The vegetable that shall not be named

Blogging has taken a back seat these past months, and I've been put to shame by everyone linked to on the right. In my defence, there's been a family crisis, and I've finally completed my book, but I do feel sad for neglecting my blog and my plot.

The garden's sadly in a bit of a state, but plans are afoot in my brain to order manure and expand the plot. I'll put it to rights!
One thing worth mentioning though. This week's veg box from Abel & Cole brought a number of delights, particularly some perfectly proportioned leeks. But, much to my dismay, there was also a brown bag filled with the 'vegetable that shall not be named' (other than at the top of this blog!).

Needless to say, i shall be exercising my right not to eat them. They won't go to waste though, I'm sure, even if i have to force feed them to my cat.

Olive

Olive
Originally uploaded by Al Milway.

My posts are few and far between at the moment due to me working all hours. Hopefully in the next week I can finish everything that's keeping me from normal life and get back to relaxing in the house and garden. So not much to report at la maison sans sprouts really.

The only really exciting thing is my olive. It's currently battling the elements, awaiting it's plucking - which I'd happily do if I knew what to could do with it. I really never even contemplated the fact that they needed processing for months before being ready to eat. Still you learn something new every day.

It's a pretty little thing though!

Bye bye courgettes

i got around to shoring up my leeks at the weekend and clearing the massively overgown courgette plants from their way. I've had so much produce from them that it would be churlish of me to begrudge their right to existence in my plot, but their time had come. It felt good as well. Like a murderous hairdresser I snipped feverishly at their woody stalks and stuffed them into my composter.

It'll be strange not having courgettes with every meal.

Get ready to crumble!

That singular time of the year, when the first cold wind of Autumn blows across your t-shirted arms, means two things: the fusty jumpers need to be taken from the the cupboard and the oven readied for casserole.

And this year, of course, I was able to use my homegrown produce to fill the pot. Unfortunately, I don't have my own herd of cows to supply the beef, but there was definitely a courgette in there, and even a chilli to add a little warmth.

Casseroles are a family tradition, and nothing betters Gran's version, made with shin of beef and kidney, and cooked in the slow cooker for an eternity. If only I had a decent butcher nearby I'd have used shin as well (apparently it loves being cooked to death), but instead I had to make do with some organic diced beef from the supermarket.

But there was no denying it was delicious. And with a pear and rhubarb crumble for desert (provided by my expert crumble-maker girlfriend), I was in heaven.

Milway the Lumberjack

Milway the Lumberjack
Originally uploaded by Al Milway.

My tomatoes have come down with a sort of blight. AlI 6 plants have succumbed, which is possibly something to do with them all being in such close proximity of each other (saw something on River Cottage about that sort of thing I think!).

But even so, I don't mind that much as it gave me the chance to don my lumberjack suit and fell all the tomato trees. In the process I removed all the fruit of course, and now pounds of yellow Golden Queen toms areripening on window sills and tables, here there and everywhere.

I am planning to make a chutney, but I want to just enjoy having armfuls, if not bucketloads, of veg for a while.

Joke veg

Joke veg
Originally uploaded by Al Milway.

I never knew tomatoes with diseases could be so much fun.

Carrots are go!

Carrots are go!
Originally uploaded by Al Milway.

It's been a while since I posted once again, mainly because of a holiday and too much time spent writing about pirates, but here I am. And now I'm loaded with pictures. The most exciting of which is of my Nantes carrots, freshly picked and modelled by the indespensible John. I couldn't believe it when I dug one up to find that it really had grown and wasn't just an optical illusion. I couldn't believe it so much that I had to dig up another two just to be sure.

Ha! Carrot Fly. You may have seen off my parsley, but the carrots have farted in your general direction!

It's a frog's life

While sitting in the tranquility of a friend's garden enjoying a barbecue, a frog decided his time was up. He leapt through the air, throwing three sheets to the wind and descended sharply onto the burning hot coals.

There was a slight fizzle, a couple of slight hops, then death. Short, sharp and, I imagine very painful. But an effective way to go nonetheless. What would draw a small frog to such a final deadly act is beyond me. Maybe the flies weren't buzzy enough. Maybe another frog had run off with his girl.

I haven't seen a frog croak it before, and I feel rather sad that he had to go in such a desperate fashion. But I guess city living in the amphibian world is just as tough as the human one.

We didn't eat him by the way.

Summer in the Palace

It's been a while since I last posted, mainly because I haven't found myself in the garden too often. Everything is growing like it should, and I guess this is the 'reaping what you sow' time of year. For very little effort, only the watering, the food just keeps coming.

I haven't had any tomatoes ripen yet - i suppose it's our relative lack of summer that's causing that - but the beans and courgettes are wonderful. I've even noticed the great tits enjoying the runner beans too. (They're cute! how could I stop them!)

Crystal Palace is as beautiful as ever with the flowers and trees providing the best hideaway from the city possible. And despite the occasionally less than fragant inhabitants of the area, it still smells of roses.

So even though the commute is hot and sticky, filled with police, and often running late, all is well at chez nil sprouts s'il vous plait!

Salut!

I've just returned from a long weekend break in the south of france. It reached 45 degrees celsius each day, was the epitomy of tranquil, and made me realise what hell i put myself through each day just in order to get to work. And then we unfortunately had to come home to rush hour, 'trains not running', London. Things have to change pretty soon.

Needless to say, despite the help of a neighbour to keep the plants watered, most things were lurching like thirsty camels. The tomatoes were especially desperate, and some had even dropped to the floor. And to top it all, the squirrel had launched a daylight raid on our bird feeder and it was demolished, lying in pieces around the garden.

It's good to be back.