A basket full of tomatoes and one our orange hubbard pumpkins
Autumn
not only introduces the first chill in the air but the sweet scent of
ripening and decay, as the leaves gradually wither and fall. As the
weeks surrender inevitably through October the first ground frosts are
evident and we gather the last harvest baskets from the allotment.
Despite heavy winds and rain our large variety of tomatoes, for the
most part, ripened. The vast quantity of bright red tomatoes forced us
into great activity making richly flavoured vegetable lasagnas, pizza
Napolitana along with the last of our anchovies from Palermo, and a rich
tomato apple and courgette chutney. Those tomatoes that did not mature
and ripen from the green department to the red department were also
destined for the chutney treatment. Steamed and blended hubbard pumpkin
flesh added to an egg custard mix enriched a the noble but simple creme
caramel.
Corinne surveying the allotment and hoping I do not fall off or go through the roof of the shed
As
the various crops gradually get cleared we have begun the task of
digging the beds and spreading manure to give the necessary fertiliser
and boost for next years crops. The turn in the season has not stopped
all growth in the allotment as the Swiss chard, sorrel, fennel, kale,
mache, celery, leeks and some cabbage continue to thrive. The
raspberries, despite being thrashed about in the stormy winds, have
recovered for the last few weeks producing fragile but some very tasty
fruit for Corinne to nibble as she works. The artichokes have been quite
surprising; once mid October arrived we expected them to stop
producing. We were wrong. This year the artichokes have produces
constantly from May all the way through to the start of November.
A single line of beetroot remains in the ground, being
the remnants of numerous thinngs and pickings. In recent weeks the
apples in a local orchard have also matured, and have been put to good
use in the annual chutney production. My personal favourite so far is
the beetroot and apple chutney, published by Darina Allen's
Forgotten Skills of Cooking at
page 439. Not wanting to waste the trek on foot along sodden tracks,
across fields and deep ditches, en route to the orchard, we gathered a
good supply of blackberries over a succession of weekend pilgrimages to
make apple and bramble jelly, and pure bramble jelly.
A selection of our colurful and healthy Swiss chard - the sorrel is just not photogenic no matter how healthy it is!
Corinne recently had a craving for sorrel soup also known as
soupe รก l'oseille,
a lesser known favourite of French regional cooking. To make a good pot
of very tasty sorrel soup we cut back an entire sorrel plant. We have
five plants in the allotment and they grow back incredibly quickly.
Therefore, with the application of some careful rotation, and minimal
plant care, we could enjoy this humble mouth watering
potage every week! Essentially one strong healthy plant with give you about a carrier bag full of leaves, approaching 500 grams.
Corinne in the sorrel patch cutting the leaves from one of the plants and not a bad shot of the sorrel either!
To
make the soup, prepare the leaves by washing them and removing the
stalk. You will also need 1.5 litres of good vegetable or chicken stock.
We add two or three leaves of chard to mellow the citric tang of the
sorrel. The chard should be washed and roughly chopped or torn,
reserving the stalks to use in another dish (we have added the stalks
rather than let them go to waste - no harm!). Clean and chop a leek, and
peel and chop two medium sized potatoes. Once all the ingredients are
ready to go, melt some butter in a large tall pot. When the butter has
melted, toss in the chopped leek and sorrel leaves, cooking gently until
the sorrel begins to wilt (about 5 minutes). Then pour in the stock
followed by the chard and the potatoes. Season with salt and pepper and
cook for about an hour. To finish the soup use a blender stick to
liquefy the contents of the pot. Serve the soup with some fresh cream.
It makes a surprisingly flavoursome bowl of soup, and a hard act to
follow.
I am always surprised about the vibrant colours on
display in the Autumn. Not just from the richly golden and rusty shades
of the deciduous trees but in the flowers vegetables and plants that
manage to keep on growing deep into November, until they are finally
taken by a fatal frost. The rose hips continue to glow red, and the
glossy hardy Swiss chard stand tall in the beds. Not far away the
nasturtium bloom with a resilient yellow.in the sunshine.
Nasturtium flowers
There
is very little that can be planted at this time of year but Harry has
put down some winter onion sets in between spells of digging and
manuring the raised beds. Corinne and I have planted garlic in
anticipation of adding to the other crops which we expect to yield in the Spring. In addition to the onions and garlic, we are
hopeful the purple sprouting broccoli, and asparagus will arrive just
after the trustworthy rhubarb.
Fishing fleet at low tide in Skerries
Cooked blue velvet swimmer crabs
This
Saturday we took a break from the allotment and headed north along the
coast pulling into the small fishing harbours that dot the rocky
coastline of north county Dublin. Our tour took us to Rush, Loughshinny
and Skerries to enjoy the fresh crisp sea air on what was a stunning
day. We watched a group of fisherman lifting their pots off Loughshinny
and landing them on the beach. Later in the afternoon the same guys were
working the pots off Skerries, and recognising us from Loughshinny,
very kindly gave us a bucket of blue velvet swimmer crabs. Much smaller
than the brown shore crab, they are largely exported and are not often
to be found in local fishmongers. You might find them in Spain
garnishing a paella or a fish soup, being valued for their sweet
flavour. Being quite small they take a good deal of time to pick the
meat from the shells and legs, but it is worth the effort. Drop them
into a pot of salted boiling water. Once the water comes back to the
boil simmer for five minutes and thereafter allow them to cool. The
bucket of crabs we were given may have taken five minutes to cook but
took about three hours to shell and are now destined for a fine crab
tart.
