Monday, 31 July 2017

A crumble in the making

It's been a good year for blackberries in London. They're a couple of months early I think (as are the few mushrooms I've seen), but that's part of another debate.

Because they're early, I don't think people are expecting to be out picking, and I've only seen a couple of other people with their plastic containers in the woods and on the sides of paths.

But here's what I got from about 15 minutes of picking down at the end of my road.


And here's what they looked like when mixed with apples, some from our garden (again, early) and some garden rhubarb (the right time of year, I think). 


Now, stew with some sugar and a little water. 


Mix up flour with some margarine and more sugar and bake for 20 minutes or so. 


It was bigger than it looks there (the lumps of crumble are bigger than you think) and in fact I was able to make two decent-sized crumbles that were well-received. 

Living off the land! For the extras, once in a while. 

Friday, 10 March 2017

The start of the 2017 season


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It's the Ides of March next week. The Ides of any month is really just half way through the month. So, for March, all that means is that we're 2.5 months out of 12 through the year, or a little over a fifth, but not a round number.

Of course, the Ides of March acquired its own significance through the murder of Julius Caesar in 44BC, but that's got very little to do with greenhouses, unless there's some connection with it being time to plant lettuce and other ingredients of a future Caesar salad. But that's not what I'm saying.

What I am celebrating - well, marking at least - is that today I did a kind of pre-Spring clean of the greenhouse, and I'm afraid there have been some sad losses over the Winter. How are you supposed to keep geraniums alive over the winter in a greenhouse? I was told not to water them too much, but frankly, during the cold days of November, December and January, I didn't feel like going outside, never mind watering anything in the greenhouse.

So I suppose I've only got myself to blame for the fact that about half the geraniums and a few other things seem to have died.

Today felt like the start of things because I reconnected the outside tap, confident that they'll be no more frost - or at least not enough to burst the outside pipe. That meant I could easily pull the hose into the greenhouse and give the survivors a well-earned drink of water.

A lot of the dead geraniums had become brown and dusty, so I have sorted them out, creating these pots where there was nothing left to save:


And these which look like they'll make it:


In some cases, the promise of great things this summer rests on the tiniest leaf:


But, hey, the more compact the plant at this stage, the healthier it'll be as it grows, I think.

Now I need to russell up some seeds and get ahead of the season - because that's what a greenhouse is for.









Saturday, 29 October 2016

The last tomato of summer

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As I suggested just over a month ago, it's been a race between the advance of autumn and the reddening of my tomatoes.

Well, with Halloween just two days away, I've admitted defeat and collected my last tomatoes this afternoon. I have started pulling up their plants, partly to make room for the tulip bulbs I want to plant.

So here it is, the last tomato of summer.


And if you wonder why I've given up on the rest, this is why: they are looking seasonally spooky.





They are going to go brown before they go red. Sad that my most promising-looking green tomatoes have gone this way. Oh well, maybe next year...

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Sunday, 25 September 2016

The race between Autumn and tomatoes

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No matter how early in the year you start growing tomatoes, around now you always seem to be waiting to see whether they're going to have enough sun and warmth to ripen before the chill, dark days of Autumn.

Or whether they'll stay green until their plant dries out and then gets soggy and you just have to watch them rot. It's not good if dew and rain start appearing and the tomatoes are still looking like this:


In fact, with the changeable weather recently, there's been good news on the tomato front in my garden. This is what they've started to look like:


And several times, I've gone out into the garden and returned with quite a decent crop: 


But there's still plenty to play for. Some of the best plants are still looking like this: 


Please, just another few warm days, and it could be a bumper crop. 

Sunday, 7 August 2016

From greenhouse to gut?

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I hate that phrase you hear on food programmes on the radio: 'from farm to fork'. But what would the greenhouse equivalent be: 'from greenhouse to gut'? 'From greenhouse to gustatory experience'? 'From greenhouse to getting supper'?

Well anyway, if we had a suitable phrase, we could have used it yesterday, because we went from this:



And this:




To this:


And this:

And jolly good they were, though I say so myself.

I planted both courgette and marrow seeds in the greenhouse a few months ago, but I can't remember which were where. I suspect the darker one here was a marrow and could have carried on growing more and the lighter one was a courgette. They seemed to taste the same though, and probably both better than a big marrow would do in a month or so. 

When you use a kitchen knife outside to cut a vegetable, you're turning something from the world of the garden into something for the world of the kitchen. Where previously, a bit of mud and the odd insect were perfectly acceptable, now tiny blemishes are examined forensically and removed before cooking and consumption. Imagine having to clean the greenhouse to the standard of the kitchen. 





Saturday, 30 July 2016

What a difference two weeks makes

We just got back from a fortnight away, and the place looks like a jungle:

The marrows and courgettes have taken over, filling up the passage through the middle of the greenhouse and pretty much excluding other plants from the light. I don't particularly mind about the nasturtiums, which self-seeded anyway, but there are also tomato plants in there which are looking unhealthily tall and thin. 

That may be partly because the greenhouse itself doesn't get as much light as it should, being in the shadow of the house in the morning and that of some large trees at the bottom of the garden in the afternoon. But obviously the big marrow leaves don't help. 

Someone kindly watered the greenhouse while we were away, but I forgot to ask her to leave the door open if it was hot, which I think it was. So there are signs of decay, of living in a hot, damp atmosphere:


Now I've left the door open, hoping the plants will get used to more normal conditions for England. 

Plants that I'd already transferred outside did best while I was away, and I'm pleased to see that there are some quite healthy looking marrows and courgettes on the way: 

I have now rescued some of the lanky tomato plants from death by marrow leaf, hoping a new life in the real world will restore them to health. 

Saturday, 2 July 2016

Parsnip surprise

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This is the first time I've grown parsnips. They seem to be doing well, although I probably haven't given them enough space, letting them squeeze together in a couple of pots.


But when will they be ready for picking? I read one book that said it's when they're about two foot high. Well, some of mine had reached that, so I thought I'd pull one out. I wanted to avoid leaving it for so long that the roots had become tough and woody.


What I found was a relatively large bulb immediately below the surface and a lot of little parsnips growing out of it.


I'd been expecting to find just one parsnip. So do parsnips grow in bunches, as these ones look like they would if I'd left them? Or is this some kind of anomaly caused by transplanting or a time when it was short of water or something?

Anyway, my conclusion is that I should leave the rest to keep on growing for quite a few more weeks. Any thoughts would be welcome.

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