Another Quick Pasta Recipe...and an unexpected pokeweed eradication method

Tagliatelle sauced with some cream, tomato paste, thyme, and garlic is quite delicious especially topped with freshly grated Parmesan cheese.

While the pasta is cooking, prepare the sauce. For one large serving, I lightly covered the bottom of a medium fry pan with cream, adding a minced garlic clove, a large pinch of fresh thyme, and two tablespoons of tomato paste.

Add several tablespoons of pasta cooking water and stir well.

Drain slightly underdone pasta and put in the pan. Gently cook and stir until sauce is thick and the tagliatelle is thoroughly coated which will take a minute or two. Season with salt and freshly milled black pepper.

The pasta finishes its cooking in the sauce

Serve immediately, layer on the Parmesan cheese, and garnish with a thyme sprig.

The subtitle of this post easily could have been how the tree of heaven has become the tree of hell or perhaps even hounded by a foul-smelling weed tree from America to France.  This tree was the only spot of green in the concrete yard of my childhood New York City home. A born gardener without any plot to garden, I would hang out by that impossible tree, impossible because its ten-feet length grew out of an inch-wide cement crack. Therefore, its unusual 'fragrance' of rotting cashews was locked into my olfactory memory and was the reason why I was able to identify it finally after all these decades. This species is the one featured in the novel A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Looking on the bright side, they have laid to rest the poisonous and equally nearly impossible-to-eradicate pokeweed.

This one is about twelve feet tall

The two trees, both males as shown by their flat, white flower caps, are growing in our garden's wild area -- they have grown about four feet in a couple of months, a growth rate allowing them to reach forest canopies which leaves their competitors in the dust. How to get rid of them? I am going to lower their height so they get hardly any light which means I will need to trespass into the starling sanctuary, that is, the mass of brambles, to chop down the usurpers to suitable stumps or else we soon will be looking at a ninety-foot-tall grove which smells like a ripe compost pile. Since they not only spread by seed but also by re-sprouting roots when they are cut, this may happen anyway!

One of the two can be seen on the right, sticking up from the brambles

The peonies which I cut when they were nice fat buds are now fully opened.

That green blur in the lower right is a bit of fennel

The fennel makes a lovely flower arranging ingredient, not only because of its feathery form but also because of its pleasing, fresh scent. If I don't keep trimming it back it will grow to a towering eight feet.

The early season tomatoes are beautiful, husky plants that are giving out their first flower trusses.

There's a tiny, green tomato hidden by the yellow flower

These plants are now staked

The twenty-five late season seed potatoes are finally planted! I just barely got them done in time. These are storage potatoes and need about five months to develop which means a harvest is possible about mid-October, hopefully before any frost arrives.

The twenty five bring the grand total of all potatoes planted to seventy-five!

Perennial geraniums are lovely ground covers.

These pink ones are giving sedum, red dianthus, and abelia some serious space competition. They are about two years old and looking ready for division. Good news! There are pronounced weedy areas that need to be overrun with these beauties.

I have just a couple of days to get the remaining transplants -- melon, cucumbers, butternut squash, peppers, lovage, zinnas -- in the ground. The Calm One though only seen in the garden by appointment will help out in other ways like making lunch. His culinary repertoire may be limited to a few items, but he makes those dishes very well. The best cheese omelettes I have ever had are his as they are always tender and never rubbery since he patiently cooks it for nearly ten minutes over low heat, all the while gently lifting up the edges to let the still liquid bits spill underneath while the grated cheese melts. He then easily folds the omelette in thirds as he is flipping it onto a plate. I suspect bicep power is behind such skillful manipulation of the very heavy, cast-iron skillet.

He also does not spare the cheese!

When I am particularly frazzled by a demanding gardening schedule, The Calm One is wont to surprise me with a pain au chocolat noisette from a nearby boulanger. I feel immensely energised after eating one of those puffy, dusted-with-icing-sugar, filled-with-dark-chocolate-and-hazelnut-butter wonders. Who wouldn't?

À la prochaine!

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How to plant potatoes

The First Strawberries of the Season...and peonies & more roses!

It's looking like the strawberry harvest will not be as abundant as last year's, but still what a treat to have gariguettes straight from the garden and crowned with freshly whipped, sugared cream or as it's called here, crème chantilly.

To prevent the berries from getting waterlogged when washing them, rinse them before you remove the stem.

Gariquettes have the most fantastic taste and gorgeous fragrance. In addition, their 'belly button' is an outie so slicing off that end is an easy task.

The Calm One who is the official whipper of cream chez nous saved me some for topping my hot cocoa later on in the day. Though the seventy-five seed potatoes and twenty-eight tomatoes are in the ground, the melon, pepper, winter squash, cucumber, zinnia, and black-eyed Susan vine transplants not only still need to be done but done within the next week along with outdoor sowing of green beans, carrots, and beets. So I have been hitting the hot cocoa hard. You know, for stamina. Those spring winds can be quite nippy.

Peonies usually don't do that well in our garden because of the heat and lack of rain, but with this constant moisture they are luxuriant.

This variety has a fragrance reminiscent of both lilacs and roses.

The lavender in the foreground is showing a hint of colour

For cut flowers, I choose buds just beginning to open.

These were picked during a rainy twilight

The next morning, they were put into a vase and accented with fennel. Though I use this herb for pickling, I am beginning to think that its best application is in flower arranging.

They eventually will unfold their petals in the captivating way that peonies have.

The only yellow rose in our garden is Golden Showers, a climber that puts out tremendous clusters of blooms.

The purple-pink background is a mass of soapwort

The Queen Elizabeth hedge rose is reaching for the sky...

...while the calla lilies are increasing in number at its base.

A bourbon rose, Ferdinand Pichard, is just starting its first flush of blooming.

A single petaled white rose, though not a repeat bloomer, is stunning in simplicity of flower form and graceful, arching branches.

White roses amply sandwiched between glads and red roses.

A rugosa, semi-double rose, which is also not a repeat bloomer, is gorgeous because of colour changes -- the deep orange buds open into coral flowers which than fade to pink.  All the while, yellow warms the centre.

Falstaff, a David Austin climber, is finishing up its first blossoming session.

Crossroad: purple culinary sage, sweet violets, ivy, Falstaff rose, pink and white Dianthus

À la prochaine!

Pasta with an Asian Touch...and the flowery spring garden

It's been awhile since I have discovered tagliatelle goes well with red pepper flakes, garlic, and ginger. This time, however, I added pea shoots, soy sauce, and omelette strips.

Soy sauce imparts a lovely golden colour

While the pasta--throw in the shoots after five minutes--is cooking, make a thin omelette with one or two large eggs. When it is set, flip over and brown that side. Remove to a cutting surface and let cool a bit. Slice into long, one-inch-wide sections and reserve.  Mince pepper flakes, garlic, and ginger and saute them lightly in a little oil in the omelette pan. Add a few tablespoons of the pasta cooking water. Toss the tagliatelle, shoots, and egg with the garlic, red pepper, and ginger in the skillet. Sprinkle, or in my case, slosh with soy sauce and stir well.

The flower garden is coming into being with such ease -- mostly pink there, red here, and white over there but also with a splash of blue and a glint of gold.

Cottage pinks are good for hiding the knobby knees of rose bushes

Roses are continuing to astound. The seven Queen Elizabeth hedge roses are in the middle of their first blooming flush. We should get several such flurries of pinkness until autumn.

I suspect this glowing, deeply coral-coloured rose is Tropicana.

The repeat-flowering bourbon rose, Ferdinand Pichard, is a robust bush with clusters of fragrant, white-and-red striped blooms.

The cute bud on the right can't wait to embrace maturity

Cottage pinks (Dianthus plumarius) rank way high on my favourite flower list. They are not named for the colour pink but for their distinctive edging, as if a pinking shears had its way with them.

A double blossom variety with a red center and petals flushed light pink

Sweetness cottage pinks will flower all through the summer and autumn. Like many varieties of this species, they are easy, evergreen, and rewarding perennials, that is to say, they will give many, many, many, fragrant flowers that come back again and again and again. However, these are the only variety that will put on a summer display from seed planted in late winter. With all the others, the propagation can be done more easily via cuttings from a few nursery plants. 

The messy split calyx of Mrs. Sinkins cottage pinks is more than compensated by its fabulous fragrance.

Miniature glads chez nous prefer to volunteer in already densely planted beds, especially of the iris and lavender persuasion.

Behind the gladiolus are early season potatoes

Though I sowed soapwort last spring and transplanted them just this past autumn, they are already generously covering not only the ground but their own foliage with pink flowers.

A soapy liquid can be made by boiling crushed leaves and roots in water

Herbs like thyme and sage (below photo) contribute to the flower show by happily presenting some blues now that the irises, bluebells, and lilacs are no more.

Can you spot the small beetle-like insect?

It is always a thrill when the fruit-bearing stock of our garden show their abundance of flowers/immature fruit.

Grapes!

The green fuzzy ovoid is a peach-to-be.

A soft wave of white petals is harbouring the developing blackberry.

À la prochaine!

Griddle Cakes...and roses & calla lilies

At the start of an intensive gardening day, I sometimes make fortifying American pancakes especially since The Calm One has secured a reliable Canadian maple syrup connection here in France. The puffiness of griddle cakes differentiates them from European crêpes which means baking powder/soda is a necessary addition. The dry and wet ingredients require just a light mixing--a tiny lump here and there only is assurance the pancakes will be of a tender texture. If even more airiness is desired, then the eggs can be separated and the beaten, stiff whites folded into the batter. Each griddle cake was anointed with a pat of sweet butter, then stacked, and lastly the pile was gloriously drenched in one-hundred-percent-pure maple syrup.

I use the recipe from my culinary bible, The Fanny Farmer Cookbook, which is as follows (including variations):

Ingredients
(Makes 16 small or 8 large cakes--I halved the recipe using one egg to get about 8 small ones)

Milk, 1/2-3/4 cup* (1-13/4 dl)
Butter, melted, 2 T
Egg, 1 (I used large)
Flour, plain, white, 1 cup* (140 g)
Baking powder, 2 teaspoons
Sugar, 2 T
Salt 1/2 tsp
*American measure, that is, 8 fluid ounces equals a cup

The amount of milk you use will determine how thick these griddle cakes or pancakes are. Start with the smaller amount suggested and add more if the batter seems too thick. Try to have the milk at room temperature before mixing... Serve with maple syrup or honey.

Beat the milk, butter, and egg lightly in a mixing bowl. Mix the flour, baking powder, sugar, and salt and add them all at once to the first mixture, stirring just enough to dampen the flour. Lightly butter or grease a griddle or frying pan and set over moderate heat until a few drops of cold water sprinkled on the pan form rapidly moving globules. If you wish small pancakes, drop about 2 tablespoons of the batter onto the pan, or pour about 1/4 cup from a measuring cup if larger pancakes are desired. Bake on the griddle until the cakes are full of bubbles on the top and the undersides are lightly browned. Turn with a spatula and brown the other sides. Place finished griddlecakes on a warm plate in a 200 degrees F (95 degrees C) oven until you have enough to begin serving.

Buttermilk Griddlecakes. Use buttermilk, sour milk, or yogurt instead of milk and substitute 1/2 teaspoon baking soda for the 2 teaspoons baking powder. Note: I diluted the yogurt with a little water to get a consistency similar to buttermilk, and the cakes turned out very well. Baking soda is activated by the presence of acid in the soured milk products.
Whole-Wheat Griddlecakes. Use 1/3 cup whole-wheat flour and 2/3 cup white flour. If you wish, sweeten the batter with 2 tablespoons molasses or honey instead of sugar.
Oatmeal Griddlecakes. Heat the 1/2 cup of milk, stir in 1/2 cup quick-cooking oatmeal, and let stand for 10 minutes.  Add the remaining ingredients, reducing the flour to 2 tablespoons.
Buckwheat Cakes. Use 1/2 cup buckwheat flour and 1/2 cup white flour.
Apple Griddlecakes. Peel 1 tart, juicy apple, cut it in thin slices, and stir it in.
Blueberry Griddlecakes. Add 1/2 cup blueberries. If you use canned blueberries, strain them before adding.
(p. 496, 1987 hardcover edition)

Decades ago, I had the pleasure of renting the top floor of a Brooklyn townhouse owned by two sisters of Italian ancestry called Rose and Lily. They grew thyme, rosemary, and marjoram in their garden and carefully dried them in bunches hung around their ground floor apartment. An offering of a syrupy mint cordial regularly enticed me into their meticulous abode. My having so many small glasses of the delectable liqueur had Rose joking in her earthy way that my pee would turn green. Now I am in the southwest of France in our own house and growing/drying herbs and surrounded by roses and lilies!

L'etoile de Hollande so far has been the most magnificent surprise in our garden. When arriving here four years ago, we saw a scraggly, scrappy, tangled, not very tall network of spindly branches that gave forth one rose. But what a rose it was! Boasting a diameter of five inches, the plushest, dark red petals, and a captivating damask fragrance, a single flower was enough.

It was only this year after continuing care on my part and abundant rain that it finally claimed the entrance balcony rail as its rightful domain. We now have over a dozen in full flower with numerous blushing buds-in-waiting.

This rose is a robust climber. A present it is about twelve feet above the ground.

That's a white spirea and a red weigela below the balcony & a purple leaf, ornamental plum

Another luminous beneficiary of the plentiful rain is calla lily. They love moist but well drained soil which means if I don't remember to water them copiously each day during our long, hot season, they sulk. When we lived on the Oregon coast, they did so well in our garden that I referred to them as the Calla Forest.

One of the two original clumps which came with our place

This adventurous one settled down on its own initiative far away from its home to a small square oasis smack in the middle of our 'ancient' terracotta patio which most likely appealed to this plucky seed because I tend to remember to water this area.

They share precious space with some rambunctious cottage pinks

The main inhabitant of this little green spot is a tall Queen Elizabeth hedge rose whose shadow gracefully provides some dappled shade for the Callas.

The rose bush is about eight-feet high and is just starting to put out its first blooming flush for the season.

Though it is possible to propagate callas by seed as the gracious oasis volunteer has managed to, it is usually accomplished by dividing its rhizome like I have done with these transplanted near a camellia and some sweet violets.

My favourite sedentary spot in the garden has now become this 'alley' which runs along a side of our house. Brimming with pleasant thoughts, I sit here most days...

Behind the chair: sweet violets, irises, glads, roses, callas, lilacs, aucuba & an ivy-covered tree trunk

...gazing at the garden 'major' glistening and sparkling as the sun sets.

Falstaff rose, Mrs. Sinkins cottage pinks, culinary sage, various veggie beds & mass of white English daisies

As the twilight deepens, so does my peaceful joy.

The tent of horticultural fleece is keeping tomatoes snug

This was the first time I managed to plant potatoes as early as February. The Dolwen variety has just begun to flower which means some primeur potatoes will be ready for harvesting in several weeks.

Rose and Lily would have approved of the flowering thyme in the upper right!

À la prochaine!