The season in a bowl...
The season in a bowl...
or the salad that grew (quite literally!)
How distracting the endless possibilities that present themselves as seasonal ingredients from the spring garden can be! Whilst they may not all arrive in vast quantity, they require no recipe as such. But you may not find them all at the shops or even at the market…for these spontaneous combinations are for gardeners! Here in a bowl, we have all the reason (I’d like to think!) to encourage you, if you don’t already…to grow!
I know that in reality we can’t all do so…but while I can I will (and I know many of you do too)…for the sheer beauty of it, let alone the taste of each and every individual morsel.
As last Sunday’s slow, beautiful and gentle presentation The Neighbourly Garden with Colleen Southwell, aka The Garden Curator unfolded, there I sat at the back of the group as the hour for lunch at the long tables approached, podding a bundle of just-picked broad beans in my lap…
And shelling the contents of a little terracotta pot filled to overflowing with cape gooseberries - yielding bounty for the compost and the opportunity for everyone to see from whence those two delights of the season came.
As Colleen shared her wealth of knowledge and wise words on creating not just the vision of a garden to look at and immerse in, but one to encourage habitat and community amongst the stalwarts and supporting plant network too; I headed to the pantry for final preparation:
To quickly blanche the broad beans and slip them out of their shells, to bake the cape gooseberries in a little olive oil; to swish the segments of globe artichoke I’d prepared in white wine, olive oil and thyme the evening before in a little more olive oil and the beetroot I’d cooked and slipped from its skin too. I’d been out picking flowering thyme and rose petals, as well as borage flowers to scatter over the spring greens pie and nasturtiums to drop into the leaf salad…
I sliced the pumpernickel and crumbled the chèvre; spooned the contents of a big jar of fennel frond pistou made on Saturday into a bowl and topped with a segment of fennel flower. I set the tables and the lengths of quince stems picked that morning with their multitude of tiny fruits attached to rights, and collected dry poppy heads from the kitchen garden to sprinkle.
With the pie (Belinda Jefferey’s ‘Spring Greens Pie recipe) ready to go (baked on Saturday…I tend to find it’s better the day after!) it was time to ladle the scented veg broth into little cups and compile the salad that grew…for now I simply had too many components to add! And therein lies the fun of a gardener’s salad - ignore the original intention and make it up as you go, for any ingredient straight from the garden surely will be sublime. It’s long been my belief that if it grows together, it’s pretty much bound to go together and tantalise the taste buds!
I’d already decided the version at the top was ready to go to the table…(drizzled as it was with the caramelised juices yielded by the gooseberries) although I had originally intended to fold the cape gooseberries into the leaf salad, but the garden yielded more leaves than I’d thought possible that day, so they’d have got lost. I tipped them instead over the beetroot and those colours together just sang! I’d originally intended for the sections of globe artichoke to sit on their own, but there were not enough as halves, so in with the beetroot they went too. I finished the whole with a smattering of rose petals and thyme and then realised I had the mound of delicious broad beans set aside…so at the last minute, tipped them in too, with a few more rose petals and sprigs of thyme and…the salad that grew beyond intention was, at last, ready for the table!
In the end…it seemed everyone had the entire garden on their plates…that’s my kind of lunch!
Alongside Colleen’s beautifully illustrated bundle of treasure, set at each participant’s place…the whole day simply felt like bliss…a breath of fresh air to blow away any remnant winter cobwebs once and for all!
After lunch, we took a garden wander and collected mulberries, to have with Seville Orange Ice Cream…and what a treat that was to enjoy on an unexpectedly hot afternoon! One of our participants put together a sweet reel on her instagram page …so if you’d like to take a peek, I’m sure Camilla won’t mind if I direct you towards it here!
Sadly I was in such a rush with Colleen’s imminent arrival on Saturday afternoon, that I failed to photograph the ice cream making process. I seem to have photographed it so many times before…but backtracking to find those pics now could take hours on end. So…
I’m thinking I’ll make another batch more quietly and share it with you as a recipe next week instead!
The mulberries though…goodness what fun to share the experience! Mulberry picking is not something I grew up with and therefore, neither was their taste. I can understand now, why I didn’t have the opportunity to taste them (after years of having a tree that we planted and that has grown to the most enormous size), as they truly do not travel, or keep, which of course is why we don’t see them in the shops. So those not lucky to have a tree or know someone who does (just as I once didn’t), miss out on the opportunity. Hence…if anyone is here at mulberry time…off we go!
I reckon they’re best eaten direct from the tree - and yes, it’s true - your fingers at the very least will be stained purple and if you’ve been greedy as you go, there’ll be no hiding the fact!
Mulberries have a curious taste…they’re not sweet (as a raspberry is)…there’s something ‘dull’ and I’m only using that descriptor as I can’t quite put my finger on the right one. They are positively delicious but there’s something…perhaps ‘flat’ to their taste? But then that’s not right either! Homely? Whatever it ought to be and I’m sure someone will come up with the answer…I’ll be picking them for the days to come, as we seem to have a good crop just now. Ten minutes or so with a bowl or colander in the extended evening light (thank you daylight saving!) means I can skulk off for a magical interlude away from the desk (although it will probably mean dinner is likely to be very late to the table!).
I’ve not bothered, thus far anyway, to ever search for a recipe. I imagine they’d make into jam, but what I am inclined to do (if I don’t freeze the excess) is pop them into a saucepan all on their very own…no sugar or water, but on a gentle heat which encourages them to drop their own juices for a ‘cooked’ version. This encourages them to keep for a few extra days in the fridge and warmed through again, they’re delicious this way with a dollop of yoghurt for breakfast, and sensational with cream for dessert. You could scatter that good ol’ crumble mix that I mention so often over the top (here’s the link to the recipe index for you again!). And of course they were amazing plucked straight from the tree with home made ice cream, on a hot, sunny afternoon!
On Sunday, we were also treated to seeing two of Colleen’s exquisite artworks in real life - made of paper and fine wire, they are delicate yet robust…exquisite representations of the botanical and entomological worlds that occupy her realm.
Resting as they were next to my seed heads ‘on the stem’ with roots intact…they made a complimentary match!
As I packed the day away and farewelled Colleen, the sun dipped in the west, causing shadow play at all the canvas lined Dairy windows, setting them aglow. For the most part, the Dairy windows are bare and I only pop the blinds up when we have a ‘slide presentation’ to darken the room for practical reason. Oh but how I love the fun of creating this effect - and if I truly lived my daily life in this space, for the sake of heat expulsion in the summer, I’d pop them up each late afternoon…
Though they do obscure the view of the kitchen garden bathing in those magical shafts of late afternoon light!
All the while, the most captivating sight in the garden that day, the backdrop to our lunch and throughout this entire week has been the ornamental prunus in the Borders that led last week’s post. Its colours have done nothing but deepen as newly minted leaves begin to join the maturing blossom.
As you can see…the Border underplanting is filling out now, building gradually (with not a hint of visible mulch in sight!).
On (holiday) Monday, I took some time out to play! Clemmie has been asking me repeatedly when I might show her a pure essence extraction method for roses that participants and I learned from Jill at our Alembics workshop here last year.
I find it (as I did then!) completely captivating…and without spilling all the beans…the end result is a sticky, resinous mass of pure rose extract…that just happens to make extraordinary works of art along every moment of its journey from rose to resin.
Also on Monday…this happened! I think I may have mentioned some posts back (when we tackled the Agave americana for their huge winter tidy) that I’ve been surprised for quite a few years now, that this last of the originals we planted had still not sent up a flower spike, when each of the other clumps had long travelled their natural cycle: flowered, been removed and replaced with pups of the parent plant…and each of those clumps are now well on their way to becoming handsome specimens once more. I mentioned the mystery again, as the group and I stood gazing at the house on Sunday afternoon - when there was still no visible sign. Little did I know that deep within the heart of that individual…things were stirring!
When I went to water the pots ‘between the wings’ on Monday morning…I glanced upwards (as I’ve taken to doing at this time of year for several) expecting to be disappointed yet again when…oh my…what did I spy? Could it be???? And yes…yes, yes, yes, yes! There it was! An emerging, erupting, asparagus-like spear bursting, thrusting upwards from the core of its spiky leaves! What a thrill! It’s heading straight for the upstairs bathroom window at the moment which is not ideal…hopefully something will prompt it to go off course! But I’ll let you know its progress as it fully emerges!
Don’t you think it a curious thing…that the agave spear which so closely resembles that of a gigantic asparagus, should emerge at exactly the same time as the edible variety? They must be related in some way surely? I’m not botanist enough to know to the answer, but their form is identical and while these beauties have so far been emerging just one at a time over the last weeks…now they’re sending up several at a time. I can happily suggest that asparagus season is on!
Those dull greens and moody purples are all on repeat…
It’s their time…a natural, seasonal thread…
That unfolds all of its own accord.
It makes for harmony…and though the garden is interspersed with specks of other colours too, right now it’s the greens and purples, through darkest mulberry and beetroot, that mark a constant at this stage of the season.
And this? This is a happy sight indeed!
It’s been a short week, thanks to the long (working!) weekend where I seem to have had my head in a whirl for most of it…with events to wrap alongside events to release into the world. I’ve spent most of it at my desk tap-tapping away whilst others enjoy the garden! (We had a photo shoot midweek…the Gardening Australia Junior team back on site for series two). But that’s OK…afterall it’s me who gets to pick most of the mulberries in the evening light!
I’ll aim for globe artichoke and ice cream recipes next week!
With warmest wishes to all, Mickey x
Productive garden notes:
Eating from the garden:
Lisbon lemons, rhubarb (sparse but stems come in waves), parsnip, beetroot (new, though I’ve been picking leaves right through), cape gooseberry, mulberry, globe artichoke and asparagus (all new). Leaves of all kinds - spinach (most of it’s going to seed now but the coloured chard is plentiful), kale - cavolo nero (now the weather has turned it’s leaves are a quite different consistency and although perfectly edible, there is a distinct difference between kale leaves that have been deeply chilled and those which haven’t!). Leeks, lettuce, radicchio (going), wild rocket, warrigal greens. Fennel bulbs (going). Peas and abundant broad beans. Fennel fronds, parsley (going), mint, rosemary, thyme, chives, coriander (going to seed), nasturtium and calendula petals, borage flowers.
And…the dried Speckled Cranberry Borlotti Beans!
Going / gone: Oranges, mandarins, Jerusalem artichokes (last 4 in the fridge), celeriac, pumpkin, broccoli and cauliflower have all gone, as have the mustard leaves so I’ll not mention them again next week: they’ve finished for the season. Fennel bulbs - we have just a few left and the peas are past their peak. Coriander too is all but past its leaf stage and like the parsley I mentioned last week, has gone to seed (which you know, I consider to be a good thing as it means they’re in flower, so in turn are bringing in the bees and ladybirds).
Seed saving: peas, poppy, cima di rappa, mustard leaves red elk and giant red
Sowing: beetroot, parsnip, carrot, Cape gooseberry! As soon as the parsley seeds ‘dry’ I’ll scatter them for the next round. Time to sow my favourite basil ‘Genovese’ into punnets and to tentatively sow the first bean seeds. I’m turning the tomato seedlings around to face towards the north each day. I’ll scatter rocket seed as soon as it’s ripe on the stem and it’s time to think about sowing corn, zucchini, sunflower and zinnia seeds.
Planting: lettuce and as soon as I have a chance now, I’ll be implementing the big overhaul to plant all the summer growing veg…though it will take some time! If you’re ready now…you can plant tomatoes, aubergines, capsicums, cucumbers and zucchini.
Ornamental garden notes:
Picking for the house: Colleen had a little posy of snow balls from the Viburnum supported by leaves of Macleaya (but how those stain the colour of the water on contact!), bracts of Salvia africana-lutea interspersed with highly scented Philadelphus. Solandra trumpets, philadelphus, Mme Isaac Pereire roses and sweet peas (more about those next week).
Perfumes and aromas: the joyful scent of my absolute favourite Philadelphus is infiltrating the air - how I wish it lasted longer! But all being well…it will do so for another couple of weeks. Those others have faded now…the orange blossom is all but gone, the Port Wine Magnolia is dissipating after that mad rush. The Meyer lemon though is smothered in blossom and oh how I adore that perfume! The Cistus ladanifer will be an ephemeral constant (if there can be such a thing…for all the months ahead - it’s an odour that emanates at will, that sometimes hits you full on and at others is illusive…depending entirely on the weather). My original specimen of the Damask rose Quatre Saisons (who I’ve encouraged to spread like billy-o) behind the Dairy is flooding the air with the heady aroma of Turkish Delight! (The camera-man left his car windows open down there all day on Wednesday and told me he was pleasantly surprised when he opened the door to pack away his kit!). And down in the field, the row of Triginitipetala are doing the same. The roses…are taking over!
Pruning and other: oooooh how I want to spend days and days in the garden! As it is, the biggest job this week has seen Thalia cutting back the wisteria ‘umbrella’ and ‘arch’ (that I mentioned a few weeks ago) very hard. The umbrella missed its turn last year so I was determined it must be done this year and done now, it will be easier to keep the summer growth under control and to ensure we don’t cut off next year’s blooms. The Ceanothus ‘Trewithen Blue’ in the Barn Garden had a good cut back, whilst I’ve done a whole lot of tweaking…the immature apricot flowering oleanders in the Barn Garden that I wish would get a move on (the entire Barn Garden had a complete overhaul as I’ve mentioned about three years ago and some plants that I really need to fill out are being slow to do so!) needed a gentle trim - I took out all the flower buds and some keen stems as I want those pair of oleanders to become dense balls. The same goes for the saltbush and pineapple guava. I trimmed the port wine magnolias…a constant, as like the previous three…I hope to encourage them to be ‘dense’ rather than sparse, and regular ‘tipping’ is vital. There are a lot of such tasks on my weekend agenda…but the most important will be pulling out the pea wigwams in the kitchen garden…it’s time…
Oh Sally I'm glad you're going to try again with the Rocket! I must include an image in an upcoming post when I scatter the newly ripe seed...it isn't yet ready here...the seed pods are still developing along the stems but it shouldn't be too long. Sounds like you might have some thinning to do with those flowers...but how glorious they will be if they all take. The roses sound beautiful Sally. Mx
There are so many things to comment on Mickey, but the one thing I noticed was the comment about the Rocket. It is not something I have been very successful with in our very small vegetable/herb plot, generally bolting, but yesterday my husband brought over a branch which was growing through our neighbours fence and he was going to bin it, NO! That’s Rocket, put it on the table in the Al fresco to dry out, so I’ll try again and see what happens. I threw all the flower seeds in the garden yesterday, love in the mist, cosmos and zinnias, let’s see what happens. I’ll be in trouble if they all take. Our Margaret Merrill roses are now blooming, such a beautiful perfume. I’ll wait until they are full of roses and then I’ll pick some to bring inside. Looks like you had another wonderful day with Colleen and the guest who posted on IG did a good job, how lovely everything looked. Thanks again for a great read 🤗