you allow mixture to boil, you end up with green goo that you can use to dye clothes. I don't wear green. I am also very aware it's only a short step between dyeing clothes using nettle juice and weaving your own pyjamas from sheep wool plucked from barbed wire fences a la 'The Good Life'. So we shan't go down that route, shall we?

Spend an hour drinking tea and coffee and eating cake and saying 'What time is it?' Perhaps use time to sterilise fermenting bin which has been standing in the bathroom for months.

Next, strain the liquid through a muslin bag. This involves building a contraption with kitchen chairs and bits of wood. And standing well back from the scalding steam. And that means you, Tybalt.

Then, have a discussion on the meaning of 'tepid.'
'Well, it's warm, isn't it?' I say.
'Yes, but how warm is warm?' says Andy.
'I don't know. Put your hand in it,' I suggest.
'I don't want to,' says Andy.
'Well, it's your nettle beer,' I say. I'm not having any of that malarkey and being the one to end up with green hands.

It's a tricky business deciding on 'tepid.' Tricky, and at times painful. Best employ the brewing thermometer, if you can get it out of its plastic packaging.

Once 'tepid' has been pinpointed (generally when the words 'Oh, that'll do,' are uttered), add things like sugar, lemon, orange, cream of tartar and yeast. Don't worry if the yeast might be out of date. It'll either work or it won't. There are plenty more nettles about at the moment.

Finally, stand brewing bin in 'conservatory' for people i.e me to kick and fall over for a few days. Luckily, the process of nettle beer making is quicker than wine-making so I won't be kicking the bucket for long.

Things are fermenting. I'm just waiting for the bang...