The Good Life: Autumn rewards

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 á 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.

The Good Life: Harvest on the 20th August

The runner beans are beginning to make an appearance in the harvest basket and we hope it will not be long before the yellow dwarf beans join them. A late crop of green beans, lettuce and fennel are now sprouting and they should provide some variety to our weekly gathering in September and October.

We are still not sure what the yellow squash or pumpkin is. For a few weeks we thought it could be a crook neck yellow squash or zucchini, however as time passed the neck has straightened out and our thoughts are leaning more towards the thingy being a miniature yellow pumpkin. It may be too early to harvest at this time, but we have cut the largest one in the plot, measuring almost a foot long, for further investigation. Once cut, it had a noticeably thin skin and bright lemon coloured flesh. It might go well mixed with chard in a gratin!

The artichokes continue to provide us with messy starters for a number of meals during the week. The plants have continued their production since May, throwing out their fleshy flowers. The thorny ones catch me unawares at times depositing their hooked thorns into my fingers. Our mammoth crop of tomatoes continues to grow in a healthy fashion. They have only been struck down by the wind this far and not any sinister form of blight, mildew or pestilence. Over the next month we can look forward to these ripening into bright red giants and the bush varieties forming long clutches of tomatoes. My fingers are crossed so that the majority ripen because there is only so much green tomato chutney you can make, and I do not wish to repeat last year's quantity of production

Apart from making the selection for this weeks basket, an hour was spent weeding and looking after the beds. The scarlet pimpernel, and other little flowers, have made their home in the raised beds and were beginning to take a hold competing with the leeks and tomatoes. The asparagus patch received special attention, and was fully cleared of weeds and stones in preparation for next years growth and our first harvest.

During the week we went for a little adventure in the forest to search for mushrooms, and whatever else was growing. As we wandered around we found the first blackberries ripening, wild damsons thronged together on brittle branches, the first bright red rose hips, and some other oddities like the radiant berries of the guelder rose. There were no mushrooms to be found, and it was clear from the healthy floor of the forest that there had not been a growth yet this year. We will have another look in the forest in or about the next full moon, but I will no doubt return in the next two weeks to gather some of the damsons to make a flavoured gin.

 

My sunflowers have grown tall this year and are magnificent and colourful

The Good Life: Late night mid week harvest 10th August

A swift harvest

We made a last minute dash to the allotment tonight to see what could be pulled from the ground before the dense dark leaden rain clouds closed in on the plot. The windy start to the day caused a little bit of damage, and we were somewhat diverted  from our task while we rescued a number of helpless flattened tomato plants. Once these minor chores were attended to, we rushed to pull carrots, fennel and spring onions. A few of the artichokes were ready for collection, as were a few heads of lettuce, and a hand full of pea pods.

It looks like it might be roast fennel tomorrow evening for dinner. The kitchen in the meantime will become nicely scented. Corinne has already targeted a few innocent sweet carrots to munch on for a bedtime snack.

The Good Life: Craving for vrai myrtilles sauvages, Bilberries or Fraochán

When you look forward to the August Bank Holiday weekend you have a certain amount of expectation measured with more than a fair sprinkling of pessimism. The first break since early June and the knowledge that the Irish Summer has passed you by is confirmed when you realise the weather forecast for the August Bank Holiday weekend is going to be dull, overcast and damp at best. In fact you could view it as the departure of the Summer as the weather was going to be in constant decline from Friday afternoon.

Undeterred by the lack of global warming and promised long stretches of sunshine we ventured into the Dublin mountains for a little adventure suitably attired in warm clothing. Our quest was to find bog land as Corinne wanted to see if we could collect what the French call myrtilles sauvages, and are known as bilberries in England or fraochán in Ireland. She has often treated me to Tarte aux Myrtilles or Vrai Myrtilles Sauvages en bocaux while in France. There is some bog land in the Doubs region where these low growing shrubs or vaccinium myrtillus and its related species thrive in the acid soil. They may also be found in some of the forests where the soil is suitable.

 A view of the fraochán still in situ

Bog land is plentiful in the Dublin and Wicklow mountains and we stopped close to Glencree sighting the bright green foliage, and a number of people practically on their hands and knees collecting in the cold mist and rain. At first this might seem like an unrewarding task, but after a few hours collecting by hand you might gather almost three quarters of a kilo of the small black berries. We saw little or no evidence of people having used combs which can be used to rake the berries from their branches. These gather a good quantity of berries quite quickly but also strip the leaves from the small shrubs. As we drove closer to Glencree we saw more and more of these shrubs, not just growing among the heather but growing in thick tufts along the road side and atop the distinctive Wicklow granite walls.

Drawing your fingers through the fleshy green leaves to collect the small berries, you can gather a multitude of little insects disturbing the happy existence of small spiders and ladybirds. Corinne found a frog at one point. During my foraging, I noticed a tiny ladybird moving about climbing through the berries in the container. The ladybird was extremely small and quite unusually coloured. Before it took flight to a safer location, I managed to photograph it and subsequently discovered it was a 10-spot ladybird or Adalia decempunctata. Add another dot to your chart Mister Anderson!  This site has a more accurate distribution chart for this type of ladybird

The "punk" - the 10-spot ladybird or Adalia decempunctata among the small berries

Upon reaching the kitchen we started the lengthy process of cleaning the berries an separating them from a multitude of tiny leaves, twigs and diminutive spiders. Fortunately most of the spiders had disappeared by the time the berries were washed and were not condemned to a watery grave. An average full depth tarte aux myrtilles would employ 600 grams of the precious berries; a few hours work wrapped in a sweet pastry crust. I wanted to preserve a few berries and Corinne, becoming more and more demanding, made a strong argument for tarte aux myrtilles. I decided to scale down the affair, being a moderate diplomat maintaining the vestiges of some control and proposed the option of a few tartlets.

 A close up of the cleaned berries - not unlike there tasteless commercially grown cousins the blueberries

The vrai myrtilles sauvages en bocaux is the least difficult method of preserving the berries. The recipe was given to me by a friend of Corinne's who lives near Frasne in the Haut Doubs, which is very close to one of the few bogs in the area. Essentially you fill a .75 litre Le Parfait jar or other preserving jar with the berries and sprinkle over them two tablespoons of sugar. Seal down the jars and put the in a large preserving pot or bain marie with a lid. Place a tea towel on the base of the pan.; preferably the one you have just destroyed while cleaning the berries. This prevents the jars coming in direct contact with the heat. Fill the pan with water until it reaches two thirds the height of the jars, and simmer steadily covered for 1 hour. Allow to cool and store in a cool dry place away from sunlight. These are great on a cold winters night after dinner served with sweetened whipped cream. Do not forget to compare the colour of your tongues!

Corinne changed her mind (a recently developed fluctuating characteristic which is difficult to accept at times), and wanted a baked custard base filling to her tarte aux myrtilles. Fortunately, this allowed a more moderate use of the berries, and I should be able to make a full tart using a 24 centimeter tart ring. To begin place 250 grams of the berries with 50 grams of sugar in a pot and cook for 5  minutes. Thereafter allow to cool and strain the cooked berries through a sieve retaining the juice. Pour this juice over the uncooked berries and stir - I have about 270 grams remaining!

Then make a sweet shortcrust pastry. I rub approximately 250 grams of flour and 40 grams of icing sugar, together with 125 grams of cold butter. Once it mixture is the consistency of breadcrumbs, add an egg yolk and two or three tablespoons of cold water. Bring the pastry together and place in the fridge for about 20 minutes to rest.

In the meantime you can prepare your custard. There are many recipes for this, but I generally beat 4 eggs with two tablespoons of sugar, and a teaspoon of  purée de gousses de vanille or vanilla extract. Once combined I add to the egg mixture 250 milliliters of milk and the same quantity of cream. Leave this mixture to stand at room temperature. Carefully, roll out the pastry on a floured surface and with the same care and precision place the pastry into a buttered and floured tart tin. Cook the pastry blind at 180 Celsius for about thirty minutes. It is important to make sure there are no tears in the pastry prior to baking because you will be pouring a very liquid custard mix into the cooked pastry case. Taking the pastry case out of the oven, I let it cool for a short period before taking the parchment, and weights or chickpeas, from the case. To firm up the pastry I brush it with a little egg wash and put it back into the oven for a few minutes.

 
Once satisfied the case is not broken or torn, reduce the temperature of the oven to 160 Celsius and return the pastry case to the oven. I find it easier to pour in the custard mix at this point rather than going on a shaky adventure through the kitchen accompanied by frequent spillages. Cook the custard and the case for 45 minutes, or until the custard has a gentle wobble when you gently nudge the pastry tin. When cooked remove the tart from the oven and allow it to cool. Thereafter, gently spread and dot the the surface of the baked custard with the cooked berries. Then spoon the remaining berries and juice on top of the tart. To complete the experience, find a French person, preferably in a good humour, and serve them a slice of this tart with sweetened whipped cream and a cool glass of chardonnay from Arbois, Franche Comté.

An excellent end to the day

Corinne is leafing through a cook book now and has suggested that she would like grenouilles á la creme for dinner at some stage. I guess it is back to the bog for me next week!

The Good Life: August Bank Holiday Harvest

The Good Life: Harvests, poppies and artichokes

While growth remained very slow throughout June, the allotment burst into life during July. Harvests were rather slow and small in the last few weeks but none the less exciting as we reaped the rewards of having a great variety of planting. The strawberry plants predictably benefited from the fine weather early in the year and generated a fine crop which even allowed us to make a few pots of jam. Likewise the gooseberries and redcurrants thrived yielding a tasty crop. The cauliflowers we planted were not so fortunate as they clearly were breakfast lunch and dinner for the local wood pigeon population. I decided to pull the plants and replace them with a number of different tomatoes we had grown from seed.

 A mixed harvest of berries and vegetables from the 26th June

The artichoke plants on the allotment which survived the harsh winter have thrived and continue to produce an abundance of fleshy globes. We appear to have quite a variety of artichokes which is largely the result of trial and error mixed with a certain amount of carelessness as to what was being planted. We like the steamed and left to cool, whereupon we can nibble at the ends of the leaves with a little mayonnaise and lemon juice before tackling the heart. They do create a bit of a mess and a large mound of leaves but they are quite tasty and fun to eat.

A selection of different artichokes growing on the allotment

One brief but very colourful period I look forward to during the year is the flowering of the poppy plants. The delicate and colourful blossom can disappear with a gust of wind. This unpredictable nature means they can be gone in a matter of hours or days and easily missed. They can grow to be relatively large in size and the distinctive matt olive foliage curls and wraps the narrow stems supporting the brightly coloured flower.

In the coming weeks we look forward to gathering plentiful and healthy harvests of beetroot, cabbage, carrots, fennel, potatoes, Swiss chard, peas and beans. A mixture of courgettes are also growing well as are the numerous diminutive cornichon plants. The most prolific plant in this category remains a mystery gourd, because subsequent to planting the informative label vanished. They are yellow and look nothing like courgettes, but they still could be a courgette and only time and tasting will tell! Some of Corinne's large tomatoes are also developing well on the vine under cover. There should be a magnificent crop of these giants in September. The tomato plants in the open are less advanced due to the unseasonal cool weather, but should produce ripened fruit by the end of the season.

The Good Life: The end of the planting season and rhubarb syrup

The artichokes growing fast

June is the official start of summer, but there have been many swallows cutting and swerving through the sky for nearly two months, and the elderflower has been in blossom for an equal number of weeks. While the months pass the weather and the seasons are not predictable; April was balmy and warm and May was very cool with little rainfall. Just about everything that was sewn directly into the ground in May failed to grow and back up plans were rapidly put in place. Despite this disappointment. June has set out on a similar path. Days may be seasonally warm and are then interrupted by quite cool temperatures and even unseasonal north easterly winds. The weather has not upset some seasonal benchmarks; the timid spring primrose disappeared only to be replaced by the ribbons of white thorn blossom and pretty pink and pearl white wild rose flowers in the hedgerows.

While the last few days have had both warm and cold spells we have decided to get on with the planting project over the long weekend. The vegetables cannot remain in the pots and trays under cover for much longer, and the poor recent period of growth has left the allotment beds looking quite empty. The growth and strength of some weeds was quite frustrating and what the cold dry windy weather did not devour the pigeons and slugs have feasted upon. This decimation continued when some trays of seedlings fell victim to storm force winds when they were knocked off their shelf as the green house was relentlessly battered. Alas the aubergines unfortunately are no more! Courgettes, pumpkins, cauliflowers, Swiss chard, cornichons, beans and corn have all survived and have been set into their raised beds joining hardier plants, and winter survivors. Three different varieties of lettuce have replaced recent departures such as the purple sprouting broccoli, winter onions, shallots and pink garlic.

 A bulb of pink garlic in my hand

Despite the sparse amount of produce available in the allotment for early we have still managed to take a decent harvest of sorrel, lettuce, radish, strawberries, an artichoke and pink garlic. We can look forward in the coming days and weeks to the ripening of the strawberry crop, the other soft berries including early raspberries and tayberries, gooseberries and some red and white currants. The runner beans are progressing well and should develop into a decent crop, likewise the artichoke crop is taking over various corners. Our potato crop has grown quite strongly to date despite the late planting (which allowed them to avoid late frosts) and we can expect our first potatoes by the end of this month. While the plants are strong and healthy the lack of rain since they were planted can only mean the spuds may be small or non-existent. The unfortunate reality now is that if we do get a life giving fall of rain we may also be hit with the blight!

 Strawberry blossom and fruit developing

For the days that are balmy and sunny there is nothing quite as refreshing as a glass of chilled sparkling water with a dash of rhubarb cordial. When you have had enough rhubarb tarts, pies and crumbles it is nice to know that you can preserve some of that unique delicious fruity flavour for later in the year in the form of a syrup. 

To make about 2.5 litres of cordial you will need the following ingredients: 2 kilos of washed trimmed rhubarb, 750 millilitres of water, 2 teaspoons of vanilla essence, 1 tablespoon of citric acid and sugar (see instructions). 

Once you have washed, trimmed and chopped the rhubarb, place it in a large stainless pan with the water and cook it until it is well softened. Let the pan stand for an hour and sieve the contents of the pan to separate the pulp from the intensely pink juice. Measure the juice and pour it back into a clean pan adding 500 grams of sugar to every litre of juice, the citric acid and the vanilla essence. Boil the syrup, stirring to dissolve the sugar and thereafter simmer for 10 minutes. Pour the hot syrup into hot sterile bottles and seal down. The syrup should last two or three months if stored in a fridge if it is not consumed rapidly after it is bottled! Beware the seductive pink colour of this syrup!

The Good Life: Purple Sprouting Broccoli,Wild Garlic and Rhubarb Clafoutis

Balmy evening at the Allotment on 17th April

The recent spell of good weather has propelled the countryside into life. Swathes of wild garlic can be seen in ditches and on the road side with their heavy scent lingering in the air. Even the elderflower, has made an early appearance in places. In the allotment the turn of the seasons is clearly evident with the first spears of asparagus breaking through the soil and the cascades of flowers developing on the currant bushes. Joy of joys; my gooseberry bushes have small fruit developing among the thick healthy green foliage.

Many of the seeds sewn in the newly raked and manicured beds remain dormant, but the peas and broad beans are showing some signs of life. The odd long lost potato may also be making an early appearance and will no doubt greet his brethren when they rise from their well formed drills not far away. To vary our crop and the timing of our harvest this year we have planted Duke of York and Roosters this year.

Purple sprouting broccoli

One of the long awaited treats has survived the winter and flourished during the clement Spring conditions. Growing purple sprouting  broccoli is a game of patience. You wait a year and just when you think nothing is about to happen and the plants, are almost destined for the compost heap, they begin to produce their purple florets. The plants are not very distinguished, and easily ignored for most of the year, but once they begin to produce our bounty the plant becomes very lush and attractive to look at.

We have been harvesting the rhubarb for a number of weeks now, and recently Corinne hinted that she would like to have a clafoutis made with the rhubarb. In the absence of cherries from France rhubarb from Dublin was an extraordinarily good idea. I used the following recipe which was cooked in a 8.5 inch oven dish. The ingredients are as follows: About 5 sticks of rhubarb or enough to randomly dot the base of the dish, a little butter to grease the dish, 300mls of milk, 3 eggs, 80g of Sugar, 80g of flour, 1 teaspoon of baking powder, a pinch of salt, a teaspoon of vanilla extract, and two teaspoons of eau de vie.

In a food processor, beat the eggs and sugar for a few minutes. Thereafter add the vanilla essence, salt and milk and combine well. Finally, add the sifted flour and baking powder, and pulse the food processor until the flour has been lightly absorbed into the batter. Wash and chop the rhubarb in about 1.5 inch lengths and generously butter the dish. When the rhubarb is stood on end in the dish, the batter can be carefully poured over the rhubarb and should rise to meet the top of the rhubarb. Try not to cover the rhubarb. Spoon the eau de vie over the batter and rhubarb and place in a 180 C oven for 45 minutes, or until the clafoutis is well risen and golden brown. Allow it to cool, but serve it warm with either sweetened whipped cream or vanilla ice cream for best results. In celebration of the end of the lenten period you may as well have both! A very good plan "b" is to eat the left over cold clafoutis for breakfast with black coffee the next day.

Corinne has found a new friend

The Good Life - A Spring Harvest on 17th March

The French say "Rosée à la Chandeleur, l'hiver à sa dernière heure". This roughly translates as 'If there is a dew on Pancake Tuesday the Winter is in its final hour'. There was a hard frost on the morning of the 8th March, and while the days are becoming longer, and the sun is getting higher in the sky and stronger, the effects of Winter have not fully departed. Consequently, we have been shy to sew any seed as yet, and have committed no potatoes to the ground. However, the hard work has begun and there has been a significant amount of digging taking place as we are trying to reinstate the raised beds.

While the beds in the allotment look somewhat bare, in some patches there is evidence of strong growth as evidenced by the flourish of rhubarb, sorrel, chives and mache. Elsewhere, fresh new green leaves are shooting on the berry bushes. The crop of leeks and Jerusalem artichokes which have survived the harsh Winter will taste all the better for it. We spent a good hour excavating the Jerusalem artichokes and hope not only to roast them but experiment with cream of Jerusalem artichoke soup, Jerusalem artichoke mouse, and any other recipe we can get our hands on.

The kitchen has been busy in the last few weeks turning out a celebration of citrus; making lime marmalade, lemon poppy seed cake and a second batch of orange marmalade. The arrival of Spring, and relatively mild conditions experienced in February, has awakened the stinging nettle in the local forests and we have already gathered two batches of nettles and commenced our second brew of nettle top beer. In the next few weeks we should be able to sample this years production, and in the meantime we may experiment with nettle pesto and nettle soup!

The Good Life - The colour orange; blood orange marmalade

Not so bloody oranges!

Visiting friends recently, they inquired whether or not I had made marmalade this year. I had not and immediately realised the short season Seville oranges are available had passed me by. While working in Spain during the cooler months of January and February, I distinctly remember the Seville orange trees lining pathways and planted in parks. The oranges they produce are practically inedible because of the bitterness and the fact they are full of pips. The trees themselves it appears have three uses; decoration, shade and marmalade.  My only chance was to find some dodgy specimens from a late crop or shipment. However, this did not happen and I did not want to give up the idea entirely. In my quest for some citrus heaven, I came across some blood oranges. Normally, I like to see them cut giving some indication of the colour of the flesh, and quality of the orange. Even better if they can be tasted! In the end it was pot luck and I took a risk on some very fine sweet scented blood oranges.

In the past my marmalade production has been a little hit and miss, and in some cases very disappointing. The oranges may have been a problem but generating enough pectin to set the marmalade was also a factor. There are many other factors including a lack of patience on my part, and seeking to rush the process along with no jam thermometer on hand. There is a temptation always to try and finish the production in one night. However, in consequence of my New Year regime of physical activity, requiring a swim every evening, I knew I could not achieve this. There is very little time left after making the evening meal and carrying out ongoing essential repairs to relationships.

Basically, marmalade should be what you want it to be, and not made to mimic some sugared jelly with non-descript peel in a jar. This of course means that you are going to be quite selfish making it in a manner that pleases you alone. How many times have you sat around a table where everybody has liked the same jar of marmalade? Invariably some people spoon out a scoop of jelly without a spec of peel while others prefer to load their toast with peel. Then there are those that discard peel, sending it to the edge of the plate because it is just too thick. In recent years some marmalades have been flavoured with whiskey or spices. I am not a huge fan of the whisky marmalade but the addition of spices does intrigue me.

After much consideration and reflection upon my old reliable sources, such as the writings of Marguerite Patten, and the Avoca Cafe Cookbook 1, not to mention a number of good articles published in the recent past, I decided that it was preferable to make the marmalade over a number of days. Formulating and favouring a three point plan, in contrast to most Irish political parties who seem to be relying on various permutations of five point plans to solve other problems, appeared to be the most rational way of producing the marmalade. A recent purchase of a mincing machine, (the last one available and purchased after a battle involving  more than a fair share of quick mindedness, duplicity and deception preying on my opponent, a sharp and very particular 70 year old woman), was also going to play a part in this process as I could not sacrifice an hour and a half of my evening slicing orange peel.

Stage 1: Carefully wash 8 blood oranges and thereafter cut them in half and juice them, placing the juice and any flesh in the fridge until required later. Put all the halved oranges into a preserving pan, and cover with about 2.5 litres of water. Cook over a low flame for about 45 minutes and leave the pot and its contents stand overnight. The kitchen will be filled with warm sweet gentle citrus aromas setting the scene for any essential maintenance to a relationship; chemical warfare - get the upper hand.

Stage 2: Relationship should be back on track for this stage as it could be messy. Remove the softened orange halves from the liquid in the pot. The liquid should be kept and measured. Chop the orange peel into chunks and then put them through the mincing machine. This should not take long and it may look as if there is a lot of pith, but persevere because this will assist in the setting process as it is a good source of pectin.  Put the minced orange peel, the orange juice and the reserved cooking liquid into a preserving pan. I ended up with just over a litre and half of cooking liquid, and added to this some water to make up two litres. Cook the contents of the pot over a low heat for about two hours and let the pot stand overnight.

Stage 3: The end is in sight. Sterilise about 8 jars and lids by placing them in the dishwasher, and thereafter in the oven at 100C. Reheat the contents of the pot. Once warmed through, stir in 1.5 kilos of sugar and allow it to dissolve. If the colour of the marmalade mixture looks too light, add half white and half brown sugar to deepen the colour. At this point I became nervous about the setting ability of my marmalade and added 4 tablespoons of lemon juice to provide some extra insurance. Once the sugar has dissolved, boil the marmalade steadily for about 25 minutes. At this point some science should be applied, and if you have a jam thermometer the marmalade should set once it reaches 105 C. There are a number of theories on this but I choose to use the cold saucer method to test for setting point. Begin testing after about 20 minutes, and if the marmalade stiffens and wrinkles on the saucer, or resists your finger as it is passed through the drop of marmalade, then it has reached setting point. 

Once setting point is reached, take the marmalade off the heat and let it stand for 15 minutes before spooning it into the sterile jars, and sealing down. This allows the peel to be well distributed throughout the marmalade, and prevents an unfortunate situation where the peel may settle on the bottom of the jars. If you chose to flavour a marmalade with spices or whiskey, these should be added while the marmalade is thickening and cooling in the preserving pan. For half of my production, I added a teaspoon of épices de pain d'épices; a mixture of ground cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, pepper and clove. The impact of this combination was immediate as it not only darkened the colour of the marmalade, but intensified and complimented the rich sweet citrus aromas coming from the pot. Looking forward to breakfast now!

 The end result a thick set marmalde full of flavour

The Good Life - Looking back and planning ahead

A view across the frozen estuary at Malahide

The second ice age that arrived during December brought with it exceptionally low temperatures with -15.7 being recorded in Dublin and lower readings elsewhere. The arctic weather finally receded by the 28^th with the arrival of more seasonal temperatures. The cold spells generated the coldest December on record according to the weather summary and statistics held by Met Eireann. I spent many days during December monitoring the rainfall radar trying to anticipate when the snow showers would arrive and how long they would last. The verdict on 2010 given by Met Eireann was that the weather experienced was “colder, drier and sunnier than normal”.

Malahide estuary appears to have escaped the ravages of winter. While the estuary was frozen over the bird population has been feasting and foraging successfully on the vast mudflats and grassland between Donabate and Malahide. There is nothing more pleasant than looking and listening to a large flock of geese flying over head. The marsh grass and mud flats are full of large healthy birds, fat shell duck and mallard waddling cautiously on the mud, alongside plovers, godwits, oystercatchers, redshanks and my personal favourite; the shy and elegant, but clumsy curlew.

 The first day of digging at the allotment on a dark and cold 20th February

  

It has been a great year in our new allotment and looking back it is clear it could not have been achieved without hard persistent work for the initial months. However, in the last month the soil, which was buried under a foot of ice and snow for most of December, is somewhat sodden and mucky clumps stick to my shoes as we traced our way along the pathways that divide the raised beds. The heavy damp air carries the scent of compost and decaying brassicas. There is very little left that can be used. The once impenetrable earth can now be excavated to raid our reserves of artichokes. In the nursery beds the lettuce has succumbed to the freezing conditions but the resilient small leaves of the mache cloak the surface of the bed. We managed to gather a small plate of mache and these hardy leaves will continue to grow during January, and into February and March. The only other visible sign of life are the buds forming on the bare branches of the blackcurrant bushes.

Earth works and stone extraction under way on the 14th March

There was some evidence of a system of raised beds by the 11th April 

Harry spent the months of October and November digging the raised beds and preparing them for the year ahead by digging manure into those beds. This should form a good basis for the strong and healthy growth of our vegetables and plants in the coming months. Corinne retreated to France just after Christmas to see her family over the holiday season and a shopping list followed her by; seeds of different varieties of vegetables including beans, pumpkins (muscade de provence) and tomatoes including a specific instruction to obtain some of the tomato seed which her grandmother used. For the culinary year ahead I would like to experiment with different varieties of pumpkin chutney, and tomato and chilli jams. The varieties of some of the vegetables we have been planting in the last year do not make the grade for flavour and it is important to address this matter now.

Corinne and Harry working in the allotment on a very sunny 26th June

We enjoyed the long warm summer evenings with the air full of the scent of sweet pea

All at home in the garden of eden on the 8th August

Upon her return Corinne produced a small packet of crosnes. These look like insect larvae or bush tucker which Crocodile Dundee might have grilled with a few prawns by a lake somewhere in the outback. In fact they are Chinese artichokes and a member of the mint family. Artichokes and mint grow in a very similar fashion; once introduced into a plot they are difficult to remove and control. I think we shall plant them in large buckets and see how they grow, and enjoy the harvest sometime in October.

In the coming weeks we shall be focusing on the available crops already in the ground; forcing the rhubarb to get an early growth and picking the young tips of the nettles to make nettle beer. Along with harvesting the nettles we also intend to hit the hedgerows searching for rose hips and berries. Along with the blackberries we managed to find a few red currant bushes last year, which supplemented some of our annual red currant jam production. The blackberry harvest was excellent as well, with many large juicy berries to be collected. If that harvest is repeated in the year ahead we might attempt to make some syrup along with our normal production of the rich fruit jellies. In particular I would like to try to make a rose hip syrup; these require a little patience to gather and a seasonal inspirational team talk might be required to bring together a successful harvest. A team is generally required for safety reasons because the largest and brightest of these red gems normally overhang the deepest of ditches.

 Corinne with a large birch bolet on the 28th August

Unfortunately this year there were no bullace plums to flavour a gin or dot a cobbler with. The few we did collect were added to enrich a bramble jelly. In complete contrast last year was the amazing growth of mushrooms in the forests nearby where we live. Some days we were nearly walking on a forest floor thick with mushrooms. There was no real search involved. They were just everywhere, which meant we could be quite strict about our collection selecting only the best examples for the pot. There is always a balance in nature and no doubt this year will be no different. However, by putting in a little extra work in at the right time and carefully planning the allotment's progress from seed to table, we can hopefully yield a better and more sustained harvest throughout the year.

 Roses thrown onto the the ice on Malahide estuary in late December

The Good Life - Pain D'Epices

After last weeks cooking adventure, I have decided to redress the balance and encourage a little entente cordiale. I suggested to Corinne that I would attempt to make pain d'epices for Christmas. Her mood, which resists some of my extra curricular cooking, immediately brightened. A broad smile filled her face and she described in simple detail her personal nibble of choice; a thin slice of pain d'epices, with a slice of butter, and another thin slice of pain d'epices on top. "A sandwich", I said, but in the knowledge that this was far from being a modest sandwich.  This combination may sound like an artery bursting experience, however this most luxurious of festive spice breads is as much part of the French Christmas tradition as the traditional fruit cake or Christmas pudding would be in Ireland, and England. It is often served as an aperitif or can be presented in delicately thin slices to accompany a specially prepared foie gras.

A large slab of pain d'epices among buches de noel and other festive treats from the ancient producer Mulot-Petitjean, Dijon

The recipes for pain d'epices are as varied as its origins. Some authors believe it to have originated with the Chinese, the Greeks, others mention the Romans, and nearly all refer to the Arab tradition, through whose lands many of the spices required were transported and traded. It is made in a variety of manners throughout France and northern Europe. Its basic spiced flavours permeate the speculoos biscuits produced in the low countries at this time of year, and in spiced and seasoned ginger breads produced in Germany and Alsace. Certain types of pain d'epices are associated with certain cities in France such as Reims and Dijon, where it has been produced for hundreds of years. In the city of Dijon there are a number of traditional shops selling large slabs of pain d'epices and other spiced cakes and confections such as nonnettes. The facade of Mulot - Petitjean in Dijon has remained the the same since 1842 and the decadent and richly decorated interior of the shop cannot have changed much either.

Mulot - Petitjean, Dijon

The first task we had was to identify the spices to use in our pain d'epices. This proved to be quite difficult because just about everything I have read provided a different list of spices with varying quantities. Most acknowledge, and include in varying amounts, the core spices of cinnamon, nutmeg, ground ginger and ground clove. However, other recipes incorporated other spices which one would expect to find, and to taste, in pain d'epices. Eventually we settled on a recipe, which we found in a very interesting blog called Les Jardin de Pomone. The recipe is as follows: 15g ground cinnamon bark, 20g ground anise seed, 3g ground nutmeg, 5g ground coriander seed, 5g ground ginger, seeds from 5 cardamon pods ground, and 10 cloves ground. To this I also added a few twists of the pepper mill in acknowledgment of the Roman colonists in the vicinity of Dijon, and Burgundy.

The honey, spice and sugar mixture being combined with the wholegrain flour and the parfait jar of ground spices

Having read a few recipes, we could not decide which one would be the best to use. Once again the measures and ingredients varied greatly, allowing us to fall back into a state of confusion having only just solved the secret of the spices. We finally resorted to phoning Patricia, our principal contact for all things culinary in France. She provided us with a list of the following ingredients for a 1 pound loaf tin; 200g good honey (preferably a mountain honey or one from a single source), 100g soft light brown sugar, 100g milk, 1.5 teaspoons of the spices, zest from half a lemon and zest from half an orange chopped finely, a pinch of salt, 1 egg, 250g flour (most recipes suggest a rye flour but I am using a stone ground wholegrain flour), 1 teaspoon bicarbonate soda, 1 teaspoon baking powder. In somewhat of an interesting departure form the norm, Patricia added a teaspoon of pastis to her recipe, however I allowed myself my own variation, or elaboration, and decided to add a teaspoon of fleur d'oranger. The ingredients are somewhat surprising when you first cast your eye over then, but once put into operation the recipe comes together quickly and very easily.

 The loaves of pain d'epices cooling in their baking tins

Into a heavy based steel saucepan pour the honey, sugar, milk, zest, spices, salt and fleur d'oranger. Dissolve all these ingredients together over a low flame stirring from time to time. Once dissolved and well combined, remove from the heat and allow to cool. Whisk the egg and combine well with the cooled honey, sugar and spice mixture. In another bowl combine the flour, bicarbonate soda and baking powder. Gradually stir the flour into the honey, sugar, spice and egg mixture. Once well combined, spoon the mixture into a buttered  and floured loaf tin. This can then be placed into a preheated oven at 160 Celsius for one hour. The pain d'epices is cooked if a skewer drawn from the loaf is clean. Once cooled the pain d'epices should be stored for a few weeks wrapped in plastic. This aromatic bread softens as it matures, and the flavours develop with time becoming the perfect accompaniment to a festive foie gras with a sweet wine, or simply eaten with butter.