Ciaran’s Peculier [sic] Blog

Today Rosie brought up a handful of the tomatoes we have been able to ripen here at my sister’s garden in Cavan town. They were of various shapes, sizes and varieties, but all tasted superb, especially when eaten with our breakfast.

We have also had our first cucumber. This was an unusual variety called Crystal Lemon, which isn’t elongated like a traditional cucumbers, but is sphercal. It also tastes far nicer than many other cucumbers, lacking that horrible bittnerness which meant that we were able to eat it raw.

We’ll certainly be growing this variety again as it is far easier to grow, cheaper and less temperamental than the all female varieties. These often cost nearly £4 for a packet of three, maybe four seeds, not all of which germinate and even if they do they’re often sickly.

Nasturtiums provide wonderful colour in the gaerden at this time of year. But it was their smell which led to their naming by the ancient Romans. They found its odour so unpleasant that they were compelled to turn their noses up at it – and hence the name.

 Nasturtiums ar a very versatile and useful plant. Most people know that their seeds when pickled become what has been termed “the poor man’s capers”, and in fact they are as good as the real capers 9especially with pizza) and what’s more far cheaper. It’s not just the seeds that are edible. The leaves and flowers add a lovely peppery note to salads, as well as colour, and their taste is reminiscent of watercress, to which they are related. What’s more their stems are nice too. Alan Davidson, in the Oxford Companion to Food quotes a recipe supplied by Dwight D. Eisenhower to a celebrity cookbook for a soup containing nasturtium seeds.

 But their utility goes beyond the culinary. Another wonderful book I have in my collection is Roses Love Garlic: Companion Planting and Other Secrets of Flowers by Louise Riotte. I have learned that nasturtiums are a wonderful foil to a whole host of baddies affecting  cucumbers and that they are an excellent way of dealing with aphids attacking broccoli. In this they are among the garden’s martyrs, for it seems they attract such copious quantities of aphids to its own plants that they haven’t time for nearby brassicas.

Our gardens are a riot of produce at this time of the year. The peas we sowed are producing numerous pods. It is a dwarf variety from Italian seedsmen Franchi, called “Piccolo Provenzale”. The individual peas are both sweet and nutty.

 Our French beans are also producing a bountiful crop. Amongst the varieties we sowed was a purple-podded variety from Unwins. They may not have a vast range of exotic vegetables, but their seeds are universally top class.

 Rosie has attempted to emulate the growing practices of the Mexican Indians, by growing runner beans among sweet corn, whose tall shaft supplies support for the beans. She is having marvellous success with this so far. The variety of runner bean she is growing, from Thompson and Morgan, is called “Teeny beany”, while the sweet corn is a new variety from T&M called “Rising Sun”. It was bred with colder climates in mind, and our success with it has only been phenomenal.

 In our Cavan garden Rosie has enjoyed great success with some cherry yellow tomato plants she was given. Already we are enjoying small, bright yellow globes of sweetness and flavour that are just right for salads and sandwiches.

 Bringing on a plant from seed to harvest is a most satisfying experience. In fact I would go so far as to say that it is self-transcending.

I feel it my duty to stand up for broccoli. This vegetable has earned a really bad name, which is utterly undeserved. What most people call broccoli, and what’s sold in supermarkets under the name, is, strictly speaking, not proper broccoli but a variant. It is broccoli calabrese, or simply calabrese, the type of broccoli traditionally grown in Calabria, in southern Italy – the home of the dreaded Ndrangheta who make the Cosa Nostra look like pussycats. This form of broccoli with its uniform dark-green compacted heads is usually served up as an over-boiled, tasteless sludge that revolts everyone, especially children. When I am told in n a restaurant that the vegetables include “broccoli” I know what’s coming, and so it remains uneaten. (It is fine if it is broken into small florets and stir-fired.) The food industry love it because it is cheap and easy to grow, as well as easy to pack and distribute.

 In addition to the calabrese variety there is another variety called romamesco whose heads are a lighter green in colour. And let’s not get into the area of Chinese broccoli.

For me the authentic type of broccoli is known as Purple Sprouting. Certainly it tastes far better than the anaemic calabrese. It also takes a bit longer to grow. Consequently it is far less likely to turn up in supermarkets, or for that matter, in restaurants. It is not some rare exotic that is difficult to grow. Most gardeners will agree with me about its taste, but unless you grow it yourself you are unlikely to know this. Rosie is a devotee like myself of the authentic purple sprouting. A few months ago bought some plants that were labelled as Purple Sprouting Broccoli. You can imagine her dismay and disgust when they grew into calabrese plants that are now producing nice green, firm yet tasteless heads.

Some of the courgettes I sowed in May have started to fruit. Already my mouth is salivating with the thought of freshly-made ratatouille.

The oriental leaves we sowed a few weeks ago are producing a great crop of edible leaves. Over the weekend I spent most of my time taking advantage of the good weather, munching away on handfuls of oriental mustard, washed down with copious draughts of Polish lager, while listening to M&M.

 The oriental mustard, also known as mustard greens, is in fact distantly related to the cabbage. Its botanical name is Brassica Juncea. It is beloved of Chinese cookery. It is also adored by the Meo or Hmong people of Vietnam. These Montagnards converted in large numbers to Christianity during the colonial period. They  also earned a reputation, perhaps undeserved, of collaborating too closely with the Americans.

 Oriental mustard is distinct from the mustard we grow in mustard and cress collections. This has the botanical name of Sinapis alba, and its seeds are one of the essential ingredients in the condiment mustard.

I am delirah an’ exitah to be able to relate that the courgette seeds I sowed a while back are all now germinating very healthily. This possibly has something to do with the pleasant turn in the weather, providing both heat and sunshine. I can now look forward to a bumper crop. What’s more I discovered another packet of a variety of courgette called Romanesco, again from Franchi’s Seeds of Italy. This is a strasighter, light-green and ribbed courgette.

  I think my current success owes much to the guidance of my horticultural consultant partner, who told me how to properly sow the seed. Apparently in the past I was pushing it in too deep, but I just have to say in my defence that I’ve always been a guy who like a real deep penetration – well there is something phallic about courgettes.

Viewers of Alys Fowler’s BBC series The Edible Garden will recall the glee with which she dug up some of her Jerusalem artichokes. These tubers are amongst my favourite vegetables, but everyone knows that they contain a substance called inulin, which is non-digestible. In fact, this leads to almost uncontrollable flatulence. You just can’t stop farting, and the more you try to keep it in the more you resemble a turnip that’s just about to burst. It’s just the thing if you’re due to meet a bishop or monsignor. Alys  mentioned a plant to alleviate the baleful effects of Jerusalem artichoke – chewing the leaves of winter savory (Satureja Montana). I must admit I’d never heard of that remedy.

 I knew of course about winter savory’s better-known cousin the summer savory (Satureja Hortensis). Both belong to the mint family. This has been known since classical times and Virgil recommended it as a honey herb to be planted near beehives. It was known in medieval England as satturey but somehow it adopted a “v” instead of a “t”. It has long been used in association with legumes, especially beans and lentils, and it most certainly adds to their occasionally monotonous taste. In Germany it has long been known as the bean herb or Bohnenkraut. The association with beans isn’t just culinary though, as summer savory has been proven to be an effective companion plant, which when grown beside beans deters black fly.  Gernot Katzer mentions that it can be used as a very poor substitute for black pepper. Its peppery quality has led to another German name Pfefferkraut. According to the Larousse Gastronmique, its affinity to pepper has led the plant t be known in some parts of Provence as poivre d’ane or Donkey Pepper. I don’t believe this was ever meant as a compliment. 

The savories were so well known in mid seventeenth century England that Culpeper didn’t think it necessary to give a description. He preferred the summer savory. It had quite wide medicinal uses, including the suppression of wind and flatulence, so Alys is on to something. A decoction made with ther leaves and oil of roses and applied as ear drops could ameliorate tinitis, while a poultice of savory leaves and wheat flour was effective against sciatica. 

 Winter savory shares all the qualities of the summer variety, but is reckoned to be spicier. I cannot wait for ours to grow before tucking into some Jerusalem artichokes. Rosie has promised to make me some of that old Victorian favourite Palestine Soup, after which I would recommend those with delicate nostrils to stand well back.

Sweet Cicely

Recently the love of my life Rosie acquired some plants of Sweet Cicely (Myrrhis odarata). This is a love plant, with light green lace-like leaves. Its odour is remarkably pungent, being similar to fennel and anise. It belongs to the same family as parsley (Apiaceae) and is distantly related to plants such as caraway and chervil.

 Its resemblance to chervil has led to a crisis of identity in continental Europe. In france3 it is called Cerfeuil d’Espagne, in German Spanischer Kerbel, in Italian Cerfoglio di Spagna, while the Hungarians know is as Spanyol turbolya. These can be translated as Spanish chervil, a name which may owe something to the belief that it originated in Spain. But the confusion is more extensive. A Dutch name is Roomse kervel or Roman Chervil, while the Finns calls is Saksankirveli or German Chervil.

 It was known to the first-century Greek physician Dioscorides and has long been used to add flavour to food and drinks. Allan Davison in his Oxford Companion to Food describes how it has long been an ingredient of chartreuse. What’s more it is also used in Scandinavia to flavour akvavit. Richard Mabey in Food For Free describes one use in French cuisine, where the leaves are coated in a light batter and fried, as well as an old utilisation of the leaves in Cumbria to clean furniture and doors made of oak. Cicely leaves when added to dishes containing very sharp-tasting ingredients like rhubarb, has the ability to cut through the acerbity. There is thus less need for added sugar and indeed the herb can be used in bitter-tasting dishes as a sugar substitute, making it attractive to some diabetics.

Its use as a medicinal plant was never great; Culpeper didn’t mention it. However, the Encyclopedia of Hefbs and Herbalism, edited by M. Stuart, refers to its one-time application to wounds to stop haemorrhaging.

 Check out Gernot Katzer’s excellent Spice pages.

I love growing vegetables. There is something so life affirming about watching seeds germinate, tending the young and growing plants, harvesting the crop and then eating the freshest produce available. Sadly, I can’t say I possess green fingers, unlike my partner Rosie. As a result of my lack of horticultural assiduity Rosie has tended to steer me clear of gardening, but this year I have been allowed to nurture a number of crops from sowing to (hopefully)  harvesting.

 These include “cut-and-come-again” salad crops. A few weeks’ ago I sowed two seed collections, both from the long-established company of Thompson and Morgan. The first was a selection of leaves such as endive (which I adore – much more flavour than ordinary lettuce), escarole lettuce and salad burnet whose Linnaean name is I think Sangisorbus. These suffered a mini disaster early on when one of our five cats decided to take a dump in the container. However, the seeds have germinated in the remaining poop-free part of the container and are already healthy and vigorous seedlings. The second sowing in a different container consisted of oriental leaves, such as red mustard, mizuna and pak choi. They too are doing well.

 On the same occasion I sowed some French beans. These were a dwarf, purple-podded variety called Purple Queen from Unwins . I rounded off my horticultural adventures by sowing a dwarf variety of pea called Piccolo Provenzale from those wonderful seed merchants Franchi, also known as Seeds of Italy, whose seeds ae always remarkable for their freshness.

 The other area of vegetable growing I showed interest in was courgettes. Yesterday I sowed three varieties: Tondo di Nizza, Rugosa Friulana and a golden variety, all from Franchis. Even if we get a glut of courgettes I look forwarding to eating their delicious flowers stuffed and fried.