Broad Bean and Bacon Soup Recipe

You can't call yourself a proper blog if you don't have a recipe or two in your archives. So here is Garden65's:

Broad Bean and Bacon Soup

Ingredients

Bacon - from fridge
Onion - from allotment
Garlic - from allotment
Olive Oil - from cupboard
Courgettes - from allotment
Celery (about 4 inches worth) - from bottom of fridge
Vegetable Stock - from the other cupboard
Broad Beans - from allotment
Pepper - from the far end of the work surface, next to the salt


Cut bacon with scissors into little bits. Start to fry in saucepan, then bung in chopped onion, garlic and celery with a  dollop of oil to stop it all sticking to the bottom. Wait for onion and celery to soften and the fat on the bacon to disappear (and the garlic smell to change from 'up your nose' to 'French restuarant').

Meanwhile you have been lightly simmering your broad beans in a separate saucepan. Don't do this for too long because you don't want them to go mushy, but I can't tell you exactly how long. My method is to wait until I can hear myself say 'oops, too long.'

Pour the stock into first main saucepan. Judge the volume of stock by a guess at how much you need to fill your soup bowls. Simmer for a bit.

Drain broad beans, then slip them out of their skins. Remember this is the fun bit of the recipe and not a chore.

Throw them into the main soup pan and let them warm up again.

Take pan off the heat and give the contents a short whizz with a hand blender, or mash with a potato masher, or fork, or go the whole hog and put it in a proper blender.

Pour soup into bowls and sprinkle on some pepper.

Serve with bread liberally buttered with butter.

Yum!

A Dude In the Allotment

Managed to drag bored, 'post A Levels,' son to the allotment.

The aviator sunglasses and Toms preserved his cool.

Isn't it looking lush?

All Sally's work

I've discovered the equation   'allotment = nagging feeling of guilt'.

Major Push On The Allotment90 Front

Allotments throughout the country must have seen a sudden flurry of fevered activity this week. As soon as the weather got warmer we allotmenteers rushed out with our trays of chitted potatoes and pots of wispy leaves.

Allotment90 is now hosting real growing vegetables.  Sally has done sterling work in her greenhouse growing on garlic, onions, shallots and potatoes, which we have now put in the long bed.

I think they look very comfortable in there.

And with the help of our friend Sue and her jazzy jeans we planted peas.

The strawberries have also gone in, and there are broad beans impatiently waiting to escape their packets.

It's amazing that after so many weeks of barren coldness the allotment now looks alive after only a few days of warmth.

Here is the view over all the other allotments. Still bare apart from some daffodils, but spring is definitely round the corner.

Allotment90: Raised Beds

Like the lady she is Garden65 quietly faded away without making a fuss (although I'm sure she'll put in an appearance from time to time).

Allotment90 now rushes into the void.

Sally (can you spot her in the pic?) and I have begun to make raised beds. Which may not be a surprise to Sally but certainly is to me: I've constructed something wooden with a power tool! Who'd have thought it possible? We even used a spirit level and a mallet. It took us about 2 hours to make the first one, but then on the second day we whipped them up like professional wood working women.

We are now planning on getting kitted out with tool belts and swaggering through the allotment grounds offering to make raised beds for those poor souls with an unadorned patch of dirt. Actually, one of the old timers of the allotment, a man I like to call Ronald Pickup, said it's usually men who make 'constructions' on their plots. He asked us why we were making beds, and I think we struggled to give him a simple answer. It is something to do with being in control I imagine, and it makes the whole idea of planting more manageable. Can't you see our beds in your mind's eye brimming over with salad leaves and fresh food? Whereas that patch at the back looks a bit daunting.

Sally is off on a Moroccan adventure next week. Meanwhile I'll carry on grubbing about in the cold dirt of Manchester.

Indie Allotments

It comes to us all in the end. Gardening I mean. Even cutting edge trendy people succumb.

Tracey Thorn, who used to be in 'Everything But The Girl' in the 80s (remember them?) now does a bit of garden blogging.

However, she doesn't adopt the apologetic tone of Garden65. Instead she sees growing things as creatively subversive:

"What I realised was that there is a DIY quality to allotments, which reminds me of the atmosphere of the indie record scene that I grew up with. It’s a bit rough round the edges, a bit alternative, but at the same time extremely industrious."

I must remember that when my children next look at me and my trowel with a patronising sympathy.

But it seems even the children of indie musicians have their doubts on the acceptability of garden love. Tracey took her children to a garden open day:

"The kids were patient enough, bless them, as they tried to fathom the reasons why I would want to look at someone else’s beans when I have my own growing at home, but finally my nine year-old came up with an analogy that was the only way he could make any sense of it – “This is like Lego for you, isn’t it Mum?”

Tracey Thorn

Muck Raking With Sally

So, Eric delivered.

Unfortunately I missed him, but that's OK because Sally said he wasn't a lithe Pole. And although he wasn't wearing a flat-cap, he did sport a fine set of dentures.

But seriously ... the compost comes from a social enterprise company, Fairfield, that is situated on New Smithfield market site in East Manchester. They use the waste fruit and veg from their neighbours and woodier waste from the council or landscapers to produce an affordable compost with a low carbon foot print.

Here is a neat view of the composting process.

The stuff that Eric brought was quite woody, and he advised us not to plant directly into it, so it is certainly not suitable for planting up pots, but the soil on Allotment90 has a high clay content and will benefit from the increased texture and carbon from bits of chopped up stick.

We spent an hour and half spreading half of the compost on the ground we have so far managed to weed, and the rest we put in a storage area.

It is good to see the allotment looking neat and tidy and vibrant.

And here is proof that when the occasion demands I can wield a shovel like a pro:


Naturally, after our heroic effort we retired to the nearest cafe and scoffed down a Danish (pastry).

Allotment 90

I'm pleased to announce Garden65 has expanded into Allotment 90.

Thanks to the determination and charm of Sally we now have our own patch of land in Bradley Folds Allotments.

Officially, if anyone asks, we are helping the plot's owners keep it ticking over while they deal with a busy period in their lives. We are on the proper waiting list so we still may get a firm foothold, but meanwhile this tenuous tenure will do just fine. The owners are neighbours of Sally’s. It was their purple beans we picked in August.

Our good fortune hasn’t quite sunk in yet. I have free access to land – land without any fences round it. I’m still dazed.

The icing on the cake (and I’m talking icing made with butter not margarine) is that this plot is the one with THE shed: the gypsy caravan shed. We’ve already had tea and Danish pastries in the shed with our friend Justina. Such moments are dreams made of. Well, suburban dreams, but still, I never thought I’d be allowed to drink tea with friends on a bit of my own land. Fantastic.

Thank you Sally

Unfortunately we’ve taken possession just as November has turned very wintry. The plot needs digging over before any thought of planting can be entertained. We have made a start, but the soil has a lot of clay in it and is sticky. Pull up a weed and a clump of mud comes with it that stays stuck to shovel, glove, boot, bucket, path, shed, mug, pastry, car .... My efforts remind me of when Margo helped Tom and Barbara in the Good Life. Do you remember that episode?

This is the plot (with obliging son in it):

And in context:

Dank, eh? But joyously dank. Because whatever vegetable or flower we manage to grow in the future it is the being outside in all weathers, either alone or with friends and family, that this new chapter is about.

It did my old mum's heart good to be able to mess about in the mud - my mud - with my boy. Heaven.

Not sure I'm going to be able to do the same with the "I want to be a wedding planner" daughter. Perhaps in the summer, when it's Pimms season.

Veg Plotting

Garden65 drawn to scale

The homework this week on the vegetable growing course was to draw our ideal vegetable patch. The first lesson was about planning, so this is an exercise in measuring and deciding what plants go where.

Some people on the course have allotments of their own, and others, like the student, have no access to land at all. I'm in the middle: I have land but don't plan to plant vegetables on it in any volume (not counting the odd tub of tomatoes). However, I thought I'd go with the flow, throw caution to the wind and pretend that I was indeed going to take down all my beloved plants, rotovate the ground flat and turn Garden65 into Allotment65.

Step 1 is measuring out the plot. Luckily, hidden in the back of a cupboard, lurks a 30m measuring tape, the kind used by officials wearing blazers and panama hats to measure the efforts of javelin or discus throwers. I got it at a car boot sale many years ago. Not sure why. I liked the leather case, and it reminded me of school sports I suppose. Who thought a decade later it would actually be put to use?

It turns out Garden65 is about 10m long and 9ish m wide. It was good fun squeezing under shrubs and threading the tape through branches, but I'm hoping accuracy isn't important and that 'ballpark figure' is what we are after.

The measurements were plotted onto graph paper. I realise this isn't a genuine map of the ground. The perimeter is surely not a neat rectangle; the reach of the tree canopies were estimated by me lying on the ground, with the tape in my hand, looking up to find the tips of the longest branches; and measuring the little pond was too daunting, so it's represented by a pond-shaped blob instead.

The result after many sweary hours at the PhotoShop coalface is the neat diagram at the top of the page.

And with the swish of a magic wand here is Allotment65:

The decking has been sacrificed for a greenhouse; the problematic little pond is abandoned to the bees; a seat to drink coffee on is too important not to be included; and the 3 sisters have their own bed.

As for the crops there are two problems, apart from general ignorance (and naivety?). One is my family consists of two teenagers and a hubby from Wigan. Consequently we don't consume a great variety of vegetables. Think frozen peas and pounds of potatoes. Any romantic dreams of overflowing beds of pak choi, Jerusalem artichoke, and chard have to be abandoned. Thus the list of vegetables to play with is limited. Another issue to grapple with in this make believe allotment is that although it is south facing only the middle gets sunshine all day. What do you grow in shaded areas?

This is reminding me of maths homework when I was at school. I've learnt the formula but can't make the equation work so I'm going to hand this plan in to Marva but am expecting a B- at best.

This was an enjoyable exercise. I know my mum will be laughing because I used to do this kind of thing when I was young, although it wasn't gardens I was planning then but riding stables and zoos. However, it does highlight the limitations of transferring the real world onto squared paper, and reinforces my twitchiness about garden designers. Wielding a pencil and ruler creates a seductively organised picture, but this is an illusion.  A plan is only an approach, a starting point. The real journey begins when spade is dug into soil.

With this in mind I WILL BE MAKING A SURPRISING AND WONDERFUL ANNOUNCEMENT SOON. Watch this space.

Fun With Anthocyanins

As you will recall the original purpose of the allotment visit was to pick black beans.



When they start growing they are wonderfully curly, but eventually straighten out, and that is when you pick them.

Of course you have already noticed the papilionaceous  flower shape, haven't you?






The advantage of growing these beans in your vegetable patch is not only that they look exotic thus encouraging your neighbours to think you are some kind of gourmand, but they provide the extra fun of changing colour when cooked.

 Uncooked

Cooking

 Half Cooked

So what is going on, where has the purpley-black colour gone?  Let me explain ...

The dark colour is made of pigments called Anthocyanins (Greek: anthos = flower; kyanos = blue). These give colour to leaves, fruits, and flowers, though the final colour may be in the red spectrum not just blue. Cherries, blueberries, blackberries, wild rice, blood oranges are all examples of fruits high in anthocyanins.

Back to the beans - the dark colour disappears when cooked because the pigments break down when heated to 84C, allowing the green chlorophyll, that was always there underneath, to appear.

Another twist in the tale is that the blue colour fades in alkaline conditions. When the bean is heated some internal cells burst and release sap which is alkaline. So the anthocyanins are doomed.

This made me wonder what would happen if the beans were soaked in an acidic solution, so I dashed back into the kitchen, rescued the now limp and dully green beans, and put them in a dish of lemon juice. And, ta da, the patches that hadn't cooked and were still purple perked up into a nice inky colour. You can't really see it in these photos but trust me, there was a little bit of magic.

It's A Gypsy Life For Me

The other morning Sally invited me back to the wonderful Bradley Fold Allotments to pick black beans from a friend's plot.

Can You Spot Sally Hogging The Limelight Again?

We wondered what we would do if we had a corner of the plot. Would we grow flowers or vegetables? Hollyhocks and Calendula are definitely on the list. Sally drew up plans for a pen her tortoises could use while she did some weeding - think tortoise creche.

Ideally we hoped we'd get the corner with the shed in it. Since a major part of the wish for an allotment space is the dream of just sitting outside with a book and a cup of tea (well, it is for me), this shed has the advantage of a little decking area. Can you imagine perching on there, with perhaps a glass of wine, and a woodburning stove at your feet? Sally is a vegetarian so I would probably have to bring my own sausages.

The inside of the shed would have to be cleaned up - as Sally put it 'Kath Kidsonised'. Our families would wonder why we kept taking cushions and curtains down to the allotment; surely wellies and trowels are more appropriate. Gradually the shed would turn into a place where we could escape from normal life. It occurred to us that it might get used so much a schedule would have to be drawn up, so that when we turned up in desperate need for solitude there wasn't the likelihood the other was already there, settled into her own personal refuge.

Over time we could surreptitiously bring four wheels and a couple of axles into the allotment. A wheel a fortnight wouldn’t raise any suspicions I don’t think. In the dead of night we’d do some heavy engineering. Lit by camping lamps, and with the help of a ‘Make A Wagon’ handbook, we would slide the wheels under the shed and turn it into a caravan. I haven’t worked out how we’d keep the horse a secret - though there would be plenty of food for it while we hid it - but the day would finally come when we’d hitch up the horse, sit on that decking area and go ‘giddy up’ and trot off out of the allotment, down Didsbury high street, and out into the far blue yonder.

Admittedly, being mums, we’d have to come back to make the tea and put in a new wash and find lost socks, but that moment of escape would be worth all the hassle of converting the shed to a caravan.

Or should we knock that idea on the head and grow potatoes instead?

The sound of two escaping women:


(This recording was made by Peter Wyeth who has an interesting blog)

Here are some decorative ideas:

Lots Of Compost Bins

I got a text from Sally this morning. She had been given the key to the magic kingdom and would I like to join her? Of course! So abandoning all domestic duties we snuck in - and what a wonderful place it was full of ruby red raspberries, crispy skinned onions, giant cardoons, sunny nasturtiums, and most excitingly of all: - compost bins!

In reality Sally had the key to our local allotments in Didsbury because friends of hers, who have a plot there, are away on holiday and have asked her to pick their raspberries. These allotments are behind a thick hedge and a padlocked gate, so I’ve never seen them. It’s like a whole new world in there where people committed to vegetables have created an ordered and beautiful space. The purpose of my visit was to see how proper gardeners create compost bins, but I have come away inspired to spend more time on the garden as a whole. I have to say that having been to open gardens and an RHS flower show this summer it is these allotments that have impressed me the most. Now there is a little voice in my head saying, ‘You want this too, don’t you? Admit it, go on’.

Worryingly not one of these piles has newspaper and cardboard in it.

But I'm glad to see pallets being used to construct the bins.

Some looked like World War 1 rampart walls.

Plastic darlek-like bins were also being used.

And some people had professional two bin systems.

With roofs.

Nearly all were covered. I'll have to find a bit of old carpet.