parsnips are aphrodisiacs!

Parsnips, to my mind, are the prima donnas of the seed world. Temperamental and wayward one never knows if they will be bothered to germinate. Rather like  supermodels they won’t get out of bed for less than …. well in a parsnip’s case an obligatory amount of sun and rain. So imagine my pride when the full complement of seeded rows flourished.

Having watched them growing lustily over the summer I impatiently dug a couple up rather prematurely in October. Even then, as I had to dig deeper and deeper to unearth them, I knew they were winners, all I had to do now was wait for the frosts to sweeten them and we would have a bumper crop for Christmas. And boy did we have frosts! I envisaged everyone around the festive table exclaiming, ‘so all these vegetables are from your allotment! And I would smugly nod in agreement.  But this turned out to be foolish hubris – it wasn’t to be. I ended up buying supermarket parsnips coyly wrapped in cellophane. The truth was that the frost would not  relinquish  its icy grip on the soil and beware all forks and spades who entered there.

Ah but now that the thaw is here – the parsnips will be mine – all mine. Remembering their size last autumn I wonder how  big they are now. I imagine them remorselessly tunnelling down through the earth rather like a vegetable version of the ‘Shawshank Redemption’. Perhaps, I muse, they’ve reached Australia! ‘Get a grip, says my spouse when I unwisely share my thoughts. We certainly needed grip digging up these fellows. Now I don’t want to boast but they were about  oooh – this big…I know this doesn’t quite work on radio, but you’ll have to take it from me!

The first thing I make is my favourite thing at the moment – parsnip crisps. For that purpose I have bought a mandolin  - sadly not the stringed instrument but a lethally sharp contraption which, when used in the right way results in uniform little discs. However,  used in the wrong way – and I know this from experience – it results in decapitated thumbs.

This is how I make Parsnip Crisps

 Slice the parsnips into thin discs with a sharp knife or mandolin. Scatter them on a baking tray and sprinkle on sea salt and some paprika. Drizzle on some olive oil and then use your hands to toss the slices to ensure they are all coated. Now put them in a moderately hot oven for about 15-20 minutes until crispy and eat while hot.

Now it is Valentine’s day soon and, not many people know this but the Romans thought parsnips were aphrodisiacs! So forget the champagne and oysters – a plateful of parsnip crisps will bring a twinkle to your loved one’s eyes!

 

Brussels Sprouts aren't just for Christmas

I know that I have been rude about Brussels Sprouts – yes I have called them devil’s testicles and vowed never to grow them. But the trouble is Christmas lunch has to feature those green monsters – it’s the law. You get a fine and 8 hours community service if you dare to serve that turkey without it! So caving into convention we grew sprouts and I duly sent my spouse to collect them before the big day (there was no way I was grappling with the snow to retrieve those little blighters). And they weren’t bad, a bit small - some of them masquerading as peas on steroids, but duty was done, the sprouts were on the plate and Christmas tradition was duly upheld.

Now in January the allotment is under a blanket of snow and it’s tempting to resort to buying veg. So much easier to go to a nice warm shop than put on wellies and  brave the freezing winds, ice and snow. But since early summer we have been self sufficient when it comes to vegetables and I’m loathe to start buying them now. I rack my brains – what would be relatively easy and quick to harvest and not submerged by snow? Well standing proudly, facing down the east wind are the Brussels Sprout plants – oh yes the devil looks after his own. And actually the sprout tops look really enticing – little top knots of pale green tender leaves. I quickly lop them off and return home cold but triumphant.

I wanted to retain the leaves’ fresh crispness so I stir-fried them. I also wanted some taste bud tingling spice to warm up a cold January evening. This is my recipe:

Spiced stir-fried sprout tops

4 sprout tops

1 small onion finely chopped

1 tablespoon of oil for frying

1 teaspoon cumin

1teaspoon fennel seeds

1 tsp coriander seeds

1 tsp mixed spice

1 small chilli, chopped (deseeded if wished)

salt

Squeeze of lemon juice

Bring a pan of water to the boil and add the sprout top leaves. Blanch them for 2 minutes and then drain. Roughly chop them. Meanwhile pound all the spices in a pestle and mortar. Heat the oil in a wok until really hot. Add the chopped onion and fry until tender. Now add the ground spices and chilli and fry for 30 seconds. Throw in the chopped sprout tops and stir fry for 2 minutes – add salt and a squeeze of lemon. Serve piping hot!

Mmmm I think I’m going to have a sticker on my car windscreen saying – Remember Brussels Sprouts aren’t just for xmas!

 

 

Out with the old...

‘Out with the old, in with the new ‘ and once that mother of all hangovers has disappeared who can resist that optimistic thrill the new year brings. The bright, cold new year’s day banishes any fugginess and it seems right to christen the first day of 2010 with an allotment visit. Clad in my brand new Xmas wellies the soil is crisp underfoot and we look ruefully at the parsnips– we can’t see ourselves prising those out of the frozen soil. There’s little to do here which makes the visit even more pleasureable – and even if it is the dead of winter there are always subtle changes  taking place. It’s like looking through a kaleidoscope: the elements are always the same but a brief twist of the dial can alter the patterns and colours so the scene becomes transformed. Today the monochrome view is punctuated  by the rosy hues of the remaining apple windfalls, the bright green of broad bean shoots and the muted colours of kale and cabbages. All is still and wintry, on the surface nature is quiescent, biding its time. But what’s this, buds on the blackcurrant bushes; under the soil things are stirring, awakening. Mmmm if I think about this long enough it all starts getting a bit spooky!

The bracing air of January certainly stirs us from our post Christmas torpor and I start thinking about new year resolutions. What are my gardening goals this year? Well firstly not having eyes bigger than my stomach when it comes to ordering seeds. I can’t help it I’m a sucker for all those pictures and exotic names promising plentiful harvests of myriad varieties. The snag is, to achieve aforesaid harvests, you do actually need to plant the seeds in the ground. As I speak I’m guiltily looking in our seed box at all the unopened packets, what’s this – mizuna, pak choi, amaranth. I bet they would have been brilliant given their chance in the sun. Oh dear! Then of course there is the seed box itself – a motley collection of torn packets some with nothing in them and a variety of foil squares with ‘who know what’ variety of seeds in them. This year the seed box will be arranged with military precision – in alphabetical order and this is the genius idea: I’m going to make a calendar of seeding times. So all I have to do each month is look to see what I should be sowing rather than exasperatedly riffle through all the packets. As for the planting itself I resolve to be more disciplined …. Each year we draw up a plan of action. It is a thing of beauty – an A4 sheet with areas marked out and illustrated showing exactly what we are going to plant and where. We are always very pleased with it – it looks like a finely worked piece of Victorian tapestry. It ensures we plant rotationally – avoiding sowing plants in the same areas and gives pleasing symmetry and design. Do we follow this plan of action throughout the year? Do we hell! The drawing is shoved into a drawer never to see the light of day again and when we are on the plot – we scratch our heads and say ‘where did we plan to put these?’. After a few minutes ‘discussing’ also known as  ‘arguing’ we just find an empty patch of ground – plant and hope for the best. The resulting hodge podge looks nothing like our beautiful drawing. As Robbie Burns said ‘the best laid plans of mice and men, gang aft agley’. Now I’m not sure what ‘gang aft agley’ means but I have a feeling it means ‘all gone to hell’. Ah but this year it’s going to be different the best laid plans will be strictly followed, every weed will pulled and seeds will be planted at the appointed time. Hang on, what’s that I see? How strange it looks like a flying pig!