a subversive plot

Today I discovered a new geeky pin-up boy and worked on a subversive plot.

Thanks to Mark Bittman's thanksgiving piece in the NY Times, I give you my latest food/gardening/political heart throb, Roger Dorian and his inspiring TED Talk.

But now it's time to go back to my subversive 9 square metre plot.

Seasonal garden update

Spring finds me still hanging onto the last of my winter cavolo nero and rainbow chard. Both attempting to bolt and go to seed.

It's still a thrill to come home from work and pick a carrot to munch on while I cook dinner.

The parsnips have been a good experiment. But the true revelation was eating them raw, young and tender. Who ever new a parsnip could taste so good?

The coriander disappointingly yielded no seeds this year. I'd raised them from seeds saved from last years abundance, planted in the same spot but alas the bolt began but fizzled, seedless. Anyone know why?

The parsley is bushy but not for long.

But the sorrel continues to be a star - fresh as a citrusy salad green or tossed through an omelette, I'm thoroughly addicted to the stuff.

New season kids on the block

So shoot me for harking back to the same old, but it aint summer without the trusty Tommy Toe tomatoes.

I've added an heirloom "Burnley Surecrop" to see how it goes.

There's eggplant in the spot closest to the barbecue. I regretted forgetting to plant some last year. Looking forward to that one quick move from garden, chopping board to grill this summer.

Lastly, there's a lot of strawberries - some fruiting already but between the cat covering them up in a frenzied feline OCD manner and the birds (must get some netting) I've only managed to salvage one so far.

I need to say farewell to the winter greens and plant some summer leafies. Such a small inner city plot will never fully feed me but it does cut my weekly organic veggie shop down by half.

And there's the buzz of being part of a global, subversive plot!

Oh and I still haven't covered the blue board, stopped the back shed from falling down and otherwise beautified my backyard. I prefer focusing on the beauty of green, growing things instead.

fresh, green and vomit-free!

I came late to the party as far as coriander (cilantro) is concerned.

To be honest I thought the herb smelt like vomit, so why would I want to taste it? The journey from outright disgust to tolerance of this plant has been a long one. It’s only in recent years that I’ve begun to embrace it. So to celebrate this newfound love, inspired by Christina’s wonderful post mid year, I’ve grown coriander for the first time.

Beyond the joy of being able to harvest a bunch of coriander fresh from the garden while knocking up some Asian delight, I’ve patiently waited for the plant to go to seed. In the past when annuals have bolted, I’ve felt a little melancholy. This time my excitement was palpable.

You see it’s the seed bearing umbels that really turn me on. So much of what I cook now begins with toasting and grinding coriander and cumin seeds. How perfect to harvest my own seeds to use after the plant has died? Then my mind sprung to the next logical conclusion, if dried seeds bring me so much olfactory joy, what about FRESH coriander seeds? How cool would they be to cook with?

For the past week I’ve battled torrential rain, the odd swarm of mosquitoes and fretted about locusts, just to harvest my new best friend. The first batch went mouldy, stupid really as I know all about drying herbs. Fortunately there’s been more bounty on the leggy, near dead, plant. My first foray into using my new love was to simply crush a head or two of seeds with the back of a large knife and adding them to a mid-week kedgeree. The seeds lifted the flavour, adding a fresh pungency to the spices.

Have you every cooked with fresh coriander seeds or have an inkling on how you’d use them?