Gardening 101

When we moved out of our flash soho pad (and by this, I mean 'studio up 4 rickety flights of stairs') the prospect of having a garden seduced us, as all good locavore yuppies, with idyllic images of growing our own veg, herbs* and flowers.

Now we have a lovely flat with many more rooms and a gorgeous little patio garden. Last year, we executed our first attempt at gardening. It went...interestingly? There was an epic battle with greenfly, in which we were eventually triumphant. A less satisfying war against slugs and snails to which we lost our peas and peppers. Never again! And then there were the tomatoes. The tomatoes grew to ridiculous heights and then didn't produce until the very very end of the season. A lack of direct sunlight, I'm told. All in all, we experienced enough success to wade in again this year. This is, apparently, how the obsession with gardening begins.

This year we vowed to shed our haphazard ways and magically become experts. So far so good, if I'm honest. Chris' parents bought us a little propagator, so we could raise seedlings. I'm most excited about this because of one crop: tomatillos. Every once in a while you find fresh tomatillos at one of the Isle of Wight stalls at the farmers' markets, but those marvellous mornings are few and far between. My mom had great success with tomatillos in Montana (a far more forbidding atmosphere, though I'll admit much more sun), so I figured we'd give it a try.

Right now we're raising nasturtium and pansies (for colourful delish salads), tomatillos, cos lettuce, kale, red basil and various flowers. They're coming along nicely and in another few weeks they'll be ready to be 'hardened'. As far as I understand, this involves placing them outside in direct sun for progressively longer periods (somewhat like children and preschool). And then - they'll be set free, ready to (hopefully) flourish!

In addition to all these lovely seeds, we've also got tomatoes and peppers on an indoor windowsill waiting to move out in late April or May. The sweet peas are already planted, as are the oregano, chives and lemon thyme. Strawberries are in a hanging basket and we have Logan berries and raspberries ready to bust out. But the other exciting crop this year is potatoes! We have two large bins (one for earlies and one for main crops) which look very ho hum right now, just filled with soil. I am assured, however, that lovely green leaves will burst forth.

Finally, the strongest contender this year is the hop. It's already climbing up the trellis and trying to take over my bike. I certainly won't let that happen, but I am excited for some fresh hop beer later in the season.



* As a side note: 'herbs' is pronounced 'erbs', 'basil' has a nasal 'a' and it's cilantro - not coriander. That is a seed. These are all debates my husband and I have had, and I won.

The Inaugural Broughton Brew!

After years of being avid beer fans, visiting breweries and chatting with other geeks, Chris and I finally bit the bullet and brewed up our first batch. It's not done - we only started on 18 March, so it has a few more weeks to go - but what brilliant way to spend an afternoon!

We commenced with a kit for Cooper's IPA, The Complete Joy of Home Brewing by Charlie Papazian and How to Brew by John J. Palmer. While we had the kit, we ending up following the advice of Papazian. We subbed in in 1 pound of dried malt extract for the sugar provided. (We just happened to have malt extract to hand from visiting Planet Natural - a genius shop for gardeners, home brewers and hot sauce aficionados. Seriously, go there if you're in Bozeman)

Boiling the malt extract with the Cooper's Syrup and water filled our kitchen with the most delicious malty steam. After 45 minutes (the recommended minimum by Papazian), the malty goodness was mixed with more water and left to cool.

As a side note, this is precisely where my Christmas present to Chris of an immersion wort chiller would come in handy. But no, he has yet to cash in on that, so instead we waited...and waited.

This did give us time to proof the yeast, as recommended by Palmer, so the time was not wasted. Once down to the necessary 75 degrees, the yeast was added and now we have a plastic bucket full of very young beer underneath our kitchen table.

Who knows if it will be good? But on the other hand, who cares? It's our first foray into brewing and we had a spectacularly good time. Moreover, this is our beer. We didn't follow the kit instructions, we used ingredients from across the globe and followed in the footsteps of two esteemed forefathers. Whatever the result, this beer is uniquely ours and that is exciting.

Only a few more weeks until we try Indy's IPA...