Wednesday 31 December 2014

New year...same old resolutions

New Years Eve, Old Years Night...call it what you will. Tonight of all nights there's magic in the air. Hidden in amongst the chink of glasses, the chatter of friends wishing each other good health for the year to come and the fireworks that light up the winters sky there is the expectation of a clean slate, a new chapter, a chance to start afresh.
New Years Eve sparkles with excitement and expectation...
Tomorrow is New Years Day; less sparkle and more grim reality. In the cold grey January light of day there are resolutions to be made, diets to start, & budgets to stick to...the party is over and there's a lot of tidying up to do!
My 'tidy up' will start the same this year as it does every year.
The garden planner will be retrieved from its place under the sofa, the seed catalogues spread out on the kitchen table and my trusty shortbread tins full of seed packets will be opened up and their contents exclaimed over like lost treasures.
Making lists, deciding what to plant in the year ahead, and ordering seeds makes Christmas last a little longer but also clearly marks the end of the festivities and the hard graft to come. Winter may be hanging around for some time yet but tonight I can at least dream of spring and ease myself gently into the year ahead.
Happy New Year to you and yours.

Thursday 11 December 2014

Back to the beginning...

In these modern times where technology advances at the speed of light, possessions are increasingly disposable and Supermarkets sell everything from tents to Tofu it's easy to be swept far away from the simple pleasures enjoyed by previous generations. When asparagus can be bought year round and ingredients from all cuisines and cultures can be purchased at your local shop it's no wonder that we've been spoilt rotten where our appetites are concerned! It's nearly Christmas and my mind has turned to food and feasting. This is traditionally the time of year when more food is bought and wasted than at any other, and it's also the time when so many of us get caught up in the shopping frenzy and buy products that we normally wouldn't touch for the rest of it.
All the list making and menu planning has got me thinking about why I started to grow my own in the first place...
The turning point for me came from a 99p grow bag and a 1970's sitcom.
When I was a child I can clearly remember the fascination I felt when during the seemingly endless summers of the 70's my brother and I would pick soft fruit from the bushes in the garden and gorge on tomatoes straight from the vine. It seemed a magical thing to watch a plant grow from a tiny seed into a robust plant and to then stuff it's bounty into our mouths away from parents prying eyes! We would help our Dad dig potatoes from the ground for Sunday lunch; deeply buried treasures covered in soil, full of promise for what lay beneath the earthy skins. I can remember too the massive marrows that I grew and entered into the village show, shiny skinned emerald green monsters that would be hollowed out in October to make Jack O'lanterns. Each season bought with it new treasures and an anticipation at the harvest to come. Then things began to change; whilst we would still marvel over our home grown veg there were also new treasures to feast upon, strawberries in the middle of winter, asparagus flown from Israel. Our palates were widened and slowly but surely the expectation that we had for the seasonal pleasures to come was replaced with the knowledge that we could eat anything we wanted when we wanted too.
Years passed me by, I flirted with growing herbs and a few salad leaves whilst at University, tried to eat more seasonally and bought; when I could afford to, from local markets rather than Supermarkets. I remained however a slave to the glutton inside and every now and then would buy something that had flown half way around the world and lost all its flavour and character in the process. 
One evening whilst flicking through the TV channels looking for something to watch I found myself reliving my childhood all over again. I found myself transported back to my parents sofa, sitting in cord dungarees and Bagpuss slippers watching Tom and Barbara Good growing their own veg, brewing their own booze and keeping pigs in their suburban back garden. I watched in fascination at the size of the flares sported by Felicity Kendall and chuckled my way through a couple of episodes, but even so the seed of an idea was sown. I mentally planted my garden with vegetables and fruit, thought about keeping chickens and buying a rotivator, toyed with the notion of doing exactly what my parents had tried to do years before... The thought came and went until a few days later I bit into a huge strawberry and tasted...absolutely nothing. The fruit was beautifully formed, ripened to perfection and no doubt engineered to cheat rot for weeks on end but it tasted bland, the texture was watery and the whole experience was worth forgetting as soon as possible. Later that day I went out and bought a grow bag and some tomato seeds and haven't looked back since. I've gone from patio grower to the proud owner of a couple of allotments and a well stocked kitchen garden...I even grow veg on my porch roof!
Growing your own veg is addictive; you may start with a row of lettuces and a few strawberry plants but pretty soon there will be Borlotti beans growing up wigwams on the patio, spuds growing in amongst the flowers beds and carrots nestled next to your marigolds. Natures bounty will be plentiful, so plentiful that you'll start looking to preserve and prolong your harvest for as long as possible. Jams and pickles, sauces, wine, beer the possibilities are never ending...I'd advise against the Pea-pod Burgundy though!

So, as I make my Christmas shopping list I may be tempted by a couple of naughty treats but I know also that the vegetables I serve for Christmas dinner will all have been grown by me, the bird that my family eat will have been reared by me and dispatched humanely having spent it's life with the sun on its back and grass under its feet, and that the pickles and chutneys eaten over the holidays with cold cuts will all have started life in my veg patch.
I've got a lot to thank a 1970's sitcom for.