Contrary Gardening part 3

This is day 14 in the Contrary Garden Diary Room. What news, gossip, naked showers, sexiness, excitement has there been over the last week? In between munching the salad (not a euphemism) and watching the weather forecast avidly (I've turned into my gran) nothing much has happened. There has been the usual chaos with the erection of a mini greenhouse, broad bean S&M, a plant buying addiction, the explosion of the brightest coloured geraniums you've ever seen and more compost. Oh and some stuff has sprouted.

So apart from that it's been an uneventful week.

The weather has been truly appalling with the coldest wettest June week in living memory. This may be an exaggeration but even the Met Office has met this week to discuss the impact of the weather on my roof garden. Alright, so they are looking at the bigger picture but I'm sure my garden is what has precipitated these events. It seems once you have a vested interest in looking at the impact of the weather, news of it appears everywhere. It also makes you appreciate how bloody difficult stuff is to grow!

I've been on to the roof every couple of days to splash some water around. This is quite amusing in full smart work regalia - actual 'lady gardening' - and am not sure if strictly necessary if it's been raining. My view is that the rain doesn't provide plant food so extra damp and nutrients can't go amiss.

What stage exactly are the roof plants and what is their status?

• Carrots - no show yet
• Beetroot - a couple of shoots
• Broccoli - plentiful pretty purple shoots
• Peas - satisfying rows of pea like shoots
• Broad beans - they have reached the stage where I've had to tie them to sticks to keep them upright. They appear to enjoy being made to stand to attention
• Cauliflower - the large droopy leaves have died off a bit but the centres are ok
• Sprouts - likewise, as the cauliflower
• Radishes and lettuces - are ok, struggling a bit
• The fruit bushes are happily fruiting with leaf growth on the rather straggly blackcurrant

This morning I have transplanted a few struggling garlic shoots which have been fighting for space with the flowers in the balcony pots. I didn't know they were going to grow so well! Anyway one came up with a good root system so should be quite happy. A few more radishes went upstairs too.

Let me explain the greenhouse. Not content with the growing capabilities of the balcony V decided to go professional. No, not in that way, but to actually have a proper space for seedlings to grow. Watching her erect this marvellous piece of engineering was hysterical; at one point I think she was measuring it up for a dashing green waterproof rain coat.

Contrary to popular expectation and in front of a cheering audience, she managed to get it up and fastened to the balcony successfully. It now contains:

• Chillies and pepper plants. Much happier to be in the warm, definite growth there this week
• Mint plant is almost mojito ready again
• Lettuce is sprouting after a week which is fab. This is proper hearty lettuce, not the simple leaves we have been having with meals recently. I hope to transfer them upstairs when they are bigger

Which brings me nearly up to date. Yesterday J needed his daily cheese fix so whilst in our nearby superstore, they were selling Bizzie Lizzies off at 94p per tray. How could I refuse? We have no room for these waifs and strays but they looked so sad yet hope peered out of their little flowers. So more compost and mucky hands later, they are now ensconced in a hastily rearranged trough. The few that were left over were popped on the roof to keep the fruit trees company and add colour to the garden.

Finally I used the small plant pots and new compost to plant some onions seeds. These can either be harvested as spring onions or we could move them upstairs. Given that we go through about 10 onions a week, I really don't anticipate the 12 I've planted lasting that long! These are now also in V's propagator. Also I had no idea that spring onions were baby onions...who knows this stuff?

So I can't wait to see what is going to happen over the next week.

Contrary Gardening part 2

Friendly rake...

As promised here are some gardening notes from my attempts over the past week. I must confess we have had a hysterical time up on the roof with garden euphemisms coming out of our watering cans. And after vigorous forking for a couple of sunny evenings, I must confess I'm both beyond the dirty sniggers and as stiff as a rake.

So what have we been up to? On Monday night J and I purchased something slightly stronger implements than cutlery - as well as some actual cutlery to replace the ones we had trashed on Sunday night. The tube saw us venture back to the flat with a fork, trowel and small hand fork; happily we didn't meet any angry mobs on the central line.

Rake in action, err...

Heading upstairs we tentatively attacked the weeds and the heavy claggy lumps of soil. My aim was to get the ground reduced to fine breadcrumb texture but by late Tuesday evening we just wanted it turned over and weeded. By Thursday V had obtained a rake (found the high class Kew approved flanêur on Oxford Street) and this improved the ground greatly.

Watering for ladies...

That was the ground. But how do you know how much space a carrot needs? Or how many marrows can I fit in? Do 8 broccolis (broccolii?) really need 6m of garden? I'll be honest, I'd never considered these questions in great depth before but Mr Sutton of seeds fame has. This free gadget on their site allows you to pop in your gardens vital stats and then click and point virtual veg into your plot. It works out when you should have started and when dinner is served. That is to say, ASAP (June) and not soon enough.

As an experiment I planted peas, broccoli, carrots and beetroot and sadly it

Fruity

didn't look like a garden, let alone anything like the plan. What we needed was actual greenery. So as a cheating alternative I purchased some ready made little bean, cauliflower and sprout plants. I added some fruit bushes and finally, as V so eloquently pointed out, today the garden finally looked like a garden.

Beans

Given that the beans will take a while to get to their 50cm height, I've added a row of cheeky lettuce. Seems a shame to waste lovely prepared soil.

So the things I have learned so far:

1. Proper tools are quite important. No, kitchen implements are not adequate
2. You can never dig over the ground too many times
3. Oh. Add the bone meal *before* you start digging. Also ensure flatmate ISN'T down wind when scattering it
4. Put labels on your plant rows
5. Put your plants in rows
6. Ignore the plan
7. Seeds are pretty and very small
8. Get down to the garden centre before the hoards did, probably a few weeks back
9. Growing stuff isn't a cheap option
10. Cutting and eating your own, first crop of lettuce is an epic feeling!

It turns out my flatmate doesn't like getting dirty but she provides emergency lemonade. Which is a win.

And Pimms!

Contrary Gardening

I've blogged about the peace that I get from gardening in previous posts so I'll spare you any tearful nostalgia. This is more of a 'why did we not think of this before' type post with a portion of 'this is what we've done so far' thrown in for good measure.

Ever since moving here a year and a bit ago our lovely yet naked south facing balcony has been crying out for some seasonal colour and interest. So as soon as the snow stopped falling and the icicles melted in late March, I've been making forays into a large unfamiliar shop called 'B&Q' and acquainting myself with the seasonal aisle of the large supermarkets nearby.

I started off small; a few square pots, a couple of longer troughs with simple begonias, sweet Williams (or Bonkers Bobs, as they're now christened) and some cute looking geraniums. I had no wish to buy a load of stuff and then either lose interest, or it turn out that I don't have green fingers. I was also keen to see how successful transplanting ordinary supermarket hot house herbs would be. Realistically I didn't suppose I would get bored mainly because I was growing edibles and really, who doesn't want a constant supply of pesto ingredients?

So now we have a number of flower tubs which are looking wildly out of control with their little red sunburned faces looking out at the view, massive leaved geraniums, but more excitingly we have also branched out into comestibles other than herbs (basil, parsley, chives, thyme). In a burst of flatmate solidarity, V also wanted to try her hand at this growing malarkey and so bought some pepper seeds and was pleased when all but one of the 12 seeds sprouted. I managed to coax out some home dried chillies and they are quite happy looking little plants so far. I've tried lettuce and radishes too so we are really going for it in the salad department.

The balcony is now looking beautifully verdant and lush with small plants springing up all over the place. And today we realised that we have a way of expanding our green empire. We popped upstairs to set our spare chilli and pepper seedling free and had a bright idea. What about turning some of the neglected raised beds into a food producing Contrary Towers salad bar?

Armed with tough gardening tools*, a wide range of seeds**, and a watering can*** we went upstairs for our first real attempt at non trough gardening. If this is successful, we may have to take over the entire roof, rather than just a couple of square metres. So watch this space!



* Forks. We now need new cutlery
** Lettuces and radishes
*** Bottle of water

We need to go drinks shopping

Santa approves...

Stone cold sober I stand by the gut feeling that I had last night about the word 'mentholyptus'. I'm fairly sure that it's a word to describe sweets that help clear your nasal passages when you have a cold. However last night when I used it, it was met with derision and disbelief; heathens.

Very limited resources...

Anyway regardless of the provenance of the word, I used it as inspiration during some desperate mixology last night. The event was birthday, we were alcohol limited and the time was extremely advanced. Basically we should have known better than start some serious cough pastille alchemy.

My flatmate seems to think that Dr Brown's Universal Tincture was a success. I suppose it depends what you were trying to cure. Certainly I would beware claims that it assists with the maximising of memory. But I have a vague recollection of it being fragrantly medicinal in a pleasant way.

Tincture!

Take 4 measures (or so) of cherry brandy , a measure each of sambucca and cointreau, a dash of orange blossom water, a good handful of fresh mint and shake vigorously over ice. Strain into 2 martini glasses and top with apple and elderflower juice. Pop a sprig of mint into the glass.

My chap also contributed to the mayhem with a little concoction of his own. As he was sober the preciseness of his measurements mean that his drink is absolutely failsafe. It was smooth and delicious, with a fabulous flavour.

Oooo, mmmm

Take 2 shots milk. Add 2 of sambucca, 1 ammaretto, 2 spoons instant coffee... shake over ice and pour foamily into glasses, add ground coffee sprinkles to decorate and enhance.

There was a lime based one, then a shot type one and lots of dancing. I think my flatmate really enjoyed her birthday!

So much green is must be healthiez

Easy like a Sunday Morning

Summer, my dears, has finally arrived at Contrary Towers. At least for a while. Which is why I'm sitting out on the balcony wearing as little as I can get away with without scaring the bejesus out of the French couple that live next to us. Or scandalising the local community with a flagrant display of leg.

If I go out I'd better change...

Anyway. As Clare's boyfriend said on Friday night, I've been a bit of a social butterfly this week. This was all unexpected but goodness has it been a giggle. The week started quietly enough, too quiet really. I was visiting chez Nearly-Ex to spend time with the children over a weekend that may or may not have included my age incrementing in the most frightful manner. Mostly I survived this and even - rather shockingly - managed to have a giggle. I know! Go me...

By the time I jumped on the train on Wednesday morning I'd definitely had enough and really needed to do something different. I had, after-all decided that being fed up was, frankly, becoming really quite tedious.

And that would never do.

Fortunately Wednesday was the last in the month and the Science Museum were doing one of their fabulous lates events. If you've never been you should go, all the fun of the museum with no children about, teh winez and interesting themes. This months being sex and sexuality. What could possibly go wrong?

Having roped in my friend Ray I promptly went for a nap, it was going to be a late evening and nappage was not so much a luxury as a singular requirement. Zzzzzzzzz. Incredibly, after a mad quick change and shower I managed to make it to Mile End on time to rendezvous. Unfortunately there had been a double presumption which lead to me sitting at one end of the platform with him some way away. At least I started off on time... Not that this was a problem, there was loads of time and my intention had been to get to South Kensington and quaff an iced latte. Which is what we did. Obvs.

Perhaps unsurprisingly the queue at the Museum for the 18:45 opening was, well, impressive. Apparently sex and sexuality is an interesting topic.

Who knew?

The tone was set when we were offered bracelets to indicate sexual preference. Red if you liked girls, blue if you liked boys and green for both. I, being utterly contrary, was obviously green. Oh, there was also black, which I think meant you liked sheep.

Next stop was to see the thrusting connecting rod of a stationery engine that was obviously all steamed up. What I didn't know was there was a Science Museum photographer snapping pictures. And they managed to catch me and my poor compagnon dé soirée as we looked on. The first I knew of this was when Clare, squealed on Twitter that it was me! Such a fabulous memento of the evening.

The rest of the evening was filled with the delight of chatting about things we saw as we wandered the museum.

Mostly we didn't go to the organised events, though did stumble on Bingo, which was mad, and found the board where people could express something about who they were. At the end of the evening we found ourselves on the top floor and saw another talk was on. This time by a surgeon on some of the issues to do with being transgender, what the process is (in simplified terms) and how big a deal it is. I'll not go on about this too much, but all I will echo is something said by the surgeon and which I've said a thousand times.

It isn't a choice.

And with that the lates drew to a close and we headed out in to the cool evening air and headed back East. Via the Merchant of Bishopsgate in Liverpool Street. Call me Ms. Irresponsible. Two large vodkas later and  the evening was perfectly rounded off. Unsurprisingly I found Clare had tweeted that:

My #flatmate is a dirty stop out

But I could live with that, I was, after all, out late on a school night and being kicked out of a bar because they wanted to close. Oops. I would get my own back the next night...

Thursday was quiet, I managed to be only a little bit late for work having had to catch up with what's been going on, it had been quite a while since we'd been able to have a morning chat and I managed to ease myself through the day with a sense of aplomb that largely masked my wanting to crawl under the desk and snooze for England.

The evening was definitely quiet and, as I've previously written I decided steak was the only way to deal with getting back in to the Contrary lifestyle. And mash. Obvs.

It obviously worked. The next morning I looked almost bright eyed and bushy tailed! Which was good as I had (a) a lunch date and (b) an evening out to look forward to. Having not been out in a while I was a little worried about whether I would wilt with tiredness. I would cross that bridge when I got to it. Or slump in the back of a taxi sobbing about how awful it is to be 46. One or the other.

So I scrubbed up, crawled in to a favourite works-for-everything black dress and went bouncing off to W1 for a morning of looking like I'm moderately clever.

Astonishingly, again, I wasn't late. I got to Ping Pong in EC4 with ample time to spare and relaxed in to the lively chit chat that I'd been so looking forward to! And it was fab. I've not been before so was glad to be with an old hand. I loved the food, ate too much and relished the meandering conversation about food, life and even a little politics. I really can't wait to do this again. On top of this... The sun had come out. My optimism and returning joie de vivre was obviously enough to convince the sky fairy that it was about time to shine some warmth on this fair city. St Paul's churchyard was packed as office workers basked in a UVA induced delirium. How wonderful.

The afternoon passed quickly, I actually finished what I intended to do and, at the stroke of 5:30 the Boss and I headed off to the underground for the shortish journey to The Old Bank Of England, for that is where the evenings entertainment would take place. Now it's been a while saw all my friends together and it was wonderful, a really good evening. Even better the Boss had managed to secure a table outside when we arrived. Of course, as you might expect I semi-disgraced myself by becoming terribly tiddly, outrageously flirty (so my Clare told me the next morning) and throwing white wine over somebody (unintentionally). As the evening drew to an inevitable close I found there were just two of us left, so I stumbled out on to Fleet Street hailed a cab and we pootled to Contrary Towers for a late night cup of tea.

The next morning, other than finding a trail of clothes stretching from the door to my bedside, saw me leaping in to action to make bread. I say leaping but, really, it was a bit of a late start, not the usual dough mixing at 6am. Oh well.

As the day progressed we chatted, I painted my nails, Clare tended the plants in the Contrary Garden and generally all was well in the world. Knowing we were going out later I took the opportunity of her boyfriend turning up to slope off to bed for an emergency nap, otherwise I was in serious danger of passing out from lack of sleep.

The evenings entertainment was a dance preview at Richmix in Shoreditch. I've not been there before and was delighted to discover would entail a new bus journey! I really need to get out more. So we hopped on the 309 and made our way to Bethnal Green where - you'll not be surprised to learn - I proved what an airhead I am by exclaiming over there being a green. I know. With one more bus we arrived, collected tickets and went to wait for "Tempered Body Dance: It Goes Here Now" to start.

The dance itself was pretty spectacular, a fascinating way to try to express the science - and in a way folly - of genetic modification - using a very dynamic and physical medium. Do I sound pretentious or what?! What was truly fascinating was before the dance though...

We had arrived in a middle-class ghetto of pretentious twaddle.

It was a good job that we'd decided not to have a cocktail before going in, otherwise we would't have been able to contain the giggles at some of the things we heard going on around us. Anyway, fabulous dance and I hope to see it again when they do a full production.

Before we started on the serious matter of trying a new cocktail venue we headed to Brick Lane Beigel for munchies. And it was epic. I've heard of it before, but never been. The hot salt beef and mustard filled beigel was, simply, to die for. It was fabulous. And seriously filling. The place is something of a legend, open 24 hours and has a constant stream of people from all strata of society. If you're in the area and you've not been then go!

To finish the evening we headed to the Redchurch for cocktails. Neither of us had been there before, but what a find! Really, I loved it. It was just the right level of dark seediness that suggests a warm intense evening of debauchery, giggles and discovering new delights. We started the evening with both of the current specials, I have no idea what they actually were because the barman was stupidly good looking, perfectly toned and had my hot flush klaxon screeching at 11.

Anyway.

The night moved on a pace, a couple next to us were going for the world snogging record, much to the amusement of the staff and all onlookers. We moved on to dry martinis, which were beautifully smooth, now this is high praise indeed, I'm a huge fan of the Duke's Bar which does the best martinis anywhere and this was more than a perfect substitute and coupled with the raw and raunchy atmosphere I was more than happy. Next we went for something different, I just wish I could remember what the names were! By this time we'd moved on to having table service by the wonderful and bubbly young lady that was hovering and helping. This was good as by now the bar was heaving and it was much easier to be waited on then stand at the bar fanning myself over the sight of perfect forearms...

Our head mixer...

Finally, all good things come to an end and we were collected by Clare's boyfriend who had kindly volunteered to be out taxi home. For more cocktails...

The only problem is we were a bit short of the usual base drinks so - inevitably - we had to concoct. And this is what Contrary Towers does best...

With a lasagna we'd frozen from the last lasagna night slowly cooking in the oven the head mixer got to work... Oh my!

As ever Clare came up with some fabulous concoctions, this time created around sambucca, cointreau, cherry brandy and some other things. I really wasn't paying that much attention. And the newly planted mint plant discovered just how short life in Contrary Towers can be if you're edible!

It was a fine way to go.

It wasn't all flagrant consumption though. In the name of science a new tincture was developed that should cure most ills. Or at least make you not give a stuff about said ills. Or forget them.

I present Dr. Brown's Universal Tincture...

It was wonderful and I do hope Clare can remember what she put in it! Not to be outdone, said boyfriend decided to make us something. This may have been to stop me putting on the wax pot as I'd been threatening to do... *cackles*

Now I have to say this also needs to be written up, we really had no idea what he was making - the milk was a surprise - but oh my the results were, simply epic. A truly delicious and smooth drink...

He can come again.

Finally it was way past 2am and having invited somebody to come for fresh lasagna on Monday (though I doubt he will) we decided the dancing, giggling, chatting and generally saying how fab we all were had to come to an end... It was time for bed.

Inevitably there is an epilogue and here it is. This morning I managed to further sleeps before emerging at about 9am. A quick cup of tea and chat with Clare's boyfriend who was heading off and then time to consider what I would have for breakfast. Seriously, all I think about is food. The only thing to have after that much debauchery is eggs. Fried. And some of my perfect bread toasted.

Oh how healthy I am.

It's a quiet day in Contrary Towers, I'm yet to see my lovely flatmate, but I do know she's still alive. I do hope she gets to see some of this glorious sunshine.

And what about me? Well, I'm tired, which isn't a euphemism, and other than obviously looking very drained I think I have largely survived.

More importantly I've had a fabulous few days and truly enjoyed the company that I've been lucky enough to keep. It's always a joy to make new memories, but even more of a joy to know that there are more to come.

Time, my darlings, for lunch.

Healthiez

So I ate half a cow on Thursday night, it was very nice and I felt today I ought to redress the balance. Especially as I had lunch with a dear friend of Dim Sum and wonderful conversation yesterday.

Shaped for the second proving...

Having done my usual Saturday morning bread bake, a little late this week owing to ebullient last night (apparently) I thought I could do something on toast.

And make use of what's left in our depleted fridge... I've not done the weekly shop yet. There will be trouble!

So:

Baked bread. Obvs.

First bake your bread ;-)

Take a frying pan, add a lump of butter, thinly slice a leek and fry with the butter, cayenne pepper, soy sauce and slice red and green peppers for a few minutes until softened. Slice some bread and toast. Next add some shiitake mushrooms, throw in the pan and fry a bit longer. Turn the toast over. Add a dash of Worcestershire sauce, throw in a last bit of oregano and ground pepper.

Finally butter the toast, carefully portion the contents of the frying pan on to the toast and tear of some bits of mozzarella cheese.

Eat.

A fab, quick and dirty lunch!

Breakfast at Contrary's

It's Sunday in Contrary Towers and we were both planning on being ever so diligent. I was going to clean my bathroom, walk along the tow-path to the Tesco in Bow to buy tights and then do some work during the afternoon. Clare on the other hand was going to go running and then spend the afternoon translating 15th Century german. As you do.

Which is why we spent most of the morning discussing every subject under the sun including the travel implications of a UK exit from the EU. And what that mean vis wandering off to Italy for a touch of food and come sta tuo padre
Eventually though Clare went running and I disappeared in to my bathroom to do the long promised deep clean. It wasn't as much fun as I'd convinced myself it would be. Post diligence I started thinking about heading down the tow-path, but, as ever, my lovely flatmate had a better idea.

Let's go perfume testing in Canary Wharf...

Now this was an excellent plan, I could still buy tights and maybe a refill for my bedroom scent. Perfect. The perfume testing, it has to be said, turned in to a bit of a giggle fest. By the time we reached the mini John Lewis above Waitrose the 417 different scents we'd tried were obviously making us giddy with, well, giddiness. Especially funny being the fact that every time I found a perfume I thought I liked I would test and discover it just didn't work on me. And we were running out of skin to test the perfumes on. *sighs*. In the end we decided to hit the coffee shop, clean our arms and try again post coffee...

Which lasted right up to the point when we saw the Waitrose recipe suggestion card for Scotch Egg Pie. Oh yes.

This always happens. We thought it looked nice, but decided we'd have filo pastry instead of puff. To be healthiez. And with this a plan was formed. Waitrose, then Boots, finally Tesco and home to cook whilst Clare wrote. What could possibly go wrong?

As it turned out, nothing. We ignored bits of the recipe, substituting Heck 97% sausages for sausagemeat and thought we should use the last of the wholegrain mustard. Fab. So, the recipe...

• 7 eggs (6 for the portions, one for gluing and glazing)
• one pack of Heck 97% sausages
• 8 sun dried tomatoes chopped as finally as I could be bothered
• 6 spring onions slice really thinly
• 30g of grated Parmigiano Reggiano
• A decent hand-full of parsley and thyme from the Contrary Garden
• A pack of frozen lazy arse filo pastry
• The remainder of a jar of wholegrain mustard
• Cayenne and ground pepper

I put six of the eggs on to boil for ten minutes or so then sliced the skins off the sausages adding those, the parmesan, spring onions, chopped tomato, parsley and thyme, cayenne and ground pepper all in to one big bowl and blended them together. Once the eggs were cooked they were cooled for a bit.

Assembly...

Having whisked the remaining egg, I divided the meat mixture in to 6 even sized balls. One sheet of filo was taken, folded in two and then a teaspoon or two of the mustard was spread about. I took a meat ball, halved it then spread it flat on the filo and mustard. Next an egg was placed on the top with the remainder of the mix.

Folding was done carefully... One corner right over the top of the egg and mix until it almost fully wrapped the egg and mix, next the opposite corner, a dab of egg and a push down before being repeated with the final two corners. Once done I gave it all a bit of a gentle squeeze to shape the lower meat mix. Finally the pastry was glazed with some of the egg.

A few minutes later all six were ready and were placed on some greaseproof paper on one of the oven shelves. We really should get a baking tray. The oven had been pre-heated to 200C. Which is gas mark 6 apparently. The pies were placed at the lower part of the oven for about 30 minutes and we waited...

Fortunately, they made it! A add moisture and texture I did a pan of spicy beans which is...

• one tin of baked beenz, we prefer Cross and Blackwell which they sell in chez Lidl
• a decent slug of cayenne pepper
• ground pepper
• oregano (quite a bit)

The whole lot is mixed and then cooked slowly until thick and gloopy. Nom.

As a final touch, and to make sure the plants realised nobody was getting away with it, Clare chopped more parsey as a bit of a garnish.

contrary pie

The worrying part of trying something new is knowing whether it will (a) taste okay and (b) be cooked... Honestly, it was, a really tasty way to have breakfast pie. At 17:45.

What else did you expect from Breakfast at Contrary Towers other than Contrary Pie?