It's a rainy day here in sunny Stamford. Generally speaking, it only rains if antipodeans are visiting. It gives them a complete text book holiday experience and we are sensitive to the needs of tourists. Once they are safely on the plane we are free to wander around in our flipflops and singlets right up until October.
Today, with it being wet my options are a little limited and so I am having a day of harvesting between showers. The dog has been for a damp walk (I give him a laminated map and a couple of poo bags and he managed quite well) and my daughter has been ferried to work and back again.
I'm at home with a microwaved Tetley's.
So, back to harvesting. I am not harvesting organs, children or fish. No, I am harvesting the generosity of nature. About 15 years ago I planted a twisted hazel twiglet to distract myself from an unhappy marriage and a mere thirteen years later, the monster shrub started giving me enough hazelnuts to pebble dash the Albert Hall. Every time I bend down to pick up one of their sticky parcels, another four knock me on the head or lodge in a crevice. Last year, I made some spicy sticky nuts (read it and weep squirrels) but they go off quickly. I have learned that if you freeze them immediately, you can use just what you need . You can even do this in their shells. I have already frozen huge amounts and it's just a fraction of what's there. I would make a hazelnut liqueur but that reminds me of googling whether Limoncello was safe to drink ten years after its use-by date and desperately hoping the answer was no.
I think hazelnuts may be the perfect snack for my gluten free friends . And I do like the look of honeyed hazelnuts which seems easy enough and preserves themwell. According to the River Cottage Preserves handbook, it's four layers of shelled hazelnuts to a tablespoon of honey.
I am also harvesting grapes, black grapes:great wine variety I am told. There's bloody metres and metres of them: can kill a puppy stone dead apparently. This must be why I have a Yorkshire terrier now and come out out in a cold sweat every time he lets himself out for a pee.
I am making grape concentrate for future home-brew forays and grape jelly for porridge. I suppose I can even try your bog-standard grape juice instead of OJ for my morning pick me up. I do not like the one earwig to two bunches of grapes ratio but no-one said being the salt of the earth was easy.
Rosehips. Now this is a strange one isn't it? It doesn't come from food at all and the hairs and pips are irritants. And yet and yet, they are huge this year and irresistible.My garden is overflowing with their vibrant reds and oranges. Last year I made a minute amount of roseship syrup, and it was bloody delicious, but I cut my hands to shreds and needed an awful lot of fruit for very little gain.
This year, I have a Tupperware and a pair of safety scissors that are more usually deployed in giving the dog a haircut as I watch Morse (£30 for a groom at the groomers...I ask you. He's the size of large rat) Anyway, they tumble into the box giving a higher yield at a quicker rate. Marvellous. Wine methinks. Apparently my dad made a mean roseship wine. I have to say that although the elderflower was a triumph, the elderberry wine tastes like vinegar. I shall literally shelve it, try it again in a year or so and have a go with the rosehip in the meantime. Or mix it with gin - one of the two.
So, what you see here, is only a fraction of the harvest. I have also made 5 pounds of plum jam from free plums a woman in the next street was giving away, complete with those little plastic bags to put them in. I love harvest time! Grapes have no pectin so I have kept the plum stones to boil with them.
Oh, and yesterday I signed up with a new estate agent who tried his best to take pictures of the house between the leaves of trees, obscured by bushes and in soft focus in order to generate a soupçon of intrigue without revealing any of the decay. He was very patient when a frisky yorkie leapt three times his own height to fling himself at the agent's bollocks as relentlessly as a blacksmith hammers on an anvil. He said not to worry but I imagine they've been packed in ice since he left.
So attempt no 5 to sell my house is underway. Maybe I should give away a free jar of homemade preserve with every viewing.
Today, with it being wet my options are a little limited and so I am having a day of harvesting between showers. The dog has been for a damp walk (I give him a laminated map and a couple of poo bags and he managed quite well) and my daughter has been ferried to work and back again.
I'm at home with a microwaved Tetley's.
So, back to harvesting. I am not harvesting organs, children or fish. No, I am harvesting the generosity of nature. About 15 years ago I planted a twisted hazel twiglet to distract myself from an unhappy marriage and a mere thirteen years later, the monster shrub started giving me enough hazelnuts to pebble dash the Albert Hall. Every time I bend down to pick up one of their sticky parcels, another four knock me on the head or lodge in a crevice. Last year, I made some spicy sticky nuts (read it and weep squirrels) but they go off quickly. I have learned that if you freeze them immediately, you can use just what you need . You can even do this in their shells. I have already frozen huge amounts and it's just a fraction of what's there. I would make a hazelnut liqueur but that reminds me of googling whether Limoncello was safe to drink ten years after its use-by date and desperately hoping the answer was no.
I think hazelnuts may be the perfect snack for my gluten free friends . And I do like the look of honeyed hazelnuts which seems easy enough and preserves themwell. According to the River Cottage Preserves handbook, it's four layers of shelled hazelnuts to a tablespoon of honey.
I am also harvesting grapes, black grapes:great wine variety I am told. There's bloody metres and metres of them: can kill a puppy stone dead apparently. This must be why I have a Yorkshire terrier now and come out out in a cold sweat every time he lets himself out for a pee.
I am making grape concentrate for future home-brew forays and grape jelly for porridge. I suppose I can even try your bog-standard grape juice instead of OJ for my morning pick me up. I do not like the one earwig to two bunches of grapes ratio but no-one said being the salt of the earth was easy.
Rosehips. Now this is a strange one isn't it? It doesn't come from food at all and the hairs and pips are irritants. And yet and yet, they are huge this year and irresistible.My garden is overflowing with their vibrant reds and oranges. Last year I made a minute amount of roseship syrup, and it was bloody delicious, but I cut my hands to shreds and needed an awful lot of fruit for very little gain.
This year, I have a Tupperware and a pair of safety scissors that are more usually deployed in giving the dog a haircut as I watch Morse (£30 for a groom at the groomers...I ask you. He's the size of large rat) Anyway, they tumble into the box giving a higher yield at a quicker rate. Marvellous. Wine methinks. Apparently my dad made a mean roseship wine. I have to say that although the elderflower was a triumph, the elderberry wine tastes like vinegar. I shall literally shelve it, try it again in a year or so and have a go with the rosehip in the meantime. Or mix it with gin - one of the two.
So, what you see here, is only a fraction of the harvest. I have also made 5 pounds of plum jam from free plums a woman in the next street was giving away, complete with those little plastic bags to put them in. I love harvest time! Grapes have no pectin so I have kept the plum stones to boil with them.
Oh, and yesterday I signed up with a new estate agent who tried his best to take pictures of the house between the leaves of trees, obscured by bushes and in soft focus in order to generate a soupçon of intrigue without revealing any of the decay. He was very patient when a frisky yorkie leapt three times his own height to fling himself at the agent's bollocks as relentlessly as a blacksmith hammers on an anvil. He said not to worry but I imagine they've been packed in ice since he left.
So attempt no 5 to sell my house is underway. Maybe I should give away a free jar of homemade preserve with every viewing.
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