How cool is that? Beginning with a little video! Or is it? A newfound tool to play with (and yet the format in which it’s appeared will no doubt throw the rest of my well-aligned layout askew!) And goodness knows what it will do to the ‘instagram’ image for me to post when I publish! Is it worth it? Heavens I don’t know! But let’s just have some fun with it this week and see what happens!
I couldn’t help myself…when I opened the curtains first thing this morning, a momentary breeze was carrying little seed heads from the velvety bulrush candles aloft on their fine puff of fluff to an unknown destination and it just seemed so enchanting. I thought you might enjoy seeing something ‘live’ from here. No doubt I’ve just used up my entire allocation of image space for the post…so I can only suggest you view all that’s following this week in the app! It doesn’t cost anything to do so…it just means you can see it in a larger and cleaner format than in your email!
Whilst on the video train of thought, a story that bothered me (it wasn’t the only one) on the news last night was the vast amount of electricity AI requires (and no doubt uploading a video here is just one more contributing factor). Whilst you will not find me using AI at all…here or anywhere else, I’m aware that all our contemporary forms of communication and information-holding, from emails through online platforms, from websites and social media to our increased number of images stored, are all contributing to an overloaded power grid. On a personal scale, our electricity is (as much as possible) solar powered and battery stored; but what to do in this day and age if we’re to participate in the world?
I do sometimes think the only way forward is to completely drop out, stop all communication, pull up the drawbridge and become a self-sufficient hermit. I’d be quite content. Once upon a time I wouldn’t have thought so…but now?
To more positive things! Like bread…(I do so love the staples of life…the ones I can depend on!).
I truly was tip-tapping in haste last week in advance of Holly Davis’s arrival and she walked through the door with her big beaming smile just as I was on the final paragraph! What a couple of days we had…filled with flour and leaven and baking and laughter. And eventually…sourdough!
But none before (with workshop participants) we dipped glorious chunks of the one Holly and I mixed the day before but baked that morning at our Troubleshooting Sourdough workshop, into a bowl of delicious Monks Lane Olive Oil! Because a loaf of sourdough really is a three-day process: refreshing the starter on day one (5 minutes work and it does the rest on its own); leaven that eve (another quick process then leave overnight); mix the dough and do the work on day two, to bake on day three. The longer you draw out the process, the more digestible and good for you, the bread is.
Of course Holly couldn’t help herself, so as she was here on the day before the workshop, we also made a couple of no-knead sandwich loaves in a tin, and Holly made butter for our workshop lunch (whilst I made a cake for the morning tea). How we laughed…she didn’t notice me bake the cake (so absorbed was she in her butter) and I was only vaguely aware she was beating cream! All the while, there were bowls of dough, stretch and folds and a great deal of washing up in between!
Holly’s knowledge of all that is Ferment and Sourdough (and oh so much more!) is vast. Heavens there is so much to learn and it’s all so positively fascinating and absorbing. I know Holly’s next online Sourdough class is about to begin, so if you’re feeling inclined, do get in touch with her at Holly Davis Whole Food. She’s incredibly generous with her knowledge and is a sure and encouraging, guiding hand.
As I now have a freezer full of sourdough, I’m going to skip baking this week (I also have Cherie Hausler coming for a cooking workshop on Sunday so I need no other distraction!) but I’ll get to putting Holly’s advice into practice next week! I have though, refreshed Joseph this morning, and he’s sitting here on the kitchen bench, slowly doing his thing. I have no intention of allowing him to wither away!
As we’re on food…I know I’ve been promising an image of baked Jerusalem artichokes, and these are the first this season that I’ve baked in daylight, so I took a quick snap before adding them to the workshop lunch table! During one of the rest sessions as we waited for the sourdough to prove, I dug a batch for participants to see, (a literal fork to table exercise!) then washed and prepared the artichokes with them, so they could see just how easy it is to do (and they all took home as many as they wanted!).
I know I’ve said it before but…wash, pat dry, slice (roughly and not too thin), drizzle with olive oil and a little salt; rub the slices all over and pop into an oven at 180C with a sprig or two of thyme. Use tongs to turn over after about 15 minutes then keep a close eye…they should be fluffy in the middle with slightly caramelised edges. Just limit to a total of two whole rhizomes per person! Difficult…I know…everyone here was hoping no-one else would take the last piece from the plate!
Good winter food truly is slow food. And oh this Tuscan Peasant Soup just feels so whole and nutritious and delicious. I concocted this recipe from a few many years ago, when trying to decide what to cook for an event when Patrice Newell came to tell us her story and enthral us with tales of garlic. After a long chat with her during the planning stage, I thought to find something that was a marginally lighter version of Ribolita (which is a Patrice favourite). Afterall we wouldn’t have been working in the fields all morning! And…I love having bread on the side, rather than in the soup (yes, I know it’s a good way to use stale bread) but…an opportunity of fresh bread and butter or bread and olive oil missed? Not me!
This too, is a three day process, though not an onerous one. I’ve explained before how I make chicken broth on a regular basis with those saved roast chicken bones. So….I made the broth earlier in the week and popped it in the fridge….part one done.
Two days before, I soaked the borlotti beans overnight (this is where so many of those Speckled Cranberry beans I’ve been raving about come into their own!). Next day I drained them and covered again with cold water, brought them to a simmer, then added a couple of bay leaves and a good slug of olive oil, leaving them to cook another hour or so before draining once again. This time, I reserved about a cup of whole beans (more olive oil swirled in to stop them sticking to each other) but blitzed the rest with a big slurp of olive oil and a few twists of pepper. Part two done.
Now for the recipe!
Mickey’s version Tuscan Peasant Soup (serves 12)
Ingredients
2 litres chicken stock
500g dried borlotti or cannellini beans (yield approx 6 cups cooked beans)
3 onions peeled, halved and thinly sliced
4 cloves garlic peeled and chopped
2 sticks celery chopped
4 carrots chopped
1 ham hock
short length parmesan rind (plus shaved parmesan to serve)
cavolo nero (black Tuscan kale) - a very big bunch!
Method
Make broth and soak, cook and blitz beans as above…during the previous days
Now…heat a good glug of olive oil in a large, heavy based saucepan, then add onion, garlic and celery. Give it a good swish around and once softened, add the carrots. Swish again, add a very little sea or celtic salt and a good few twists black pepper and give another good stir to coat everything
Once the carrots have lost their initial crispness, add the chicken stock and stir.
Add the ham hock and parmesan rind, pop the lid on the saucepan and bring to a simmer. After an hour or so (you really can’t overcook it…the longer it takes, the better it is), add the pureed beans and give a good stir ‘til they all break apart…this gives the soup its lovely consistency (I use the back of a wooden spoon to gently crush the beans against the side of the pan for a bit of extra help)
Continue to cook ‘til the ham falls off the bone and when you take it out of the saucepan, it can be easily shredded
I often do most of this the day before, leaving the ham hock in overnight, then bring it back to a simmer the next day, but either way, remove the parmesan rind and the hock and gently pull / tear the meat into pieces. I add them then, to a smaller saucepan and cover with a few ladles of the soup ‘til ready to serve (this stops them from drying out)
Slice the cavolo nero into ribbons and drop them into the soup, giving a good stir. It won’t take long for them to wilt in the heat and I like to keep them looking quite fresh and perky rather than stewing them, which is why I add them last
To serve, pop chunks of meat into the bottom of each bowl then ladle in the soup. Add lovely shaved parmesan and a few leaves of parsley or coriander on top
Have lots of bread and butter or olive oil…or even a delicious creamy cheese ready to go. It’s all bound to run deliciously down your chin and it all requires mopping up with bread and you’ll probably not feel like doing much after! Ooooh…and a few Jerusalem artichokes on the side or on top of the soup are simply the best accompaniment!
Now I’m starving!
(ps added later…I had this leftover soup for lunch today, as did Larry…it keeps just fine in the fridge for another week!). pps you might see other recipes include pancetta which I used to, but I don’t think you need to and also…when I said a very little salt at the beginning, I meant it…I find the ham hock adds so much flavour you don’t really need any extra salt!
Did I mention cake? There was cake! For morning tea…but I’ll save that recipe for next week. I used two huge oranges in it and oh my…!!!
The oranges, incidentally, are in! Although the Meyer lemons mostly still have a green tinge, they’re more than ready to eat, so the kitchen is humming once again, with citrus fruit.
It’s been a week of glittering, sparkling days of autumn sunshine…so breathtaking that at every turn you just don’t want it to end. Then as the sun sets, the colours shimmer even more, the sky turns peachy apricot and little plumes of smoke appear at intervals across the valley.
Well before that moment though, there’s a mad race to get the washing off the line before it’s damp; to pick dinner, collect the kindling and set the kitchen fire!
Whilst Holly kept asking me what it was she could smell each time she walked from the kitchen to the Dairy (ah…the odour of hot, dry climes is utterly transportive and how I wish that I too, had already visited Jerusalem) - once again the aroma of labdanum from the Cistus was working its magic; but all week it’s been the Heliotrope (Heliotropium or Cherry Pie) that’s been almost pulling me along the drive (I usually take a short-cut up the steps, between the gap in the hedge with each trip to the kitchen garden/compost/washing line) but no…I had to go the long way back to the kitchen! Its scent is addictive!
Although I can recollect the scent from childhood, I cannot place the plant precisely. Its familiar name though, came along with the treasured Flower Fairies book from which I used to read to the girls when they were little and you can read the rhyme here. (Now there’s a burrow for you to tumble into…don’t forget to come back here please!!).
I didn’t know before India Flint mentioned in passing one day when she was here, that Heliotrope is apparently poisonous. We were both waxing lyrical about the captivating, cherry/vanilla-like scent when India told me (for memory) how on one of her many adventurous travels she’d been tempted to put a very small bottle of the essence (that someone had cleverly captured) into a suitcase but thought the better of it because authorities consider it to be toxic. India…please comment on this post to set the record straight because I’m sure I’ll have your story muddled in my head…then everyone can read it in the comments! I have just googled though and:
“All parts of the plant are poisonous, but toxic to humans only if consumed in large quantities”.
As I have no intention of consuming it in any quantity, I will continue to delight in its glorious perfume in the garden! It doesn’t last at all in a vase, so there’s no point in trying that one! Ooooh….and India and I are planning a humdinger of a two-day workshop later in the year…it’s been awhile since she ventured across here, and this one is going to be positively thrilling! (Well…when India comes to visit, everything is thrilling, but this one particularly so!)
The French lavender, Lavandula dentata is also in high perfume mode! It’s only just beginning to flower and will do so right through the winter months and well into spring. It’s such a stalwart. Although not my favourite lavender (and I’ve no idea why it’s commonly called French lavender as you never see it growing in France…perhaps this is an Australian descriptor?) who can complain when it requires no effort save its severe annual cutback (October) and a little deadheading during its flowering time?
It was one of the very first plants I committed to the ground here. It enjoys our climate, whereas the English varieties don’t much (although I’ve had good luck with angustifolia in the field and under the kitchen citrus atop a drystone wall). My original planting of four underneath the Persian Lilac tree at the Dairy has expanded to a good swathe (mostly via self-sown seedlings that I’ve then transplanted) and although one may die from time to time, most are over thirty years old - which is all down to that annual very severe pruning! It may be ugly for a month or so, but the new leaves come back surprisingly quickly, and it’s important to remove any sign of unhealthy foliage…they just need a thorough clean up and then they’re good to build once again towards their next flowering surge!
There’s a task that’s been annoying me for a good many months, and at last…I found time to spend with Thalia down the back, where ‘til just a few weeks ago those Italian White sunflowers (that I mentioned last week I’d collected seed heads of) were in billowing flower. It was the quince tree that had been annoying me so much…reason being that last year we didn’t get around to pruning it at all, and as a result it had got into a great big twisted mess, with branches criss crossing and intertwined. Although a bit early in some respects, to be pruning fruit trees, I thought to seize the moment and oh what a relief to see it now!
In the image above you can see we’re almost done and even that last left-hand side was all cleared bar taking off the height. There are many years I’ve done this job on my own, but goodness it’s better as a two-woman-job! It can be hard to see where to cut when you’re in the tree and need to keep climbing up and down the ladder. Thalia is still inclined to be aghast at how hard I prune. “There’ll be nothing left” she always says! But these years on, she knows what’s coming, and things do always grow back…so much so that we have to repeat it all over again the following year. These days, she may still say the same thing…but with a wry smile. She knows…
I have no doubt the tree will be heaving a huge sigh of relief…unencumbered of superfluous growth, its branches open now to the sunlight, with air free to circulate all round. Hopefully, it will reward us with healthy growth in the spring. I’ll give it some compost tomorrow and a smattering of sugar cane mulch, and then those freewheeling parsnips and carrots that I so love to encourage around its trunk can romp away once more!
Some of the seed I sowed into punnets Saturday before last, is emerging, so I’m hopeful yet, of a late row of Stock in the spring! There’s no sign yet of the Australian yellow leaf lettuce, but some of the peas I sowed are up under their wigwams in the kitchen garden.
Some of the first pea-sowings I made have managed to get as far as latching onto a proper upright rod…the next phase of their growing-on. Unprotected now from ravaging bower birds, they’re on their own, and my only hope is to pray, or cover with white net which I hate doing because it stifles airflow and growth, as well as looking ugly. There’s no way of keeping net away from the structure itself, short of netting in the entire bed which is impossible. So…pray I do.
Behind, the broad beans are well up through the first rung and forging on to the level of the second rung of their supporting structure! This is exciting…if I can get good, strong growth now, the stage is set for what’s to come.
On Sunday, I took out the last of the Roma tomatoes down the back where I’d had a dozen growing traditionally, on individual stakes. I removed them all bar one…the one being the San Marzano (roma variety) that I grew from seed and the one which is still growing strong. There are a couple more San Marzano’s in the kitchen garden proper, but they are the only three survivors from last year’s sowing, which I’ve mentioned before went awry, thanks to the number of spring events I had in my schedule! It wasn’t so much the sowing as the potting-on and not having time to plant when I should have. It’s the first year ever that I haven’t had a dozen San Marzano growing down the back and the first year I haven’t had tray after tray load of them baking in the oven to freeze. So I’m a bit annoyed with myself. To say I won’t be growing nursery-bought, standard Romas as substitutes for my own home-grown San Marzano seedlings probably goes without saying. Here ends the lesson!
On Monday, Thalia and I whipped up the two short tunnel structures to either side and she kindly barrowed in a couple of loads of our beaut compost for me, then covered it all with a load of sugar cane mulch. While I have plans for this spot to implement this coming Sunday, the San Marzano stays…for as long as it cares, or dares!
It’s in this way, that I compartmentalise the growing down the back…really it’s made up of two long beds making an L-shape - one length backed by the hedge, the other by the timber panels that make up the compost bays. I break them up into sections, using the fence posts as a guide, rotating crops and implementing mad companion ideas. I love growing and playing down here!
With the predicted big wet on the way, yesterday I went into squirrel mode, collecting kindling, logs, the last few potatoes in the ground and a big load of oranges and lemons. I moved all the furniture for Sunday’s workshop, bringing the usual outside tables in, as I’d rather think, plan and prepare for a cosy atmosphere while it’s still dry!
And then I went rootling around down the back, out of curiosity, to see if anything was hiding under the flimsy wigwam I built at the end of last winter (for some of the sweet potato vine to clamber up, as a point of visual interest). And look what I discovered! I didn’t dig them all…that is if there are anymore, although I have a feeling now, having found these, that there may be quite a volume! But unless it’s going to rain for weeks on end, I usually find things store better in the ground here, than out. I am just a little bit excited though! Look at the colour of them!
Earlier in the day, I cut the biggest of the pumpkins from their vine…they all tap like a hollow drum on their base, so they’re ready. I popped them on whichever was their dry side, on the wall, in the sun, so their damp side could be exposed to the warm air; and brushed off any soil. After several hours of sun-baking, I brought them under cover. If fine weather was on the cards, I’d have left them outside, but I don’t want them to rot. For good storage, their stems need to dry out, so where I’ve put them, they’ll catch the sun should there be any, but they’re protected from the rain should that be the case. Each one, I can tell you weighs a ton!
In the meantime, I’ve left the smaller ones attached to their vine, but propped each up on bricks to keep them off the ground. The longer I can keep them on their vines ‘til complete die-back, the better.
So here you find me at another week’s end. I’m about to enter workshop-prep mode proper. This morning I replenished the ‘tester’ Botanical Waters, so everyone can have a play, a spritz, a mist on Sunday, whilst I bottled a couple of orders. I know I haven’t filled you in on this platform yet about the Botanical Water story at all…but I will…it’s coming!
All I can say is that I wish you could be here when I lift the lid on each of those big glass jars in which I store the waters in the cellar! As each seal pops, I’m instantly transported to fragrant orchards of orange trees in blossom, heat-haze lavender fields or geranium filled glasshouses. And I’ve learned that true rosewater takes time to mature. But there will be a great deal more about all of that…down the track!
I can’t believe I’m suggesting you keep dry yet again! I’m kind of hoping this is the new normal! Have a wonderful week ahead everyone and I’ll look forward to catching you at the next post. Please don’t hesitate to:
!!!! Especially India…I’d like to be reminded properly of your Heliotrope encounter please!
Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Navel oranges, clementines, meyer lemons, rhubarb; tomato, aubergine, zucchini, potatoes (see below), Jerusalem artichoke, parsnip, (new…well…I’ve been pulling the odd one for months but we’ll start eating in earnest now). Leaves of all kinds - spinach, kale - cavolo nero (Red Russian is still growing on) lettuce, radicchio, rocket, red elk mustard leaf, warrigal greens. Broccoli (new), fennel bulbs fennel fronds, parsley, mint, rosemary, thyme, chives, nasturtium and calendula petals, borage flowers. Still new shoot leaves of lovage and still eating onions and garlic from last season although the last two are almost gone - oh no!
Going / gone: aubergines, zucchini, potatoes, onions, garlic
Seed saving: tomatoes
Sowing: Peas, beetroot, parsnip, cima di rapa, coriander, chervil, dill, rocket, mustard leaves red elk and giant red. Carrot, parsnip, nigella. I have most of these in but will continue to sow randomly.
Planting: globe artichokes, leeks, kale, broccoli, cauliflower, kohl rabi, fennel, radicchio, lettuce and…onions! I’m aiming for one last visit to the market for seedlings this weekend…and then, I’ll consider my autumn rotation almost complete (yes…I did say this last week but I didn’t get to the market…so tomorrow…here I come!)
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: is scarce…a rose here and there and random stems from the kitchen garden, as well as scented pelargonium foliage which is a constant to plunder. One random jonquil stem! What is it thinking????? But I’m not complaining - its perfume at the kitchen sink is divine!
Perfumes and aromas: Heliotrope, lavender dentata and cistus, as above. Otherwise, the good garden aromas I mentioned last week…but they’re almost a constant!
Pruning and other: the quince mentioned above, was the big achievement of the week! The rosemary hedge at the hayshed had the odd shooting tip taken off…the more you pick, the thicker and healthier it’s likely to be. Weeding…a constant! And Larry mowed down the tall grasses we allow to grow through the summer in the park, as well as the bands we leave around the bee superhighway. He also did a lot of slashing in the paddock we call Broun’s.
Love your idea of potions!
Sorry I’ve been so slow to respond, Mickey…but I have a fine excuse…my favourite chef is home from Denmark 🇩🇰 for a few weeks, and has been filling the house with gorgeous smells (the bread she makes from the ‘mother’ she left me when she moved is SO much better than mine) and of course we’ve had lots to talk about, meaning far less time poking about at screens!
The heliotrope story is quite funny, as I had ordered an extract from Mandy Aftel (parfumier extraordinaire, purveyor of fragrant ingredients and curator of the Aftelier Perfume Museum in Berkeley, California) and the Australian Customs got a bit snarky with me for importing a “deadly poison”. Happily they allowed me to have it when I explained what it was for.
My mother always had a heliotrope growing at Mount Lofty (indoors, though, given the extremes between seasons) and the scent always brings her back to me. (As well as reminding me of the character Miss Heliotrope in Elizabeth Goudge’s “the Little White Horse”, one of my childhood favourites…)