Gardening In The Time Of Covid-19*

I have felt a deep affection for our garden during the past ten years, so it's challenging to express how much more I presently love it as France completes its third day of lockdown while spring makes its much awaited appearence.

Foreground: off the patio white sweet alyssum, red tulip, abelia, irises, ivy-covered pergola pillar; background: lawn and that wide, brown smear is the asparagus bed.

Our larder and freezer is well stocked allowing us to refrain from food shopping (which is permitted but only if carrying a self-signed certificate printed from the government's website) which is mutually beneficial for us and others. But fresh can't be beat and the seven-year-old asparagus bed has begun in earnest last week popping out spears. Though their delectable taste lessens each day of storage, cutting off the woody ends (trimmings can be used for making stock), placing the asparagus upright in a jar with 2.5 cm (an inch) of water, and covering with a plastic bag keeps their flavour longer. In this way enough can be harvested to make a soup.

Rhubarb will soon be on its way.

In about a week, pea shoots will be ready for picking. Ah, fresh greens!

In about two months, raspberries born on last season's canes will be ripe. Once harvested, those canes will be cut almost to the ground, and new ones will grow enabling a second crop for September.

Strawberries will be ready by beginning of May.

I haven't planted any new tulips last autumn and hope what is in the ground will do their thing soon. Presently, there are single show stoppers like an Apeldoorn Darwin Hybrid bud peeking out in between an ivy-covered fence and a Leyland cypress hedge . . .

. . . and this sprightly Seadov Triumph tulip sprouting on the compost under a rusty pole . . .

. . . and finally this Purple Dream lily-flowered tulip gracing the front garden.

A sizable expanse of low-growing, evergreen periwinkle (Vinca minor) just off the front entrance staircase is full of their lovely blue blooms. 

À la prochaine!

* Yes, Love In The Time Of Cholera by Márquez inspired my post title!

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Iron Cookware Series: Roasted Salmon & Spiced Rhubarb With Fresh Pea shoots

Rhubarb is more than just pie or preserves or crumble. It pairs wonderfully with salmon.  Yes, it must be sweetened in this savoury instance, but not as much as in a dessert. The saltiness and sweetness makes a perfect match.

Harvested fresh from our potager, rhubarb and pea shoots are a delight. The rhubarb will be sweetened with maple syrup and flavoured with allspice (a mix of ground cinnamon, cloves & nutmeg can be substituted), ginger, and vanilla.

For each serving, you will need a portion of salmon, a large rhubarb stalk sans leaves, a small bunch of pea shoots or other greens like arugula, vanilla extract, ground ginger, and allspice (or a mix of cinnamon, nutmeg & cloves, all ground).

Preheat oven to 23o degrees C (450 degrees F). Slice the rhubarb into small pieces. Put a tablespoon or two of maple syrup (depending on the amount of rhubarb, such as with exceptionally large stalks its better to err on the sweet side as rhubarb can be extremely sour on its own), tiny dash of vanilla, pinch of ginger and allspice (or a mix of cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg) in a small bowl. Toss well. Pat the salmon dry with a paper towel. Preheat a slightly oiled iron skillet for about five minutes. Get it good and hot. Meanwhile season the salmon on both sides with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Sear it on both sides. Let a nugget of butter melt and add the rhubarb. Coat the rhubarb with butter and put in the oven. Depending on size and thickness of the salmon, cook from 6 to 10 minutes (mine took six). Longer cooking times will either require bigger rhubarb pieces or for smaller pieces to be removed while the salmon finishes roasting. When the centre can be flaked with a fork, it's ready. While it's cooking, thinly slice the pea shoots.

Spread the rhubarb on a plate. Place the salmon and top with pea shoots.

If desired, some fleur de sel can be sprinkled partout (everywhere).

Refreshing salmon with its subtle flavour, pea shoots with their grassy scent and natural sugars, and a-little-bit-gooey, pleasingly tart rhubarb made a very attractive trio indeed.

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À la prochaine!

Fruit, Veg, Flowers & Feline

Fresh April green here and there has morphed into verdant lushness all over. The first fig crop is forming while the second and more substantial one will happen in autumn.

Little fuzzy olive-green eggs are dotting the peach tree.

The strawberry harvest at present is enough for making a strawberry banana smoothie every other day. Peak production will be reached in several weeks.

Rhubarb is being picked now, the peas will be in a few weeks, and the potatoes at end of July.

The soft green of fennel (the herb, not the bulb) cosies up to flowering sage.

Comfrey is putting out young leaves and buds. It's an amazing plant for other plants as it is used as a fertiliser tea and a compost accelerator.

The weigela's flower-laden branches are draping the front garden in crimson.

The peony is continuing to set just a few blooms as I suspect the last couple of winters were too mild to give it the cold required for abundant flowering.

Hardy miniature gladioli loves to self sow where I dare not to as in smack up to this ivy-covered pergola pillar.

The Ferdinand Pichard Bourbon rose is paying no attention to Dirac the Cat napping in the southwest sous sol window as all of its blooms are leaning directly towards the south to get as much sun exposure as possible.

À la prochaine!

Midwinter Garden 2019

There has been several sunny, not-so-cold days here and there, and when that happens, I am out in the garden cheering on the pallid buds in the daffodil bed. Ten years ago, when arriving at our new home, I began to frame the veggie beds with roofing tiles found heaped in a corner. They have served many a purpose, from preventing our trampling over the planting area, acting as slug/snail traps, allowing the securing of horticultural fleece, and adding a decorative touch.

But they do crack and splinter, needing to be replaced. So out comes the handcart on which the broken tiles get loaded. It is rolled down the garden's length for them to be stacked behind the wildlife area.

Peas need to be planted as early as possible in our climate since it will be too warm for them to flourish by the end of April.  Hence the winter mulch of chipped bark (processed by The Calm One) has been raked to the ends of two beds and the earth spaded. Within a week, the peas will go into the ground and be covered with horticultural fleece which will protect them from freezing temperatures and being eaten by the birds .

Of the fifteen, old fruit trees in less than pristine shape present when we arrived, only a few have survived from being uprooted in storms. One is a purple plum. Another is a peach tree. These two need to be doused with copper (powder mixed with water) each winter twice to prevent leaf curl. The first spraying has been done on a windless, above-freezing-temperature day.

The ivy has set a feast of berries for the birds.

Though I passionately deadhead, I do leave some blossoms to dry on their stems, like this patch of blue asters for their fluffy, white, burst seedpods and as a mulch to protect their roots.

There may be a dearth of colourful flowers, but not of bark, as in this deutzia with its striated tones of apricot and burgundy.

Both the rhubarb and asparagus are putting out buds.

Another flowering plant that escaped my deadheading shears, is a tall sedum (Autumn Joy).

At its base, is a curvaceous cluster of young fleshy leaves.

À la prochaine!

Summer Is Right Around The Corner . . .

In about a week, it will be officially summer. There has been consistent rains for the last month which has delayed garden tasks that would have been best done before June such as sowing annual flowers like varied-coloured, long-term-flowering cosmos and zinnias; the last of the edible crops, graceful, stylish Tuscan kale with its smoky green-black leaves; fast-growing cover crops like mustard and tansy to revive the completely harvested pea beds (they provided about 5 litres of pods!). Hopefully, if we can believe the forecast, the next week will be sunny and the soggy soil should be workable fairly soon so those postponed tasks can be eventually completed. Regardless, the garden is humming along, with beloved-by-the bees, aromatic lavender, punchy poppies that reseed themselves through the years, and haughty Queen Elizabeth roses.

The potato variety, Daifla, flowers profusely. (That's the raspberry patch in the background, and if you look closely you will see the berries.) Potato blooms signify that the tubers are being formed. In about two months, when the haulms (the growth above ground) have wilted yellow, it will be time to harvest.

The dark green of ivy makes a good backdrop for rhubarb and potatoes. In the upper left, a drooping branch of a Mirabelle plum tree can be seen with its immature fruit looking like green olives. When ripe, they will be a glorious gold flushed with red.

Most of our potato blooms are pure white but there are a few which are tinted mauve. An interesting aside is that Marie Antoinette, a passionate lover of flowers, was known to have tucked some potato blossoms in her hair during the time Antoine Parmentier was trying to convince the movers and shakers that the New World upstart wasn't poisonous. 

Every other day, there's enough raspberries, strawberries, and blueberries to fill up the dessert bowl. Since blueberries must have acid soil to flourish, our bush is grown in a pot with the desired potting mix.

The rambunctious wild area which harbours lizards, hedgehogs, birds, and insects is festooned with bramble blossoms. The middle bed is filled with bushy Roma tomato plants and in front of them are beets which since have seen the trusty cultivator tool which has cleared away the prolific clover.

During a month these well-established daylilies put out many blooms, each lasting just a day. There are cultivars which are everblooming from early summer to autumn which will soon find a place in our garden.

David Austin climbing rose, Falstaff, is beginning a second round of flowering.

In the front garden, yet more lavender and also Shasta daisies are just starting to bloom. The other day, our neighbour across the street told me that she loves seeing, as does her visitors, the small green haven in front of our home. After all this time, it is known by a few that je jardine comme une folle (I garden like a madwoman). The English lavender is putting on the show right now while the late-blooming French lavender waits to take the spotlight in about a month.

From the vantage point of a reclining, cushy chair under the pergola, this is what I get to see: foliage of mums, rose of Sharon, calla lilies, ivy, two enormous, neighbouring spruce trees, and the imperious blooms of a Queen Elizabeth rose. All of this exuberant growth exists in an urban space. Though I can hear the distant din of traffic, I pretend that it's the sound of ocean waves.

À la prochaine!

The Potager Awakens...and a few quick recipes

Since I am spending time outside pruning and digging beds, that is, when the plentiful rains and nippy winds ease a bit, hot, easy, and fast meals are what I want. One such satisfying repast is made by stirring instant polenta into boiling water (one part polenta to four parts water) along with minced garlic and rosemary fresh from our potager. It's simmered while being stirred for a minute or two, piled unceremoniously into a bowl, and topped with grated cheese and butter. If I remember to sprinkle fleur de sel, I do.

Sunshine in a bowl! That's grated Parmesan scattered amidst the butter rivulets

White beans are luscious nuggets of tasty nutrition made even more delicious by sauteing minced garlic and onions in olive oil and adding some tomato paste, an ice cube or two of my concentrated, homemade chicken broth (water or veggie broth, packaged or homemade, can be substituted), a good quality paprika, smoked or not, along with some well rinsed, drained, canned white beans. Simmer for about five minutes. Line a bowl with French bread 'fingers' (one-inch slices cut in half) and fill with the bean mixture.

I been known to use the bread pieces as a fork/spoon substitute. Finger-licking good for sure!

Since my frying technique has measurably improved, I could just eat fritters day after day. For the latest batch, I mixed together some well seasoned, left-over mashed potatoes, flour, grated Edam cheese, chili powder, a large pinch of baking powder, and an egg. An inch of fresh sunflower oil along with a teaspoon of used oil in a skillet was heated until it passed the wooden spoon test (I had to tip the pan to conduct the test). Tablespoons of the batter were fried on each side for a total of about eight minutes. Drizzle some soy sauce on them. À table!

These fritters were exemplary in both their crispness and moist centres

But the real mainstay has been hot cocoa which is often served in big bowls for breakfast here in France.  The bigger the bowl, the better it seconds as a hands warmer. Viennoiseries like brioche and croissants are delicious on their own of course, but they also lend themselves to a thorough dunking into the warm, aromatic dark liquid.

Unsweetened cocoa is not only low in fat and calories, it packs a potent dosage of energy-boosting, nerve-calming magnesium. So after living here for almost two decades, I am getting with the program, no matter how belatedly. Put on the kettle. A heaping tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa goes into a small cup along with a dash of maple syrup (Why? Because there was some in the fridge and I adore the stuff!), some milk, and a smidgen of cream.

I like half milk, half hot water

Whisk til smooth.

The water should be boiling by now. Hot water meet smooth cocoa paste. Voilà! I am so happy that I forget momentarily about the difficult-to-work, sodden soil.

In the potager, the rhubarb continues to leaf out. Before their growth gets too luxuriant as they love cool weather, it's time to scratch in a balanced fertiliser around each plant.

Carpets of sweet violets along with a few brave blue irises are blooming, but at a personal price as they are being lashed by the wind and rain into soggy taters. Botanical tulips and daffodils are putting out foliage and buds, and so far are retaining their 'cool'.

Cuttings I took last spring from the Vinca minor growing around the camellia are flourishing under the pergola and are beginning to bloom.

Common name: periwinkle

In the potting room, sowing has gotten off to a good start: red bell peppers, Thunbergia alata, and piment doux des Landes are being coddled in the incubator.

Instead of loose Thunbergia seeds, my plant nursery sent four seed discs, each containing about 10 seeds

This is the first time I have used a biodegradable seed disc which is placed in a pot almost completely filled with potting mix. Then it is lightly watered to help the disc adhere to the soil. Finally, it is covered with an inch of mix, kept moist, and put in an incubator or on a heating pad. It was much easier to handle than individual seeds.

This is how the black-eyed Susan vines looked last year, simultaneously acting as a ground cover and a vine covering an unsightly fence. Its lush foliage and cheery flowers last from June to nearly November.

Lovage (a fantastic, perennial celery substitute), parsley, chives, and lettuce are snug in their little, cold 'greenhouse'.

A recycled meat tray filled with sowing mix and seeds is placed inside a plastic bag

All three varieties of potatoes are nestled into their recycled egg cartons, quietly chitting in the cold sunlight. Sprouts that are coloured brown, red, yellow develop in seed potatoes exposed to sunlight, unlike the long, brittle, white ones that happen in the dark. Though not essential especially for primeurs (May/June harvest), this practice does give a head start while the danger of frost is waited out.

From early to late: Dolwen, Jeannette, and Desiree

The peas, garlic, and onions are waiting to be planted outdoors. 

The garlic is stock from our own harvest from last summer

Before I know it, it will be time to plant spinach, carrots, and beets outdoors and sow indoors zinnias, tomatoes, melons, cucumbers, and butternut squash. Where's that hot cocoa?

À la prochaine!

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