A View From (The Shed By) The Greenhouse; Scales Of Justice….Innit?

It’s often quite surprising when you find something that you didn’t know was lost, as happened recently with this set of scales. I didn’t “rediscover” them myself, the buildings and maintenance department did, but we’re a team, after all. They’re interesting as part of the historical record of the farm and market-garden that once occupied the land surrounding my old greenhouse and they’ll come in useful, should we ever get our act together when it comes to bartering produce, outside of swapping a bag of cucumbers, red peppers, aubergines and chilies for a couple of pints in the local. The discovery of them also got me thinking about how our courts operate (it was a slow day) and how it’s possible to be sent to prison for making an injudicious Social Media post (unless you work for a “far left” protected “charity”) but not for possessing vile images of babies and children being raped and sexually abused. I probably don’t understand the nuances within the policing and justice system, I’m only a pleb, after all!

Apart from one or two stragglers, left for snacking on whilst pottering, the grapes are harvested. A fine crop, although, if I’m honest, the lack of sunshine meant we had a lot more green fruits to contend with, they’re edible enough, but the final product(s) don’t have the really vibrant purple colour that last years crop produced. I don’t know exactly how many we ended up with (weight wise) but that won’t be the case next year! I did put several lbs at the farm gate for the neighbours to try and they were soon snapped up, everybody loves a grape.

The head of buildings and maintenance got involved with the preserving of the grape harvest and took it upon himself to de-seed several pounds of grapes and make a batch of jam. I took the easier route, freezing around 30 pints for daily consumption of raw juice and producing three pound jars of jelly, which is great on toast and, given its sharpness, can be added to game and lamb recipes as a substitute for redcurrant. Jelly on the left, jam on the right (not politically, of course).

I ended up (as I’ve probably previously mentioned) with forty six tomato plants, most of which are now either in the green bin or on the outside compost heap. I’ve left four San Marzano and a couple of cherry (one red, one yellow pear), hoping they’ll ripen on. The San Marzano, in particular, cook down really well, both on their own for my Sunday breakfast treat (with chorizo piquante and/or nduja) or combined with leeks and garlic to create a sauce for pasta and the base for a puff pastry tomato tart. I’ve made a couple of said tarts in recent weeks and, although it’s a bit of a faff, they were well worth the effort. Blind bake the pastry, make a tomato sauce base (to your liking), assemble with roast tomato slices, raw smaller tomatoes and olives and bake. Simple and delicious (although I say so myself).

The late potato experiment didn’t survive the recent couple of night frosts, but, on the plus side (and here we employ the “no names, no pack drill” option) I have managed to acquire twenty bags of decent quality wood chippings to put around the raised beds for next years outdoor plot improvement. I’ll rotate the potatoes to the rear of this side of the plot and bring the peas and beans forward, but the other side of the path is where the action’s going to be. As I “write” the damage from Storm Ashley has been assessed and is in the process of being repaired. It’s a testament to the skills of the B&M team that we only lost one skylight and one side-pane. A few pounds of grapes and the odd bushel of tomatoes, a small price to pay!

A quick mention for the humble habanero. I bought the seeds on impulse, whilst wandering around home bargains looking for nothing in particular, so didn’t really have high hopes of them being up to much at all. I’ve ended up with five plants, ranging in height from about a foot or so to two feet. They’re teeming with fruits which are rapidly starting to ripen to this lovely orange colour. Although I’ve made one lot of chilli jam, which has quite a decent kick, the next batch is going to have a decent whack of this punchy, very “fruity” little fellow. It’s a cheeky little number, tasting it raw was quite the experience as it sneaks up on you and has a long finish in the mouth, without being unpleasant (if you like that sort of thing). A certainty for next season, when I’ll get them in a little earlier.

Nine varieties from my own stock, with two rejected (I may acquire more, if anything takes my fancy) . I have some organic Tigrella seed still in the packet, I’ll set a couple, but the ones I’ve had this year from that same seed haven’t been the best. They have a nice flavour, but they’re thin skinned and heavily seeded. I’m hopeful the second years cropping (as with the San Marzano) will improve as they adapt to the soil and growing conditions. If not, that’s life.

I took a little bit of time for myself last week and popped into town, on the bus, to meet up with a couple of buddies in Wetherspoons, which was holding a (national) beer festival of sorts. There were six beers available on the day, which was handy for drinking in thirds. All six are worth a mention and, at £1.49 a pint, I didn’t take a lot of persuading to have seconds or even thirds. Urban South “Who Dat” IPA 5% (2 of), Brewsters “Sailing By” 4.5% (2 of), Elgoods “North Brink” Porter 5% (1 of), Green King “Blood Hound” 4.4% (1 of) Shepherd Neame “Cold Snap” 5% (2 of) and Fyne Ales “Sun Lounger” 4.4% (1 of). I parted with the princely sum of £4.47p and left with a slightly crooked grin on my face. One has to wonder how they do it, and I do worry for the smaller local boozers, but for a change of scenery & a proper Yorkshire day out, it took some beating. The “Who Dat” IPA is a cracking beer, too. Sadly, the Hook Norton “Tower Ale” wasn’t on.

Just over three months in and the rhetoric continues apace, although, apart from a few people getting jailed for spicy posts on t’interweb and trade unions being successful in holding the country to ransom, little of any import seems to have actually happened. “Fine words butter no parsnips” could well have been coined for this motley crew of failed lawyers, ex-Spads and grievance monkeys, who seem to care more about getting a decent seat at a pop concert than they do about actually running the country, but, to be fair, it isn’t as if this was unexpected. Labour’s like a duck on a pond, all above water is serene and calm, but under the surface the paddling of webbed feet is something to see. Tuesday night is my “traditional” pub night, it used to be domino night, but Covid finished that off. Any road up, as you might imagine, when seven or eight chaps of a certain age and experience get together over a beer or two, very little is “off the table” and what is is soon shut down, but we don’t hold back. Forester Dave is an avid Telegraph reader and he brought in this article for us to scoff at and scoff we most certainly did. Banter Bobbies? Oh how we chuckled with cynical laughter that anyone would think a public bar “debate” might be open to not just censorship, but the threat of some form of legal action. However, when we’d all calmed down we had to accept that, far from being the impossibility it should be, in our “Build Back Better”, “Resetting The Foundations”, “Time For Change”, “Brave New (Progressive Liberal) World”, it was more than likely that, before too long, “Big Brother” would not only be watching us, but looking to nick us, as well. It isn’t as if they’d struggle for recruits, is it?
 

© Colin Cross 2024