Exotic Preston

OK, so Preston is not exotic. But in our Preston garden (and greenhouses) we are growing things that some in the UK would consider exotic. We do this for the sheer fun of it, the challenge without danger, and the pleasure of eating, fresh, things that normally come from hundreds or thousands of miles away.


This morning we ate the first of our Physalis/Cape Gooseberry) 'crop.' We had one each in our morning bowl of fresh fruit. One. Like the dolts who win the lottery and change nothing, we are not going to let it affect our lifestyle. Doing this (not just the Physalis, but the other exotics we grow) clearly is not in any way economically viable (that plant cost quite a bit), though by (minutely) reducing our carbon footprint it may be environmentally so. But even with just one apiece it was worth it in taste terms - they were sharper, 'fruitier,' simply better than what we buy from the supermarket.


The same thing most definitely applies to the lemons we grow. Though this year it was lemon, singular. Used in G&Ts it was zingier, several steps up the citric ladder. A friend and neighbour has been doing this for longer, and her harvest is a good bagful of fruits every year, so we hope our tree will become more productive in the not too distant.


It has to be acknowledged that some of the fun of growing such things is the showing off. So I'm going to do a bit (more) of that now by listing a few: we will shortly be harvesting a few tomatillos; the next flush of Physalis will be ready in a week or thereabouts; though this year we have had no fruits, we have had limes and apricots in the past, and the trees are looking healthy; we had one delicious fig a month back. If chilies count as exotic (and they probably don't) then we can add them to the list - this year, starting from seed, we have grown a dozen plants or so and harvested scores already (some dried for later, some eaten fresh) with hundreds to come. They're the exception to the economic viability rule, a £1 pack of seeds yielding several pounds-worth of fruits. But they also demonstrate the culinary advantages of this activity - we have purple, red, yellow and green ones; some are fruity and mild; some hot as Hades; and some have rather thicker flesh than anything in the supermarket packets, tempting you to damn the burn and just eat them like fruits.


Ever the optimists we have other projects on the go: Morels and truffles (though they may never appear) in two spots of the garden; two Szechuan pepper plants looking very healthy indeed; and our Kiwis. Ah, our Kiwis. One vine is about 12 feet high, has been established for maybe eight or nine years, looks great, and has never yet produced a fruit. It was sold as self-fertile, but clearly isn't, so we've now bought two others (belt and braces) of different types in the hope that one day... Ever the optimists indeed.

Something Old, Something New, Something Delicious

The old tradition of Pancake Day presented a slight challenge for the current healthy/weight-loss kick, but a bit of creativity resulted in something really rather good, with loads of flavour to it.


Time was - especially as a greedy and - in spite of that - almost painfully thin child - when pancake day meant about eight of them, made by my mother with all white flour and served with sugar and butter, or sugar and lemon. Or jam. Lovely, but not exactly great on the GI spectrum. So I made mine this year with half white flour and half wholegrain buckwheat (giving the resulting pancakes a nicely nutty hint), plus a good handful of leftover dried onion flakes stirred into the batter. They added far more onion than you'd expect, and as a bonus filled the kitchen and dining room with appetising oniony aromas to get the gastric juices flowing. I even got a compliment from Sternest Critic.


Clearly (I hope) savoury, they were stuffed with chopped mushrooms and chopped spinach that had been cooked beforehand, and a dollop of ricotta (plus a grated dog end of grana Padano). Reheated in a hot oven with the juices from the mushrooms poured over to keep them moist, and a sprinkling of grated parmesan more for decoration than anything else, the dish was filling, full of flavour and pretty virtuous.


They will be made again in a few weeks, I'm sure. Healthy doesn't have to be just salad and fruit, fine though both may be.

A Lemon Tree, My Dear Watson?

It was brought home to me this morning how important the seemingly humble lemon actually is in culinary life. I'm not talking about fancy dishes with lemon as a major ingredient - ah, childhood memories of lemon meringue pie, and childhood nightmares of the school version possibly made with a by-product of petrol refining.


As is normal here we had a bowl of fruit as part of breakfast. Having shopped yesterday at my favourite local Asian supermarket dragon fruit was part of that. The last time we had it thus the flavour was almost non-existent; today, with a big squeeze of lemon it was brought forward hugely. Guava benefitted too, its strange (and enjoyable) man-sweat quality enhanced by the citrus. I always prepare papaya with a similar dash of lime juice, which raises its game greatly. The list goes on, and includes lemon as an acid helping reduce the GI value of certain foods, which is great long term for the waistline.


I also recalled that imported supplies of citrus fruits are expected to be hit by the looming no-deal Brexit. Dover, apparently, accounts for 80 per cent or so of imports, and will be a car park if general expectations of government planning come about. With Chris Grayling (I have complete confidence in... per the marvellous Mrs May's sell) in charge of transport what could possibly go wrong?


We have grown our own - yes we have a lemon tree, my dear Watson, and a lime - with somewhat limited success for a few years now. I hope that the couple of lemons and one lime expected as our annual crop will not have to suffice this summer. The Dear Leader's G&T needs a slice. And so do a vast range of salads, fish dishes, fruits and sauces. We're buggered, aren't we?

Nuts, Fruit, Blossom

One of the things I will miss most when we have given up our allotment will be the two cobnut trees planted (probably contrary to the rules) on the plot. It's not the trees themselves of course, elegant though one in particular may be, but the nuts they produce. At home we have planted a reasonably-sized sapling, the offspring of one of them, so it's to be hoped that we only have a brief gap between crops. We have a walnut tree in the garden too, though I could have counted the number we got this year on two hands and one foot. The rats with good PR got the bulk, as they generally do.


This year we've had a bumper crop of cobnuts, enough to make me feel it was right to give some to a friend and neighbour, a good cook who will accordingly have made good use of them. It's another glut, but an especially welcome one. Among other uses they have gone into pesto as a substitute for pine kernels (which weight-for-weight cost about as much as gold these days), chopped into a breakfast dish of apple puree (our own Bramleys) along with oats, honey and raisins, and as a simple salad ingredient teamed with cos lettuce, blue cheese and apple (yes, our own Discovery). I'm tempted to use those left in the basket (not the last of the year unless the squirrel bastards have had all those left on the trees) in a curry as an alternative to cashews - they are when still relatively fresh off the branch very like milky cashews.


Don't keep the shelled nuts in the fridge, btw, they sog rapidly. I've also learned to keep the stillin the shell nuts in a basket rather than a bowl, the latter home causing them to sweat and deteriorate, and to stir them about daily to keep them aired.


It is the productive trees in our (admittedly larger than average) garden that are dearest to my heart. We have a fine willow that is architecturally splendid, but other than gnawing the bark if post-Brexit times get so tough that aspirin is unavailable it has little practical, and no culinary, value. Not so the apples, quince (this should be the best year ever for them), pears, plums (admittedly they yield very little) and even in pots peach, lemon and lime. I am not a gardener - the Dear Leader (may her opponents dry to dust) is in charge of that side of things, merely assistant water carrier, third class - but they don't seem at all difficult, even the citrus trees are pretty robust, though they winter in a greenhouse or the conservatory. Trees are also great for the environment.


Free food, lovely blossom, help the environment... Shouldn't everyone lucky enough to have the space be planting more fruit and nut trees? There's also something very life-enhancing about venturing into the back garden and picking breakfast, lunch or supper, or at least major contributors to them. And it is life-enhancing too when what's picked, as is so often the case, tastes ten times better than anything you can buy from the supermarket. Our Discovery apples this year have been a revelation, their flesh tinged with pink, and eaten minutes after picking their taste clean and bright, unlike their dull imported cousins sold at the shops (even British-grown ones have probably been in storage and transit for weeks).

Cheap Cuts - The Cheek of It

One truism of economical shopping is that meat needing longer cooking will generally be cheaper than something you can flash fry. The savings on the meat have to be balanced with the fuel used over two hours and more in the oven, but with a little planning several dishes can be done at once.

Two days ago I cooked a stew of ox-cheek, meat purchased at Waitrose (not famed for cheapness, but this was a fairly thrifty £6.50/kg). With carrots, onions, and a leek there was the basis of something nutritious, and I added a bowl of mango chutney to the liquid (leftover from a party) plus some of our own dried sage and a tea-spoon of Bovril, a magical meaty ingredient in beef stews and gravies. Cooked very slowly in the morning and into the afternoon (for four hours at 120C actually, while I was out interviewing someone for an article) and then cooled it was kept to mature in the fridge overnight - stews pretty much always benefit from this, the flavours developing and melding.

The result when reheated next day was very tasty: the meat could be cut with a spoon, the juices were sweet and unctuous, and there was next to nothing left. I added a tin of Heinz beans when reheating it, as the meat needed some bulk other than carrots to balance it.

My planning was a bit off, the only thing I 'cooked' with it some lemon and lime skins. After they are juiced don't throw them away, believe it or not once dried out they make very effective firelighters.