Cooking with fynbos

The other night I roasted some salmon fillets in packages stuffed with branches of Coleonema, a fragrant shrub that belongs to the fynbos biome of the Western Cape. In the horticultural trade it is usually known as confetti bush, because of its fine white and pale pink flowers.

It is in the aromatic Rutaceae family, as is its more famous cousin, buchu (Agathosma). I think it has potential as a herb that speaks of place - the aroma is citrusy, and slightly piney.

To top the salmon I made a quick cooked sauce of young rhubarb stems (in season at the moment), spiked with some ginger, sugar, salt and pepper. On the side,  oven-roasted tree tomatoes, whose acidity is softened by the heat.

To do something similar, sniff out what is indigenous in your area. Eastern red cedar? Bayberry? Pines? Wrap, and pack and roast.

Footnote: The use of salmon, in South Africa, for a locally inspired dish is ironic, to say the least, since it does not come even from this hemisphere. I shopped in a hurry, and am still working my way around the ins and outs of what is sustainable, here. I shall have to spend some time on the site for the South African Sustainable Seafood Initiative.

Fireside nights

A Sidecar and some in-house, fireside reading.

While my back is turned

The black raspberries had reached their peak just as I left Harlem.

And the blueberries began to blue. I find them more sour than last year's, perhaps because they have less sun than in Brooklyn.

The Frenchman does some collecting every day.

Elaine, a Harlem neighbour to the north, will collect them this week, and we'll keep some for a small, in-house pie, too.

So, yes. If you have a pot, grow blueberries.  Happy plants.

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* Summer Botanical Walk Schedule *

Cape winter

We seem very far from the 4th of July. But I did dream that I tried to sing The Star Spangled Banner (whose words had changed), in a country of refugees on the move where an Apocalyptic event had taken place. In the end one girl's voice sang it above the silenced and confused crowd, the only one who knew the way forward. 

I blame the quiet nights of Constantia for serious REM sleep.

The corgis have grown a little...fat...since the last time I saw them. And by the time I have reached the halfway mark of a very modest walk along the Alphen Trail they are looking weary. Corgi bootcamp is just getting started. 

This is the Cape winter. Wet and green. With flowers that betray a sense of spring.

After our most recent Harlem winter, when the toilet seat froze our bottoms, our teeth chattered in bed, and we ate dinner in wool socked feet, this weather, dipping into the 40's at night, seems balmy. My mom and Selina keep asking if I'm not cold. No! I say, looking at their sweatered layers with some surprise.

I made a pilgrimage on Vince's behalf to the Cape dwarf chameleons.

Under tall stone pines I found patches of Oxalis purpurea, identifed with the help of iSpot. This part of the Cape is considered an Oxalis hotspot and I had no idea how complicated they can be.

Near them grew beautiful and petite Romulea flava. This greenbelt is under siege by aggressive alien plants,  from Acanthus, bugweed and cannas, to smothering nasturtiums and morning glory. This sweet little indigenous colony of plants is, sadly, an exception to the exotic rule.

A cold front approaches today, sweeping up from the southern Atlantic. It will bring a lot of rain, snow on the mountain tops, and flooding to the ill drained Cape Flats, which are really a wetland under cover of massive urban sprawl, often of the most meager construction. This is a miserable time for poor people.

Up here, the land is raised and water flows away. Streams drop from the mountain and click frogs click all night. Fresh firewood is delivered and woodsmoke perfumes the daytime house.

Local flavor

At No. 9 there is a huge bunch of locally grown fynbos - Protea, Leucaspermum, Leucadendron and Erica, with a bowl of quinces.

Winter fruit in the kitchen. The limes behind are from my mom's tree. Cut in half, they are pale green.

Boxwoods and drama on the terrace

Do you see the three new boxwoods? I hope they are happy in their new home, far from their Virginian roots (though naturally, some roots made the trip, too). I like them very much. They seem to pint the terrace down, like good solid table settings that prevent the tablecloth from flying away. Thank you again to Paul and Sonya Westervelt, who hauled them all the way up here a couple of weeks ago. Boxwoods grow slowly, and these sizeable specimens are a generous gift.

There have some changes since I took that top photo. Estorbo fell in love, for one thing, and decided he had to leap off the terrace, from behind the barbeucue (top L corner). Well, he looked like he was going to. Down below staring up at him with dreamy eyes was a white cat. We think it may be Pebbles, whose name is often called from the building next door. Miaowing and hissing and many dark looks from our furry friend when we intervened. 

The escape route has now been blocked off with a little bamboo fence. The cat was determined, even wiggling under the barbecue, whose base is now barricaded with empty terrace cotta pots. The little feline dude is messing with my sense of garden balance. I'll have to fine tune again, later.

I am bidding the terrace, the man, and the cat farewell for a little while, and very sadly. I will soon be roaring east over the Atlantic to Heathrow, before heading south, over southern Europe, the Mediterranean (the ports lit with tiny lights, at night) and down the the continent of Africa, to land in Cape Town.

Vincent has watering instructions, and cat-brushing instructions, and sourdough starter feeding instructions. In that order. And if my 4 oz of ziplocked starter make it through customs I hope to bake some in Cape Town. Making one from scratch, there, strong enough to bake the loaves I have been baking since early this year would take about as many weeks as I have in town.

The Etoile Violette never really rallied, after the move from Brooklyn. Its bloom has been spartan. I assume it's a combination of not-enough-sun and the brutal winter.

The annual Talinum is happy - and we have been eating the leaves in salads.

And the last roses opened yesterday - Teasing Georgia.

It is July. Summer up north, winter down south.

See you on the other side.

Gardenista 2014 Design Awards

Gardenista is holding their second annual design awards for gardeners. The deadline for entries is July 7th. Residents of the USA, Canada, and the UK are eligible to enter.

The nice thing about these awards is that entry is open to reg'lar gardeners in most categories. Amateurs. The people who really know what they are doing. And folks who rent, rather than own their spaces are welcome to submit entries, too. (There are also categories for professionals.)

Gardenista considers a garden anything from a tiny city fire-escape planting, to an indoor houseplant collection,  to a rural estate set in dreamy surrounds. Fortunately, the first two two rarely have to compete in the same category as the last!

If you think your garden has what it takes, or know of one that does, read on.

2014 entry in Best Garden, Amateur. Good Dogs Farm, by Maria Nation

Submission requirements for each category (see below) are: six photos of your gardens space; a design statement - in other words a description of what you hoped to achieve. If you are like me, and garden before you think, you just make one up! See some more of 2014's entries to date, here, to get a sense of who is entering what. That Good Dogs Farm is quite a looker.

Winners receive a limited edition designer lamp, by Jielde, but I think the real win is having your garden and images featured on Gardenista.

After submissions are received, readers have till August 8th to vote for selected gardens, and winners are announced on August 9th.

2013 Winner of Best Garden, Professional. Alexander Tasker Marx Landscape Architect

Contest Categories:

Best Overall Garden (Amateur): The best overall outdoor garden designed by a non-professional.

My personal favourite:

Best Small Garden (Amateur): Indoor gardens, houseplants, window boxes, fire-escape gardens, container gardens, vertical gardens, and more.

2014 entry in Best Garden Amateur. Brooklyn Brownstone Garden, by Margaret Wilmerding

Best Outdoor Living Space (Everyone): Outdoor sitting rooms and lounge spaces, outdoor kitchens, outdoor dining rooms, outdoor showers and baths, and more.

Love this category, too:

Best Edible Garden (Everyone): Kitchen gardens, vegetable patches, raised beds, outdoor herb gardens, etc.

2014 entry in Best Small Garden, Amateur. The Backyard, by Joke de Winter

Best Hardscape Project (Everyone): Stairways, decks and patios, driveways, paths, fences, swimming pools, garden gates, trellises, and more.

One day, I hope there will be a category for best lawn, to help shine a light on that particular hotbed of synthetic fertilizers and herbicides. And I hope the best contenders will be lawns allowed to be more natural than the rigid and clipped version, top of page. Steven Schwarz should enter his lawn, when the time comes.

Submit your Gardenista Design Award entries here.

More questions? Check out Gardenista's FAQ's:

You have seven days to take pictures. Got git 'em, garrrrdeners!

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* Summer Botanical Walk Schedule *