The GIY Diaries E-Book

Michael Kelly

• Herausgeber: Gill Books
• Kategorie: Lebensstil
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Month by month, learn how to grow fresh, nutritious fruit and vegetables that save you money, taste delicious and help you become more self-sufficient. With down-to-earth, informative accounts from Michael Kelly's own growing year and beautiful hand-painted illustrations by Sarah Kilcoyne, this book is packed with hard-earned wisdom and inspiration that will help you to coax delicious food from even the most unpromising soil. Whether you are a complete beginner or a more experienced grower, and regardless of the amount of space you have, Michael Kelly's expert advice will guide you. From feeding your soil and saving seeds to taking cuttings and preserving your produce, you will learn how to get it right in our climate. Each month also features recipes so that you can feast on the results of your work.

Leseprobe

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Introduction

January

kale and smoked cheddar risotto

winter frittata

spiced parsnip burgers

February

parsnip chips

ribollita

borscht

March

Nicky Kelly’s rhubarb crumble

potato, kale and roast garlic soup

raw kale salad

April

sausage and beer stew

beetroot and goat’s cheese salad

chargrilled cauliflower steak with cauliflower leaf gazpacho

May

wild garlic pesto

nettle tonic

roasted baby beetroot

June

courgette salad

Vika’s new potatoes and egg salad

kohlrabi, carrot and green onion slaw

July

beet burgers

marinated beef tomato and cherry tomato salad with gazpacho, rocket and goat’s cheese

Saturday morning eggs

August

zingy cucumber pickle

my go-to tomato sauce

panzanella

September

carrot and turnip soup with fresh thyme

fermented hot chilli sauce

apple traybake

October

French onion soup with garlic and smoked cheddar toasts

kale and pinto bean soup

roast squash with caramelised red onions, cashel blue and hazelnuts

November

pickled chillies

warm bulgur wheat salad with squash

Jerusalem artichoke and fennel seed hummus

December

minestrone soup

celeriac remoulade

brussels sprout and carrot fondue with smoked bacon

Acknowledgements

Copyright

About the Author

About Gill Books

introduction

It barely seems possible, but I’ve been growing my own food for nearly 20 years now. I don’t quite know how that happened or where the time went. I’ll save you from the monotony of my ‘garlic story’, which is how it all began, but I still remember the excitement of producing food – MYSELF and IN MY OWN BACK GARDEN! It seemed like magic, like a form of alchemy, that food could be coaxed from my unpromising soil and with my unpromising amount of growing knowledge. A (slightly diluted) version of that excitement still visits me each time I harvest veg in the garden all these years later.

Over the years, the soil has improved and my knowledge has grown. In some ways I find it remarkable that I’ve learned so much, and yet in other ways I find it strange that I still seem to have so much to learn. The veg patch remains as it has always been: my great teacher. It teaches me about food growing (and I learn equal amounts from my successes as I do from my failures), but it also teaches me about food more generally. In GIY, we talk often about how the real impact of food growing happens outside the veg patch – as our knowledge develops, we become more ‘food empathetic’ and we become more ethical consumers. We make different, better, more sustainable buying decisions.

Food growing has taught me about soil and how we can create healthy living soil by replacing the nutrients we take from it during the growing year. It has taught me about the connection between soil health, nutrition and flavour – in fact, I am now convinced that you can actually taste the life of the soil in the veg you grow yourself. Food growing has helped me to tap into the wisdom of nature when it comes to what to eat at different times of the year. It has taught me about the effort and skill it takes to grow food successfully, and therefore to value the genius of the growers and farmers who put food on our table and the importance of paying them a fair price for their produce.

It has taught me how much fun it is to eat more plants (and therefore less meat) and to eat more parts of the plants that I grow. It has taught me how tragic food waste is and how all food can be either preserved or turned into compost to feed the soil. It has taught me lessons about the role that the natural world plays in putting food on the table – how to work with nature rather than against it (and to never, ever use chemicals). At times, the veg patch has even taught me how to be more mindful – how to silence the endless chatter in my mind and appreciate the wonders around me. In some ways the veg patch is a lens through which I can understand the world better – or at least the food chain and my part in it. So I am grateful for all it has taught me, but I am also grateful that it has quietly, generously and without fail fed us as a family – countless delicious, wholesome meals served at our kitchen table, which looks out on the very place where the food is grown. I don’t think you can live better than that.

For most of that 20-year journey, I have kept a diary of my efforts in one form or another, either through columns in various newspapers and magazines or as scrawled entries in mud-stained garden diaries. Reading them again to put together this book, I was struck by two things: the common threads that run through all the years (the progress of the seasons, the highs and lows, the vagaries of weather, etc.) and just how different every growing year is. As a single representative year, this diary is, I think, a highlights reel of sorts. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed growing the veg (and eating it …).

Michael Kelly

january

A new year and a new growing season – we emerge from our winter hibernation brimming with foolish New Year enthusiasm. Don’t forget, it’s still the depths of winter, so while it’s a good month to get yourself ready, hold off until next month to sow seeds if you can.

This month we’re loving … parsnips.

Tough as old boots and often unappreciated in the kitchen. At this time of the year we love their earthy goodness.

1 january

a GIYer’s New Year’s resolution

New Year’s resolutions sometimes get a bad rap because they seem to represent the folly and flightiness of the human spirit. We start off the year with grand intentions to eat only salads and run a hundred miles a week. But then by mid-January we’ve quietly and guiltily abandoned our good intentions and reverted to type.

This year, make a simple resolution that can transform your life: grow food. And before you think that sounds like a resolution that might involve significant effort, life changes or all-round hassle on your part, fear not – you won’t have to buy a pair of Birkenstocks (though they are cool again in case you didn’t know). It doesn’t have to be a huge amount of food. We’re not talking 100 per cent self-sufficiency or living off the grid. It’s not scary or daunting.

Here are the Don’ts: Don’t spend a load of money on expensive garden equipment, books or tools. Don’t grow a goatee. Don’t dig up your garden or sign up for an allotment. Don’t learn Latin for reading the plant names. For now, we’re keeping it small-scale, achievable, practical. Unlike most of our resolutions, this one is about working with (rather than against) our limitations – our lack of time, lack of space, lack of knowledge.

Just grow food. Grow some salad leaves in a container. Stick a pea in some potting compost in a pot. Grow your own garlic. Or some herbs on your balcony. Start small. Pick three vegetables that you like to eat and learn how to grow those. How about setting yourself the target of producing an entirely homegrown meal? Just one little meal. That’s easy, right?

Keep this in mind as you start. Research shows that if you grow some of your own food (even if it’s only a little amount), your food habits may change. And this is down to the deeper understanding of and connection with food and the food system you will have because of your food growing experience – in GIY, we call this food empathy. You will be welcoming optimism and happiness into your life and saving some money in the process. You will also be out and about in the fresh air, getting some exercise at the same time. And you will have access to the most delicious, nutritious, seasonal food.

So forget about the Bikram yoga. This year, just grow food.

2 january

the pivot

I love how when the year turns from old to new, my GIY life gets turned on its head. The end of the year becomes the beginning. The wind-down becomes the ramp-up. A dwindling to-do list looks very busy again. The sudden shift in tone in early January is dramatic.

I have often found my enthusiasm waning as the new growing year begins. But this year feels different. I am itching to get started.

Whether you’re enthusiastic about it or not, it’s always advisable to hold off until February to get started with the bulk of your seed sowing. Even the zany Celtic calendar sees January as winter. The days are too cold and short for successful seed sowing. As a result, the January to-do list is usually filled with silly jobs that no sensible GIYer would ever really be bothered with, such as sharpening your hoe, cleaning plant labels and the like.

This year, inexplicably, I find myself searching for silly jobs to get stuck in to. I’ve already cleaned out the potting shed and the polytunnel, so today I decided to sort out my seed box in advance of getting my seed order done. Unusually for me, I decided to be brutal with a cull of unneeded seeds. Though it might seem thrifty to hold on to seeds perpetually, it’s generally a false economy in a busy growing year, particularly with slow-to-germinate vegetables. For example, it might take three weeks to discover that out-of-date celery or carrot seeds are, in fact, dead, by which time the window for sowing them might have passed.

4 january

inner squirrel

Apart from occasional trips to grab some food for the table, I don’t spend so much time in the veg patch in January – generally speaking, the garden is a cold and uninviting place at this time of the year. Thankfully my absence won’t do much harm. The work I did getting beds cleared and covered with compost or seaweed in November and December means that the veg patch is pretty much in lockdown and enjoying its winter slumber.

Later in the month I will sow some seeds in the polytunnel for early crops – carrots direct in the soil and beetroot in the potting shed for later planting out. There are also still some crops to be cleared from the veg patch that I really should have done by now (celery and Brussels sprouts that are far past their best). But there’s nothing madly urgent or pressing, so I’m relaxing (sort of) and taking a break.

Thankfully, the hungry gap – that time between having no food left in store and waiting for new-season crops to harvest – is still a few months away; there’s still an abundance of food to be had from the garden and in stores. In the house we still have plenty of onions, garlic, squashes and pumpkins perched high up on shelves or on top of the kitchen dresser. We’ve plenty of sauerkraut, pickles and chutneys in the kitchen; these are a godsend, particularly for school lunches – a simple slice of ham or cold chicken can be turned into a serious sandwich with a good dollop of some chutney or pickle. We also have loads of tomato sauces, celery and beans in the freezer (a little bag of frozen broad beans is a lovely taste of summer in the depths of winter). In the garden we have carrots, leeks, celeriac, sprouts and parsnips in the ground; kale, spinach, chard and oriental leaves in the polytunnel; and some beetroot in a box of sand in the garage.

So, all in all, life is good.

5 january

to lift or not to lift?

You will often read in veg-growing books that it’s a good idea to lift veg from the soil before the worst of the frosts. This is how I usually approach over-wintering veg:

1. Carrots: I generally leave them be, which admittedly means we lose some of them to munching from slugs later in the season. But honestly, I am happy to chop off any bad bits in the kitchen and I haven’t had a great experience of storing carrots.

2. Beetroot: better to lift and store them. They store very well in a box of dry sand.

3. Parsnips: leave them in the soil. They are as tough as old boots, so go with it. The very odd times we have a hard frost or snow means you can’t dig them out, but that’s increasingly rare with our mild winters.

4. Celeriac: leave them in the soil. I’ve eaten celeriac direct from the soil as late as May, which is around the time I start sowing the next season’s crop!

5. Leeks: leave them in the soil. With constant freezing and thawing they are inclined to go a little mushy in the long term, but leeks don’t store well once lifted. Try to use them up by the end of this month.

Remember, as you clear beds, cover them with compost, well-rotted farmyard manure or seaweed, and then a protective cover like cardboard or reusable sheets of black polythene (weighed down with stones). Bare soil is not common in nature for a reason – valuable nutrients will be washed away during wet weather.

kale and smoked cheddar risotto

JB Dubois, our head chef, does this recipe on the Vegetarian Cooking course at GROW HQ. The idea is to show people that introducing a couple of veggie dinners into your repertoire each week can be healthy and delicious. Don’t be put off by the idea of making your own stock – you can make it in half an hour, and it makes all the difference to the flavour of the risotto.

Serves 4

ingredients:

For the vegetable stock:

— 1 small carrot

— 1 small leek

— 1 stick of celery

— 2 cloves garlic

— 1 sprig thyme

— salt

For the risotto:

— 100g kale

— 1 carrot

— 1 clove garlic

— 100g Knockanore cheese (or other smoked cheddar)

— 20g butter

— 250g Arborio rice

— salt and pepper

— 1 litre veg stock

— toasted sesame and poppy seeds, to garnish

— squeeze of lemon juice, to finish

directions:

First make the veg stock. Wash, peel and roughly chop the vegetables and garlic. Place them and the thyme in a pot, cover with 1.5 litres of cold water and a pinch of salt. Bring to the boil and simmer for 20 minutes. Remove from the heat and allow to infuse for another 10 minutes, then pass through a fine sieve.

For the risotto, wash and chop the kale. Peel and grate the carrot. Peel and chop the garlic. Grate the smoked cheddar. Sweat the garlic with the butter in a large pot on a low heat for 2 minutes. Add the rice and sweat it off for 2–3 minutes (keep stirring to prevent it sticking). Add a good pinch of salt and pepper. Add the veg stock little by little, stirring every few minutes. The rice should be cooked when all the stock has been absorbed (15–20 minutes). When the rice is cooked, add the kale, the grated carrot and the grated cheese, give it a quick stir and serve immediately. Garnish with the toasted seeds. Add a squeeze of lemon juice.

7 january

seed acquisition disorder (SAD)

Ordering seeds is always an enjoyable experience for me, since it marks the official start of the growing year. I am not a naturally acquisitive person and I only go shopping for clothes and things when I absolutely have to (and I will be grumpy for the entire time I’m there). But I absolutely love ordering seeds. In fact, I love it so much that pretty much every year I go dramatically OTT, ordering way more than I need. How could you not, with visions of exciting food-growing projects swirling around in your head? So many possibilities! Such wonderful names!

A couple of years ago, my seed box got damaged (long story) and I had to order seeds of every vegetable and herb that I grow. The order came to an eye-watering €300 … ouch! In my defence it’s important to look on these things as a good investment, which of course it is. I’ve never accurately worked out the value of produce coming from the veg patch in a year, but some research I found a few years back indicated an approximate tenfold return. So, by that rule of thumb, €300 worth of seeds could yield €3,000 worth of food. And if that seems fanciful, bear in mind that a single courgette plant yields over 40 courgettes (worth €40) from a seed worth about 30 cents – that equates to produce worth 130 times the value of the seed! Of course, that doesn’t take into account the incredible investment that food growing has on your health and wellbeing (and that of your family), never mind the sneaky carbon sequestering you are doing in the soil.

Before you start, sort through the seeds you already have to see what’s usable. If you mind your seeds carefully (resealing the packet after use) and store them in a cool, dry place, they should be fine to reuse this year, as long as they are still in date. Discard any seeds that are out of date. I keep my seeds in a Tupperware box with a lid and keep it in the house in a relatively cool room. At least I do now, after the aforementioned accident …

My annual seed order is a thing of beauty, a perfect creation. The harsh realities of my ineptitude in the veggie patch and the crushing impact of pests and weather have yet to impact on its pristine brilliance. It is full of hope and expectation, a dream of a perfect GIY year. Long may it remain so.

8 january

the problem with january sowing

Why am I advising you to wait until February to really kick on with seed sowing? Low heat levels are the main reason that we can’t sow seeds successfully in January – most seeds just won’t germinate when soil and air temperatures are low. But that can be fixed using an artificial source of heat. Low light levels are also an issue and can’t be fixed so easily. Because there are only about 8–9 hours of daylight per day in January, a key problem with seeds sown at this time of the year is that the seedlings tend to become straggly or ‘leggy’, as they are literally straining for light. I know how they feel. Having said that, I often can’t wait to get started and at least plant something – perhaps some oriental salad leaves and the like. You might get lucky and have a bright, warm January this year.

If you are going to sow at this time of the year, it might help to get your hands on a propagator, which is designed to increase the temperature for seedlings so that you can start your seed sowing earlier. A propagator is a shallow container into which you put your seed pots and trays – it has a removable plastic lid (often with a vent) that you take on and off depending on the temperature.

Propagators can be (a) unheated (b) heated or (c) heated with a thermostat control. An unheated propagator can be used indoors on a sunny windowsill at this time of the year, but it would probably be too cold at night to use in a greenhouse. A heated propagator is more beneficial (though more expensive). A unit with a thermostat control will automatically set the temperature to the desired level – a sensor will detect when it’s too hot or cold and raise or lower the temperature accordingly. The Rolls-Royce version, if you will.

If you are raising a lot of seedlings and finding space in your propagator is an issue, it might be worth investing in a heating mat. It’s a similar idea, but has a far larger surface area. My heating mat in the potting shed is about 2m long and has a heating element in it (much like an electric blanket), so the whole surface warms up. The mat rests on the work bench in the potting shed and I place pots and seed trays on top to keep them warm. If it’s really cold, you can then cover the individual pots with upcycled plastic covers – I find old fruit punnets or freezer bags useful.

Of course, a windowsill in a very warm south-facing room in the house can often be a successful propagation space too (although kids and dogs put paid to that set-up in our house).

10 january

horticultural gobbledygook

If ever there were a reason not to grow your own, the incredibly complex jargon that accompanies the hobby would surely be it. Books and courses and experienced GIYers talk about fine tilths, broadcasting, ridges, brassicas, legumes, furrows, modules and blocks – and that’s only the start of the gobbledygook. To my mind these terms only achieve one thing: they make food growing sound more complicated and less accessible than it really is.

Of course, there are lots of things that can go wrong when you try to grow your own – there’s a high chance slugs will eat half the stuff you grow and rabbits might get the rest. Your carrots might be zany-shaped and your cabbage leaves might have holes in them. Your courgettes will be too big and your tomatoes too small. Some veg won’t grow and you won’t know why, others will grow phenomenally well and you won’t know why either. Let me assure you – even after growing food for around 17 years, I still have these problems. I still have epic failures. But every year (including the first year), I get to eat the finest of fresh, nutritious, delicious homegrown food.

Remember, at a basic level, seeds want to grow. That’s the good news. Stick a seed in the soil and it will turn into a seedling and then eventually a plant, and finally the plant will produce some vegetables that you can eat. A leek seed is hardwired with all the information it needs to become a leek – you don’t need to give it any special instructions on how to do so. All you need to do is provide it with the correct conditions and it will reward you with some lovely grub.

11 january

the january polytunnel

Polytunnels are a brilliant addition to your growing area, if you have the space and can afford to buy one. A polytunnel is basically just a big piece of clear plastic that creates a little patch of always-dry, always-warm veg garden, which means polytunnel owners can extend their season at both ends – starting a little earlier and keeping going a little later than you would if growing outside. This is, in fact, the main benefit of owning a tunnel.

So, even though it’s far too wintry to be sowing seeds outside, the polytunnel is a place that doesn’t abide too rigidly to the vagaries of the Irish climate. Despite being tempted to get stuck into seed sowing now, I’m practising patience and won’t start sowing in earnest until next month, and it will be March before there is any sowing direct in the veg patch outside. In previous years I’ve started aubergines off this month from seed, using a heated mat in the potting shed. In fact, an early start with aubergines is often the difference between success and failure with this tricky-to-grow crop. But from experience, I know a very cold snap could wreak havoc on any January-sown seeds.

In other years I’ve also had success with direct sowings of carrots and potatoes in the polytunnel in January. With the carrot sowing, I had tender young carrots ready to eat in early May. That is a useful thing indeed, particularly as I tend to sow my maincrop carrots in May and they’re not ready until September. January-sown spuds will most likely need a fleece cover to protect emerging plants from frost, even in the polytunnel. If it works, and temperatures don’t dip consistently, you could be rewarded with a crop of new potatoes in early May, which could be two whole months before the outside crop. Don’t plant too many, though – they might take up space needed in May for other, more valuable, crops like tomatoes, which will be ready to be planted out around then if sown in February.

It’s also a great time of the year for some polytunnel love. No, not that type of polytunnel love – it’s way too cold for that. Prevent tears and rips in the plastic turning into something more serious by applying special polytunnel repair tape. Clean your polytunnel and get rid of any build-up of dirt and green mould, which will reduce the amount of light available to plants over time. A long-handled soft brush with a bucket of hot soapy water is the best job for this. A ladder might be needed for getting to the top of the tunnel. Use a hose to rinse. Repeat on the inside, although you will need to wear rain gear! Recently someone told me that they clean the top of their polytunnel using a big sheet of bed linen, with a person on each side of the tunnel holding on to an end and pulling over and back as if it was a giant hanky. I’m officially intrigued.

12 january

a word on soil

In some ways, the great revelation of food growing is the importance of healthy soil and its connection to our own health. Healthy soils are not only the foundation for producing food, fuel and medical products; they are also essential to our ecosystems, playing a key role in the carbon cycle, storing and filtering water and improving resilience to floods and droughts. Soil is our ‘silent ally’.

Our soils work hard. We will work them even harder in the decades to come – population growth will require a 60 per cent increase in food production – but instead of working to conserve and protect this precious resource, we’re literally treating it like dirt. The world’s soil is under immense pressure – it takes a thousand years to form a centimetre of soil, but we’re losing it permanently (and at a dizzying pace) to relentless urbanisation to accommodate the expanding population. An area of soil the size of Costa Rica is lost every year, and here in Europe 11 hectares of life-giving soil are sealed under expanding cities every hour. Globally, a third of all our remaining soil is degraded by erosion, compaction, nutrient depletion and pollution. Given the role it plays in feeding us – with 95 per cent of our food coming from it – Indian environmental activist Vandana Shiva says that our determined destruction of the soil globally represents a ‘species-level act of suicide’.

As GIYers we play an important part in the management of this critical resource, not only by our gentle stewardship of the soil in our own gardens, but also by developing a deeper understanding of how soil works (and sharing that knowledge with others). Of all the things I have learned about food growing, a deeper understanding of the soil has been perhaps the most important (and certainly the most satisfying). I am starting to understand that food growing is not about growing plants at all: it’s about growing soil. If you get the soil right, the plants really look after themselves. Of course, that means many mucky, sweaty hours spent turning compost heaps, lugging barrows of farmyard manure or collecting seaweed, but that’s okay too – you won’t need a gym membership when you’re a GIYer.

Gradually my soil at home has come to life – it’s no longer the heavy potter’s clay we had when we arrived here first, but friable and teeming with life. We GIYers are like ‘nutrient shepherds’, which sounds a little pretentious (okay, it sounds very pretentious), but it is indeed our job here – shepherding nutrients from the compost heap to the soil, to the plants, to the kitchen table and back to the compost heap again.

So this year, let’s love our soil. Pick up big handfuls of it in your hands. Smell it. Stand in it in your bare feet. Care for it. Nurture it. It is literally where all life begins.

winter frittata

You can pretty much throw any combination of veg at this recipe and it will stand up to the abuse quite happily. It couldn’t be simpler or more delicious. Serve hot or cold (a great lunchbox filler when cold).

Serves 6

ingredients:

— 600g mixed vegetables, such as onions, celeriac, carrots, squash or pumpkin, parsnip, beetroot, potatoes

— 1 large garlic clove, finely chopped

— 3 tbsp olive oil

— salt and pepper

— 6–8 large eggs

— a handful of mixed herbs (e.g. parsley, rosemary and thyme), finely chopped

— about 20g strong-flavoured hard cheese, grated (cheddar or Parmesan will do fine)

directions:

Preheat the oven to 180°C. Prep the veg: peel the onions and slice them thickly or cut into quarters; peel the carrots, parsnips, celeriac, beetroot, spuds and squash and cut into roughly equal chunks (about 2cm on average). Put in a lasagne dish, add the garlic, oil and plenty of seasoning and bake for about 40 minutes, until the veg are tender. About halfway through that time, it’s a good plan to take the dish out and turn everything over with a spatula.

Beat the eggs together with the chopped herbs and some more salt and pepper. Take the dish from the oven, pour the egg evenly over the veg and scatter over the grated cheese. Return to the oven for 10–15 minutes, until the egg is set and the top is starting to colour. Leave to cool slightly, then slide the frittata out onto a plate or board. A slice of this is really a meal in itself, but for dinner I would serve with chips/baked potatoes and fresh salad leaves if you have them (or a celeriac remoulade or coleslaw).

14 january

compost and soil fertility

A very simple way to think about soil fertility is this: each year we have to return the nutrients to the soil that we took from it the previous year when growing the veg. In practical terms that means covering the soil with a layer of one of the following each year: homemade compost, farmyard manure or fresh seaweed. While it would be great if I could produce enough compost at home to ‘close the gate on fertility’, in reality, I need a mixture of compost, seaweed and green manures (a sowing of grasses, like rye, that you grow specifically to protect or feed the soil) to cover all the beds in the veg patch. I have used farmyard manure over the years (from cows and horses) but have needed it less as I’ve increased the amount of compost I produce.

Homemade compost is the gold standard from a nutrition perspective, and happily it’s something every one of us can produce easily at home (even the smallest garden can support a compost heap). I don’t always get it right, but every year I think I am getting a little better at making compost. The key, I think, is to treat your heap (or heaps) not as a place where you can happily dump all manner of stuff from the kitchen and garden, but as if you were making a loaf of bread – you have to make sure you have the right mix of ingredients, bake it well and treat it with a little love.

I used to have some God-awful compost heaps– slimy, smelly, sludgy yokes that festered away in the corner of the garden. I had to avoid making eye contact with them each time I made a trip there. Part of the problem is that composting is always explained in a way that makes it sound highly technical. It’s all carbon and nitrogen ratios and one would think you need a PhD in chemistry just to get involved. Any time anyone tried to explain the process of making compost to me, my eyes would glaze over and I would hear soothing music in my head while they talked.

So, let’s get the science bit out of the way. In order for the material you’ve dumped on your heap to turn into compost, there has to be a mixture of nitrogen and carbon – roughly a fifty/fifty split, but it doesn’t need to be too precise. The green stuff in the heap is high in nitrogen, while the brown stuff is high in carbon (see tips below). If you have a good mix of both, you will have the right balance and it will break down and turn into compost quickly. Too much green and you will get a really wet, sludgy heap – like many of my efforts over the years (the result of adding too much grass clippings). Too much brown and you get a really dry heap that won’t rot quickly (but will rot eventually).

How long it takes to turn to compost depends on what’s in it – it could be three months, but you will know when it’s ready by the fact that you have dark, crumbly compost with no smell. You will get about 20–30 wheelbarrows of compost from a 1m x 1m compost heap, perhaps twice a year if it’s functioning really well and making the compost quickly. That might sound like a lot of compost, but bear in mind that each winter you will need a wheelbarrow of compost for each square metre of veggie bed.

18 january

compost tips

1. The smaller the materials and the layers you put on the heap, the quicker it will break down. Think of it like your own digestive system – if you chew your bread, it will be easy for your stomach to break down. If you swallow it whole, it won’t. So, as a rule of thumb, chopping the materials with clippers will help. If you have bigger items, like cabbage stalks, bash them up with a sledgehammer first.

2. After that, the key is layering. Spread the layers out – don’t put it all in a big mound! Add about an 8cm (3-inch) layer of brown material and then an 8cm layer of green material on top until you get a heap that’s about 1–1.2m (3–4ft) high and then leave it alone to rot down (i.e. don’t add anything else to it). That means you probably need a minimum of two heaps. In practical terms, I often have far more green materials than I have brown – I usually end up dumping some greens in a pile beside the heap and waiting until I have a brown layer before adding them.

3. It’s counter-intuitive, but regular turning (monthly) will aerate the heap, which will help it to decompose – the more often you turn it, the quicker it will rot. A well-layered heap will heat up quickly, rot down fast and uniformly, won’t smell and should be easy to turn.

4. The brown layer can consist of straw, wood ash, cardboard, newspaper, small twigs, leaf mould, soil or garden ‘sweepings’. The green layer could contain seaweed, grass clippings (but not too much), veg plants and hedge clippings. I don’t add any kitchen waste (even peelings) to make sure I am not attracting rodents. Put kitchen waste in the brown bin or, even better, feed them to your hens if you have them.

5. You can have a completely open heap, or construct sides for it with timber or timber pallets (this makes turning a little easier). It should be about 1m (3ft) wide and deep. Start with a brown layer, such as straw or twigs. Cover the materials with cardboard or old carpet to keep the worst of the weather off them.

spiced parsnip burgers

JB occasionally serves these parsnip burgers at GROW HQ and they go down a treat. They shouldn’t work, but they do. A fantastic and delicious way to use up a parsnip glut.

ingredients:

— 400g peeled and grated raw parsnip

— a pinch of salt

— ½ tsp cumin seeds

— ½ tsp coriander seeds

— 75ml rapeseed oil and a little more for frying

— 1 clove garlic, finely chopped

— a pinch of cayenne pepper

— a pinch of ground turmeric

— 80g organic gluten-free flour, plus a little more for coating the burgers

directions:

Preheat the oven to 180°C.

Put the grated parsnip in a large mixing bowl and add a pinch of salt. Massage for few minutes until you feel the grated parsnip soften under your fingers. In a small frying pan on a medium heat, toast the cumin and coriander seeds for 2 minutes. Add the oil, finely chopped garlic, cayenne pepper and turmeric and cook for 2 more minutes.

Add the spice mix to the grated parsnip, mix well, add the gluten-free flour and mix again. Portion into generously sized burgers. Coat the burgers lightly with the remaining flour. Warm a little rapeseed oil in a large frying pan on a medium heat, fry off the burgers for 2–3 minutes on each side, then cook in the oven for 10 minutes.

20 january

build a raised bed

GIYing in raised beds is becoming increasingly popular, mainly because it overcomes the problems of poor soil quality and drainage. Raised beds are an ingenious way to provide good-quality, deep, fertile soil that’s perfect for planting.

If you have never grown anything at all and are starting with an area of lawn, here’s one way to get started. Build a raised bed from salvaged or purchased timber by nailing together four planks – a 4ft square (1.2m) bed is considered ideal, as you can reach the centre from all sides and therefore never need to stand on the soil, which compacts it and makes it hard for plants to grow. Make it at least 25–30cm (10–12 inches) deep.

Lay the frame on the grass. Pick somewhere sunny and sheltered. Put down a layer of cardboard and newspaper on the grass inside the timbers and wet it thoroughly – this will rot down and kill off the grass in the process. Fill the bed with a mix of approximately 60 per cent soil and 40 per cent well-rotted compost or manure. Cover it with black plastic for a few months so the soil is nice and warm, ready for your seeds and seedlings in April/May.

The path between your beds should be just wide enough to take a wheelbarrow and to allow you to kneel comfortably. I generally keep the path to a rake’s width, which is narrow enough that you are not wasting valuable ground. You can leave the paths as bare soil if you want – it will need to be hoed regularly to prevent a build-up of weeds, but on the plus side you can use soil from the path if you need it for earthing up in the bed. Alternatively, you could put in a more permanent (weed-free) path using Mypex (weed-suppressing membrane) and pea gravel or bark mulch.

25 january

love celeriac

I’ve become a major fan of celeriac as a grower. Although it’s relatively unknown as a veg here, I reckon it deserves far more notoriety than it currently enjoys. Celeriac looks similar in size and shape to a turnip, but as the name suggests, it basically tastes like celery (with a slightly nuttier flavour).

I love celery, but it doesn’t keep well in the ground, so it’s not possible to store it fresh (although you can freeze it, which I do – aiming to get 20 bags of it into the freezer so I can grab handfuls for soups, stews and trivets). Celeriac, on the other hand, is a big knobbly (and, truth be known, butt-ugly) root vegetable and courtesy of its thick skin it will sit very well in the soil through the harshest winter.

You can use celeriac as an alternative to celery – for example, you can dice it and lob it into a stew or soup – but it’s tasty enough to stand on its own two feet too. It’s delicious mashed into potato or even grated raw. My absolute favourite way to eat celeriac is to eat it raw in a slaw or salad. A celeriac remoulade is delicious and simple – the celeriac is left raw and simply cut into very fine strips. This is a great way to get some raw veggies into you without it feeling like you are eating raw veggies (if you know what I mean).

Celeriac is one of those vegetables that is easy to grow, but hard to grow well. The key is that it has a very long growing season – you start it from seed in March and it can take two to three weeks to germinate. When the seedlings are hardy and about 10cm (4 inches) tall, you plant them out. Celeriac loves constant moisture, so a soil with plenty of well-rotted compost or manure added is vital, and it will need watering in dry weather. In a 5m x 1.2m (16ft x 4ft) veg bed you will produce enough celeriac to last 24 weeks (eating two of them a week). That’s a good investment for your winter store cupboard.

Celeriac is ready to harvest when the swollen root is 7–10cm (3–4 inches) across. Use a fork to ease it out of the ground. Don’t forget that the leaves can be used to add celery flavour to soups, stews and trivets.

28 january

improving wet soil

For many GIYers (including this one), wet soil can be a real dampener (see what I did there?). Our garden is at the foot of a large hill and our soil is a heavy clay that doesn’t drain well. The result? Our soil gets very boggy with even a hint of rain. When we first moved here, it was more suitable for growing rice than vegetables. Vegetables grown in a wet, sodden soil never fare well, but thankfully, this is a problem that can be fixed, albeit not necessarily quickly.

The obvious place to start is to raise the level of the soil above the ground. Increasing the depth of the soil and lifting it up above ground level means that it will drain more quickly and stay drier. Raised beds made of timber are an inexpensive way to achieve this – they have another benefit too as they allow you to stay off the beds, meaning the soil will be less compacted. A raised bed 25–30cm (10–12 inches) deep filled with a mixture of soil and compost will work a treat.

Adding plenty of farmyard manure or compost in the winter or early spring each year will improve the soil and make it easier to work with. It will be less sticky and more fibrous. I have been doing this for about 15 years now, and each year I see an improvement in the soil structure. When I first started out, my soil was like potting clay. It’s not any more.

Each year, I cover my beds with black polythene (I reuse the same sheets each year), held in place with bricks, which prevents it from being blow away (in theory). I have always been in two minds about this since the accepted wisdom is that it’s good for soil to be exposed to the elements in the winter – a good frost is said to kill off any nasty stuff in the soil and also break up large clods of soil. But on balance I believe this has played a major role in drying out my soil and it prevents nutrients being washed away in heavy rain.