Chocolate mini milks

I’ve been remiss in documenting this year’s allotment, mainly because progress has been slow and steady and therefore not very dramatic to photograph. Plus we have new neighbours whose efforts put me to shame (that’s retirement for you). Something has flipped in me this year though, because the self-seeded plants who have set up home on our allotment have become friends rather than foes. Last year, everything felt like a struggle, partly because I was running a festival and HAD NO TIME. This year it’s a wee bit more relaxed, though I’m only spending an hour or two a week down there and I can only do what’s possible in the time I have. The thistles and groundsel I do remove, but there’s no point fighting the borage, nasturtium, mullein and poppies. The pollinators love them and actually their colour and form are welcome elements to this year’s allotment (I have harvested some poppy seed heads for drying). Even those annoying brambles are swelling with the promise of a bumper crop of blackberries.

Perhaps because of my tardiness, the broad beans have been fine but no major success this year. They are full of weeds and I do wonder if they needed less competition. It’s a similar story with the climbing beans, whose base are overrun with nasturtium. I think the Cobra will do OK, but the purple and borlotti beans are sluggish. We will get a crop but it will be late, partly because my first set of plants were zapped by that late April frost so these are Maytime afterthoughts. The runner beans, incidentally, have completely vanished, which makes me wonder if I planted any in the first place. I’ll pop some seeds directly into the ground next time I visit, in hope of an autumn bean surge.

The long view, with bean sticks, squash plants, sweetcorn and amaranthus. Also plenty of self-sown ‘weeds’ – borage, nasturtium and poppy.

The things that we leave alone often do the best. The dahlias were over-wintered in the allotment, I never water them, and they are now the biggest plants on the plot. There is something to be said for leaving tubers in situ. They are just now beginning to give a crop, as are the new tubers planted last month on the gritty thin soil at the top of the path.

The March-sown corn plants with dahlias behind

The onions have become fat, their leaves beginning to flop, and next to them – miraculously – we have a line of pale green parsnip seedlings that finally germinated on the third attempt.

onions, leeks and tiny parsnips plus some hastily planted zinnia to plug the gaps

August’s cut flowers will be dominated by cosmos, chrysanthemums, ammi and sunflowers. The sweet peas are fading now, their velvet shades become mottled as they give up the ghost.

Ammi visnaga and cosmos, with chrysanths and strawflower behind plus the inevitable self-seeders mullein and poppies
sweet peas, nasturtium and cornflower
Sunflowers are romping away now

The hop is one of those plants that is hidden in plain sight. It’s so part of the furniture that I rarely see it these days, only to look up last week and notice that one bine has collapsed under its own weight.

A bine has collapsed on the hopolisk

Because of my transformed attitude to weeds, plus the success of this year’s planting plan (every inch of ground is covered with something), the July allotment is a pleasure rather than the burden that it was threatening to become. The crops are coming weekly but in small number, which doesn’t make for good photos but does make for a more manageable life. We’re talking a courgette and a bag of broad beans a week, leaves from the trug at home, plus a few berries and two or three vases of flowers. Come August all this will change of course and the glut will hit.

The regular haul of sweet peas, cornflower, nasturtium plus first dahlias and cosmos

Do you remember when it was warm? No I don’t either but I have pictorial evidence that, just a few weeks ago, the sun shone. At these time I become one of those highly irritating super women who produces home-made ice lollies for her offspring. (Don’t be fooled by this, because the rest of the time he exists on chocolate buttons and Aldi’s own-brand Ritz biscuits.) These chocolate mini milks are really easy and use up those smushy black bananas that are always lurking in the fruit bowl. They’re also a good way of getting milk inside him disguised as a treat.

You’ll need a blender and some lolly moulds. Little hands can join in, but make sure they know which end of the lolly handles to put into the moulds…

Remember to put your lolly sticks in the correct way up

Chocolate mini milks

In a blender, whizz together 1 banana, 1 tsp cocoa powder, 2 tsp icing sugar and about 200ml milk. Pour into lolly moulds and freeze.

Chocolate mini milks

Also this week:

Harvesting: last broad beans, first courgette, lettuce, rocket, blackcurrants, blueberries, alpine strawberries, cornflower, sweet peas, dahlia, first sunflower, nasturtium, poppies. Also finding peaches, nectarines, plums, strawberries and red/white currants in the shops and farmer’s market.

Cooking and eating: Nectarine, plum and strawberry crumble. Inevitably, pasta prima vera with courgette and broad beans. Chicken marinated with Moroccan spice mix, yoghurt and garlic, roasted in a HOT oven and served with chopped salads, yoghurt and chips. Toscakaka. Black banana cake.

Also: Reading the biography of Elizabeth Jane Howard. Working back at full tilt without ever feeling any richer. Slow but steady progress on the office renovation. Taking Harry for his first hair cut since February, and then only because his fringe had become and health and safety issue.

Thai green curry paste

It’s soggy but unseasonably warm, which is an irritating combination: the ground is too water-logged to go and work on it, and in the meantime the weeds are still growing. I want a good hard frost, but no such luck.

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Next year’s sweet peas are emerging already

The greens I sowed last spring are STILL coming, it’s staggering. Prime of them is this variegated chicory, its bitter leaves perfect for autumn salads with cheese and nuts. The other winter lettuce is doing well, though the slug damage continues.

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Chicory still going strong

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The slugs never give up: winter lettuce decimation!

I pulled a few leeks this morning, or at least, I tried to: at least one disintegrated in my hands, the impact of what I thought was rust. A bit of googling later and I was put straight: we actually have an infestation of allium leaf miner. These little critters burrow into the outer layers of the leaks, allowing secondary infection to take hold. Apparently it’s nigh on impossible to get rid of. The leeks taste OK, but the outer leaves turn to mush and have to be chucked away. More info about leaf miner can be found here: www.rhs.org.uk

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Sad leeks

The outer layers dissolve into mush

On the rain-soaked allotment there wasn’t a soul to be seen. The birds are still taking their fill, stocking up on hips, haws, seeds and berries. Meanwhile I came home smeared in mud, with wet feet and frizzy hair.

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Gorgeous autumn colour

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But the rain feels unrelenting: the buts are full

The winter lettuce mix I grow has mustard spinach at its heart. It’s a robust leaf, more like a Chinese green than a lettuce. Despite its moniker it feels wrong to saute it with olive oil or butter: this is a leaf that cries out for Eastern flavours such as soy, sesame and fish sauce.

I’ve been batch cooking lately, making up pot-fulls of food for the freezer. Batch cooking usually brings to mind slow-cooked dishes – stews, bolognese, chilli, that kind of thing. But I also like to make up batches of Thai curry paste, freezing it in tablespoon-sized rounds. Then, when the mood arises, I  simmer them straight from the freezer with coconut milk, fish sauce and lime for a fresh, zingy green curry – perfect to serve with stir-fried mustard spinach.

This recipe for Thai green curry comes from a great little paperback, Thai Cookery Secrets by Kris Dhillon. There’s no pretty pictures, just solid recipes. You’ll need a food processor – well, technically, you could make this in a pestle and mortar, but that would take a day so take my advice and use the chopper.

First, toast whole cumin, coriander and black pepper in a dry frying pan until fragrant. Tip into a mortar to cool, then pound with the pestle until you get a fine-ish powder.

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Ground cumin, coriander and black pepper

Then take shallots, garlic, lemongrass, green chillies, lime leaves and ginger, roughly chop all of them, and put into the food processor with a scant teaspoon of shrimp paste. These chillies are from my greenhouse (I’ve been storing them in the freezer), but really you should use Thai green chillies. The lime leaves came frozen from an Asian supermarket – dried ones don’t cut the mustard so if you can’t get fresh or frozen, substitute with fresh lime zest.

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Garlic, shallots, lemongrass, shrimp paste, green chillies, lime leaves and ginger (not pictured)

Now we need coriander – not the leaf, but the roots and base of the stems. This is much easier if you grow your own or use one of those pots of herbs from the supermarket.

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We need the very base of the coriander stems

Then just whizz it up to a paste with a splash of water or oil and a good pinch of salt. I’m a wimp so I don’t use so many chillies – the more you use, the greener the paste will be. Once it’s smooth, use straight away or freeze in tablespoon-sized dollops on greaseproof paper before transfering to a freezer bag.

Whizz to a paste with a splash of water or oil

The finished paste can then be used to make a quick curry: fry the paste in oil until fragrant, add coconut milk and simmer for five minutes before seasoning with fish sauce, lime juice and palm sugar. Add chicken, prawns and/or vegetables of your choice, simmer for a few more minutes then serve. Rich, tasty, warming food.

Thai green curry paste

Recipe adapted from Thai Cookery Secrets by Kris Dhillon

2 tsp coriander seeds

1 tsp cumin seeds

2 tsp peppercorns, white or black

20 fresh green chillies

10 cloves garlic, peeled

3 banana shallots (the long thin ones), peeled

Thumb-sized piece of ginger, peeled

2 lemongrass, tough leaves removed

Handful lime leaves, fresh or frozen

Handful coriander roots, stems and leaves

1 tsp shrimp paste

1 tsp salt

Sunflower oil or water

Toast the spices in a dry pan, transfer to a mortar and pestle and bash until ground. Roughly chop all other ingredients (except shrimp paste and salt) and add them to the food processor. Whizz to a paste, adding a splash of water or oil if it’s too dry. Add the shrimp paste, salt and spices and whizz again.

To freeze: Line a freezer-proof tray with greaseproof paper. Dollop tablespoons of paste onto the paper then freeze. When firm, transfer to a freezer bag. Use within six months or so.

To make into Thai green curry: Saute 1 tablespoon of paste in oil until fragrant. Add a tin of coconut milk and simmer for five minutes. Add chicken, prawns and vegetables of your choice – remember, less is more. Season with fish sauce, lime juice and palm sugar. Taste – adjust seasoning as needed. Add sliced basil, simmer for a few more minutes, then serve. For a richer dish, use coconut cream in addition to coconut milk. For a spicier dish, add more curry paste!

Water water everywhere nor any drop to drink

‘One cannot think well, love well, sleep well if one has not dined well.’ Virginia Woolf

‘Water water everywhere nor any drop to drink.’ Samuel Taylor Coleridge

We’ve both been busy and as a result, it’s been a Bad Food Week:

Tuesday night noodles went into the bin on the discovery that the fish sauce I’d used was rank with old age, a taste that may well haunt me for some weeks.

Pasta with tomato sauce fished out the freezer tasted mouldy and old, not a patch on those fresh summer dinners from just a few weeks back.

Last night I worked late and came home to discover that Matt had cooked himself a pizza and left me diddly squat, nada, zilch. Dinner was readymade custard with sliced banana – which actually is brilliant, just perhaps lacking in some major vitamins and minerals.

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Thoughts on bolognese

I made bolognese yesterday. I think for a lot of people this is an easy-peasy thirty-minute mince-and-tomato midweek supper. For a lot of other people – people like me – it is the source of debate and passion.

My mother’s bolognese recipe comes from a St Michael (that’s M&S in the old days) freezer cookbook, and uses tins of tomato puree liberally dressed with mushrooms. I’m not keen on mushrooms in bolognese and we’ve had a number of family rows about it. Why wreck a perfectly good dinner with fungi which, when cooked for an hour or so, resemble black slugs?

And then came along Matt, who threw out the spag bol rulebook by using – get this – CHUNKS OF BEEF rather than mince in his stew. This blew my mind. Not only were they chunks of beef, they were chunks of beef that he had hand-chopped to get the consistency that he wanted. I think it was this attention to detail that made me think he may be the chap for me, that plus the row of Elizabeth David cookbooks that I spied on his bookshelf on my first visit to his flat. Matt doesn’t understand spaghetti and so his bol is always served with a pasta tube of some sort. I think the Italians would approve of this.

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