Off The Edge Gardening

Hairy Dhal – Better than it sounds

It is raining. Proper grown up rain. No wishywashy, dampen the odd leaf drizzle, but a full-on-soil-soaking-persistent downpour. Jubilation!

Hang on a minute, I was going to do some potting on at home today, that plan has been scuppered. I try to stay dry on my days off, there is enough soggy gardening at work. A free day, with no obligations or demands on my time, what a treat. How shall I use this precious time? I will put my feet up and watch the omnibus edition of Star Trek. That would be great. But the adverts are such a bore. I have a dedicated book to read during these mainly nauseating interludes, it is called my Advert Break Book. Brilliant eh?

Today I feel like a change. Perhaps I could cook something. We have Keralan fish curry for tea, as yet a virtual dish although I have faith it will become reality, I will made a dhal to go with it. I do love dhal. Then I could share my culinary experiences. It has been ages since we have done cooking!

The recipe is from the wonderful Hairy Bikers‘ book Great Curries, which luckily for them (and me) is not in contravention of the Trades Description Act. It is indeed full of great curries. Including this one. Which is actually an amalgam of two dhals. Needs did must. One day I had set my heart before realising that we were right out of red lentils (schoolgirl error), the shops were closed/too far away/I was in my pajamas and I really, really, really, really wanted dhal (laughable middle class problem). It was necessary to regroup and this was the result. As always, the real recipe, or approximation, is in normal font, my interpretation in italics.

All-in-one Split Pea Dhal mash-up with Masoor (Split Red Lentil) Dhal

Wash 300g split peas and then put in a pan with 1.2l of water and one teaspoon each of turmeric and garam masala.

I’ve only got 178g of split peas (distinct feeling of deja vu) so ask OH to buy some more when he get the Sunday papers. He tells me they are very difficult to find. I disagree. He returns triumphant. Mix the old and new which I am not sure is a good thing as a voice in my heads says they might cooks at different rates. Old ones a bit tougher. Hard luck. It is done. Pretty certain that the brown stuff in the unmarked jar is garam masala. Add to washed peas, water and turmeric. So far so good. Hope that is garam masala. Could be interesting.

Bring to the boil and skim off any scum that forms on the top.

All the spice seems to be at the top, so surely I will lose it if I “skim”? Make a token effort just to keep the HB lads happy.

Fry one onion in ghee or oil until pale golden brown.

Ghee? A step too far for OH and possibly the staff at the local Tescos, although I may be doing them a disservice. Stick to oil. Onion, no probs. Do a little more skimming. Nice word, unlike scum which although descriptive has a nasty feel about it. Popped in to see how Jean Luc was getting on, got a little distracted, onions dark bronze brown.

Turn heat down and grate in 15g ginger and 2 garlic cloves and cook for 2 minutes.

Cut piece of ginger, not enough, cut a bit more, still short, a slither and we are slightly over. No matter, once peeled it should be about right. Getting bored now. I hate grating ginger, even though I now have a swish Japanese grater, it doesn’t prevent nail filing incidents. Drop piece into hot pan several times, retrieve without burning fingers too badly. Use garlic crusher. Decide 3 garlic cloves would be better as we love it and I am a rebel. Oops forgot to turn heat down. Remove from heat completely and frantically scrape bottom of pan. No one will know.

Add 2 chopped medium tomatoes, half a teaspoon of salt and a whole plump green chilli, split up the side.

Add 3 chopped medium tomatoes (see above), half a teaspoon of salt and a whole plump green chilli. Cut the green stalky things out of the toms, does anyone else do that or am I just been finicky?

Stir for 5 minutes until tomatoes are soft, stirring often, and add to split peas.

Star Trek denouement imminent, turn heat up, stir for a couple of seconds and chuck it in with the juvenile dhal. Rush to find out that Data was not having a funny turn, due to the fact that he is an android he could sense the parasites that were sucking the blood from the rest of the Enterprise crew. Mind at rest now.

Loosely cover and simmer for 60-75 minutes until thick and soft, stirring regularly.

Set to simmer. After about 15 minutes realise I had forgotten to split the chilli. Poke about in the pan until I find the offending capsicum, then gleefully stab at it for a while.

Shortly after remember I had forgotten to set the timer. Last year my dog leapt off the top of the fridge, broke an ear and no longer rings. This is a disadvantage when you are a timer. I have a new one. An enigmatic cat. I love him, but not quite as much as the original. While we are waiting you might as well take a look.

Stir , rest, stir, rest, stir. Still didn’t set the timer, too late now. Stir, bit liquidy still, perhaps I should leave the lid off for a while. Stir, hungry now, toast crumpets. Notice the fairies have not yet done the washing up, do washing up.

Scoff crumpets, cambozola and tomato since you ask. Do more washing up. Forget to stir. Doing plopping lava impersonation as warned by HBs. Turn off. A little scraping. Taste. Yum. Taste again. May have repeated several times just to make sure seasoning is correct. Well that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Time passes.

Nearly tea time. Gently re-heat dhal.

Just before serving add Tadka. Fry 1/2 teaspoon each of chilli flakes, cummin seed and black mustard seed in oil for 15 seconds, stirring constantly. Do not burn. Add pinch of asafoetida and stir into dhal.

Google Tadka. “Indian tempering technique often used as a finishing touch to dhal”. Great. Must focus now as cat does not do seconds even if I remember to set him. Measure out ingredients. Meditate. Get mini-frying pan ready. Tips up but I catch it. Add everything except asofoetida. Stir and count. Manage not to get distracted. I am a yogic master. Ninja cook. No time to gloat. Sprinkle last ingredient, the mysterious asofoetida. Stir into dhal. Taste. Double yum.

After all that palaver, and more, we have arrived at our destination, dhal, fish curry, rice and nan. All we need is for someone to eat it. That is the easy bit.

There are thousands of different recipes for dhal, but this one comes highly recommended, not by a bon vivant or food critic, but by a gardener with a good appetite. Give it a go, although it is possibly best to follow the chaps’ recipe rather than mine. It makes a good amount, you could always half the quantities but why bother with all those calculations, it is even better the next day and the day after……

The crumpets were good too. You can probably master them on your own.

Six on Saturday – Gifts

I bunked off last week. There was a very good excuse. As no one seemed to notice I will continue unabashed. I will bank the good excuse for another time.

Here we are again, Six on Saturday, the pyramid selling concern started by the President of Prop Towers, The Prop. This tower should not be confused with Malory, Fawlty or indeed Trump. God forbid. There is oodles more intrigue, much better customer service and well, the least I can say is, a better haircut.

The weather has changed. The rain arrived last night and brought with him a rowdy party of hail, thunder, lightning and gales. He would have been more welcome on his own.

My first contribution is a flowering sedum. When my OH appeared with this in hand I humoured him, “very nice, dear” I said, whilst barely raising an eye from my How to Crochet a Rocket Ship book. When I saw the flower I repeated the sentiment, the difference being this time I meant it.

Next we have Lilium ‘Casa Blanca’, both fragrant and fabulous. A gift from the generous and kind, cunningly disguised as a grumpy, old man who will probably be even more grumpy now I have said nice things about him, Mr K. Thanks, they are indeed a wonder to behold and sniff.

Just as I love tigers but wouldn’t particularly want one in my garden, petunias and me are not a happy gardening match. They are sticky. They make me go icky. I like to look at them, admire them in other people’s gardens as long as I don’t have to work there. My lovely neighbour gave me a pot of petunias for looking after her cats. I smiled and accepted them as enthusiastically as I could muster. I admit they are rather striking, attractive even. A tiger would have been nice.

Several years ago I grew Alonsoa warscewiczii ‘Scarlet’, the mask flower. A magnificent colour, tough and persistent, it even over wintered for a couple of years. Then a harsh one and it failed and drifted out of my consciousness. In mine and Nancy’s “all seed packet 50p” frenzy at the local garden centre I picked up a packet. Now I am rather pleased I had practiced my Boston crab.

Now we have Cautleya spicata ‘Robusta’, a member of the ginger family, that was donated by the lovely Phlomis Phlo. It has been battered by scorch and now rain and wind so is perhaps not looking its best. The fetching drip on the end of its nose brings a little pathos to the picture don’t you think?

And finally a dahlia seedling, whose parentage is a little vague. Possibly Dahlia coccinea with a contribution from some passing Lothario. Dark leaved, tangerine veined petals and a central boss of ginger, a beautiful love child.

Thanks Mr P, happy holidays to you. Who knows what next week will bring? Let us hope it is all good things.

An Interesting Story

Some days toddle along, nothing particularly notable happens, nothing even close to news worthy occurs. Most days actually. Don’t get me wrong, no complaints here. I am quite happy with my meandering life. When I get home and recount my days in minutae my OH often nods off “was that one of Gill’s interesting stories?” he asks when he wakes.

Brace yourselves folks, there is one coming up.

The day began well. A bacon buttie well. Yes that good. It was warm and welcome on my arrival at The Bun’s. Mr B took one look and sighed one of his sighs. I think it meant “you deserve that sandwich, take your time and enjoy it”. Not absolutely certain though.

And the day progressed well. Mrs B harvested some cucumbers from medusa’s nest, once known as a greenhouse (I had to pull her out twice by her feet) and bravely retrieved a few good ‘uns. She kindly gifted me a brace which I placed on the grass by my tools. It soon became apparent that someone else had designs on them.

Bobbie, who I had previously considered a friend and ally, ran off with one of them. Mr B tried to fob me off with “she is looking after it for you until you leave” although I wasn’t completely convinced. The slobber might have added a certain je ne sais quoi, but I decide to give it a miss.

Next I had a rendevous in the lovely village of Mortehoe, meeting on the lychgate steps outside the church. A friend, who has yet to be named but on reflection I think Dahlia Dora will do the job nicely, is on holiday for the week. Her family were on the beach and we had a couple of hours pencilled in for catching up. As I was a little early I took the opportunity to wander the graveyard, examining the headstones, reading names and ages and years. Although the village was busy I was alone in my contemplation of those that lay below.

Then coffee and scones and cheese and much gossip and laughter. And even plants to admire. Another day with nothing to report. And I am very happy for that.

Return

I’ve been away for a few days. And very nice it was too. However, it is hard to leave your garden in the midst of the growing season, drought or no drought. Actually I’m not sure anyone has officially said the “D” word yet, but it won’t be long, mark my words. The day before we left I watered everything well and shuffled pots into shadier places. Then I crossed my fingers. And it worked. On my return all was well. On the cusp, perhaps, but fine. Today I have repeated Thursday’s irrigation. No one blinked.

This daylily, one of the magnificent Pollies Daylilies seedlings, was revving up to flower before we left. Kindly, it waited until today to bloom, and very pleased I am too.

Nothing New Here

Helenium, bee. Bee, helenium. Same old, same old.

United Nations

My favourite journey to work is the half hour’s drive to The Mantle’s estate on the edge of Exmoor. The outward trip is always full of photo temptations, especially once the main route is left behind and I have ventured onto B roads, lanes and unmade track. If I am in good time, dependent on tractors and how early I have fallen out of bed, I will pull into the side of the road and take a few snaps. Most opportunities are missed; rabbits disappearing into the undergrowth, lambs scurrying back into the fields, a weasel shooting across my path, or perhaps wild snowdrops, honeysuckled hedgerows, meadows and moor views where no safe parking is apparent. The journey home is similarly strewn with the photogenic teases. Today a buzzard rose from the hedgerow to my right and glided low in front of the car, skimming the rough hedge to my right. Perhaps it is proper that these images are captured only as memories.

These lounging cows were misinformed, just a thimbleful of rain today, if that. The range of colours brought to mind a United Nations of Cattle. All getting on splendidly. We can only hope.

Six on Saturday – Birthday Girl

Saturday 14th July. Now that date rings a bell. Something or other is going on. Don’t tell me, it is on the tip of my tongue. Oh yes, Six on Saturday. That wonderful meme hosted by the indomitable Mr Prop. But there is a niggle that I might have forgotten another important event. Silly me, it is the 229th anniversary of the Storming of the Bastille. Always good for a knees up. However I’m not sure, there is a nagging at the back of my mind, an inkling that there may be something else I should be celebrating.

How could have I forgotten?! It is Peggy’s, AKA My Best Mum, 90th birthday. Don’t worry, it won’t get mushy. Or only a little. I can’t help myself. And don’t think this going to be a “my mother used to grow these in the garden of my childhood, whilst I frolicked amongst the sweet peas”, she barely knows the difference between a daff and a dandelion. Truly, sometimes I wonder if she is my real mother. Then I look at my fat calves, remember my propensity to blush at the drop of a hat and my compulsion to talk to absolute strangers on public transport, and I know that there is no avoiding it, we are truly related.

As the reason that I do this blog is the fault of the self said woman, it would be remiss not to celebrate, however tenuously, through SoS. A meld made in heaven. Or should that be Heavens. Once Peggy told me “I have been very lucky, I have never wanted diamonds, pearls or fur coats”. That is true. And this is another thing that I have inherited. Just as well really, because they were never coming our way. For this special birthday she has been very strict, she doesn’t want anymore “stuff”. What could be better then, than a Six on Saturday dedicated to you?! My first gift is a sunflower, could you get any richer and more radiant than this Ruby Queen? A jewel of the finest kind.

My second gift is an agapanthus, just considering blooming, strung with gossamer. Or spider’s webs for the unromantic amongst you. A classic seaside plant, my Mum loves the coast with a passion. When she stays at our house, my first job of the day is to take her a cup of tea in bed. I draw back the curtains and we sit and watch the boats and chat and all is well in the world.

The third plant is a Salvia viscosa, an adorable little sage, grown from HPS seed. Not the most extravagant of flowers, but it has a delicate charm that is as worthy as any other. My Mum will chat with a Hells Angel or a Duchess, a tramp or a Queen, and she treats them all equally and with respect. All are enchanted.

The next present is Fuchsia ‘Thalia’, which has toughed it out through freeze and swelter. My Mum is from Yorkshire. Let me translate for you – she tells it how it is, although years away from home she has alway remained a straight talking northerner. This sometimes smarts, but is invariably for my good.

My next offering is a hydrangea, strangely blue this year, which I am guessing has something to do with nutrients being available in the drought. But I might be wrong. My Mum loves singing and is always quick to break into song. At any time. Which can be a little embarrassing. But remember, she is from Yorkshire, and quite frankly doesn’t care! This flower has nothing to do with singing, or any song I can think of, but it is still a pretty gift.

Lastly we have Daisy the cat, warming her belly on the baking bricks. My Mum loves animals and they love her, as do I. Nearly got slushy then. She is my mentor, my best friend. She keeps my feet on the ground and my head in the clouds. Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. Happy birthday Peggy from Your Bestest Daughter!!!

Flaunt

A few drops of rain yesterday. I was hopeful for a reprieve, but ultimately it was inconsequential in the scheme of things. A pathetic effort. No need to shelter or to wish waterproofs were at hand.

This trollius is a moisture lover. It should be in a complete sulk. At the moment it doesn’t seem to be complaining too much. Those stamen are being flaunted outrageously and defiantly. Long may it continue.

Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Ayesha’

This afternoon I had a short break from jack-hammering/mattocking/dynamiting the ground to extract couch grass, brambles and ivy. Wandering around the garden I came across what I think might be Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Ayesha’. This shrub had been squashed between closely planted trees and was therefore reaching for the sky, the only way was up. Just one flower, due to my formative pruning in the autumn, but showing great promise. I am optimistic that next year it will be quite splendid.

Thai Basil ‘Siam Queen’

I have been strong until now. But today, I must confess, I succumbed to that most unforgivable of outbursts. In my defence I was living it and it was hurting. Anyone would weaken under the circumstances, crumble like a rich tea in a hot cup of tea. All was fine until mid afternoon, at this point things started to go wrong. The crescendo that had been slowly building reached its apex. It was then the heinous crime was committed. Although all alone On Button Moon, I suddenly exclaimed to the daylilies and anyone else who cared to listen “It’s too bloomin’ hot!”.

It was done. Please forgive me.

The Thai basil just shrugged and said “bring it on!”.