Friday, 28 May 2010
This is not just a radish...
This is an iceberg radish, grown on our allotment by the sweat of our brows, and I just had to take a piccy of it before I scoffed it.
If I'd been blindfolded and someone had forced it between my quivering lips, Id have said it was bloody lovely. I suppose knowing that it was something that we'd facilitated by weeding, digging, hoeing, planting, hoeing, and generally nurturing made it all the sweeter.
It was probably the strongest, most peppery radish I've ever tasted.
They're part of the brassicae family apparently. That's OK. I can get on with Frank while despising Gary. And I can like Radishes while puking at the taste of cauliflower. Totally different.
I do hope though that all this allottmenting stuff will help breakdown some of the psychological blocks I have in place. Perhaps at some point I will grow my own sprouts and eat them, and thus eradicate the force feeding negative conditioning that my parents fostered.
There are quite a few things harvestable right now. I couldn't tell you what they all are, although I'm sure my beautiful talented vivacious tolerant sexy and intelligent other half could post a list when she reads this.
Some of that is rhubarb. Some of it is rocket. Indeed, some of it is wild rocket, and it's the tastiest rocket I've ever tasted. And I've tasted some tasty rocket in my time, I can tell you.
Go on! Get your name on the list for an allottment! It might take a while before you hear anything, and the plot you get might need a lot of prep before you start seeing results, but this stuff knocks supermarket produce into the middle of last week in terms of freshness and flavour.