September 12, 2012
And for tonight, Madam, we have a seasonal medley of vegetables consisting of potatoes found in the old potato bed left behind after you thoroughly dug it over and removed every last potato, the last of the side sprouts of broccoli salvaged from the club root disaster mingled with the first of the purple-sprouting broccoli which bolted and started now instead of April like it’s supposed to, with or without a bonus amuse bouche of crunchy caterpillar surprise depending on how thorough the chef was at picking it over and – the pièce de résistance – a miserable handful of what may well turn out to be your entire crop of french beans for the year.
August 7, 2012
Ah, the joys of growing your own. I picked the first calabrese today – which is what you call broccoli when you grow your own veg because it turns out broccoli is something completely different. Despite the clubroot, the four or five plants that survived have started to produce reasonable sized heads so I picked one for an emergency supper as we’d meant to go shopping and sort of didn’t get round to it (well, there’s been an Olympics on, you know). Broccoli plus toasted breadcrumbs, spaghetti, anchovies, garlic and chilli makes for a surprisingly delicious meal and of course when the broccoli is home grown the deliciousness is squared. And then slightly minused when you realise that the weird looking green thing in among the spaghetti is not in fact a bit of broccoli but is instead a thoroughly boiled cabbage white caterpillar.
Revenge may be a dish best served cold, but on the whole I think I’ll stick to chucking them in the compost from now on…
October 15, 2009
Ah, October and my garden has just reached its peak of perfection. But sorry, no photos, because the garden in question doesn’t exist yet, except inside my head. Yes, it’s that time of the year when you start looking through seed catalogues and planning what will be next year when, of course, there will be no blackleg, and no slugs, and no sawfly, and especially no caterpillars, and everything will germinate and nothing will mysteriously die or (like my garlic) simply vanish into thin air.
Meanwhile, back in the real world, we’ve eaten the last of the potatoes and the last of the broad beans. Larry the Leek is still hanging on for an occasion special enough to warrant eating him, after all he’s survived. There’s still a few small lettuces under cloches, and the broccoli is waiting till the spring. So far, this year, it’s only cost me a grand total of £6.26 to grow my own. But next year … well next year will be different.