Grow Me Own

"She's doing WHAT?!

I bought a Grow-Your- Own- Veg magazine.
As if I haven't enough of my plate! (joke)

Anyway....whilst mum ate her porridge and Jezza Kyle ranted I learnt was that to be self sufficient you first need money. Er...Seeds cost a packet! And tilling machines cost the earth! So I suppose I'll pop to Poundland buy a pair of yellow gloves and packets of seedy things and have a go.
Well at least my heart is in the right place. Even if my brain ain't:)

At the mo there are leeks, potatoes and onions embedded outside, none of which were planted/sowed by me but seeing them being inserted heightened my love of the outdoors...so, when I get a blessed moment, I'll put together a little list of to-do gardening jobs.
Although knowing my penchant for mad- cap schemes I'll probably end up with thousands of *Shirley's hanging by me outdoor tap.


Back inside now:
Being cooked today are Faggots (shop bought) and Pease Pudding, (made by me).
Pease Pudding isn't much trouble to make, just need to remember to soak the green split peas overnight (can use yellow peas, but I prefer the vibrancy of green), then put the peas into some chicken stock along with a quartered onion and bring to the boil, remembering to BOIL RAPIDLY for ten minutes otherwise you might fall very ill, then heat down, cover and simmer for over an hour or so until tender. When tender, mash'em adding salt pepper and butter. If the mix is a little on the dry side add a drop more stock till you get the consistency you prefer.
Plate up hun...

Other culinary joys likely to be executed today are...
Another large loaf. Probably knock that together whilst listening to Any Questions (Radio 4, 8 p.m.)
Might, if time and mother's needs allows, bake a Lemon Meringue Pie... doubt I'll do it but it's a fantasy worth holding onto.

Bye Bye:)

* A breed of Tomato

Had a jolly good potter in the garden this morning and was joined by two robins.
As me and my gardening friend spaded and churned and planted and patted, the two robins gambolled, skipped, their capers making me smile. In awe mostly.
They bounced from tree stump to bird table to fence to water butt stopping stock still when either of us stepped a step. They exhibited a mad kind of braveness, flying close by to us humans and landing only feet away, one even watching me, his interested head and black bubble eyes burning into me as I gazed at a leek.

I don't do much gardening but when I do I become transfixed by the wonder of sodden earth and all the grubs brought about by tilling.

My friend and I finished the work and for a few minutes leant against the doorjamb, looking at my spindly brown youthful apple tree...I posed this question...."Where is the sweet flesh, the red, the green, the skin, the pips?"
My co-gardener looked a little bemused, stumped even.
"In its memory, I suppose".
And for some reason that twanged a chord, for a moment I saw the tree as a 'being' a living structure capable of storing memories. Memories. Some how I'll never bite into an apple with quite the same thoughtlessness again...

Being braised as I type is a nice gammon joint. The small beauty is lying on a mess of leeks, carrots and parsnips, and it's belly bathes in hot simmering stock.
I'll slice it a bit later and serve it with a couple of buttered potatoes. Mum will want mustard with it but I'll plump for onion chutney.
Pudding will be strawberry jelly and evaporated milk for Her Majesty and for me a quartet of digestives. Chocolate probably.

Cheerio :)