In the little things
On Friday evening, when I am tired, it’s always the small husbandry tasks that magically make me feel better. By the end of June, the fish respond to my footfalls as I pass the by pond, rushing to be fed with mouths wide open. Food falls from the sky when they hear the thundering steps. Inca and I tend to linger by the pond, enjoying watching them feed. She loves the ceremony of the feeding of the fish because she gets to sample their diet. On the fish front the supreme personality is George. A giant now at 25 years old. His restaurant...
read moreWarm samphire, with olive oil and lemon juice recipe
“We decided that we’d taste this uncooked.” I proffered a stalk to Danny. He looked uncertain. “When did we decide to do this?” I picked off a large branch and ate it trying to remain expressionless. “Come on, you promised. We were sitting in Jalopy, and the rain was bouncing off the roof.” Danny took the teeniest segment and announced, “It is salty.” He chewed and added “Very salty.” I was cooking. Despite “being salty”, it was going to be the green veg to accompany...
read moreGuest Spot: Henrietta. The chick that we hatched on our Aga by Janet Reading
Eight days ago on June 12, Janet Reading sent me an Email. Her broody hen had died on the nest. The eggs were cold. She moved them to the top of the Aga and wondered what the right incubation temperature for the eggs might be. I keep chickens but I am no expert. A friend of mine had hatched eggs on the top of the Aga so I knew that it could be done. I flew onto the internet and found this useful site. Emails raced back and forth. There was silence until June 16 when she wrote – “We’ve successfully hatched one of the...
read moreHow to cook cold smoked kippers
Following my post on Craster Kippers, I discovered from Dan at the River Farm Smokery that not all kippers are hot smoked. He had offered me some large olive cans for the kitchen garden so we popped into the shop buy some treats. There were packs of Scottish kippers – ingredients: herrings, salt and oak smoke. When I unwrapped them the next day their flesh was pinkish. We grill Craster kippers for eight minutes. I wasn’t sure how to cook these so I put them under a low grill 130c for 14 minutes (skin side down) and served them...
read moreOld Roses: Rosa Complicata
Many years ago I worked in a London Day Centre for mentally ill adults. One day a pretty Maltese lady looked troubled. When I asked her what was wrong she replied, “I am feeling,” she jutted her chin as she searched for the right word, “. . complex.” Sometimes I too feel complex and Rosa Complicata is the perfect antidote. This is one of my favourite roses in the garden. I love the name and the simplicity of the flowers. It’s like a child with large clear eyes. One of my duties at the Day Centre was to organise...
read moreSunday lunch: Pot roast Poussin (gypsy style) recipe
“Danny, I’m really sorry but I’ve forgotten to take the pheasant out of the freezer.” It was eight in the morning and my mum was arriving for lunch in a few hours. Danny turned over. “Thank God for that. I much prefer the poussin version of the dish.” We snoozed until 9.47 and then D jumped into Jalopy and shot down to Newmarket. He arrived at the supermarket as the doors opened and was back at 10.10 with two plump poussin. My Mum is a foodie. At the eating rather than the cooking end of the spectrum. Her...
read moreUpdate on Farming Friends’ and Cottage Smallholder’s interblog guinea fowl breeding event
Mrs Boss is a bantam that is extremely prone to broodiness. She is also bottom of the pecking order, so her days are lonely. She spends her time running away from Carol, our Maran hen, or spending long sojourns in the anti broody coop. Both of which she hates. When Sara at Farming Friends offered to send some guinea fowl eggs for a broody Mrs Boss we jumped at the chance. This could be the break that Mrs Boss would enjoy. She would be allowed to be broody, and hopefully have some keets (guinea fowl chicks) to care for. If some keets do hatch...
read moreThe secret of the empty whisky bottles
Earlier this year, I spent a few weeks working for a charming couple in the next village. They live in a lovely house set in an acre of land. The garden teemed with wildlife. It was hard not to linger by the windows and watch the natural residents. I am lucky. Generally I work in houses with far more interesting clients than the wildlife beyond the windows. Each situation is packed with surprises, of the human kind rather than the behaviour of paint and fillers. On this particular job I would arrive for work and find an empty litre bottle of...
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