After a long, hot summer, things have finally turned in the weather department. Really, it's only in the last week or so that I've begun to notice a difference in the colouring of the woodland surrounding the garden and little veg patch. As the winds pick up, leaves begin to fall from the branches. In stronger gusts, it can be quite magical to watch hundreds, if not thousands, blowing across the valley.
The trees are starting to take on some of those classic tawny oak and chestnut colours, but they're still only just peppering the green. It does feel particularly late to me, but perhaps it's not. It's hard to be sure. All I know is that most of the leaves are still on the trees, although as I walk into the veg garden, I notice that the gravel surrounding the raised beds and lower patches is beginning to disappear beneath fallen ash and beech leaves. That's a good indication that autumn is getting underway.
On the practical front, I cleared out the tomato plants about two or three weeks ago, and on the working bench in the greenhouse there's a soil sifter full of unripe fruit. It's always the way. They're beginning to colour, although I don't hold out much hope for all of them. Nonetheless, they'll probably be destined for a chutney. There's a combination of smaller green cherries, larger khaki-coloured ones and a wonderful black variety that still feels a bit firm.
With the plants gone, the beds were left empty, and that's not what I like to see. So I've planted some lovely lettuce, mizuna and two different types of kale, just to see how well they do under glass over the winter months. It should offer them a little more protection from the weather, and as long as I keep them watered, I'm hoping they'll thrive. They've certainly perked up since I put them in and are looking quite healthy
There's a lot of nasturtium growing around the greenhouse. It's such a pretty plant, with its lily-shaped leaves held on fine upright stalks, and it's still in flower. It's lovely in salads, and I've used it in other ways too. One particularly nice use for the leaves is to make a pesto, incorporating a little apple as well as pine nuts and cheese. It's actually very good. The pepperiness of the nasturtiums and the slight acidity of the fruit work wonderfully with good olive oil and perhaps a nice pecorino.
We're still able to make some lovely salads, and given how mild it is, that's a good thing. There'll be plenty of time for simmered, roasted or braised vegetables as it gets colder outside. Until my mizuna comes on, I've been putting together a mixture of nasturtium leaves and flowers, Lollo Rosso and oak leaf lettuce, and baby chard, of which I've got quite a lot. Clean, tender little beetroot leaves work wonderfully, as do young carrot tops. I've even got some little gems popping up in this mild weather.
The rocket, which is scattered around the gravel, is coming back into leaf after quite a tough summer, when it died back and became rather woody and holey. Together with parsley growing in pots, a few rogue mustard plants, some sharp sorrel and young curly kale, there's plenty to make an interesting salad that still very much has a place on the table.
In the lower patch are the last of my potatoes. I can see a few poking out from the dark earth, revealing their presence to anyone keen to take a nibble, whether that be mice, squirrels or potentially rats slinking their way from the warmth of the compost bin. But for the most part, the remaining rows are safe beneath the surface, just the dry bases of their stalks denoting their whereabouts.
The big feathery foliage of the asparagus still looks pretty happy and seems reluctant to die back so I can cut it down to the base and allow the crowns to rejuvenate over winter. Removing it will give my Brussels sprouts and kale plants a little more light, since I planted them in and around the spears when they were still being harvested back in June, not expecting such a huge volume of growth to form above them at the end of the season
Next to the kale and Brussels sprouts there was a decent patch of mixed squash and pumpkins, but they never did particularly well over the hot summer months. Sadly, I haven't been able to harvest any. Friends who are growers in the area, however, seem to have plenty, including my favourite, Crown Prince, and the little Uchiki Kuri, or onion squash, as it's often called.
I've been cooking these with abandon of late. One particular new favourite is to sweat down leeks with garlic, butter and thyme until they're silky and giving, then add cider and cream to make a wonderfully rich sauce, which I spoon into hollowed-out roasted squash and finish by baking in the oven. In fact, I served this to friends just last Sunday and it went down an absolute treat. The trick is not to use ones that are too big.
Last night I made a rather delicious squash, carrot, ham and lentil soup using chicken stock from birds I'd roasted in the wood oven, so it had a gorgeous smoky depth. The soup was full of flavour, spiced with cumin, coriander, chilli, fennel seeds and a touch of fenugreek. Everything was diced fairly small, so there was plenty of texture, but I also took about a third of the soup and blitzed it before stirring it back in. This gave it a little more body and improved the consistency while preserving that wonderful chunky texture.
The Crown Prince I've been cooking recently have been so good that I made the decision to save some of their seeds instead of sending them out to the compost. The flesh was particularly sweet and tender, full of flavour and character, and it seemed a shame not to try growing some for myself.
After scooping out the seeds, I gave them a quick rinse and removed the stringy flesh that remained attached, then laid them out to dry on the windowsill. Once they're completely dry, I'll pop them into a labelled paper envelope and keep them with my other seeds until they're ready to sow in spring.
It would be wonderful if I could carry through some of the qualities of this particular variety. They're grown very locally, so perhaps they'll do well in the ground here too. Of course, there's no guarantee that the plants will produce exactly the same fruit, particularly if they've crossed with another type of squash, but I think it's worth giving it a go. I've done the same with some cucumber seeds, which can be quite expensive to buy, and I might try saving some from the tomatoes too.
Saving your own seed is a lovely thing to do, particularly with older heritage varieties that have been grown and passed down over generations. The important thing is to choose healthy, fully ripe fruit and make sure everything is properly cleaned and dried before putting it away. With tomatoes and cucumbers, it's worth leaving the seeds and their jelly-like coating in a little water for a couple of days before rinsing them clean and spreading them out to dry. A plate or coffee filter is useful for this, as they don't stick quite so readily. Once dry, I keep them in labelled paper envelopes somewhere cool and dry, ready for the following spring. Heritage varieties are particularly good for saving, provided they haven't crossed with another compatible variety. You won't always get exactly what you expect, especially with squash, but perhaps that's part of the enjoyment. I like the idea of taking something I've eaten and seeing whether I can grow it again the following year.
The raised beds are full of beetroot and young leeks. The beetroot have done particularly well. They're the vegetable that keeps on giving, dependable, hardy and always there when you need them. I'm a big fan, whether they're used in soups, risottos, curries or salads, roasted or puréed. They're wonderfully versatile, and I'm harvesting them every few days at the moment. There's nothing quite like pulling a fresh beetroot straight from the ground. It's so much sweeter, and the skin is easy to rub away once it's been cooked, should you wish to remove it.
In the next week or two, I'll give the greenhouse its annual washdown. It really takes very little maintenance to keep the Rhino in tip-top condition. Just a good wash with a soft-bristled brush brings it up like new. And thanks to the powder-coated aluminium frame, it's remarkably resilient, particularly given its location here on the coast, facing south, where it gets a real battering over the winter months.
I'll also give the beds a general weed and turn the compost before it gets too cold outside, so that in early spring I've got some lovely rich mulch to put down before the new growing season begins. But that feels some way off, given we haven't even reached the beginning of winter yet.
There are two new autumn recipes just landed on the site, so if you're growing beetroot, carrots or pears, do have a look. Making the most of the vegetables that are so good at this time of year is what growing your own is all about. The first is my ember-baked beetroot and pear salad, which brings together the earthy sweetness of beetroot cooked in the embers with pears, orange, thyme and honey. The second is my roast carrot, nduja and whipped cottage cheese recipe, which is so bright and colourful and incredibly delicious.
You'll find both recipes here, along with a whole series of other seasonal dishes I've created using vegetables, herbs and salad leaves that can be grown under glass or out in the garden.
For now, I hope everyone has a very happy autumn. There's plenty to enjoy in the garden and kitchen before the colder weather really settles in. Wrap up warm, make the most of what's still growing and enjoy this wonderful time of year. It won't be long before we're sowing seeds and growing again.