Using Your Marbles

Out of the 20 or so allotments in our association, three of our members are Italian.
Last year, I begged some beans from Francesca as I had admired the vigour and productivity of the unknown (to me) climbing dried bean she’d grown last autumn. Returning home with my generous haul, I immediately went on-line to discovery what exact my bounty was. I had some difficulty finding the variety even with the World Wide Web at by fingertips. A type of climbing marble bean was the only clue, so I checked my favourite Italian seed suppliers. The closest I could find was the glorious borlotti bean, but as I had grown those for years as bush beans I had no idea they came in climbing form, anyway these where slightly different. Although a little smaller than other borlotti beans when freshly dried, the beans swell vastly when soaked and cooked, resulting in a much larger, almost butter bean sized seed. They are the most buttery, earthy and delicious beans I’ve ever tasted.
In the photograph, as well as the mystery beans (left), there are some bush borlotti beans I saved for planting this Spring. The difference is small on first glance, I grant you, but when studied more closely there are some variations in colour, particularly around the ‘eye’ which is bright orange in the mystery bean. I think what clinches the climber as a borlotti-type is the occasional, strange, wine-coloured bean in each group, maybe a throw-back to the same genetic parent and speculatively, I think they could be something like Borlotti Bean Lingua di Fuoco or the Fire Tongue Bean, well we’ll see. I’ve just sown the puzzle marble beans, in the conservatory for now, as being so enigmatic and exotic I’m not sure they will take our night time temperatures just yet.
Curzio, another Italian down on the allotment grows solely grapes for his much admired wine, so he and Nick have a ready made conversation based on weather conditions, yield, soil (sorry, terroir!) and general grape-talk. Nick won’t be chin wagging or doing much of anything else at the allotment for a while as he has injured his back digging my half of the plot. So, he can’t bend and I can’t lift (arthritic wrists); we make a pretty pair when trying to empty the dishwasher, I can tell you!

Clematis Montana ' Pink Perfection' rambling across the garden shed.

Herbs to Sustain You

Warm, sunny days have me busy in the garden, despite an unfairly timed bout of wrist arthritis. The blossom is glorious, although worryingly quiet from an absence of bees, the wisteria running along the back of the house about to unfurl. The first crops of vegetables are planted and growing. The lawn is cut, the fruit trees feed, just the ever present and never finished chore of weeding remains of which I do less each year through either turning a blind eye to certain areas or mulching. (Good for wildlife is my mantra!)

I hate supermarket shopping. I will avoid it at any cost and the cost to my family is they must eat herbs, lots of herbs. The strategy works like this, buy dry grocery basics like beans, flour, rice, pasta, nuts and vegetables, if they are not available in the garden, like potatoes, onions, roots etc with a long shelf-life. (I think the reason I started to grow my own vegetables was to avoid going to the supermarket, that may sound lazy, but I reckon for every hour I would have to shop, I work five or six in the garden/allotment, which illustrates just how much I loath the supermarket run.) For lunch I make soup daily, this is usually one or more from each group above and a bunch of herbs, for example:
Potato and Sorrel Soup
Carrot, Arborio Rice and Chervil Soup
Mint and Split Pea Soup
Celery, Par-Cel and Lovage Soup.

It’s the same story for the evening meal.
Pasta with Parsley, Walnuts and Wild Garlic
Gnocchi with Lemon, Pine Nut and Rocket Pesto
Onion and Rosemary Pizza
Italian Bean Salad with Thyme and Winter Savory
Sage or Borage Fritters
To mention a few, there are just some many herby goodies.

All served with our trusty salad leaves that have taken us through the winter without resorting to the plastic bags of the mixed salad of indistinguishable flavours on the supermarket shelves. For drinks, I make cordials when the opportunity presents itself. Elderflower, autumn raspberry and apple juices and teabags made from herbs, mint and fennel, lemon balm and lemon verbena. I like to grow lots of different flavoured mints, amongst the favourites are black peppermint, ginger mint, berries and cream mint (wow, I know, find it at Jekka Seeds), lime mint, and apple mint but I am continually finding new and exciting varieties that make wonderful hot and cold drinks.

Of course, it’s not quite that simple, a good bouillon or stock is needed for the soup base, Parmesan for the pasta and gnocchi and sugar to make cordials, but you get the gist, and we do eat meat, eggs, citrus fruit, olive oil and many other good things that I can’t walk out into the garden to gather. But at this time of year I like to challenge myself against an empty fridge and eat from nature’s bountiful larder.
So here are a few snaps from the garden pantry plus a general glimpse at what’s flowering now.



Nettles collected at the allotment make a great soup (with leek and Arborio rice) when the tips are picked young.


Sorrel, in a yet to be weeded part of the potagerie.


An embarrassment of chervil, large bunch to all callers!


Making mint tea and the bags I buy, expensive but great for homemade bouquet garnis as well as herb teas.


Pear tree in blossom and a close up of apple blossom.


Viola sororia 'Freckles'.


Clematis armandii now fading.


Wisteria photographed last year about a week from now.
Finally, Geoff Hamilton (1936-1996), known to us here in the UK from his gardening programs, loved by many and irritating some, had a gentle humour that I think is shown by this lovely quote "Seedsmen reckon that their stock in trade is not seeds at all ... it's optimism".

In the Wood

One of the advantages of living in the ‘wood is that we are still only 25 minutes from Central London. As the tube train strains up the hill out of the metropolis the passengers feel the fresh, cool rush of air into the compartment, a sudden atmospheric change from the sultry fumes and dust of the city streets, the streetlights fall away and some stars can be seen. I love returning from a stunning opera at the ENO or a late night viewing at the Tate Modern and walking home inhaling the scent of spring, sweet night time smells like our front hedge shrub honeysuckle (Lonicera nitida) or linden (Tilia cordata) blossom. The photograph was taken at our local tube station on such an evening.