Sunday, 8 November 2009

Beautiful borlotti


I was chatting to some friends in London who have an allotment in Finsbury Park and they told me that they devote two thirds of their plot to growing borlotti beans. I know a lot of our Italian neighbours also cultivate them so this year  we decided to grow them seriously.  We were told to sow them a little bit later than the runners  to avoid black fly and they were a huge success The vines develop beautiful crimson pods that in turn produce pretty pink-freckled beans like miniature birds’ eggs. Most people harvest the pods when they are dry and desiccated and then store the dried beans or freeze them. However I often collect the pods before they reach this desiccated state as the beans have a fresh creamy texture  at this stage.

I know now why my London friends grow so many. You can store them throughout the winter, they don’t take up much space and then you just throw them in soups and stews for about half an hour until tender . They are truly delicious without the earthy taste that many beans have. Sometimes I cook them separately as a vegetable in their  own right.  This is how I do it:

Put the podded beans in a small saucepan cover with water mix in some crushed garlic and a splash of both white wine and olive oil. Add some herbs such as sage or rosemary. Simmer for half an hour and then drain them.

To serve, splash a little more olive oil over the beans and sprinkle them with sea salt (don’t put salt in the cooking water as it can make the skins coarse). You’ll find the beans will have absorbed all the delicious flavours. I quite often serve this with roast chicken which sounds strange, but works brilliantly. 

Kale - Italian-stylie


Our leeks are thickening up like Nora Batty’s ankles and the parsnips are looking vigorous, but we decide to wait until a frost sweetens them up before doing any harvesting which leaves our veggie options rather limited. Luckily we grow cavolo nero (which although a kale translates from the Italian as black cabbage). I’m not a fan of kale, disliking its rag-like texture. This however, has a good firm texture and makes fantastic and versatile eating throughout the winter and is rich in all sorts of vitamins notably K, A , C  and B and elements such as manganese, calcium and iron. I buy the seeds from Seeds Of Italy, a supplier specialising in Italian varieties. It’s easy to  grow, it survives the coldest of winters and has a pleasing look about it – rather like dark green feather dusters poking out of the ground. Of course the Italians have always known about its benefits and grown and cooked it for generations, notably in a dish called ribollita which is a kind of soupy stew. I prefer to stir fry it:

Cavolo Nero Stir Fry

 Firstly I strip the leaves from its tough stem. Then I fry chopped onion and garlic in olive oil until they are golden and then throw in the shredded leaves, stir frying them rapidly for about ten minutes. Then in goes a slug or two of dry sherry or wine and some flakes of  dried chilli and some fennel seeds (fennel is a really good flavour with cavolo nero). Now cook slowly for ten minutes until the liquid is absorbed. Add a little more olive oil and stir fry again for a couple of minutes and serve immediately. Delicious and so good for you

 

Putting the plot to bed


It’s time for the annual clearing up on the plot and putting to bed for winter. It sounds so cosy as if the allotment is being tucked up with a cup of cocoa and a bedtime story. However, it does seem far from cosy as we drag yards of pumpkin vine to the compost, wrestle sunflower stalks to the ground, dismantle bean poles and clear away leaves and windfalls. Exhausting as it is it does seem somehow therapeutic – almost like a spring clean – if that doesn’t sound too weird. Once the detritus is cleared away you can somehow see the blank canvas again. Now that many of the plants have gone you can energetically unearth all the weeds that were hard to get at before – and also be safe in the knowledge  that they won’t be growing back so vigorously. And then there is the digging – as each forkful is dug you can almost see the earth breathing in the air and turning it’s face to the sun – albeit in a few weeks’ time   it will be tickled by the frost. I’ve decided to attempt double digging as I feel this is what real gardeners do – I assume this means digging twice. I  look up the term on the net – and oh no – it is nothing as simple as that.  You dig a trench and put the earth in a wheelbarrow and then dig another trench putting the earth  from there in the first trench and then from there … ok you’ve guessed it – I gave up. It is back breaking work and to be frank life is too short! I  look over at one of my neighbour’s allotment –now he comes only occasionally to his plot but his patch always looks in good shape. I decide to watch what he is doing… I realise he doesn’t dig but hoes and then spreads compost and manure over the top to let the goodness seep in and be taken down by worms. Well, this sounds like a plan – I presume it means that the goodness is kept locked away as some of it must get leached when exposed to the elements in the digging process. I realise though I like digging – it doesn’t feel like gardening if I’m not wielding a fork in a meaningful way – I like to see the worms wriggling, I like to look at and feel the earth and smell … well the earthiness of the earth …. Basically I like to do things the hard way!

 

Gardening exhibitionism


I have been taking pictures of our pumpkins. I’m very proud of them: we have several fine-looking specimens of various shapes and hues and one enormous green, knobbly affair that looks like it might house a colony of Martians. I’ve posted the pictures on my blog and bored my friends with them on Facebook. What is this need to ..well … show off. I suppose gardening is such an intense and often solitary business that, when given the opportunity, we want to crow about our achievements. It’s partly that we want to share our wonder of how a small seed dropped in to the soil all those months ago has grown into something productive. It’s a little like child rearing, you start with a tender little shoot to protect and feed , which then grows into an unmanageable adolescent stretching its gangly limbs over the plot … oh and playing host to a number of unsuitable friends – of whom many of them should be issued with ASBOS – that is Anti Social Bindweed Order. After all these nurturing efforts, you do hope to end up with a productive individual of whom you can be suitably proud. Everyone knows those people who never stop talking smugly about their offspring – and so it is with gardeners they just want to exhibit the fine specimens they have produced.

The desire to show off garden produce is very much evident in the local gardening show. I gather these events were introduced as a means of stimulating interest in growing vegetables presumably as part of the ‘Dig for Victory campaign around the 1940s. Their continuing popularity is testament to the desire to display our gardening successes. This year, for the first time, I visited a local show and was intrigued  and hugely impressed by the entries all neatly arranged on trestle tables. It was all gloriously homespun with giant onions jostling for space with the preserves  and oddest-shape vegetable display. It seemed all just a bit of fun …. that was until the grand announcement of the winning entries. The atmosphere turned expectant and just a touch tense – did Mrs P really deserve to win the best flower arrangement (not only that she carried off the rosette for the best jam as well), were old Dan’s carrots really up to snuff! The category of prizes were seemingly endless and imaginative and by the time all the winners were finally announced I was more interested in scoffing a gigantic slice of home made Victoria sponge – mmmm I wonder if it was one of Mrs P’s homebakes? Ah well it was congratulations to some and better luck next year to others and despite the intensity of the competition one got the feeling people just wanted to say, ‘look what I’ve been doing all summer – this is what I have created – it’s  a part of me.

As for open gardens, what better way to spend a summer afternoon then poking around someone else’s patch. It’s a great way to get ideas and discover new plants.  But what about the owners of these gardens? Yes the entry fees are a brilliant way to raise funds for charity, but I reckon that a part of them really loves to share the joy of their beautiful garden with other people. So much thought and creativity goes in to the cultivation of a patch that when it reaches its pinnacle how lovely it must be to hear people exclaiming what a thing of beauty it is. Of course it doesn’t have to be a National Trust size property, we even want to show off the smallest of patches – note how many people pay particular attention to their front garden so passers by can appreciate their pretty flowers and scented shrubs they have cultivated.

I have to say I do have that showing off instinct myself – even in the allotment. Our twenty-something daughters come down from London for the weekend and are ritually dragged to the plot – they come unsuitably dressed with a look that I can only describe as intense boredom. I talk them through what we have been doing and then try and engage them by asking them questions. ‘Do you know what we’re growing here,’  I say pointing at carrot fronds….’Courgettes,’ they reply in a deadpan fashion. I look at them  to see if they are joking? Do they really not know what they are? Or are they just being deliberately awkward to cut short the visit. The answer comes when after 5 minutes they start looking at their watches – shall we go to the pub now, they say rather too emphatically… hmmmmm

Ah well I ‘ve just checked my Facebook – a friend has seen the pictures of my pumpkins and has commented ‘Great crop Paula’.  Hurrah, someone appreciates my hard work!