June 29, 2015 by Helen Stallard

June Bobby broad-bean salad

What a difference a few weeks makes. At the start of June, with a chill remaining in the air, I was despairing of ever getting a crop of anything. But now – the pictures tell the story.

First up the tomatoes. My Dad told me that I’d caused them un-necessary stress (he often says that about his children) but maybe a bit of pressure early in life did them good, for they are now enormous and bear fruit.

Greenhouse on 9 June

Greenhouse on 21 June; everything has pretty much doubled in size

Outside, the lettuce, spinach, chard and beets were teeny tiny at the start of June. Now, the lettuce have hearts and I am gifting bags of greens to anyone polite enough to say they’d like some.

The greens patch on 9 June…

…and on 27 June. Actual proper lettuces!

On the other side of the patch, the artichoke and hops are trying to out-do each other with bolshy behaviour. The hops are taller, but the artichoke has the edge when it comes to statuesque elegance.

The artichoke now reaches top of the (un-used) fruit cage

Hops to the top of the hopolisk

Newly fashionable, the crysanths have been planted out with the hope of long-lived stems for cutting later in the year. They nestle alongside the leeks and onions; autumn bounty.

Crysanths and leeks out and proud in the summer sun

For now though it’s season’s pickings. Sweet peas and love in a mist; rocket and lettuce and spinach; redcurrants and (nearly) blackcurrants.

Nigella in bloom – love in a mist

Redcurrant dripping in fruit, glistening like glass beads

Late June pickings

It’s not all unbridled success. I’ve had to ditch the cavalo nero and purple sprouting broccoli seedings, both neglected for too long, and half the climbing beans are a write off.

Speaking of beans, the first bobby beans are now to be found in Worcestershire farm shops; Matt claims they are Not A Real Thing and are actually French beans. But I’ve always known these super-long green pods as bobby beans. A Worcestershire oddity? Perhaps. Try them blanched and then tossed with savoury, herby, parmesan-y cream for a lovely side-dish. If bobby beans are Not A Real Thing where you live, this is also good with broad beans, French beans, runner beans and peas.

June bobby broad-bean salad

Beans, sufficient for your dinner (bobby, broad, runner, French or peas)

Double cream

Chopped herbs, about 1 tablespoon. Soft ones are best; consider hyssop, savoury, tarragon, thyme, oregano.

Garlic – 1 fat clove, bashed and peeled but left whole

Salt and pepper

Parmesan

Lemon juice, to taste

First, trim your beans (I’ve used a handful of bobby beans and some sweet baby broad beans from the allotment). Blanch them in boiling water until just soft, then refresh under the cold tap.

Blanch the beans and rinse under cold water

Meanwhile, warm a good splash of double cream in a wide pan with a smashed clove of garlic (leave it whole) and a handful of chopped soft herbs. I’ve used hyssop, tarragon, thyme and oregano. Savoury would also be good. Leave it to stand for a few minutes for the flavours to mingle, then remove the garlic.

Warm garlic and herbs with cream

Finally, add the beans to the herby cream and toss the lot together, season with salt and pepper, and warm it all through over a low heat. Serve topped with lots of parmesan and perhaps a splash of lemon juice.

Toss it all together, top with parmesan and slurp up the goodness

Planted out: leeks, crysanths

Picking: lettuce, spinach, sorrel, edible flowers, broad beans, strawberries, herbs, sweet peas, pinks

Chucked out: PSB and cavalo nero seedlings

Other jobs: Started feeding the tomatoes

June 24, 2015 by Helen Stallard

Arrivederci Amalfi part two: Growing

Back to Amalfi we go. There are a few things to bear in mind about this mountainous, coastal part of Italy. 1; There’s not a lot of industry and therefore not much money swilling around. 2; It takes hours to get anywhere; that’s the joy of mountains. 3; It’s surprisingly densely populated, with villages clinging to the cliffs.

What do you do if you live in a place such as this? Well you grow all your own food of course. It’s not a lifestyle choice as it is in the UK, it’s just obvious. It’s been obvious for centuries. In Pompeii, archaeologists have replanted fields of vines using ancient Roman planting schemes and they looks exactly the same as any vines you’d see these days, 2000 years later.

Pillars at Pompeii. Archaeologists have replanted vines here based on the original layout.

Archaeology for the masses. Photo of people taking photos at Pompeii.

Some things are different now though. The Romans would not have had tomatoes, courgette, potatoes, corn or chillies, all of which came to Europe from South America in the 16th century or thereabouts. In Agerola, the cluster of cliffside villages where we stayed, every property was surrounded by rows upon rows of tomatoes. I can only imagine the industrial efforts required into turning this lot into passata for the winter.

Tomatoes on the agriturismo, a crop that was of course not known to the Romans. Here they are grown between two strings to support the growing vine.

As well as the ubiquitous tomatoes, everyone grows grapes, potato, maize, beans and fruit of some description.

Grapes are grown across trellis made from local chestnut wood. There are three benefits: the vine can spread as it will, the grapes can drop down for easy pickings (and to reduce the risk of mildew) and the leaves provide canopy shade for whatever grows below. Ingenious.

Fruit is everywhere. As well as peaches, apricots, strawberries and pears, we spied these mulberries.

Further down the cliff is where the famous Amalfi lemons are found. Their renown is justified: these are the biggest, narliest, most fragrant citrus you are likely to find.

The famous Amalfi lemons are grown on steep terraced banks, often covered with netting to protect from strong winds.

Or maybe the nets are just to deter thieving tourists!

Up in the mountains, the air is scented with herbs: sage, mint, rocket and most of all, oregano.

In Provence they have the wild thyme and rosemary of the garrigue… In Campagnia, they have wild rocket, oregano, sage and mint.

Despite the heat, the wildflowers are not dissimilar to those found in an English June summer. I found these on Capri.

We ended the trip with the Walk of the Gods, a cliff-side trek that descends 600m from a country village to the seaside resort of Positano.

End of the road

Path of the Gods, a fitting climax for any birthday.

June 7, 2015 by Helen Stallard

The early June allotment

Overnight, the weather turns. The gales are a distant memory and suddenly there are endless blue skies, the hum of insects and the lightest of breezes.

I made my first elderflower cordial of the season this week, using the earliest of Malvern Hills blooms. Truth be told, I’m not that happy about the result – it’s too ‘green’ – so will leave it for another week or two before rustling up another batch.

Earliest elderflowers in bloom

First harvest in evening sun

Wildflowers in the hedgerow

It’s at this time of year that the allotment is most cruel. Whilst gardeners fling open their doors for visitors, be it through the Yellow Book or through village open gardens (of which there seem to be hundreds during June), on the veg patch there is little to show. Actually, worse than that, things are actively either dying, being zapped by wind / birds / foxes or threaten to be overtaken by grass and weeds. Twice this week I’ve visited full of vim for the tasks at hand – and twice I’ve left depressed with the slow progress and failures. For example:

Exhibit 1: borlotti seedling totally decimated by unknown pest

Exhibit 2: Despite forking out for all that bark, the raspberries and blueberries are studded with grass and buttercups

Exhibit 3: The pigeon has got fat on my red kale seedlings. I am leaving them in to see if they regenerate.

Exhibit 4: French bean seedling suffering, and a few have died. Cause is unknown but might be wind damage.

Also – not pictured – one of the gourds has been completely snapped off at the stem, either by the strong wind or, more probably, by the fox. On a similar note, the chrysanthemum seedlings arrived this week and one was instantly taken by the wind, causing all the growing stems to break off. I’ve potted it up anyway in the hope that it might send out new shoots.

I am told that set-backs are inevitable. But in professional life, failure is hard to take, so why should downtime pursuits be any different? Perhaps there is a lesson there to be learnt. The yogis have a phrase, Ishvarapranidhana, which loosely translates as ‘surrendering to grace’. In other words, if we stop trying to control every last thing then * shock horror! * the world will keep on turning and all will be well. We might even be surprised at the good things that result. I’ll try and keep that in mind.

For all my carping, there are good things happening. Matt’s hops are now 12 feet tall, towering over the beans and the greens in a display of vivacity. We’ve a few broad beans ready for picking, and the lettuces are brilliant. (They are marketed as winter lettuce mind, so the fact that they are at their best now, in June, doesn’t bode well. I’ll gloss over that bit).

The hopolisk in full glory

Broad beans near ready for harvest

Onions and shallots fattening nicely

Artichoke has once again turned into a monster plant

Blackcurrants swelling in the sun

There are buds on the nigella and cosmos, and the foxgloves that I sowed from seed last year are nearing perfection. The sweet peas are not good, only a few inches tall. Perhaps this is normal? I have no idea. The carrots and parsnips have come on a few centimetres this week, which I will take as a major victory.

In the greenhouse, the tomatoes are growing with vigour and a few are in flower. So I try to have patience and hope that the graft will all come good in the end.

Planted out: More cosmos, sweetcorn, sweetpeas

Sowed: Fennel (indoors), sorrel (direct)

Potted on: Chillies, basil

May 26, 2015 by Helen Stallard

The Great Allotment Plant-Out

I had some hired-in labour yesterday. My folks turned up in the affectionately-named Popemobile (e.g. Mum’s Berlingo) with a boot full of plants…dahlias, cosmos, nigella, wild-flowers, you name it. Plus, joy-of-joys, the strimmer! The Great Allotment Plant-Out had begun.

It turns out that all the things I’ve grown for the far end of the plot hail from the Americas. Courgette, gourds, beans and corn are native to Mexico, plus the sunflowers hail from North America. Each was placed out before planting to measure the space. There are 17 sunflowers and if they all survive should make a fantastic display through the summer. Plus the bees love them. Win!

Planning out the Americas patch

Fingers crossed for a field of sunflowers

On the other side, my Mum put in dahlias (another American plant), which can now stay in place for a few years, plus a strip of wild flowers, the seeds given to us as a wedding favour a few years back. She’s been doing some alchemy in her greenhouse so that all the seedlings looked extraordinarily healthy (unlike my wonky efforts).

Watering in the strip of wild flowers

Taking the long view

The grass and weeds got a good zap with the strimmer, which is endlessly satisfying. In so doing I noticed that we have one single red strawberry, which is probably now eaten by the pigeon. I made a mental note to cover the crop this week.

And relax

In the greenhouse, my Dad made a tomato-support system involving grow bags and canes.

Tomato support system in place

There are still chillies to pot on, plus leeks, purple sprouting, cavalo nero, more sweet peas and more corn to put out in a few weeks. Plus those last two hideous weed patches to deal with.

It’s all starting to look a bit more…proper. The challenge is to work out how to extend the proper-ness so that we’re picking good things right into the new year.

Planted out: Beans, courgette, gourd, wild flowers, dahlias, cosmos, nigella, marigolds, corns, sunflower

Potted on: Tomatoes

September 20, 2014 by Helen Stallard

Reaping what you sow

I’ve been to the V&A this week, also known as The Best Museum in London. This was the first image to catch my eye, stretching the entire double length of the Tunnel entrance:

Carousel Wall by David David, V&A Tunnel Entrance

These are tiles, masterminded by British graphic design studio David David but manufactured by Johnson Tiles in Stoke, installed into an eye-bending hall of colour. It doesn’t take a genius to see the Islamic inspiration for the work, but I love how the vibrant geometric pattern gives such a contemporary exciting feel.

What I love even more is that the tiles were made by master craftsmen in the Midlands at a time when so much production has disappeared overseas. This part of the world has such a tradition of being at the forefront of contemporary craftsmanship; it’s refreshing to see artists and designers using the world class skills on their doorstep. Use the skills and they stay alive: you reap what you sow.

Sometimes, however, you don’t get to reap what you sow. Not when you’re dealing with high-maitenence tomatoes. Sadly, the experimental outsiders (the Grange Hill lot) didn’t make the cold August. A tomato patch really should NOT look like this:

I’m pretty sure tomato plants shouldn’t look like this

Doubt these will make good passata

The lesson has been learnt: tomatoes marked “greenhouse only” really don’t like being outdoors, especially when it gets freezing cold at harvest time. The inside lot are still producing and really I am fed up of making passata – but what else to do? They’re not going to store. Not like the onions, which have been drying outside for a couple of weeks and now are buffed up into perfect spheres of beauty.

Onions and shallots

The corns, planted out mid-June, are just about ready. Only one has been nibbled by what I presume was a mouse and whilst they’re a bit higgledy-piggledy, they’re pleasing enough. We’ll have about 10 in total. I remember when corn was just boiled and daubed in butter – none the worse for that – but these may end up having a rather more filthy treatment involving a grill, chipotle mayonnaise and grated cheese.

First crop of sweetcorn

The cima di rapa I planted a month or so ago has performed brilliantly. Seems that the best results happen when the soil is warm (so August-September rather than April-May-June) and it’s kept under fleece. The green leaves have a wonderful bitterness which work well with rich Italian or Greek dishes…it is after all just a posh weed, and the southern Mediterranean is full of recipes involving weeds.

Also today I pulled the first cavalo nero, planted out on 14 June. It’s covered in white fly and pretty small, but edible nonetheless so I’m claiming victory. The leeks have got rust, however, so they might turn out to be a different story.

Cima di rapa and cavalo nero

Harvest: Cima di rapa, sweetcorn, cavalo nero, yet more tomatoes

August 31, 2014 by Helen Stallard

The last day of summer

It’s the last day of August today, which to me is the last day of summer. I spent three hours doing the jobs that I’ve been putting off for a few weeks whilst the weather has been so miserable – namely, weeding. Sodding weeds. They get everywhere. Fat hen, thistle, grass, butter-cup, loads more that I can’t identify…we have them all and they are virulent. The violas which I grew from seed back in March have come up, now exhausted after their long season of colour. And the foxgloves have gone in, to hopefully acclimatise for next summer.

The best solution for weeds is total ground cover – just starve them out. The squash are doing an excellent job of that, only 10 weeks old and already threatening to take over the entire neighbourhood. These are Turks Turban and I’m hoping that they get sufficiently gnarled and weird-looking in time for Halloween. There are 9 plants, and around 3 fruit per plant….that’s a lot of squash.

Squash weed control

Baby Turks Turban

Only one of the fennel seeds I planted a couple of weeks ago has made it up. I think it’s the bit of land they were planted on – we only had one successful carrot from that patch too. Not much you can do with only one carrot. However I think this little seedling needs saving and so it got its own little covering to stop it being gobbled by the pigeons.

Speaking of being cosseted, the greenhouse tomatoes are proving to be – if I’m honest – a bit of a disappointment. The fruits all seem to be ailed with one of four conditions:

Issue 1: Blossom-end rot. I thought I’d got rid of all these but obviously not. You could stick your finger in this brown patch and it would come out covered in gunk.

Issue 2: Scarring. I think this is due to the variety but not sure…it could just be another example of being High Maintenance.

Issue 3: Splitting. Apparently this is something to do with heat and/or water. Also known as Definitely Being High Maintenance.

Issue 4: Being gobbled by unknown creatures

I don’t think there’s much I can do now about the first three issues, but I can the last one. The creature in question left a trail of poo which led me to discover its identity (caterpillar) and hiding den (under a leaf). It got chucked onto next door’s strawberries (is that bad?) to survive another day in the Palace of Pigeons.

Poo! On my tomatoes!

The culprit. That’s a lot of poo for something so small.

But on the bright side, we’re not far off a hop harvest. Matt’s threatening to put these in the freezer (he’ll be lucky, there’s no room what with all the raspberries) but I think they’d make a good kitchen decoration. God only knows if they will actually ever get turned into beer.

Flowers nearly at harvesting stage

Challenger hop has nearly made it to the top of the hopolisk

Took up: violas, marigolds

Seedlings protected: fennel, cima di rapa, spring onions, chard, spinach

Planted out: foxgloves

Harvested: patty-pan, the Spring spring onions, tomatoes

August 14, 2014 by Helen Stallard

Raspberry meringues

We have friends coming for supper this evening. Supper used to be called dinner, and before that was called tea. Now it’s called ‘using up things from the veg patch’.

For my birthday in June Other Half bought me a fantastic book, Caroline Conran’s Sud de France.

Good book

It’s a recipe journal/memoir of life living around La Laviniere and Saint Chinian, towns in the Launduedoc where I’ve been fortunate enough to visit and enjoy memorable food. And wine. Don’t forget the wine. So a French supper it is; a good excuse to do some proper cooking.

Tomato and taleggio tart: First up, I know that taleggio isn’t French, but you work with what you’ve got, and I’ve got taleggio. I halved 12 of our tomatoes and cooked them in a slow oven (160c) for about an hour with thyme, bay and EVOO. Then rolled out puff pastry, arranged the tomatoes on top with more herbs, baked for about 30 mins (180c) before adding slices of taleggio to the top and popping back in the oven to get the desired ooze.

Mayonnaise: I’ve been hankering about making some mayo for weeks and given the meringues (see below) there were egg yolks going. I used Conran’s Sud de France recipe: Whizzed two yolks up with 1tsp dijon mustard, 2tsp lemon juice and sea salt, then dripped in 250ml of light olive oil and sunflower oil, half and half. Dripped is the only word for it – mayo is simple but you have to take it STEADY. It takes about 5 minutes to get it all lovely, thick and gloopy. Added a bit more lemon at the end…love the lemon.

The good stuff

Served these with this morning’s bread, and leaves and beans.

Then Conran’s raspberry swirl meringues with more fruit and cream. The meringues were interesting:

Cook 100g raspberries with 30g sugar until jammy. So far so normal. But the meringue itself is oddball: whisk 4 egg whites until stiff, gradually beat in 120g caster sugar and then 110g icing sugar (???), 1tsp cornflour and 1tsp white wine vinegar.

Swirl the raspberry with the meringue, spoon onto the prepared trays. Conran says bake at 125c but I’m always dubious about meringue temperatures so reduced this to 110c. Left them in for 1 hr 30 mins – at which point they had to come out as the bread needed baking, and when it’s got to be baked it’s got to be baked. So an hour later I put them back in for thirty mins then left them to sit in the cooling switched off oven.

Verdict on those meringues….scrumptious. Meant to take pictures but we opened a good bottle and I clean forgot until it got dark and the light was terrible. In real life they weren’t quite as pink.

A platter of joy

Best bit….there is leftover cream. Oh the possibilities!

August 11, 2014 by Helen Stallard

Passata

On Saturday my folks turned up with a box of tomatoes, about 15 black peppers (more on those another day), a strimmer, and plenty of jibes about general laziness in the allotment. The jibes stopped when they went down there and saw the general epic-ness that is now our veg patch. The cosmos are better than my mother’s! Though I am still looking after my tomatoes incorrectly (they need thinning) and must get rid of the perennial weeds (*cough* fat chance). I should add here my mother is to gardening what Mary Berry is to cherry cake.

Whilst Dad wandered off to talk Worcestershire to unsuspecting Brummies, I wondered what to do with those tomatoes. To me, the tomato glut marks the turn from summer to autumn. It’s time to get preserving. Which means one thing: passata.

Same technique as every year: slice in half around their equators, roast for about an hour, push through a sieve, and that’s it. I freeze mine ready for chillies, bolognese, ragu, stews, and so on.

About half of what I was given. Each of these is the size of a navel orange.

Halved, drizzled with oil, ready for roasting.

An hour and a bit later…

An hour or so later – passata!

This year’s passata is great stuff – rich and thick, not too watery.

Speaking of autumn, last night’s dinner was short beef rib braised in red wine and herbs, served with roasted new potatoes, roasted onions and allotment veg (greens, beans etc). To follow, damson crumble. What could be more autumnal than that?

This evening I dutifully thinned out the Grange Hill tomatoes, did another harvest of beans, Eton tomatoes and lettuce. Pulled out the last of the summer lettuce, now crisp from heat. Had to hack off a sunflower head that had been strangled by the straggling borlotti shoots, as together they were making a wind barrier that was threatening to bring the whole lot down. Then dodging a torrential downpour, started off the autumn lettuce ready for planting out in a few weeks time.

Notes from the Veg Patch

Tomatoes

June Bobby broad-bean salad

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Arrivederci Amalfi part two: Growing

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The early June allotment

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The Great Allotment Plant-Out

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Reaping what you sow

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The last day of summer

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Raspberry meringues

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Passata

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