Clouds in Chicago

Wild Orchid

This morning, I was surprised by the telephone in the early hour of seven. Gill, a friend from the library, was wandering over to our local reserve to view the Bee Orchids and did I want to come. I've never seen a native wild orchid, only those tropical orchids gifted or purchased. So, early morning wander and new discovery? I think so!

We cycled to the center of the reserve near the big oak tree, ambled passed it and into a marshy field that I often pass when I take the neighbor's dogs for a walk. It was a grey morning, threatening rain, which was actually really good at allowing all the colors to show through. I think I would have walked right by them, had it been sunny.

Actually, I might have walked by them all together because they are so small. None of the flowers grew above my knee and I spend most of the morning on my hands and knees, soaking clear through my jeans with the marsh moist. The bee orchid was so small, almost a micro-miniature of the similar lady's slipper orchid one can often find at the florist or in client-based offices where the reception area is meant to entertain you whilst you wait. I had to really look for the bee orchid because it often wasn't higher than the grass that surrounded it. And, I must confess, it paled to the common spotted orchid that grows near it. This orchid, seen above, was complex with patterned leaves as well as delicate detailed ink trails on its petals. It surrounded me in every shade of its mauve purple. Nearby, was another orchid I have yet to identify, a yellow petals stalk with long fangs it seemed. And, beyond that a small fern known as an adder's tongue for its snake like blossom. It's not bigger than a finger, as illustrated in the photos I've linked to below.

The sun showed itself just enough to illuminate a few photos which I have assembled the best of in a slide show just for you. At the end of the slide show is a 20-second long film of a bee orchid, which has a tiny drop of pollen dangling in its center. I hope you enjoy it all.

How to cook artichokes

Some of you, who saw the post on Physalis about my artichokes, asked how I cook them. So, I thought it best to share it here. If you like artichokes, it's really worth paying attention to this post because I'm going to save you about 25 minutes and get you to the table sooner. I am also going to invite you to post any suggestions you might have about the process and what to dip artichoke leaves in, perhaps you're in the mayonnaise camp, perhaps you prefer melted butter, or maybe lean towards hollandaise... or another sauce. Do share.

Now then, the best way I've found to prepare and cook artichokes is to half them in their raw state, clean out the flower with a sharp paring knife removing all the inedible fringe and the youngest of the leaves that are a bit of faff (that's British for a waste of time). After you've cleaned out these parts, put the half into a bowl of water with the juice of half of a lemon to prevent it from browning, whilst you work on the rest of the artichokes. Rinse and repeat.

Meanwhile, you'll need a pan with a lid that allows for all the artichokes halves to rest flat in 1-1/2 inches of water. See above for an illustration. Fill the pan with boiling water and add a slice of lemon, a few whole peppercorns, and a bay leaf. Feel free to ad lib here. Bring the pan to a simmer and add the artichokes. Lid the pan and set the timer for 15 minutes, a good place to start. The time will vary depending on how many you're poaching. When you can smell them, they're definitely done, and I prefer them less cooked than that. So at 15 minutes, I fork them like a potato to see if they're tender. Once they're at the consistency I like, I remove them from the heat and the water, because they'll keep cooking. If I'm serving them at room temperature or refrigerated, I'll rinse them with cold water to stop the cooking process.

And, that's it. No pressure cooking, no need to work hours before. And, you get a well-presented veg that doesn't intimidate most people. Unfortunately, this means Alastair actually likes them and I can no longer barter for his heart.

P.S. You can cook them in the microwave, but since we don't have one, I had to get creative. I really don't miss the steam burns when unwrapping the plastic wrap.

Love comforteth
like sunshine
after the rain

-Shakespeare

It's raining today,
not so much love...

Physalis: The Tomatillo and the Cape Gooseberry

A couple of weeks ago, Alastair and I were finishing off a long weekend of gardening and discussing how best to keep track of all we're doing, when Alastair suggested that I blog a journal of sorts, keeping track of weather and progress. It was a great idea, one which I've been playing at ever since. It's still in its infancy, not even walking yet, but there's a personality in there somewhere... If you're interested in what's happening in our garden, then perhaps you could wander over to Physalis: The Tomatillo and the Cape Gooseberry

Now a funny thing about this website, there's a creative spelling in its name, not the name you see here but the one you'll see in its URL. Apparently Cedric thought of it before me, way backin 2004, so it's his. Instead, I got creative with the spelling and added an 'l'. We'll see how much trouble this gets me in. Regardless, you and I know it with the proper name and there's a link to it on the right hand side of the blog under Tasty Morsels, so you don't have to give this little paragraph another thought.

So, why Physalis? It's the latin name for two of my favorite fruit: the tomatillo and the cape gooseberry. The tomatillo I grew to love in the Americas, the cape gooseberry I discovered on this little island. They're related and lovely to grow, which I hope to show you over the next couple of years. We should have tomatillos this year, cape gooseberries next. There's a third member of the phyalis family that might show its face on the blog, but one can't eat it. It's a flower called a Chinese Lantern, and is a delight, too.