The mid-spring shift...
It’s with drive and gusto now, that the season is forging ahead…the good winter’s work paving the way for a long and steady journey into summer. As the candy-coloured blossom that heralded the first half of spring lies spent and crumpled on the ground, its fading impact is being quickly replaced with bolder forms, with strength and depth. The atmosphere has shifted…we’ve notched up a gear. Some days are sultry with cicada song filling the air…though they begin crisp, clear and blue, before billowing clouds gather that mostly come to nought and a cool evening ensues. Those days are simply teasers of what likely lies in wait: still I need a jumper in the morning and there are blankets on the bed at night: a reminder not to panic on the crop rotation front, as I’m inclined to do at this time of year!
The short-lived Epiphyllum blooms exemplify this moment so succinctly. This is their week - the one where they outshine everyone else! And each year they do, they are a reminder of my own shift in garden thinking…my micro-climate learning and garden making as gradually, over time, I settled into this place…and early notions of what I thought I wanted, were replaced by a deeper understanding.
The Epiphyllum (orchid cacti) was given to me by a near neighbour a couple of hills away, who over a lifetime had grown hers to a huge mound. Back in the early days when we were still new’ish to Glenmore, Pacita invited us to tea and insisted on giving me a cutting - a leaf section, when we left. I’ll be honest, I had not much idea where on earth to put this length of succulent-like leaf that looked so out of place here, and for some months it sat staring at me like a forlorn piece of rubber on the kitchen windowsill. A conundrum. At the time I was still clinging to my delphinium, foxglove and hollyhock loving chapter, and for the life of me could not figure out what to do with this oddity!
But my old world was shifting and even as I stared at that well-meant gift, I knew it. We were building the final phase of the new additions that wrap the old house, which no longer looked like a wonky little cottage deserving of a garden to match. I was excited and began to envision a garden through new eyes, inspired by a whole new palette of hitherto dismissed species, which would ultimately transform all that had gone before.
It was time to sweep away the old and embrace this sense of place, this micro-climate that I began to dub Sydneyesque. I’d come to realise we are not in England, Connecticut, the Southern Highlands or Tablelands. Our micro-climate here is unique, as is the history of this district and our proximity to Sydney. That’s when the Agaves came in and the Strelitzia nicolai too, that I’d been told would not grow here, yet was one of the very first things I so wanted to plant as it’s reminiscent of my Sydney upbringing.
It was then that a surge of new plants infiltrated my radar and all of a sudden, the Epiphyllum made sense. She’s a sizeable specimen now, and though it will take her a lifetime to grow to the size of Pacita’s, her flowering is an annual reminder of that sparkly-eyed and encouraging near neighbour, the kind that every young gardener needs.
There’s oh so much to tell you this week (and I know I left you last week saying I’d left so much out from the week before - such is the rapidity and excitement this time of year brings!). But before I go on…yesterday brought the opening of the very first few brunonii roses on the paddock fence which is worthy of mention! Oh how I look forward to this moment…but think I’ll leave telling you about them properly for another post when they’re fully out! Already, with only a handful of these simple, cream, cluster-forming roses reflexing their petals to reveal their prominent golden stamens, the air is flooded, simply filled with perfume. I’m inclined to think they have the most impactful olfactory effect of all, and the weeks ahead (all being well) have the propensity to be heady ones indeed.
But I promised you the recipe for Globe Artichokes a fortnight ago, so before I get any further…
I was right when I suggested I share the recipe then, because a fortnight ago, they were just the size I like them to be! But here’s the thing with a garden that’s regularly on view…to pick and eat at perfection or…to share their beauty on the stem in the garden? It would have been such a shame to pick them before last Saturday’s Sofra event (especially as they were such a feature of Sivine and Karima’s wonderful feast!) and so I left them in the garden…and the result is that they are a fortnight’s growth bigger than I’d have liked for cooking…and eating! For the longer you leave them…the more likely they are to form the ‘choke’…
And the harder they are altogether to deal with (which is a bit of a palava, but oh so worth the end result!). The less fussy way to eat them is to allow them to grow even bigger, then simply to boil them whole with little fanfare, drain after 15/20 minutes or so (when a sharp knife easily inserts into the base of the stalk). Then to eat, peel away each leaf one by one by its tip, dip into a little vinaigrette and scrape the flesh across your lower teeth, discarding the harder, top part of the leaf…’til you get to the ‘choke’ which you can then cut away and enjoy the delicious, succulent heart.
That way may be easier to prepare…but then you do miss seeing the exquisite inner beauty of each artichoke as you prepare it the way that, I must admit, I enjoy eating them most! You can see here that the ‘choke’ had clearly formed - which is a nascent bud, and left a few weeks longer on the stem, would form into a glorious thistle-like flower.
Poached Globe Artichokes
Ingredients
1 lemon, halved
10 (or as many as you have!) small - medium artichokes with stems
500ml white wine
500ml extra virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves
a few sprigs thyme
Method
Fill a large bowl with water, add the lemon giving it a good squeeze as you do so that as you prepare each artichoke you can drop it into this bowl of acidulated water to prevent them from discolouring (they still will a bit, but not as much as they might
Take the first artichoke and remove the outer, tough leaves by pulling each away from its point towards the stem, ‘til you reach the pale, softer leaves…just don’t go too far in!
Chop off the top of the globe then peel the outer, stringy section of stem and any basal sections of leaf left behind
Cut in half lengthways and scrape out any furry bits of ‘choke’
Drop into the bowl of acidulated water
When you’ve prepared each artichoke, add the wine, olive oil, garlic and thyme to a large saucepan
Drain the artichokes, discard the lemon, add to the pan, pop a lid on top and bring to a simmer
Reduce heat and poach for about 20 minutes
Had I not skipped the step of acidulated water….they would be brighter in colour!
Last night I skipped dropping them into acidulated water which was silly, and is the reason they are darker than they might otherwise be. I was in a hurry, the light was fading fast and as they were only for Larry and me, I thought I wouldn’t worry. They were still delish!
I popped a couple each onto our plates of broad bean and spinach risotto, threaded with ribbons of prosciutto; made with chicken broth and scattered with mint, thyme and chive flowers….a cornucopia of spring produce on a plate! But I don’t recommend skipping the acidulated water - especially as it’s the easiest part of the entire saga!
While we’re on food and lemons, here’s a little seasonal suggestion:
This week I went to the effort of squeezing a whole lot of lemons in the hope of having our own juice on hand for some months ahead…as the tree would simply not support them anymore, the skins were beginning to mottle and whilst it’s a great sadness to not have fresh lemons on hand, it’s just one of those things that cannot be helped. As a general rule, I don’t like to freeze anything (except broth and ice cream) - I can always taste ‘frozen’. But freezing juice into ice cubes does really seem the only way to go. I’ve already preserved a couple of jars, I have popped a stash of fruit in the fridge, as well as still having a bowl on the kitchen bench and more to give away. But to answer those who questioned the possibility of freezing lemon juice? Yes…you can - I store them between leaves of greaseproof paper, which stops them sticking together!
And the topic of lemon juice brings me back to the garden, because it was in the citrus bed just outside the kitchen window that I spent so much of Sunday. For months now, I’ve been able to see Seville oranges and Lisbon lemons glowing like beacons beyond that window…where they’ve drawn the eye from literally half way down the length of the Gallery (that connects the kitchen to the bedroom wing of the house). What visual delight they brought to the winter months. But like the lemon, the Seville could no longer support the weight of fruit and both trees, along with the Meyer lemon (all of which are well established trees) were showing signs of fatigue. Like the citrus down in the kitchen garden that I tackled a couple of weeks ago, they missed their good pruning last year (due to my hand issue) and were in dire need of lightening up. The task took most of the day, but now their centres are open, they’ve been relieved of their excess load, air can circulate around their branches and foliage…and those wretched stink bugs have nowhere to hide! We may not get quite as much fruit next year as a result, though this year we had more than we need. I was careful to leave some blossom, as well as early forming fruit and already I can see the trees sighing a great big thank you!
Thalia did look a bit surprised when she arrived on Monday morning! She says she’s never seen me go quite that hard with them…but it had to be done! The first thing on my request list for her this week was to fill the trailer with the mountains of material I’d cut (it was near dark by the time I’d finished) and then to add compost around each tree, followed by mulch. I’d done a lot of tidying of the surrounding rosemary as I went through the citrus - removing any die-back and sprawling branches - I like to keep the rosemary stems upright and try to set a good example for Thalia to follow if it’s a task I ask her to complete. Every so many years, I take cuttings of the rosemary and begin again and I have a funny feeling that time might be approaching once more. It’s a similar situation with the lavender at the front of the bed and I cut a lot of rosemary away that was encroaching on the lavender.
Like so many pockets here…it looks like just a small area in the overall scheme of things, but once you launch in to do the job properly…the enormity is revealed!
Having lost Saturday to the Sofra event (more below!) I decided to garden on Monday too…while my secateur wielding muscles were on a roll! I’ve been delaying pruning the ‘new’ olives in the grove to the side of the pool and also a corner that I’m sure no-one pays any attention to at all…and yet, it’s these nondescript corners that play a vital role in their ability to link one area…one thought pattern, to the next.
I was unstoppable now…causing havoc by the trailer load! (How I love the mini hand-held Stihl chainsaw Larry bought for me last year!). But more than anything I love that complete immersion in these tasks causes one to spend time in one spot where usually, one might just saunter on by. While evaluating branches for their need to stay or go, immersion in a space while working affords views you might otherwise not encounter.
And once my little corner’s work was complete…you’d not know anything had been askew. I brought the fig tree down to size whereby I might even be able to protect any fruit this season from the birds; the winter-flowering honeysuckle is back in its basket, and so another big job is set to last for a year or two hence.
And then the Chinese Star Jasmine Trachelospermum jasminoides burst into flower…making this the most suggestive week so far, that summer’s on the way. Infusing the air with its exotic perfume, its the harbinger of balmy days if ever there was…carrying the spirit of warmth and filling the lungs and head with layers of memory and anticipation.
SOFRA: a gathering for eating, a feast. Which certainly describes the culmination of last Saturday afternoon’s activity. It’s a curious thing how the very atmosphere of an event differs from that of a workshop, and takes on a celebratory air. While both require similar forethought, I think timing is the reason - with guests expected at 3pm (as opposed to 10am) a whole day can be devoted to preparation (perhaps at a mildly slower pace than for a workshop but still…it seems to take until 3pm, with not a moment to spare, to be ready!).
And there was much to be done. While Karima and Sivine took care of the food, with each full and colourful plate and glass holding a beautiful recipe from Sofra - a timely ode (as it turns out) to the recipes and culture of Lebanon, the rest was in my hands. And I’d had an idea to which I alluded at the end of last week’s post:
Around midday, I interrupted their cooking preparation to take them both to the field, where accompanied by the throng of cicada song and accumulating clouds that only added to the already heightened frisson of excitement, the three of us quietly collected a basketful of damask roses…
Then once our guests were seated in the Dairy, I asked everyone to pass the basket along the rows, so each guest could have a hand in separating petals from calyx. By the end of our conversation (that led us from the foundation of Sunday Kitchen and the consuming passion with which Sofra has been brought to fruition, to tales of migration and culture via food and memory…) we had a huge basin of petals ready to load into Hildegard.
I particularly wanted to do this, because during my first ever encounter with Sivine and Karima (over a bowl of soup in the kitchen here on a cold winter’s day last year) Sivine revealed how as a child, she had helped her mother to distil huge sack loads of roses that would arrive at her childhood home in Tripoli, from Syria. Somehow that morsel of information had been suppressed all these years and was news to her daughter Karima (the story prompted by a simple question from me as to the source of orange blossom and rosewater they use in their cooking…which led to my bottles in the cellar and revelation of my own tinkering here).
Some fifteen months and the publication of their beautiful book Sofra on, it seemed the story had come full circle. We hadn’t timed it so, but the idea of every guest participating in the capture of damask roses into a batch of rosewater to mark the occasion, just seemed such a lovely thing to do….a gift to Sivine and Karima on a day that I know for them, was so fraught with emotion.
I sealed Hildegard to the tune of excited chatter, traditional Arabic music by way of oud, violin and tambourine, thanks to our musicians (two of whom were) not long out of Gaza…
and the sight of plates filling with delicious treats. Soon a very special distillation spilled forth, filling the Dairy with its deep, rosey aroma.
There were smiles, tears and laughter accompanied by appreciative oohs and aahs at tantalising tastes on the tongue…
And for a very brief moment here on Saturday afternoon, a sense of goodwill and abundance, love and joy outweighed the turbulent anxiety and tumult of our times. Karima uploaded a lovely post on the Sunday Kitchen instagram page here.
And with that…I’ll leave you with yesterday’s collection on the kitchen bench…too much has been skipped or glazed over yet again…I think once I’ve documented so much of the garden goings-on here…so as not to repeat myself in times ahead…I’ll be able to return to the moments that prompt deeper thought. But this has been a big week and that wretched banner at the top keeps telling me my post is too long as always, but always it’s likely to be so!
I wish you all a peaceful weekend and week ahead.
Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Lemons, rhubarb (sparse but stems come in waves), mulberry. Broad beans, peas (both going), parsnip, beetroot, globe artichoke, asparagus. Leaves of all kinds - spinach (most of it’s going to seed now but the coloured chard is plentiful), kale. Leeks, lettuce, wild rocket, warrigal greens. Fennel fronds, parsley (going), mint, rosemary, thyme, chives, nasturtium and calendula petals, borage and chive flowers
And…the dried Speckled Cranberry Borlotti Beans!
Going / gone: lemons, broad beans, peas, cape gooseberry, kale, radicchio, parsley, coriander
Seed saving: broad beans, peas, poppy, mustard leaves
Sowing: beetroot, parsnip, carrot, beans, corn, zucchini, cucumber, watermelon, rockmelon, rocket, parsley, basil, sunflower and zinnia. I’m trying to be patient having missed many an optimum lunar cycle window
Planting: lettuce and as soon as I have a chance now I’ll plant tomatoes, aubergines, capsicums, cucumbers and zucchini seedlings
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: Sweet peas, roses, philadelphus, solandra
Perfumes and aromas: Rosa brunonii and Chinese star jasmine have joined the Philadelphus this week and all the roses are playing their part as well as the near constant, resinous, Cistus ladanifer
Pruning and other: the citrus, rosemary and lavender outside the kitchen; the fig and winter honeysuckle near the pool and ‘new’ olives all had a heavy prune this week by me. Thalia cut back the rosemary hedge at the Hayshed, sprayed the olives with eco-oil as they are showing signs of an ugly rust they can develop in inclement weather. She has just begun cutting back the Dentata lavender at the Dairy hard…and once that’s done, she can start on the same lavender atop the drystone wall on the drive…it will take her most of the days she’s here next week as it’s a big job and by now she understands how I like to do it - there won’t be much left!
What fun you saw a huge 'asparagus stalk' Sally! Glad you enjoyed the post...I still have dozens of lemons to squeeze! Mx
Hello Leanne 😊 I'm so glad you're enjoying the posts! As you can tell...I'm late to tackle much of the hard pruning too though when it comes to the citrus I can't help thinking if we were 'on time' that we might actually be cutting off potential blossom and fruit...it usually works out in the end! Wish you lived closer too. Have a lovely weekend Mxx