I can't say I hadn't been warned about pumpkins. In The Permaculture Home Garden (my organic bible, never leaves my bedside) Linda Woodrow pulls no punches, exposing them as the recalcitrant, unruly and untrustworthy veggies that they are. They'll stick their tendrils in anywhere, and in this hothouse weather, can stage a clandestine coup of the garden while you're caught napping. As a result, we usually plant them well out of the way, down below Ham's pen, which has the added bonus of catching the run off from his copious production of top quality, err, fertilizer.
Then I read in some free gardening mag that you can simply prune the vines to size, thus neatly containing them in their own bed as an underplanting to, say, corn. Yeah right. In this jungle weather, you'd need to be out there every day, armed to the teeth with secateurs - machetes, even - bravely hacking away. I rest my case:
The neighbours are in there somewhere. Nicky! ... Patrick! ... Can you hear me? Are you okay?
And then, having finally plucked up enough mojo to teach a pugnacious plant some manners, you grimly approach with blade raised - only to find this chubby little beauty skulking beneath the leaves. In a flash, all is forgiven. You do a quick head count before retiring inside, out of the rain, to cosy up with some recipe books. Now let's see - pumpkin soup, pumpkin scones, pumpkin fruit cake ...
FYI: Pictured is a Japanese (affectionately known as "Jap") pumpkin or Kabocha. Everyone grows them up here - delicious and virtually indestructible.
And hey, what the heck, it's time for a gratuitous pig shot. Pumpkins are, after all, his all-time favourite vegetable. Well, next to watermelons ... and corn ...
And he can smell 'em a mile off.
2 comments:
Just chop off a bit, poke it with a knife a few times, stick it in the micro until it is soft like a potato and blend it with some stock. Comes up a treat, recalcitrant or co-operative.
I'm there for pumpkin soup. Now.
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