Titanarum

Here’s the tastiest lasagne ever. And probably one of the healthiest too. Star ingredient: rainbow chard (see picture). To grow this crop stick some seeds in the ground, wait three months or so depending on season, then harvest. Like perpetual spinach it keeps growing. Always pull off the outside and largest leaves, don’t worry if they are slightly damaged or partially eaten. I used 12 large leaves for a 4 person lasagne. Wash thoroughly to get rid of small snails and grit and whatnot then steam or boil until collapsed. Pour into cold water and get ready to assemble. Other ingredients I used are: fresh egg lasagne sheets, nutmeg, grated mature cheddar (ideally a bit nutty and sweet) and a large jar of Lloyd Grossman’s tomato and chilli pasta sauce.

Assembly: A bit of tomato sauce on the bottom is followed by a sheet of lasagne. Grate lots of nutmeg over it, sprinkle a bit of cheese and then wring the water out of three or for leaves of chard. Unfold and cover as best you can. Make the layer as thick as you like. Grate more nutmeg, sprinkle more cheese and add tomato sauce. Repeat until you’re out of ingredients or the container can’t hold anymore. Just make sure most of the cheese is on top and all of the pasta sheets have some tomato sauce to cook in. Bake for 30-40 minutes on gasmark 5. I forgot to grow chard this year but have a generous allotment neighbour in K. Thanks, sweetie.

Rutting season over the deer once again mingle with humans. The one to the left was part of a group of 20 plus mixed age and gender I came across between the Pen Ponds and the Robin Hood Gate. It was quite near the road so I thought I’d see how intimately we could get acquainted. Everything was fine to start with. It munched grass like there was no tomorrow and barely registered my presence. Considering that deer normally run a mile that counts for a lot of trust and willingness to take it to the next level. So I moved a little closer positioning myself so that a cute photograph could come out of it. At this stage some of the other deer began to walk away but not this one. I took a few more steps towards it. I reckon there was 10 yards or so between us. Ready to click I pointed the lens on what would have been Bambi with almond eyes gazing at me whilst its young knuckle-kneed legs threatened to buckle under all the excitement. But what you see is what I got. I’m with the hunt lobby when the annual culling starts in a few days.

I bought a hyacinth bulb sitting on top of a glass container a few weeks back. The idea is that you fill the container with water at a level the bulb can just about feel. It will then send out roots. And so it has. Elegant, long, slightly sinuous white roots have filled the container whilst on top: Nothing. I’ve been looking and looking and looking. But nothing. I don’t think I have the patience to deal with plants. Other people tell me spending time with plants is relaxing. I don’t buy that. I’m totally stressed. I haven’t been to the allotment for I don’t know how long. I fear the worst. Most of my pieces on this blog is all about anxiety caused by not doing anything. But back to my hyacinth indoors. Despite changing the water and keeping everything according to instructions the stupid bulb didn’t do anything other than grow long roots for at least two whole weeks. Until yesterday, that is. All of a sudden a small light green protrusion has formed bursting out of the silvery skin. I’m getting all excited now because soon I’ll have a proper hyacinth in the house. And it will be smelly (in a good, but if I remember rightly, quite overpowering way). Well, I can always put it in the toilet.

Heather the plant has cropped up in conversation recently. A friend, B, who has the good fortune of a large south facing balcony, would like to grow some. I kind of like them. I like their scent, a sweet intoxicating waft coming at you in winter, when many varieties are flowering. I also like the fact that they are hardy, meaning no fleece or other namby-pampying in the winter. One bad thing: they like acid soil so it won’t do to take a spade and bucket to the local football ground or down the allotment or garden. If you want to give heather a good life fork out for some peat based soil from a garden centre (I hope this is in line with organic thinking – I don’t want to cause the end of the planet’s peat resources). Apparently heather can be planted all year round, into soil or containers. The root clump needs to be well watered and well drained and after flowering the stems should be pruned back hard. B will obviously be sticking to containers and I hope she’ll ask me along when she goes shopping so that I can learn a bit more. As for the other Heather, enough said.

About 6 weeks ago I spotted a fairly large spider scuttling along the skirting boards. The body was probably the size of a fat raisin and the circumference of the legs when still a fifty pence piece. I can’t pretend I felt warm or relaxed but when it disappeared under my bed I was quietly relieved. Why?

It’s a long story but here goes: Years ago when bizarre thoughts and actions were the order of the day I kept a spider in captivity. It was quite similar to the one I just described. The spider of old was kept in a pint glass and fed the odd fly. The glass was not exactly in the way but it wasn’t out of the way either. Sitting in my living room near the armchair I was always aware of it. Even when I wasn’t at home I was aware of it. I do not know why I kept it. I didn’t like it. I could have chucked it out of the window like I normally do.

But I decided to keep it. It didn’t like its cage. During the first few weeks it would jump against the glass trying to topple it. Even after having been fed a fly it would behave angrily. But gradually it seemed to grow more apathetic. I felt very guilty but I didn’t release it. I knew then how valuable and useful spiders are but I left it in that glass for weeks on end till eventually, one day, it had stopped living. I did wrong. And that is why, to pay penance, the spider under the bed is safe with me.

Come on, they don’t smell that bad…
You should try some fresh ones next time !

I’m buying organic now. Last week I bought one cos lettuce from Asda (that’s a fairly large, oval growth) for 98p. It was good as in nothing wrong with it. I also bought a cauliflower. The difference between the organic and non organic version was 10p due to a special offer in Waitrose. That was good too although I don’t think it was anything special taste wise.

But the star buy was 4 pints of semi skimmed milk. That was so good and so relatively cheap I feel like shouting about it from the roof tops. It actually tastes BETTER than non organic milk. Richer, somehow, despite the fat content being the same. Apparently the fat is also infinitely healthier in organic milk. I may have to get myself a cow now and start a home dairy. Maybe I could get a genetically modified small one to keep in a play pen in the spare room. Or is genetically modification just as bad as being non organic?

I don’t eat battery eggs or chicken because of the cruel way in which they are treated but am I the only one who is struggling to do the right thing here? On a budget?

Why does it have to be dark in winter? I don’t like it.

I wonder how plants feel about it. With their roots in the soil I would have thought they feel hard done by. Their movements severely restricted I bet a lot of plants would prefer to be somewhere warmer and lighter right now. I know some plants need frost and hardship but surely the vast majority prefer clemency and care.

Why do we have to put up with winter every year? It’s getting me down to the point I can’t face my responsibilities. I haven’t been on the allotment for more than a week and imagine the worst: upturned compost bins and all the red worms in convoy across the path to find a better life. And I wouldn’t be surprised if the couch grass takes advantage of the privacy and turns the plot into a lawn. The cherry trees will be suffocating under a carpet of shepherds purse, hairy bittercress and dandelion. Gardening isn’t just about food. Plants I’ve been pampering through the spring and summer have been left, like abandoned offspring, to fend for themselves. And that, surely, is worse than if I had never had anything to do with them.

Darkness reigns.