Garden fare
STEVE CUMPER TOILS IN THE GARDEN AND UNEARTHS A FRESH SPRING FEAST.
DON’T YOU JUST LOVE the change of seasons? Those wonderful moments when you wake up and realise it’s a bit warmer in the mornings. Or you notice the days becoming a little longer, the birds seem to trill louder and the bees provide a welcome buzz in the background. Gardens are awakening, and it’s time to venture forth and reconnect with the soil.
This is, of course, if you’re lucky enough to have a garden. But it still stands if you’ve got a balcony of plants or a few small pots – it’s time to get your hands dirty!
Many of us in the know appreciate just how physical gardening can be. In fact, next to yoga and Pilates, gardening is the ‘sleeper’ fitness regimen that tends to fly under the radar. This makes sense when you scrutinise the methodology: lots of kneeling, twisting and squatting, and that’s just getting those posh, side-vent Hunter gumboots on!
Many of the keen gardeners I’ve met over the years have a strong, toned physique born of many hours in the yard. A cocky I know once told me he swears by his ‘Farmer’s Workout’, saving a pretty penny on a formal gym membership. All this strenuous activity sure works up a thirst – and a hunger to match.
Now, while you may not have a huge bounty from a productive garden with which to curate your lunch, you can assemble a plate that would make a gardener proud. Channelling the venerable ‘Ploughman’s Lunch’ (itself a contrivance concocted some time ago by a canny brewery to partner a suitable dish for its ales), you can use similar ingredients or mix and match them to your taste.
Not too many plough people around these days, but there are a heck of a lot of gardeners, so why shouldn’t they be honoured by having a dish named after them? The juncture in the road, however, is substituting (or adding) a jug of a refreshingly sour homemade ‘shrub’ to the meal instead of the beer. Or not.
Shrubs, to the unfamiliar, are fruit or vegetable (think beetroot) cordials enhanced by the tang of properly fermented vinegar. Don’t be put off by this. If you’ve enjoyed a kombucha or two, you’ll love the shrub!
Why shrub, you ask? According to conventional wisdom, it comes from the Arabic sharab, which means “to drink”. How it made the journey from its land of origin to the rest of the world is up for debate. However, in the 17th century, it reached the zenith of popularity before receding into the background.
One day, some modish bartender – sorry, mixologist – ‘rediscovered’ its appeal and before he even had time to affix an old-time-y font on a vintage bottle, it was everywhere!
Normally not one inclined to gild the lily, I reasoned that a beverage so aptly named could not possibly miss out on a partnership for the Gardener’s Plate of this column… I mean, come on!
As I’ve aged, my tastes – much like my outlook – tend toward bitterness, so a good glug of shrub on a warm day, after exerting myself on our tiny balcony, is a welcome reward for my labours. Happy gardening!
GARDENER’S PLATE
Serves 4
1 bunch red radishes, stalks attached
4 boiled eggs, peeled and halved
8 small cooked and halved new potatoes
1 cup pickled onions
100g salad leaves (whatever is available)
100g bitey cheddar cheese
½ cup tomato relish or mustard pickles
½ cup garlic aioli
100g thinly sliced smoked ham off the bone
3 stalks celery marigold leaves for garnish slices of sourdough bread and butter
Arrange these items attractively around a platter, and serve with jugs of iced Lemon Myrtle Shrub.
LEMON MYRTLE SHRUB
Serves 4
1kg caster sugar
1 litre water
1 cup apple cider vinegar
100g lemon myrtle flakes
2-3 large gum leaves (this is plenty as they can be toxic in large quantities)
Add all of the ingredients to a large pot and bring to the boil. Simmer for 20 minutes and let cool. Allow it to steep all day, before straining through a fine sieve and refrigerating for later use. You can enjoy the shrub neat or let down with water. Serve in jugs with ice, slices of cucumber and some torn mint.