Something happened this year that's never happened before. I sowed two sweetcorn seeds in 15 pots and all 30 seeds germinated. Looks like all of the next batch are also going to work.
It quite knocked me back; I'm used to an average 20% non-germination rate. The variety is Kelvedon Glory. Don't know if it's coincidence, or perhaps this variety is just very reliable. Anyone got any experience of KG, good or bad?
Whatever. I know which sweetcorn variety gets my vote from now on.
Another outrageous success on the plot this weekend. Two hours of work in gorgeous sunshine. Felt like a foreign country.
I have seeds sprouting everywhere with reckless haste, desperate to make up for lost time. Grim and gloomy April is all but forgotten.
The only disappointment is my overwintering cauliflowers. They look terrific – the pigeons were successfully repelled – but no sign of any heads. Which is bloody peculiar, given that it's now May.
Have I lost the Midas touch with my brassicas!?
It's been fabulous, but the corn's almost over. It's sad, because the last ear of corn means the end of summer.
Not that we've had one.
Still, there's enough left for a meal or two yet. Which is good news, because I'm on a 'no-carbs' diet. Or rather, a 'fewer carbs than usual, you porky bastard' diet.
Turns out that some corn and a bit of Spanish jamon do the trick rather well. More taste, less waist. I hope.
Oh, and if you're going to tell me that this contains, like, billions of calories... don't. Ignorance is bliss.
Forgive crap photos. I have strip lights in the kitchen and they give everything a ghastly green overtone.
Much though I don't want this blog to turn into 'What I Ate Last Night', I have to report on this meal with pride. This is corn fresh from the plot (and sweet as nectar), fennel braised in stock and butter, roast chicken and Vitelotte potato chips. Yum.
This is when growing vegetables comes into its own. No matter how excellent your local shop (if you've still got one, that is), you can't buy food as fresh and wonderful as this.
The corn is just days away. Scoffed the first cob last night, raw, and it was almost perfect. Another week, at most, and we'll be gorging ourselves.
Less good news is that I've lost control of the weeds in parts of the plot. All this rain has kept me away, and they've gone critical.
This little creep, in particular, winds me right up. I think it's called Good King Henry, although I've seen the name Goose-foot, too. Anyone know better?
Anyway, whatever. It grows like a bastard and pops up everywhere. If the rain ever stops, I'll be massacring acres of it this weekend.
My allotment sweetcorn is barely four feet high, in late July. Stunted, or what?
Guess I should be grateful it's finally flowering. There's barely time for it to produce cobs. Is a week's sunshine really too much to ask for?
Since I'm on the subject of the weather (er, again), I'd just like to mention what a shower of shits we're governed by. If you're stopping by for neep and tatty growing tips, Gordon, you should be ashamed of yourself. Those poor bastards in Lincoln and Hull were flooded a month ago. What were you doing? Rearranging deck-chairs in your Titanic cabinet, that's what.
The Powers That Be have noticed a problem now there are puddles on Horse Guards. You guys in Tewkesbury and Gloucester (and in Lincoln, and in Hull) must be SO relieved that the cavalry's on the way.
My advice: Don't hold your breath. And you have my sincerest sympathy.
OK, rant over. Sorry for the politics. Here's a picture of a dahlia to compensate.
It's midsummer – you can tell from the weather. So I thought I should post some 'state of the union' pictures of the allotment. Just about every inch is now planted up or sown:
There are some salads at the front, too, but they're still very small. This is the view further back:
Behind the asparagus are the peas and onions:
There's a row of celeriac behind the onions. Leeks will soon replace the First Early spuds. And my winter brassicas will go in the gap left by the onions. Which I'll probably have to harvest soon, because downy mildew is knackering them.
The glut would start any minute... if the sun came out. But I'm beginning to suspect – aren't you? – that we're in for a traditional, old fashioned British summer.
In other words, an utterly shit one.
