17 April 2010
I’m at my local organic greengrocer in Primrose Hill village on Regent’s Park Road asking Nigel— one of the owners- a thing or two about vegetables. Nigel knows everything about veg, but he doesn’t smile much.
S: I have a bunch of rotting root vegetables on my kitchen floor. What do you suggest?
N: Throw them away. If they’re rotting darling, chuck ‘em. Or give them to the pigs. You got pigs?
S: No.
N: You should buy a couple of pigs, right, and feed them all the rotten vegetables. .
S: What do you do with them?
N: I eat them.
S: The pigs or the vegetables?
N: The pigs. I’m not Je…
(Hesitates)
Are you Jewish?
S: No.
N: I’m not Jewish. I eat pork, I don’t care.
S: We’re having pig on Easter. But what do you do with all your rotting vegetables?
N: We feed them to the pigs.
S: And where are the pigs?
N: Downstairs. All locked up. We take them over the park at night.
(Pause. Nigel sells another customer some potatoes. He seems to be thinking.)
N: Can you make a compost with them?
S: How do you that?
N: I don’t know darling. It’s like people come in and say I want to make this blah di blah blah in my recipe book. What do I need? I’ve never heard of these things. I’m not a cook. I’m not a chef. I’m not a gardener.
S: So how big does the compost have to be?
N: How long is a piece of string?
His tiny female co-worker covers her mouth to stifle her giggling.
S: Perhaps you can use that soil for all your plants out here.
N: We look after our plants darling. Thank you.
S: Like the pigs downstairs.
A new customer walks in.
N: Here— she can tell you all you need to know about composts.
S: Great. How do you build one?
Customer: (without missing a beat) You put in four metal stakes. Have you got an outside area?
S: No but I can put it in my kitchen.
N: (snorts)…you can’t put it in the kitchen darling…!
Customer: Have you got no outside area?
S: No.
N: (under his breath) Americans…
Customer: You need it to be outside. If it’s on the earth, then the worms just come up and all the bugs. I mean as you chuck it in, you can just see it. It’s miraculous… it really is miraculous.
S: So I…
Customer: (in full flow now) And in a year it turns into this sort of alchemy. It’s this beautiful rich soil. All your rotten vegetables in one year and you run your hand through it and it’s all granular soil. And then you throw it on your garden.
N: Or your can run your hands through my hair.
Customer: Nigel, you’re nuts.
Someday I’ll have a big garden. But until then, I shall remain resourceful with my rotting produce. The celeriac was just slightly soft— as were the apples and gingerroot. I tend to exaggerate.
End of Winter Crispy Root Fritters
In a bowl, shred a medium-sized celeriac, about 2 cups. Then an equal amount of peeled and grated apples. Add a good tablespoon of finely grated fresh ginger, a good pinch of Maldon sea salt, finely grated fresh lemon zest from ½ lemon on a microplane (just bought a new one (http://www.microplane.com/), and then its juice, chopped or picked fresh lemon thyme, and a dash of white balsamic vinegar.
In hot olive oil and butter, sweat about 2T finely chopped leeks (or shallots or red onion), a crushed garlic clove, and ½ crushed dried chile pepper or finely chopped fresh red chilies (optional). Add to celeriac and apple mixture. Then add in one or two well beaten eggs till it binds together (don’t add to the hot pan or you’ll have egg foo yung). Add just enough flour (try a wholegrain spelt for hearty fun) till it stiffens slightly— just a few tablespoons.
In hot oil and butter again, drop in a few spoonfuls and gently flatten the fritters with the back of a spoon. Fry till golden on the bottom and crispy, then flip and do the same again. Serve alongside thick Pan-roasted Pork Chops and a side of something green. Or just eat as is. There are about 6 and I ate every last one of them.
If you have some Greek yogurt, mix in some finely chopped de-seeded cucumber, a few drops of olive oil, cracked black pepper and plop on top.
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