The Friday photo: Un-wabbit welated gardening update
Okay, so the rabbits haven’t eaten everything, although I’m really disappointed that they ate the tiny shoots of the plants that my Ma and I planted (what were they Ma? Dahlias and something?) as I really fancy having a few more flowers in the garden. One teeny new shoot has just peeked out again (see the little bed by the patio, left of top pic) so I’ve covered it in a cloche to see if it will reappear.
Still, the carrots are recovering well after their surprise early haircut. Here’s the raised bed, where you can see at the back that the fennel is enormous (and very cuddly – everyone stops to give it a hug) again, as are the chives and thyme, also at the back next to the remaining potatoes, and that my weird green pointy cauliflower things are doing well (netted area, far left). Next along, inside the fleecy area are some cabbages, then two rows of carrots, and to the front you can just see the two strawberry plants peeking over the fleece:
:
Here’s the middle. A bit of overlap as you can see the carrots in the fleecy bit first, but then there’s two rows of spring onions, another row of cabbages, then a fleece area containing the purple sprouting broccoli – my monster rhubarb is at the back there:
And to the right of the bed is the weird, bushy area where #2 ripped open a random bag of blue flower seeds and they went everywhere, next to some more chives and a few marigolds and red salvias planted for colour. As you can see, the remaining potatoes not stricken by the dreaded Blackleg (arrrr) are still thriving, thank goodness. Oh and that purple thing in the front is a flower with purple spikes but I can’t remember the name:
Not a bad effort eh? In fact, I might go so far as to say English Towers: 1, Rabbits: 0.
Heh.
Shiver me timbers, it be the dreaded Blackleg… arrr…
Ahoy ye land lubbers. So tragic events be unfoldin’ here at Ye Olde English Towers. The potatoes they be dyin’ and there’s nowt that can be done about it. They be stricken’ with the dreaded Black Leg. Argghhhh
Okay, I can’t keep up the pirate speak. But basically my poor potato plants have started going yellow and wilting and an emergency call to the garden oracle, otherwise known as my Disreputable Dad, uncovered the tragic news that my poor tatties are suffering from Potato Blackleg, a bacterial disease that makes the potato stems rot, killing the foliage and ruining the crop:
Sadly, there’s no cure but to dig the buggers up. Apparently I bought infected seed potatoes (Damn you, Woodies!), but happily, not all have succumbed quite yet, and the ones that have died have been caught early enough to save most of the little babies beneath. Gutted. First wascally wabbits and now this. I’m just not cut out for the country life. I should have a high-rise apartment in Kensington or something, dahling.
So for the purposes of today’s post we be talkin’ like a pirate, yarrrrr. In fact, I designate today ‘English Mum’s Talk Like a Pirate Day’ (with apologies to the real Talk Like a Pirate Day, which is sometime in September), which means any comments shall be strictly of the pirate variety (and yes Moon that means you have to join in) else you’ll be walkin’ the plank, so ye will, ye lily-livered scallywags. Yarrrr.
In which Bert is bored and we put the whole greenhouse thing behind us
So forst tings forst, den (sorry), I suppose I should wish everyone a happy St Patrick’s Day. I’m not feeling particularly festive seeing as I had to drop Hubs into Dublin at 5.30am this morning (I got to Dublin in 65 minutes - a record… what? of course I wasn’t speeding). So staying on things green, I finally decided after the great flying greenhouse debacle, that I should force myself back in to the garden. And although I accept I’m not exactly green fingered (I like to think of myself as ‘chocolate fingered’, in fact), and indeed that I did allow my greenhouse to fly away, you really can’t knock me for trying. And so today was a ‘pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again’ type of day. I think we just have to accept that our particular little corner of Cavan is too windy for a greenhouse (at least any type we can afford), and so we’re having to pick our plants a little carefully. Let’s face it, we’re never going to grow anything gorgeous and delicate, but that doesn’t mean we can’t try to feed ourselves. I’ve planted three shrubs that I got from the garden centre (nope, can’t remember the name, but they’re just sort of green and shrubby), that will hopefully grow up and shield the kitchen garden from the worst of the weather, and then there’s the fennel (already sprouting):
and parsley, which last year grew very large and acted as a decent windbreak, so hopefully with my sensible choices and wind resistance, something should eventually sprout. In other sprouty-type news, the rhubarb is definitely forcing itself into life (see what I did there?) underneath the terracotta pot, although the frost broke it in two, but both the chives:
…and my b-e -a-yootiful Japanese Maple are showing signs of life:
and my potatoes are chitted (steady):
and in the ground as we speak:
Sharpe’s Express are a ‘first early’ variety, ready to harvest in about June/July – they’re an ‘heirloom’ potato, much loved by Percy Thrower, doncherknow.
So here’s the state of play so far (go on, you’re impressed that I actually have a plan, aren’t you? I can tell):
Bert was seriously not impressed to have to stand (what, you want me to sit on this grass? Purleease) and watch me digging and planting. We even got an offcut of carpet out for the pampered sod to sit on, but no, it wasn’t to be. Yes, so he used to live in a shed and chase rabbits for a living, but he’s, like, totally moved on with his life, and doesn’t think one’s past should be held against one. He’s now an indoor dog and stood staring at me with that ‘will ye come on, woman, let’s move this along’ look that only a greyhound missing his sofa can muster:
I hope something grows. I know you can hardly bear the suspense, so I’ll keep you informed.
Sunday lunch: roast lamb, layered potatoes and rice pudding
Sunday lunch, then, and even though I say so myself, this one was rather a cracker. Given a unanimous 10/10 (unheard of in our house) and with the added bonus of being one of the easiest too. First up then is the main course:
Roast lamb with creamy layered potatoes
½ leg lamb (about 1kg)
1 kg potatoes
50g butter
300ml milk or cream
So for the lamb, just preheat the oven at about 180/gas 4, rub all over with a generous slug of olive oil ( a clove or two of smooshed garlic wouldn’t go amiss here either – or a handful of rosemary if you have it) and sprinkle generously with salt and pepper. Now just bung it in the oven and forget about it for about an hour and a half . For a whole leg, or a joint any larger than a kg, allow 1 hour per kg, plus ½ hour for well done meat (I know, I know, but I just can’t prefer not to eat my lamb pink – sorry and all that).
Remove from the oven and reserve somewhere warm, covered in foil. Place the roasting tin on the hob, add a dessertspoon of plain flour and whisk all the juices in with the flour. Now, add 500ml stock, transfer to a saucepan and let it bubble away gently until you’re ready to eat. Oh, and season to taste.
For the potatoes (I hesitate to call them Dauphinoise – I think they’re probably more cheesey), peel and weigh them, then slice thinly (aim for about 5mm slices, but don’t amputate your fingers trying):
Butter an ovenproof dish, then arrange the slices into a thick layer on the bottom of the dish. Dot with butter and season generously with salt and pepper:
… then continue with the next layer, again dotting with butter and seasoning well. Continue until you’ve used up all the potatoes. Pour over the milk or cream (or combination of both, or even chicken stock if you’re off diary), dot with the remaining butter, season well and cover. Stick into the oven next to the lamb. It should be ready at about the same time (an hour and a half). If it’s not quite there, remove the lid and continue to bake while the lamb is resting.
Now for English Mum’s Mum’s creamy rice pudding (hmm, might have to work on that title):
100g pudding rice
800 ml milk
2 tbsp caster sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
To cook on the hob (I had no room left in my oven): mix all the ingredients in a saucepan and bring to the boil. Turn the heat down low and let the rice pudding simmer very gently for about an hour. Don’t cover it, and do watch it. Mine boiled over all over my hob and caused an almighty mess. I really must get myself a diffuser. We have bottled gas that comes rocketing out like nobody’s business and it’s difficult to get a really low heat.
Me Ma’s original recipe calls for all the ingredients to be placed in a buttered ovenproof dish and cooked in a low oven for a couple of hours. It’s honestly much nicer this way, although you have to stir the skin in occasionally (sorry there, skin haters).
Serve with fruit compote (I used frozen berries warmed up with a tbsp sugar and a big slug of blackcurrant liqueur) or a big dollop of raspberry jam.
This is really nice made with coconut milk as well (thank you, Bill Granger!). Just as a matter of interest – this amount serves 4, but we could easily have eaten double. If you’re greedy sods like us then I suggest you double up.
There you have it. Now retire to your sofa with a fat greyhound and the Sunday papers, while your willing, full-up peasants do the washing up. Bliss.
Parmesan chicken
So I sometimes think my little carpet monsters don’t know when they’ve got it good. Take last week: #2 went out shopping with D-next-door and seriously, dearest reader, you’d think he’d won the flipping lottery:
‘D gets curly fries! And chicken nuggets! And spicy wedges! And we walked straight past the fruit and veg without buying anything!! And we got chocolate fingers!’, all said in the breathless manner usually reserved only for conversations about Slash and Rooney.
‘But hang on’, says I, bristling somewhat, ‘you get lovely, fresh home-cooked food every day!’
‘Yes, but Lou and Little C get to eat curly fries! And nuggets from the freezer. Not like your ones’.
See what I have to put up with? D-next-door of course thinks all this is hilarious, but actually (with plenty of nagging coaching from me and Mrs Lovely) he doesn’t do too badly, and recently cooked leeks, LEEKS, I tell you. He was darned pleased with himself too. Anyhoo, digressing. So right, I thought, I’ll cook him nuggets and wedges, if that’s what he wants. I’ll just do them my way:
4 chicken breasts
2 slices stale bread (or crusts, whatever)
The nice heel bit left over from the parmesan (or a 2″ chunk)
1 egg
Splash of milk
Olive oil
Potatoes
Chilli powder
So first, preheat your oven to 200/gas 6 and cut the potatoes in half, then cut each half into three or four wedge shapes. Bung them into a pan of salted water and bring them to the boil.
Meanwhile, cut each of your chicken breasts into three or four pieces. Whizz the bread and parmesan together in the food processor until they’re crumby, then add a generous pinch of salt and a good grinding of pepper. Whisk up the egg with a splosh of milk and dunk each piece of chicken first in the egg, then toss in the cheesy breadcrumby stuff.
Drizzle some oil on a baking tray and put your coated chicken pieces on it. Drain the now-boiling potatoes, and spread them onto a second baking sheet. Drizzle with oil, sprinkle with salt, pepper and a generous pinch of chilli. Bung both trays in the oven and leave for 20-30 mins until both your potatoes and chicken are golden brown. The timing will of course depend on how big the pieces of chicken and potato are. You might have to put one to the bottom of the oven or whatever – you know the drill.
Serve with a nice green salad, or some buttered frozen peas and some sweet chilli sauce. Or mayo. Or both. Bung it on the table and pretend it’s Captain Birdseye’s. *Tsk*
Bubble and squeak: step by step
All this talk of recession has done me no end of good, y’know. For one thing, I’m trying to use up all the stuff we had left over in the freezer since Christmas (I’m down to two massive bags of frozen prawns and the kids are sick of them, but needs must, eh. Green Thai prawn curry anyone?). And I’ve hardly been out shopping at all, save for a couple of trips for school essentials and the invitations for the blessing. The rest of the time I’ve stayed in as I’m too terrified of allowing my inner splurger to come to the fore. I’m even recycling in the kitchen. For instance, the other day I made this bubble and squeak for Hubby (he had a sudden urge. For bubble and squeak, you animals) with some sprouts I had hanging around in the fridge. Now before you start, I know that a lot of people can’t stomach sprouts. But this is a really nice way to eat them. Think of them as teeny, tightly packed cabbages, if you will. If you really can’t do it, then cabbage, or broccoli or anything remotely green can be bunged in with the leftover mash. Here goes, then:
Leftover mashed potato
Leftover green stuff (or fresh, simmered until tender)
1 egg, beaten
50g breadcrumbs
So just cook your sprouts or cabbage or whatever until just cooked (if it’s broccoli, put the stems in first otherwise the tops will be mushed).
Now gather your other stuff together:
Drain the veg and mash it in with the potatoes, seasoning well and then forming the mixture into little patties. It’s probably best here, if you have time, to pop them in the fridge for half an hour or so. It makes them easier to work with.
Dunk the little buggers in the beaten egg, then toss them in the breadcrumbs – all of the time building the amount of eggy breadcrumby goo on your fingers to epic proportions. Then just heat up some oil or butter in a frying pan and fry until golden.
Serve with a nice, runny egg on top (I know this one looks a bit cremated, but Hubby’s got a thing about eggs being well done on the outside and runny in the middle. Quite tricky I can tell you) and even a few rashers of crispy bacon. Serve hot with a nice green salad and Bob’s your auntie: a nice healthy meal on the cheap.
