The root of the barbarians

Or rhubarb as we prefer to call it, although it doesn't sound so exciting and testosterone-filled.

I have to admit that for a very long time I was not a fan of these pink sticks - in fact, family history has it that I threw up when forced to eat it at infant school, after I told them I couldn't eat it. Cue irate mother marching to school to remonstrate with the evil dinner lady. Needless to say, I wasn't forced to eat it again.
I avoided rhubarb for a long, long time after that. Until, in fact, we got our allotment. It's not as though I had a Damascene moment where I knew that I would now love rhubarb; I just felt that every allotment needed a rhubarb plant, otherwise an essential essence of allotmenty-ness was missing. Since we were growing it, SomeBeans persuaded me that we really should eat some of the stuff; and so I have, without the gastro-intestinal eruptions that I was expecting. Hoorah. The minimum that you can really ask of a food is that it doesn't cause you to up-chuck. The rhubarb indeed exceeded this minimum by actually being rather nice. I must have grown into this vegetable that masquerades as a fruit.

But now the perennial allotmenteer conundrum - what to do with all your harvest? We've crumbled extensively, and whilst I have made my peace with the stuff, something in me baulks at rhubarb jam, though I hear it is very nice with ginger. But you have to admit it doesn't look great. So, in the spirit of experimentation which led to the great parsnip cake disaster, I decided to make it into a cake. Instead of looking for an appropriate recipe, I thought I'd adapt one. So, out came the recipe for Dorset Apple Cake from SomeBeans' mum, and instead of apple, I chucked in rhubarb. I have to admit, I was full of trepidation when it came to tasting time. As was my official guinea pig, SomeBeans. Squidgy due to the liquid content of the rhubarb, it wouldn't last more than a couple of days, and is probably best stored in the fridge. It also is very crumbly. But surprisingly, it was extremely nice.

Cake success!

Recipe:

Cheshire Rhubarb Cake (an adaptation of Dorset Apple Cake)

8oz self-raising flour
12oz rhubarb sticks
4oz butter/cooking fat of your choice (though perhaps not lard!)
a little milk
4oz sugar
2oz currants - or if, like me, you don't have any in the cupboard, sultanas did perfectly well

For the topping/filling:
3oz butter
1 tablespoon brown sugar.

I forgot - I also added a bit of cinnamon to the mix, as everything is improved by a sprinkle of cinnamon - try a bit the next time you make chilli con carne.

Method:

1. Sieve flour and rub in fat until mixture is like breadcrumbs
2. Chop rhubarb into chunks 1-2cm in length
3. Add rhubarb to flour mixture with sugar, currants and cinnamon
4. Add enough milk to make a stiff dough
5. Stir all together
6. Spoon into two greased 7" tins and smooth
7. Bake at gas mark 7 (220 Celsius) for 10-15 mins, then reduce to gas mark 2 and bake for 60 minutes
8. Once out of the oven, sandwich the two layers together with some of the butter
9. Cut up the rest of the butter, mix with the brown sugar and put on top of the cake.

Book Review – Kitchen Garden Estate by Helene Gammack (National Trust Books)

Let me start by saying that I was given this book by the publishers to review, but this has no effect on my comments.
Kitchen Garden Estate is a bit of a strange beast. Its sub-title is “Traditional country-house techniques for the modern gardener or smallholder”, but if you are looking for a practical guide to running your own smallholding or even for growing your own, then this, perhaps, is not the book for you. If, however, you have an interest in garden and estate history in relation to food production then this will be of interest. Having visited a few estates, and enjoyed looking at the productive gardens, I have to say I did enjoy this book very much. I won’t however, be transferring much of this to my day-to-day allotmenteering, though I must admit I do now hanker after a bee house.
After a brief historical introduction to growing your own, the author examines the development of the production of the range of foods grown on the grand estates of England and Wales. Alongside this we are provided with sample recipes from National Trust archives and contemporary authors. I'm very tempted to make the plum, apple and pear cake but rather less tempted by the eel recipe from Izaak Walton. Call me a wuss, but any recipe that requires you to re-slide the skin back over your meal before securing it where the head would have been if you hadn't just cut it off has me reaching for a ready meal instead.

The development of fruit and vegetable gardens over time, including overseas influences, is examined. The change from place of beauty to hidden utilitarian workspace (though often no less beautiful, with serried ranks of perfect veg and espaliered fruit) is charted as garden fashions change and landscaped parklands become more common. And it's always nice to read the story about Lord Leconfield and his banana.

Pinery at Tatton Park

Melon yard at Spetchley Park

Trained fruit trees at Tatton Park

It was interesting to see mention of 'crinkle crankle' walls, which I had come across when I lived near Suffolk (where they are common) but I didn't know the reason behind this style of wall until now.

Of course, most people don't have a walled garden. Nor do many have an orangery, such as that at Croome Park - estate owners in former times were keen to ensure that buildings in the landscape were beautiful as well as functional. This orangery was designed by Robert Adams, and had an underfloor heating system.

The orangery at Dunham Massey is not quite as grand, but still rather impressive - which was rather the point.

The author makes comment that little is new in the area of gardening and food production - the recent trend for forest gardening has been around for a long time.

Other areas covered include beekeeping, fishponds, dovescotes and poultry, and dairying. As someone who has some knowledge of modern dairy processing plants, it was fascinating to see what an 18th century dairy looked like - a thing of beauty with Wedgewood tiles and dishes. Sadly nowadays, it's all stainless steel - easier to keep clean, but utility writ large, and most certainly not a thing of beauty.

Whilst many of us might be able to make use of some of the fruit and veg growing techniques used in large estates, and even urban hen-keeping is relatively common, few can hope to have their own stew pond, dairy, model farm or deer park. This is perhaps where the sub-title of the book falls down.
Part history book, part gardening/smallholding book, part cookbook, supported by historical images, this is a book which may try a little too hard to jump on the 'grow your own' bandwagon. However, as a very readable look at how food production has developed over the years on large estates, it is very interesting.

Rather posh fish pond at Croome Park

Deer in my back garden Tatton Park

We might not be able to fit a deer park or a stew pond into the modern garden, but it's somehow nice to know that I grow some vegetables that the Tudors considered 'deintie dishes'. Thanks to this book, I can make that link to the past.
Kitchen Garden Estate - traditional country-house techniques for the modern gardener by Helene Gammack, published by National Trust. ISBN 97819078929127

(All photographs in this post are my own).

First Pickings

Warning: baby bore alert! Leave now if easily bored by photos of small, wriggly creatures which aren't worms, lambs or slow worms.

Allotmenteering has been a limited activity over the past 9 weeks and, to be honest, for a little while before then - weeding on hands and knees is fine, but getting up to empty the weed bucket and then getting back down again was hard work with a big bump. Luckily, SomeBeans has stepped up to the mark and has been busy with trying to keep on top of things - he has dug (his usual role) but has also taken on the task of sowing and planting. It's not easy for him to get to grip with the concept that seeds don't instantly sprout once sown. Some of the plot will be kept under membrane this year, though.

In order to supervise locations for seed and potato planting, Thomas made his first trip to the plot yesterday. Hopefully our future trips as he gets older will not put him off growing for life, but will give him a love for (or at least tolerance of) gardening. So yesterday, Thomas oversaw his first harvest - it seems to have worn him out...

And to finish with some unremitting sentimentality, the song below has always made me a bit teary, and since Thomas was born it has the ability to cause a teary meltdown – a beautiful song which loses something when I sing it to Thomas.

Making plans with Nigel

It’s Spring, and so, as telling of the new season as the first swallow, Gardeners’ World returns. This herald of Spring used to get me fired up for the growing season. Now I look forward to it in a rather masochistic way.

I apologise (though rather insincerely) to any fans of Monty Don, but the Lord of Cord, the Sultan of Smug, does not have us rushing for the loppers to cut our extensive hazel coppice or the hedge trimmers to get cracking on our lengthy hornbeam hedges, or even reaching for a spade to excavate an enormous pond.

No. SomeBeans and I instead engage in that most traditional of TV-watching pastimes. We shout. It doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t make the programme any better. It doesn’t make Monty more palatable or relevant or less smug. But in a childish way, it entertains us. Then I tend to nod off until the theme tune over the credits wakes me up.

There is one ray of light. A new presenter, making his presence felt. The brains behind the Longmeadow experience. Nigel.

The brains behind the operation – Nigel the dog, with his hired help

(Source: Here)

Realising that Monty doesn’t connect with a large number of viewers, Nigel has started to implement a range of editorial changes. Viewers can expect to see the following topics covered over the next few months:

• Plant profiles of dogwoods, dog’s tooth violets and dog roses
• Why catmint is over-rated in today’s gardens
• Pergolas are so last year – this year’s must-have garden accessory is the kennel
• Garden compost – ensuring it is smelly enough to roll in
• Chopping down those bl**dy hedges to provide a lifetime’s supply of sticks for fetching.

If Nigel can get rid of his sidekick, I might start taking a little more notice. Until then, I’ll continue to alternately rant and snore. Don't tell me to stop watching - it has been part of my life for 30 years, and it's always good to have something to moan about.

Wordless Wednesday - Sunshine

Wordless Wednesday - Splodgenessabounds

Croydon

According to Wikipedia, the mundane sounding town of Croydon gets its name from the Anglo-Saxon for ‘crocus valley’. Somehow it doesn’t sound as attractive as Saffron Walden.

Circumstances have made me a little late with my photographs of these heralds of Spring, but today I spent a happy 15 minutes on my stomach in the garden, getting muddy. It was worth it, to look carefully at these little jewels. I’m not sure I’d make this effort to photograph Croydon*.

 

 

* Apologies to the denizens of Croydon – I’m sure it has some very nice bits.

The Beauty of Inflections

This post is an updated re-post from 2010, but puts well what I felt when I heard the blackbirds singing last night.

I was doing something as banal as putting a dirty nappy in the wheelie bin last night when my heart and stomach lurched as the sound of a blackbird filled the air. It is only when I hear the melodies after an absence of some time that I realise how much they are a part of the excitement of the renewing year.
Life can be measured by the singing of blackbirds; in February, they start to sing in the darkness of early spring mornings and evenings. As plants start to burst into life, the singing swells up to a crescendo in late spring and early summer. As my birthday approaches, the frequency of the sweet and mellow song starts to decline and on that day I know that the days are getting shorter and winter is on its way. A melancholic day.
Poets seem to have a soft spot for the bird, for example Wallace Stevens (from whom the title of this post comes), Tennyson, and Seamus Heaney.
So, last night I had a burst of spring time, a glimpse of lengthening days and the sound of hope. Perhaps you should too.

A brief intermission…

Thank you for your comments on the previous post. We are now out of hospital, and Thomas is doing well, but isn’t quite so keen to feed as his mum and dad are, but the midwives are keeping a close eye on him.

Thomas will be introduced to the garden as it becomes warmer, and he will need to learn how to weed pretty quickly, so he can help down at the allotment (that’ll put him off gardening for life!).

Blog posting will become even more sporadic than it has recently been, at least for a while. In the mean time, welcome to the world, little Thomas Samuel.

New arrival...

Thomas Samuel born at 5:39am on Saturday 4th February, weighing 6lb 2oz. Delivery was by caesarean but Sharon and Thomas are both doing well. They're likely to be in hospital for a few days. I'm a very proud father and I think Sharon is a hero!