In Praise of Peppers

As the sage once said, “Nobody can be un-cheered with a balloon.” I feel more or less the same about peppers. In the supermarket they're not much to look at really, since they're so uniform they look (and taste) characterless and cloned, as if someone has been using Photoshop and got a bit carried away with the 'capsicum stamp' tool. Even more depressing are 'traffic light' (or 'stoplight') packs of three; one green, one yellow, one red, end to end in a condom of polythene with a barcode on the end. So far as flavour is concerned you have to venture into the pricy realms of the red pointed peppers, which are ostentatiously over-packaged to let you know how special they are (but mostly to make sure that the harrassed woman on the checkout knows she should be making you hand over your wallet at knifepoint).

Sweet peppers in October, ready for the freezer

Peppers grown organically at home are a different matter entirely. So variable in size, shape and colour that some of them are downright wonky, even picked green they have as much flavour as the poshest supermarket specimens. Once they begin to blush the sweet varieties are so tasty that I just cut them in half, take the seeds out, place them cut side up on a baking tray and drizzle them with olive oil before roasting them for twenty minutes – and serve them just as they are. You can do that with the green ones too, but they benefit from a tiny sprinkling of raw cane sugar just before they go in the oven.

Here in the UK though, ripening them can be a bit tricky. With the gulf stream keeping things mild during the winter it's easy to forget that we are on the same latitude as Moscow, and our summers are just that little bit too short and cool for peppers to do well outside. I could grow peppers in a greenhouse of course, but I could never afford one big enough to grow hot weather crops in anything like the amounts the family needs – which is why I have a polytunnel. In my case it worked out as four times the area for half the price.

To be eating fresh produce all year round winter and 'hungry gap' crops are every bit as important as hot weather crops in the polytunnel, so you have to be a bit ruthless coming into autumn to create the space you need to get started before the light levels drop. My pepper plants have diplomatic immunity to that, though, because I grow them in pots and can shuffle them around as space allows. They spend most of the summer on a high suspended shelf, but when it's time to cure the onions (done in the tunnel, unless the weather is unexpectedly fine) they have to move down to ground level where a few supports help to avoid stem damage from the weight of all that lovely fruit.

An early start is just as important for peppers as it is for tomatoes, so I generally sow them at the same time in modules in my little heated propagator, potting them on into newspaper pots on a sunny windowsill. For the best flavour they need to stay on the plants for as long as possible to ripen thoroughly, but as with peas and beans this means a lower overall yield. The solution to this is to have some plants for picking green, which will crop well over a long period, and leave the plants for red peppers untouched. A good mulching with chopped comfrey leaves helps the fruit to swell and ripen, although you could use liquid tomato feed or comfrey leaf tea (if you can stand the smell).

I managed to put our main harvest off until the start of October this year, since that's when ripening has more or less stopped here (you can cut the whole plant and hang it upside down indoors if you want to push things a little further) but I left a couple alone to see how long the fruit would stay in good condition on the plant, extending the fresh harvest being the real trick in keeping a varied diet. Yesterday (the end of November) I got fed up looking at them, and cut the rest. Although one or two of the fruits had shown signs of mould during November and had to be removed, most of them were just fine – and they were crisp and tasted almost as good as they did in summer. This changes pepper growing from being a tasty but short-lived indulgence into an important part of our diet for almost four months of the year – and not a traffic light in sight!

Biscuit Crimes

Writers often complain about the loneliness of the writing desk, and I can quite see why; anyone who spends as much time as I do alone in a darkened office has to really like their own company. Thankfully, I do. I find myself witty, urbane and modest too, not to mention a delightful dancer. This doesn't necessarily mean that I don't need to get out from time to time though, which is why I have a little pop-up on my computer to inform me that it's time for my Writery Biscuit Break.

If the morning has been less than satisfactory (due to getting side-tracked or chasing minor research points that no-one else could possibly give a flying fart about) it's just a cup of instant coffee and a digestive biscuit for me. If, however, I have performed stunningly well and managed to somehow stay on target, I reward myself with a shot of the good stuff – Fairtrade Nicaraguan for choice – and something a bit more lively on the biscuit front. However, in the spirit of Health and Safety in the workplace, it's my duty as a self-employed arsearound to assess the risks inherent in the consumption of baked comestibles. There are various horrors that biscuits can inflict.

Hazard: The crack and drop
The biscuit has a hidden fault line that gives way at the crucial moment, sending moderately-sized biscuit fragments into your lap.
Risk: Potential rodent infestation.
H&S recommendation: Assess biscuits carefully before picking them up, and consider stress-testing more fault-prone varieties such as digestives. Any dropped fragments must be carefully recovered; the use of a small dog may be considered for this purpose, provided such complies with the Canines In The Workplace: Who Cleans Up The Poop? Guidelines (1986)

Hazard: The mumble cannon
Rapid consumption of very dry biscuit varieties followed by involuntary exhalation, such as sneezing or warning shouts (on construction sites) causes a fountain of crumbs to be projected for quite some distance. Schoolchildren have been known to use this effect as an offensive weapon.
Risk: Eye damage
H&S recommendation: Suitable eyewear for all third parties, and Hannibal Lecter-style facewear for biscuit operative.

Hazard: The Paradox drip
Dunking biscuit in tea proceeds normally, but on elevation a pocket of tea is carried through biscuit matrix without being significantly absorbed and emerges from far side of biscuit, from where it drips down the shirt sleeve of the biscuit operative.
Risk: Staining, sticky arm syndrome
H&S recommendation: Choice of biscuit should be limited to varieties without tea-conducting microtubules. Hob Nobs are notably hazardous in this respect.

Hazard: Rebound iritis
Dunking biscuit in tea proceeds normally, but on elevation the entire biscuit matrix becomes unstable and wobbles alarmingly. Matrix disintegrates just as it reaches the biscuit operator's mouth, and belly-flops into the scalding liquid sending a gout of it into the biscuit operator's eye.
Risk: Eye damage, risk of swearing upsetting neighbours
H&S recommendation: Close attention must be paid to the duration of the dunk, since no biscuit subtypes are completely immune to this phenomenon. A balance must be struck between softening the biscuit matrix and not ending up washing your eye out in the bathroom. Again.

However, during the ravenous phase of my teenage years I acquired the unfortunate habit of posting entire digestive biscuits into my mouth without biting them first. A sup of tea, and they collapsed; eaten in this manner an entire packet of digestives would take up a pint of tea quite neatly, and would stave off hunger until tea time. Mostly, anyway. Sadly the biscuits also tended to scrape the skin off the corners of my mouth, and I had to see the family doctor with an infected rash that split my face in a ghoulish, septic grin. Biscuit-acquired infection, anyone?

Digestives: Just Say No

Tipping point

Well, it's happened again - later than it should have done because I've been poorly, but it had to come; the garden has been put into winter mode. The second half of the summer planting has been stripped out of the tunnel* and the bare soil mulched; the stewing carrots (donkey carrots, Witchypoo calls them) have been lifted and stored in straw, and the parsnips will follow them shortly; and the three remaining cockerels have been dispatched and frozen. They were our first crack at the 'meat bird' lark, and I've learned a lot.

Primarily, I've learned that although 'dual purpose' birds are heavy enough for the table, in our case they don't put on weight quickly enough to make it worth bringing on males for the purpose; it's more a case of spare hens making good eating. When it comes to raising a clutch of eggs for meat next year, I'll be getting hold of a dozen eggs from a faster-growing breed like Dorking or Cornish Cross.

However, I've also learned a bit about hanging chickens. Everybody knows that in cool climates like Britain, hanging game birds helps to tenderize the meat and intensify the flavours; but a few cooks go out of their way to get hold of hung chickens too, so I decided to give it a try; instead of being dry-plucked while still warm (my preferred method), I hung them feathers-on and guts-in in the shed for three days and hoped for the best.

I have to say, I didn't have much fun when it came to plucking them. I found that although getting the feathers out wasn't much more difficult than plucking a warm bird (as opposed to a cold fresh bird, which is really hard), the skin was much more prone to tearing. I resorted to a hot-water scald for the second bird, but that just made matters worse so I went back to dry-plucking for the last.

Don't forget to warn family members what you're up to.

The next problem was drawing (gutting) the chickens. Never my favourite activity, this was also more difficult with the hung birds. The smell wasn't a problem because I had a heavy cold anyway, but the tubes seemed less forgiving than when fresh and I ended up having to delve and scrape with all three birds. Yucksome.

All three birds are in the freezer now and I'll let you know how the flavour turns out, but unless it's absolutely knockout I shan't be hanging chickens again. Taking a warm bird from coop to chiller in less than two hours is far easier - and far closer to dinner time!

*The first half came out a couple of months ago to make room for winter planting, a ruthless but necessary step. If you want to be cropping fresh produce from the tunnel in the winter, you have to get it growing well in the autumn - and that means a few sacrifices.

Man Flu

A few things you didn't know abou the dreaded 'man flu'.

This silent killer is caused by a nasty but so far unidentified virus which first appeared in the 1970s and has been growing in virulence ever since. It specifically targets the Y chromosome, so only men can catch it. This nasty bug typically disguises itself by spreading within populations already affected by outbreaks of the common cold, so it looks like the men are just making a fuss. Not so.

Man flu has symptoms much more severe than a common cold, featuring a high degree of prostration (taking to bed), fever, joint pains and malaise (feeling unwell). If left untended there is a mortality rate of 97.3% - a shocking statistic made even more worrying by the fact that the only effective treatment is female sympathy. It is a sad truism of the condition that because the disease occurs within existing pockets of common cold infection, such sympathy is often sadly lacking and all we can do is mourn the victims.

Women! Know your place!

In case you haven't twigged by now I've had a nasty flu-like illness. This is worse than a cold, but is nowhere near as severe as a real influenza, which really takes you off your feet. I blame the stress, although getting chilled in bus and coach stations at the weekend (with people hacking and spluttering all around) is probably just as much to blame. Of course the free alcohol at the conference* can't have had anything to do with how bad I've been feeling - no, not at all.

(whimpers and recites 'poor little bunny' repeatedly)



*You have to drink it, it's the law.