Sunday, 2 December 2012

Time for the acid test

I spy with my little eye something beginning with 'l'

It is decision time for the lemon tree in the London garden, after a third night of frost.  It is looking happy, having recovered from the red spider mite infestation contracted when taken indoors last January. See From one pot to another. The campaign of daily brushing and spraying with dilute washing up liquid, combined with acclimatising it back to the outdoors in April, was successful.  New shoots sprouted, white blossom appeared and there will be home-grown lemons for Christmas gin and tonic and smoked salmon. Rather than risking another red spider mite attack in the warm, dry atmosphere of the conservatory kitchen, the plan is to leave it outside all winter, wrapped in a duvet of horticultural fleece.

One of the strange things that happened when the lemon tree began to lose its leaves was that it started to sprout thorns - and quite sharp ones too. This reminds me of friend Meg's comments about fruit picking when she was a girl in the United States, triggered by reading about last year's foraging trip Wild and free. and the embarrassment of riches during our stay in Tuscany. Meg's parents were very early advocates of self-sufficiency,  growing every imaginable fruit and vegetable on their plot in Virginia. Meg recounted how sore her hands got from picking lemons, on account of the thorns.

She grew up in a home with several acres of land, including a small orchard with four or five sour cherry trees, several apples that ripened from late June until latish autumn, a couple of pears and a peach or two. "We also had about an acre of vegetables: radishes, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes, peas, squash, green beans, wild and domestic asparagus, black eyed peas, cucumbers, corn, onions, peppers of a few different types, collards, cabbage, cantaloupe, water melon and lettuce when it was not too hot. We had some strawberries, grapes and rhubarb plus lots of wild blackberries and across the creek were wild huckleberries. I am sure I have left something out of this long list, but you can see that I grew up eating lots of fresh vegetables and fruit.

"We also had chickens, ducks, geese and sometimes a few pigs.  Canning, pickling and preserving was always a fun time taking over life for a while each summer, so you can see that very little of our food came from the supermarket. Sometimes friends might join in these activities. We lived on the water, so we fished, clammed, oystered and crabbed too, and in the days before freezers became common, fish had to be shared if too many were caught; therefore, during the summer, fish was almost always for dinner."

Meg goes on to tell me that one lemon tree in a tub will be more than enough for our needs. Apparently she and Bob were unable to cope with the quarterly harvest from the two trees they had when living in Cap Ferrat and regret not selling some of them! I look at the four modest lemons on our precious specimen (one large and one medium yellow, plus two smaller green ones) before retrieving the unwaxed fruit from Waitrose to make a new batch of preserved lemons ready for tagines and celery salads. Maybe next year there will be enough of my own to preserve.  Or maybe we move to Provence....
All my own work, but not my own fruit - yet


Photographs by Sandi.





Saturday, 1 December 2012

The goose of Christmas past

A rude awakening for Scrooge                   © Walt Disney
Working through the cottage freezer in preparation for the festive fill-up, and trying to persuade myself that it doesn't need defrosting, I discover in the depths a plastic box labelled 'roast goose in giblet gravy'. In another corner, there is a small tub labelled 'fresh goose liver.' The excitement of December 2011 comes flooding back. On Christmas morning, over traditional smoked salmon and Buck's Fizz, our youngest son and his lovely fiancee announced that they have decided on their wedding date (in three days' time) and place (Washington DC).  We are invited.  Fortunately we have passports (call it feminine intuition) and warm clothing, so air tickets are booked for 27 December.

The Cratchits sit down to dine                            © Walt Disney
We then have to address the practical consequences of a pop-up wedding in the middle of Christmas Present: what to do with the gastronomical delights and substantial left-overs. Spiced beef, salads and vegetables, cheese and fruit are distributed to family and friends. The rest is packaged for the freezer - and forgotten.

...and so did we.
Now Christmas Yet to Come is almost upon us, and as we are  living in a building site with bare concrete floors, exposed wiring, rain filled excavation trenches etc,  liberating the goose of Christmas Past is an enticing idea. The giblet gravy has done a fine job in keeping the rich gamey meat tasty and succulent. I create a sauce with shallots, dry sherry, damson jelly and the strained gravy,  then put back some of the meat and gently simmer it until thoroughly heated through. It is served with roast butternut squash and puy lentils mixed with mushrooms, peas and diced red pepper.

The next evening, after a brisk walk through the sodden countryside, the goose liver is transformed into a luxurious appetiser. Sliced into small squares, it is seared in unsalted butter,  popped on to thin pieces of crisp toast topped with scrambled Burford Brown egg and dribbled with the pan juices deglazed with a splash of brandy. Perfect with a glass of Tio Pepe.