People...food...conversation...
Oh what a week it's been...
For one that began with a wet weekend…wet as wet could be…which is not something we experience too often. It’s the kind of weather we crave at times, as it really does bring with it the most enormous sense of relief, like a great big sigh.
As one can’t really achieve anything outside on sodden ground and with branches weighed down not just with raindrops, but heavy with water too, such days deliver a moment to exhale…fully.
(A housekeeping note before I get any further: if images aren’t displaying and you have that annoying question mark showing where an image clearly ought to be, click the following button, which will take you to read the rest of this post directly in the app - don’t worry, doing so won’t cost you anything, or sign you up to anything beyond receiving this email, you’ll simply be able to read on in larger gauge text and to clearly view the images!).
A lazy Sunday morning yielded time to catch up with months worth of Saturday papers…reviews of ‘new’ films come and gone, books released, snippets to tear for later research, topics to discuss…but somehow by midday or so a sense of restlessness set in - might the clouds break?
It’s days like these I really recognise the sense of exhilaration and stimulation I get from gardening (unlike these ones that I somehow feel I’ve squandered); as for all that I put into a gardening day, I receive back tenfold. Lazy, wet days may provide rest and some sense of recuperation, but they do not regenerate or stimulate in the way a good day’s work in the garden does: days that combine physical activity alongside creativity and fresh air, are inclined to reveal a clarity of vision, connection, and energy. Gardening days are ones of mental refreshment, and I know I’m not alone in finding them so. By now…a week on, deprived of that regular activity, I simply cannot wait to get into the garden tomorrow!
And then the sun shone! Despite paths being washed away (again!) everything was bright and clean once more and the autumn colours dazzled with their luminescence (although the heavy rain did cause many leaves to drop more quickly than usual…in drought years the persimmon leaves in particular, are inclined to stay for weeks on end). Much as I love the leaves, I’m happier still in the knowledge that our dams are full!
Inside looking out, outside looking in…the original house and its immediate environs feel anchored. It’s a view towards the persimmon lawn that we see each morning on opening the bedroom curtains; and the view that greets whoever may open the heavy, old front door to welcome the first rays of golden sun into the east-facing sitting room. In the summer, we keep that door firmly closed to dissuade the heat, but at this time of year we encourage every drop of glowing warmth to spill into the house that we can. Where those thick stone walls keep the heat at bay during summer, they retain the warmth through the chilly months…especially when morning sun is followed by an evening fire.
It’s been a very domestic kind of week and one that (a bit like a wet weekend) is a rarity! With guests to stay, friends to dinner, peeps to lunch and even an unexpected interloper…it’s been the kind of week I think many folk imagine I lead! And from time to time, I do. But my goodness the fact is not lost on me that it’s the most enormous privilege to be able to do so. You might think of it as the equivalent of me taking a week’s holiday, as I’ve indulged in all my favourite things…(except cleaning the house and I didn’t get all that done!). But I’ve gathered flowers, set fires, made beds with crispy sheets and layers of blankets, set pretty tables at which to eat and cooked up a storm for a swathe of effervescent humans!
How I love this kind of activity! It’s why I choose to continue to live here and to put in the effort that I do (particularly in the garden)…so that I can.
By chance this week (18th May so tomorrow in fact, although back then it was a Thursday) marks 36 years since Larry put his hand up at the auction that sealed our fate, adding our name as only the third to a short list of custodians of Glenmore House since colonial settlement. It’s 36 years since that very first picnic, since our feet touched this piece of earth, since the jewel-coloured persimmon leaves first captured my eye and my heart, and we squinted into the golden autumn light of a bright, blue day.
Being able to gather lunch…to gather dinner…to live by the seasons, is something I had always innately wanted to do, alongside sharing and spoiling peeps with the results. On that very first day, at that very first visit, those were the possibilities and visions dancing in my head. Even if back then they were but romantic notion…they were the beacon drawing me on….to learn, to gather the knowledge required, to bring the dream to fruition.
Each passing season, no matter how many years I live this way of life that by now feels deeply connected, the sequence in which nature unfurls and provides never fails to delight with a bounty of produce that sings in harmony, in unison; to the eye and the tastebuds. Seek and you shall find I say to myself: go out into the garden without too many preconceived ideas and you will almost stumble upon your ingredients. You can pretty much guarantee that mother nature has surprises in store that you won’t think of! You just need to wing it…open your eyes and see what presents!
Sure…you need to learn the bones, the framework…and instigate it, commit to it and nurture it for all of this to come about, but do those things and then you will see! You’ll reap the rewards. It’s why I keep running kitchen gardening days and I’d happily run them every day of the week if peeps would come!
I do it because putting a plate like this in front of peeps brings a childlike smile to their whole face. Their eyes light up and twinkle. There’s something deeply nourishing and reassuring in it. It’s not clever. Preparing and cooking any of the food in these pics is simple as can be. It just requires a bit of general kitchen-know-how (the kind your granma showed you when you couldn’t reach the bench!) the preparedness to put in some effort, and the most important one of all time. Which brings me back to the privilege of it and the indulgence this week has been.
As a longtime working girl…I’ve done the commuting years…the trains and buses (even a bicycle for years in London…one day I’ll tell you about the thrill of negotiating Hyde Park Corner in the evening rush!) the 9 to 5, the years of school runs (which more often than not meant drop-off, Sydney circle of client meetings, sourcing, specifying with trades and manufacturers and then anxiously navigating the outward bound traffic to be back at the school gates on time before the round of after-school activities) alongside long-distance working road trips.
I get that time…or more to the point lack of, is the thing that precludes so many hard-working folk from not just growing, but the opportunity to prepare fresh produce, let alone be connected to what is truly in season. So yes…at this stage of my life, it’s a privilege to be able to do all of this. It’s taken a lifetime to get here, and when I carve out time to do it for fun…for friends, distant relations, new acquaintances and even interlopers…it’s as good as a holiday! It’s been a wide-ranging and stimulating week at that…and I haven’t even been out the front gate! (Well actually, I lie…I went to a screening on Wednesday evening in Bowral, of a pair of brilliant new documentaries about Soil and Farmers…about which I’ll fill you in more in the weeks ahead!).
I’m guessing by now you might want the rhubarb recipe! And damn…cos I gave it to Delicious Magazine and I know they won’t want it published before the issue hits the stands, which I’m thinking might be next week! Those who have a copy of The House and Garden at Glenmore have had it for years but I must admit I change it every time….or at least I rarely use a recipe for anything unless I’m baking…and then I stick rigidly to the quantities suggested because I’m not that kind of cook and so admire those who are!
What I think I’m getting around to saying (in the most long-winded way imaginable…sorry!) is that…years of growing experience by now have contributed to a bank of knowledge and understanding of absolute seasonality, from which I was previously disconnected. I was seeking that life that is portrayed in such an idyllic way from the youngest age, but without doing the work (or having the opportunity to do so), I couldn’t grasp it fundamentally; as seemingly, deep in my bones and psyche, I needed to.
I would read about it…gathering articles, books and recipes and make endless notes; but I’ve also come to realise as my growing years added up, how many bum steers are given through the media, which by its very nature of needing to shoot and write stories in advance, means they can be out of real sync with the season…continuing to feed our imagined perception of seasonality, instead of the real life version. It takes years of growing, to bust the myths.
Perhaps I should have saved these images for next week’s post to coincide with the upcoming article. For me, I’m just delighted that the menu I suggested back in January does indeed coincide with the likely date of publication and that what you see will be an honest depiction of a seasonal menu that you might replicate in real time (even if it did cause me angst about trying to grow ahead of season for the sake of a photograph!).
The ingredients in that article have all come in fully this week…(we were missing Clementines last month and had to substitute store-bought mandarins!) and were the obvious choice for yesterday’s little lunch on the verandah. Now they’re here, I’ll continue to make the most of all these seasonal heroes for the months ahead ‘til they expire, and both the garden and our palates are ready for the next phase.
This is just the beginning of the season for most…the Clementines, the fennel bulbs, the Jerusalem artichokes and the rhubarb…
Although we’ve been eating radicchio leaves for a month already, thanks to my early sowing for the express purpose of that article! In the process, I’ve learned I can plant radicchio in late January, which is something I’ve never done before, and so was able to reap the early rewards of those crunchy, bitter leaves that are so valuable in our diet!
And the pomegranate juice we’ve been enjoying? My oh my!!!! Sadly that almost daily ritual of the last weeks is coming to an end. I picked the last half dozen or so from the hedge this week and I fear our pomegranate encounter for this year is all but over.
And the rose petals will not be too far behind!
I was not completely idle on those wet days last weekend! The time has come before we eat them all (believe me it has happened in the past and there’s nothing worse than realising you’ve just swallowed the last seed of the season!) to save seed of those favourite tomatoes we enjoy from year to year. I’m beginning with these two: Black Krim and Hungarian Heart.
These are two of my favourite eating tomatoes and I’ve learned that they’re inclined to take their time to grow on…arriving to the table late in the season. The Hungarian Heart is a huge tomato, taking its time first to establish as a plant, then to form its enormous fruit, and even longer for those fruits to ripen. Their flesh is elegant with a smooth, dense texture that is robust and comes encased oftentimes, in an almost true heart shape of enormous weight.
Black Krim is more commonly available and I love its dark, bruised colour and less (I think) acidic taste than some red tomatoes. Despite the fact you can usually pick up a Black Krim at the nursery, I’m still inclined to begin from seed: afterall fruits grown here have acclimatised to here, and so are likely to grow on well next time around.
I simply washed away the gelatinous material (in a fine mesh sieve) and popped the remaining seeds onto kitchen towel to dry. Yes…they’re inclined to stick to the paper. It matters not…when comes the time to sow, they will easily dislodge from the paper, but if you happen to keep them attached to the paper when you sow, it will simply decompose around the seed.
We’ll talk about sowing when the time comes, and the time to sow tomatoes for us, is July. As I still have plenty of productive tomatoes in the ground and growing from strength to strength (if not the two varieties mentioned above) I’ll be lucky to have even a month without tomatoes requiring some kind of thought or ‘doing’ process…although once we finish eating the late fruiters, there will be no fresh tomatoes on our plates ‘til that next season rolls around!
I finished heaping the dried wormwood Artemisia absinthe that I mentioned last week into generous bundles to pop into cupboards. They’re no dainty little sachets! Hopefully the pungent aroma emanating from those cloth parcels will keep the moths at bay. That was inside. Whilst I did pop some fresh-cut stems of wormwood around the brassica plants in the kitchen garden too, it was a wet and feeble attempt - I’ll do more of that this weekend…now the rain has abated!
As all the flowers we’ve enjoyed in abundance these last months come to their natural end, the fun is on to find specimens for the kitchen windowsill! I keep an abundance of old jars and bottles of differing shape and size (I’ve even been known to put darling little glass bottles too good to resist, that may have contained ‘breakfast’ yoghurt into my suitcase in years gone by…a particular favourite snaffled into a pocket after breakfast in Paris many moons ago…of course it’s just the bottle that particular brand came in, so common as could be in gay Paris, but not so here!).
The cupboard under the kitchen sink is, in fact, heaving with an accumulation of such finds…so much so that storing what ought to be under the kitchen sink is difficult! So the more jars there are on the windowsill the merrier, then I can actually find a spot for the dishwashing liquid to hide in the cupboard!
Today, I have a stem each of tansy, rocket, carrot, tomato and rhubarb.
And…
Three little stems of the barely significant yet intoxicatingly perfumed flowers of Osmanthus fragrans. How I love the deep-apricot scent that even in this tiny quantity, floods the nostrils! Osmanthus is one of those plants that announces its proximity by scent, way before the eye registers where it might be…setting up an olfactory game of hide and seek. It really is one to stop you (or at least me!) in my tracks...and whilst I know where my own plants are…out there in unchartered gardens, you would’t want to be walking too close behind me should its scent waft along on a breeze!
How I wish I could grow it better! Years ago I attempted to grow eight or so plants into a hedge behind the pool, which visually was a dismal, spindly failure (although those sadly unattractive plants did flower, and so at times when swimming laps, one had the dizzying sense of drowning in apricot nectar!). These days I have one in the ground and one in a pot. Neither look healthy…and how I love that deep green, veined foliage when it is…it’s handsome and ought to make a glorious compact plant. I persevere though, for the sake of that exquisite nectar-like aroma!
I’ve made two loaves during the week, of Belinda Jefferey’s Pumpernickel Soda Bread - you all know how I count on that being my go-to if anyone is likely to visit, as I can whip it up so very quickly and it is so very versatile in how many different kinds of topping it pairs with…even with just plain butter! I admit to finishing off the very last persimmon this week with a generous, naughty spread of Philadelphia cream cheese and dollops of that jelly-like fruit slathered on top…and how I savoured every single morsel!
I also made another Sticky Ginger Syrup Cake - as I said when I gave the recipe a few weeks back, it keeps well and is just the thing to have on standby if you suspect any visitors may be likely to pop in. At this time of year, a slice is very welcome with that afternoon cuppa (though I try not to indulge every day and I will not be baking a cake next week!).
Slices of baked Jerusalem artichoke are on high rotation now! I’m just trying to limit the number of slices available to each person to the equivalent of two whole artichokes max! It seems to be working although everyone is looking for more!
And with that I’ll leave you…save the notes below! The lovely guests (due to unforeseen circumstance) as well as the interloper are still here, the sun is going down, there’s a fire or two to set, and veg to gather in.
I wish you all a wonderful week ahead and will look forward to catching you at the next post!
Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Pomegranate, rhubarb; clementine and orange are new arrivals (I know I said I wouldn’t pick the oranges yet but one fell to the ground so I juiced it to taste…and they’re ready! I’d like a frost, but these are sweet enough so I’m picking!); tomato, aubergine, zucchini, potatoes (the last three depleting fast now). Leaves of all kinds - spinach, lettuce, radicchio, cavolo nero, rocket, red elk mustard leaf. Jerusalem artichokes, fennel bulbs (new this week), fennel fronds, parsley, mint, rosemary, thyme, chives, nasturtium and calendula petals, the first borage flowers.Still new shoot leaves of lovage and still eating onions and garlic from last season.
Going / gone: figs (last of the stewed in the fridge will go this weekend…it was a huge haul!), persimmon
Seed saving: tomatoes
Sowing: Peas, broad beans, beetroot, parsnip, cima di rapa, coriander, chervil, dill, rocket, mustard leaves red elk and giant red. Carrot, parsnip, nigella, poppies and sweet peas: tomorrow is a seed sowing day - do make the most of it, just like me!
Planting: globe artichokes, leeks, kale, broccoli, cauliflower, kohl rabi, fennel, radicchio, lettuce and…onions! I’ll be aiming for one last visit to the market for seedlings next weekend…and then, I’ll consider my autumn rotation complete.
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: is scarce…a rose here and there and I’m about to snip what is probably the last dahlia. Making do with foliage and unexpected stems (see above)…and there’s nothing wrong with those!
Perfumes and aromas: as last week, the labdanum aroma emanating from the cistus continues to be intoxicating, the murraya is still studded with tiny white flowers of mock orange, the prostanthera in the field is spilling all around with its deeply indigenous allure and one last spire of nicotiana that I brush past each time I walk the kitchen garden path is simply heaven…still! Add the osmanthus sprigs (see above!).
Pruning and other: the Tree of Chastity Vitex agnus-castus had its annual cut-back to last year’s knuckles…we kind of pollard it. It’s not the most exciting of plants but it makes a good tall filler and provides feathery contrast in the Arc. The low-growing thyme at the corner of the Barn Garden had a severe clip and stray Macleaya were weeded out of the Arc/Barn Garden. There’s been a whole lot of weeding going on! Especially under the fig trees, where peony poppies are emerging from last year’s spilled seed - indicating it’s time to sow. Thalia kindly sieved some barrow loads of compost for the little bed just outside the kitchen where I grow the globe and Jerusalem artichokes, more rhubarb and sweet peas. The sweet pea tunnel needed re-tying…I’m just hoping to get it through one more season as I haven’t had time to go and collect new bamboo rods so fingers crossed. Tomorrow, with the bed prepared, I can sow this year’s sweet peas!
It’s not often that I read “I’d like a frost” 😉
Lovely….. informative and yummy 😋 I am always amazed at the range of edibles you have available throughout the seasons. Lots to learn. Just as we were starting to dry out after all the rain, currently being hit by a surprise storm. Hang in there plants!!! Thank you Mickey 😊☀️🌦️🌧️