Jerusalem Artichoke

Another of our veg box offerings, the peculiar Jerusalem Artichoke - or nobbly, plasticky lump - didn't go down well at first. We boiled it first time round, and it went all sloppy and horrible. So I, on pain of stuffing parsnips up my nose, swore I'd never have it again.

But then the lovely Asha, well-known for growing the stuff, persuaded us to try it again. I must admit that I've noticed so many bloggers growing it in their plots and having time for the vegetable, but I didn't hold out much hope.

So, when a batch arrived once more in our box, we lightly fried it - thinly sliced like thick crisps - and now I'm absolutely smitten. Maybe I'm missing the point. I mean, all veg - even beetroot (and, can I say it... yes... no... yes... bru****s sp****s) - tastes wonderful this way. But if I can now add another vegetable to my list of dinner party 'yes please's, then it's got to be a good thing.

That shady figure in the background

As I very rarely mention the great work achieved by Katie in the garden, particularly in the realms of flowers, shrubs, and heavy maintenance, it seems fitting to dedicate a post to her. Her handiwork is not confined to the rough boundary of the garden either. Highlights include crocheted hats (I, of course provide my head as a dummy), and granny squares. Oh, and the odd bit of writing.

So when I say in future (fingers crossed) that the flowers at Anything but Sprouts have been successful, what I'm really saying is that Katie has done exceptionally well.

Dig, dug, dugged

This saturday was spent digging the lawn. Or rather the newly expanded plot that's now almost twice the size. It felt good to get active in the garden again, but I'd forgotten the aches and pains that come hand in hand with digging. Occasional badminton just doesn't prepare you for hard slog. It does give you a keen eye for incoming missiles and birds though, and, just like last year, the robins were out helping me.

It was actually a day for a double dose of excitement as some seeds arrived in the post - dahlias, echinacea and assorted veg. I've decided to make a bit of an effort with flowers as well as the veg this year. I think looking at the Great Vegetable Plot by Sarah Raven, which seems to have been a popular xmas present for many bloggers (particularly at MTP), has made me realise how lovely my little bit of garden could be. I try growing flowers most years with little success - with the exception of sweet peas - but I'll give it yet another go.

Classification of fruit

Despite having a fruit and veg box from abel & cole, you don't always get all you need. And I seem to need a lot of oranges at the minute, so I bought some organic beauties. It was only then that i saw they were Class II quality. I've never paid much attention to this before (my dad moaning about the quality of the veg in his supermarket aside), but i thought I'd have a look as to what this meant.

On the Defra website, here it states that all citrus fruit must meet minimum requirements (too many to mention here). For a Class I citrus fruit it has to meet other standards as well:

Citrus fruit in this class must be of good quality. They must be characteristic of the variety and/or commercial type.
The following slight defects, however, may be allowed provided these do not affect the general appearance of the produce, the quality, the keeping quality and presentation in the package:
- slight defect in shape
- slight defect in colouring
- slight skin defects occurring during the formation of the fruit, such as silver scurfs, russets, etc

Now for the point of this post. The oranges I bought look lovely, proper oranges, but for these to be Class II, they must have been considered more defective than 'slight'. Is this a problem that all organic produce has to face? And if so, will it ever change? Does Class II mean the produce is worth less to the grower, as I imagine a lott of it doesn't come out looking perfect? If so, is it inhibiting farmers growing organic produce due to reduced profit? Anyone know?

And so it begins again...

It's amazing that a year has passed since I started up this blog. Great to be heading back into the year with a small amount of knowledge gained and i'll hopefully be able to put it to some use.

It's interesting seeing the cycle start up again. I've bought seeds and manure once more, (funny how there was no stigma attached to it this year - just a whiffy smell) and I've even decided to go crazy and expand my plot to twice the size and make two beds (they still won't be much compared to a normal allotment plot though). I have the space, however, and now all i need is the strength to dig it - I'm dreading pulling up the second half of the iron bed I found last year. Once again I'll be hoping to uncover a Roman fort.

Maintaining the Time Team theme, I've even come to the conclusion that, like my early forefathers, I shall be building some minor earthworks by raising the beds slightly. No Beaker pots or stone monuments, just little bumps. I'm also quite excited about laying some weed repelling sheet down and creating a little path between the beds. (Why do I find this so much more exciting than the prospect of tiling my bathroom?)

So it's all go once more. I'm swearing under oath that I won't grow sprouts again, but who can say what will happen.

Roll on Spring!

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.