Hedgerow Harvest

It’s that time of year of year again, the nights are drawing in, the mornings are dark and crisp (or just as much dull and damp for that matter) and removing ones head from the comfort of the pillow is increasingly difficult and usually involves repeatedly hitting the snooze button, desperately trying to negotiate with  yourself that "if I can just have 5 more minutes" I can still squeeze in a shower and breakfast before belting out the door.

If recently, you’ve stumbled upon a group of persons bottoms up face first in a bush or half way up a tree with a bright orange Sainsbury’s bag, don’t be alarmed, there’s a good reason…. usually. For the keen forager, now is the prime time for filling the basket with the bounties of the hedgerow. The bushes are bulging with berries, plump yet still firm, saturated with sugar primed for preserving for the darker months of winter. The Damsons are dancing the Rose Hips are hopping and the Sloe’s are well…… slowing?

If you fancy a yomp in the country this autumn, take a bag with you, you might just be lucky enough to stumble upon a cluster of Sloes or even Damsons for the matter, and if you find Sloes, you’re sure not to be far from a Hawthorn. Small and deeply purple with a dusting of white chalk, the Sloe can be easy to miss, yet just as common in the suburbs as it is in the depths of the country. Face shatteringly tart, sloes are just as beautiful and sharp as the shrub they fruit from, covered in pale white cherry blossom in the spring, underneath is a dark bark with an aggressive bite from the long black thorn. The Blackthorn is more a shrub than a tree, native to Europe and north west Africa, growing to about 5m in moderately dense thickets, which is why it’s commonly found in old hedgerows, creating a near impenetrable barrier with the occasional long sharp thorn. The Blackthorn is shrouded in a dark and sinister history in the British isle, commonly referred to in witch’s tales as the increaser and keeper of dark secrets and the coming of the waning moon. The black thorns were supposedly used to pierce the poppet in the witch’s curse, sending the victim into eternal slumber. It’s said that the devil would prick the finger of his followers with thorn, binding them to his service for eternity. From the fourteen to seventeen hundreds the Church of England took a heavy hand on those following the craft, over three hundred men and women were tried and found guilty of which craft, following death by burning at the stake, and what was used to burn them? You guessed it, the Blackthorn.

Witchcraft and devilry aside, the humble slow is the foundation to a delicious, cockle warming tipple, perfect for the winter months. The ideal time to pick Sloes is between the beginning of October and the end of November, preferably after the first frost, just mind you don’t prick your finger, or you may be in for than you bargained for!

Sloe Gin

450 grams of Sloes

450 Cain sugar

700 ml of Gin

Large bottle or Kilner Jar

Clean the Sloes removing any stalks or debris then, prick every berry with a fork. Add the berries along with the sugar and Gin, seal tightly and agitate gently to mix the sugar with the Gin. Shake every day for the first 10 days and then every week for the following 3 months. After 3 months taste, and add more sugar if required, at this point you will need to make the decision on weather you want to leave it for another month or two to intensify the flavor but, don’t leave any more than six months in total as the Sloes will brake down to much making the liquor become cloudy. Strain through muslin then bottle, the longer you leave it bottled, just like a whisky the flavor will become deeper and darker.

A Garden in south London.

In February of this year, I and three old friends from school moved to a four bedroomed house with a small garden in south london, not far from Brockwell Park. Previously I was living in what can only be described as a divided shoe box, just above a coffee shop on the Wandsworth bridge road. With little more than a boat galley kitchen fitting one person at best, a sitting room just big enough to fit a sofa, and walls thin enough to put your elbow through if you weren't careful, cramped was an understatement. Although, the area did have it's share of fine dinning and gastro pubs, 'The Sands End' to name just one of the favourites serving seasonal country dishes with wonderfully classic game recipes, the closest a  london pub can get to being a remote country inn. Living above the coffee shop also had it's benefits, other than being able to order coffee and pastries in you pyjamas, the smell of freshly roasted coffee every morning was a brightening start to the dullest of mornings and made a good job of masking the smell of the psychotic next door neighbours festering drain pipes.

I'd very nearly come to forget what it was like to be able to swing a cat in your living room and, have more than two people physically able to move around in a kitchen without thwarting each other with hot pans and sharp knives. The real difference with new abode however was beyond the kitchen door. A green space, not a big space, but a green space none the less which, in London is a gift not to be wasted. The warm sheltered conditions of a london garden create a fitting environment for herbs, fruits and veg that would otherwise need a green house in the country and far less frosts to worry about in the midsts of winter. So, with the help of a few books donated from the misses, the Internet, an iPhone app for vegetable growing novices and armed only with an old rusty spade and fork, work began.

Six months on and i'm up to my eyeballs in tomatoes, I haven't bought a bag of a salad since May and I have a plentiful supply of pesto from Basil growing like wild fire. However, it's been no easy feat and there have been disasters along the way; my potatoes, the week after I took the photo above decided to collapse creating a seen like a tornado had blown through the garden, my peas were devoured by staggering hordes of snails and my tomato plants were toppled to the floor by the storms in early August. Would I do it all again next year? Absolutely, with one or two adjustments of course. 

Since starting in March, I've frequently been asked the question "are you doing this to save money", honestly, the cost had never really crossed my mind, does there even need to be a reason to grow veg other than the simplistic satisfaction of nurturing a seed to fruit and then to mouth? It's a simple pleasure with which we can all relate to one way or another, just being outside tending to the garden has a very subtle way of deflecting the trials and tribulations of modern life, if only for short while it seems to slow things down a little, there's no rushing involved at all, if there is your doing it wrong. Having a bountiful supply of fresh herbs, salads and tomatoes has given me even more of a reason to be more creative and adventurous in the kitchen, and yes, maybe I did save a penny or two, but really, nothing to get excited about.

Give it a go, make use of what ever green space you have, there is endless amounts of information available on the web for the green gardner. My advice, grow what you enjoy eating, theres no point in planting potatoes or brussel sprouts if really, your not that fussed about eating them. Use your space wisely, I made the mistake of trying to grow too many spuds in too little space, hence the reason they all keeled over on me, it was a sorry sight I can assure you, if you only have a small space then perhaps try the grow in the bag spuds, small waxy new potatoes work brilliantly in grow bags. Get a head start on the growing season, fruits such as tomatoes, courgettes and peppers can all be started off indoors earlier in the season, get yourself a plastic propagator and place it on a warm sunny window sill, starting seeds off  early indoors not only gives a better chance of survival, but also allows for earlier crops, especially if your small London garden is not blessed with long hours of sunshine. Understand the conditions of your garden, the soil, light conditions, drainage etc, then buy your seeds, a tomato plant in a west facing garden that only gets limited sun aren't likely to excel in the class. If however, you are lucky enough to have sheltered garden with a good amount of sunshine, I cannot urge you enough to give the tomato a go, when you take your first bite of you own sweet ripe tomato, wrapped in a green basil leaf, trust me it'l be well worth it.