summer, anyone?

If you're anywhere in the northeastern States or Southern Ontario, you're almost certainly experiencing one heck of a nice holiday weekend. I cannot believe the weather we're having. It feels slightly wrong, even -- temperatures in the high twenties, gorgeous sun, and it's not even close to May yet. I recall snowstorms on the Victoria Day weekend in May, and I'm not old enough to be saying that sort of thing yet. Cold, wet, unpredictable springs are more the norm here than gorgeous, sunny, dry ones.

But I've been taking advantage. The raised bed is ready for its plants, and I intend to put the first round of beets and lettuce in tomorrow. I've planted the peas. I have no idea what is going to happen with the peas, because everything I've seen about planting peas suggests different things. Soak them, don't soak them. Plant them in dry soil. Plant them in moist soil. Plant them early. Plant them just before the last frost date. The only thing people seem to agree on is that peas are cool-weather crops -- but just what that means, they can't agree on.

Whatever. I had no luck with peas last year, period. I have planted 10 pea seeds, and I'm hoping for at least three plants. They're all sugar snaps and I'm really looking forward to snacking on them. We've been trying to cultivate a habit of eating veggies for snacks.

We're attempting a new method of mulching this year, involving newspaper covered in natural cedar mulch around the flower beds. The weather's caused the weeds to go nuts already, although there is this year a corresponding amount of nuttiness from the rest of the plants. When it cools off later this week (frost, even!) there's going to be some frantic running around covering things, I'm afraid.

Meanwhile, upstairs in the sunroom there are little basil plants and little tomato plants making themselves happy. The tomatoes are even growing their first set of true leaves. It looks, however, like I'm going to have to purchase pepper plants this year -- the peppers I started over a month ago have yet to germinate.

But, having seen a phoebe in the backyard this afternoon, I will not complain about recalcitrant peppers; I am very, very glad it is spring.

Trail, Gayla. You grow girl. Simon & Schuster: 2005.

This gorgeous weather we've been having is going to spawn a spate of reviews of gardening and/or garden-related books. Just a forewarning. The first of the onslaught is Gayla Trail's You Grow Girl, which is named after her blog. Good stuff on that blog, if you're interested in all things gardening, including her personal journey to/through gardening.

feeling passionate about pruning

I've caught garden fever good. It is March 5th. There is still significant snow on all the garden beds (and good -- I don't want anyone getting themselves frozen). And I am sitting here fantasizing about pruning. I don't even like pruning.

This year I really should prune the clematis at the side of the house. It's getting a little wild and a lot too big. Now, I could probably just add to the trellis -- the little white clematis, whatever the heck it is, would like that because it's heading its way up there anyways. The big pink one would probably appreciate having a little more space down lower to do its thing. The clematis out there was one of the success stories of my garden last year, one of the few. It just bloomed and bloomed and looked lovely, even when it was flopping over to take over the driveway.

I'm scared to prune it because I don't want to hurt it. But I think it's got to be done. There's dead wood in there, and if it was starting to get unruly last year it's definitely going to be unmanageable this year.

And then there's the forsythia. It's a monster in the back yard, this forsythia. I have slowly come to the conclusion that no matter what we do it will grow back. So all the old stems are going this year. We'll leave last year's new stems, and maybe a few from the year before. But everything else is getting pulled. The old 1/3 rule, but even more ruthless than I've ever been with a shrub. Then perhaps I will be able to see the campanula and the ferns and the phlox without having my eye poked out.

The dogwood, planted two springs ago, which came down from Ottawa with me when I returned home, needs tidying. It did super-well last year, so I'm going to hack it back into a nicer shape. I'll be much more gentle with it than I will be with the forsythia; it's not overgrowing its welcome. But the younger shoots are the reddest shoots, and so a little gentle pruning right about now should be good.

The rose in the front is getting transplanted this year. I've been saying that for years, but this time I really mean it. But first it will have to be chopped back to something I can actually move. And I need to clear a place for it. (Getting rid of some daylilies, they're overgrowing their welcome, too, along with the forsythia.) I will try to move the rose as soon as the ground is unfrozen. I have tried to kill this rose for three years now, and it's not dying, so I suspect it will handle my abusive transplantation.

There's a pair of wigelia, one of which seems to ignore everything and just does its thing, and another which seems to ignore everything and looks pathetic all the time. Sadly, the one I like is the pathetic one. I need to do a good trimming of it this year, just after it blooms. The other one could probably use a bit of a whack-back, too.

Oh, and the raspberries. I need to get armed with heavy leather gloves (and probably a jacket and a neck-protector, frankly) and some hefty shears and go after those as soon as they start to leaf out. They are out of control. And vicious.

And then there's the spirea in the front which I hate but haven't gotten rid of yet, and it's not just out of control, it's so ugly it makes me cross-eyed each time I look at it. Except when it blooms. And its little leaves are rather attractive. I might be convinced to keep it, but I can't let it go another year without hacking it all the way back, digging out its vicious little suckers, and probably digging out at least half of it. Which I'm sure the periwinkle will thank me for, grr.

Oh, and while we're speaking of the front, I think I've maybe let the sandcherry go on too long without pruning. That I'll do after it flowers.

Um. I think I've maybe got my hands full. This weekend I'm taking some flagging tape out there to decorate the branches that will have to go. The upside of my pruning enthusiasm? I now actually want to take the compost out so that I can go and inspect the shrubs without their leaves.

not dead yet!

*pokes a little at the blog*

Oooh, it is still alive!

Okay, so yes. If you follow this blog and not my other, you can be forgiven for thinking I might be dead. The truth is, I have been hibernating a bit this winter as far as birdwatching and gardening sorts of things go. I have been cooking a little bit, but there hasn't been anything newsworthy (other than my decision, based on one mostly successful experiment, that the slow cooker is probably the way to go ALWAYS). I haven't even really been reading much that would be relevant here, although I should report that I am in love with Lucy Waverman's new cookbook, A Year in Lucy's Kitchen. I have not yet tried a recipe by her that hasn't turned out, even the ones that are a little tricky.

But we are closing in on the end of February, and my little calendar is telling me that this weekend is the time to plant my hot peppers. We had a day last week that even smelled a little bit like spring. Then we had a snowstorm, but I am watching the buckets of snow melting in a steady drip out the window right now. In a couple of weeks no doubt the Dutch iris will be peeking up, and the snowdrops. I will be able to find out if my new redbud and the two-year-old Kentucky coffee tree made it through the winter. Two and a half weeks from now I'll be looking at planting tomatoes and basil. We have a new wheelbarrow, lots of mulch waiting, and I have plans starting to take shape in my head. Bring it on, March!

condiment experiment: Mangoes and Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid

Last night I attempted a couple of recipes in my new, beautiful cookbook (it's more of a coffee table book, really, so pretty and unweildy) Mangoes and Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid. I made three condiment sauces to go along with fishy's [superdelicious] chicken curry. There were two hits and one miss. The hits were lovely. The miss was... spectacular.

I did the Hot Sweet Date-Onion Chutney and the Fresh Coriander-Peanut Chutney, both from page 28, and then the Mint Sambol from page 32.

The chutneys were lovely, and I can see the date chutney becoming a favourite. It is indeed sweet, and it has a lovely hot kick that's not painful; very pleasant. The cooked onions give the whole thing a very roasty, tasty flavour, cooked as they were in sesame oil. I was a bit concerned that the sesame oil might be too strongly flavoured, but I think it was perfect. Given the few ingredients and the simplicity of it, I'm really impressed with the complexity of the flavours. Makes a nice dip, and I think would also be really good with samosas or veggie pakora.

The cilantro chutney was really nice paired with the curry because it has a very fresh, tangy zip that cuts through the richness and spice of a curry. We couldn't find cayennes or serranos, so we made it with jalapenos. It worked out fine, but I'd definitely be interested in testing out other types of peppers in that recipe.

And then there was the mint sambol. I did this is with the mortar and pestle, which in itself is a fair bit of work. Which would have been fine if it had turned out.

I don't know what I did. I thought I'd followed the recipe (except for the hot pepper types, again) but the resulting dish was so unbelievably salty it was inedible. I don't know if I didn't have enough mint, or enough lime juice, or if the difference in the pepper types would have solved the problem, but fishy and I each tasted it (him despite my dire warnings that his arteries would immediately solidify into solid columns of salt) and then we threw out the rest. I really liked the idea of the mint sambol, so it was definitely disappointing. And unpleasant.

However, I'm certainly going to keep trying recipes from this book. There's another sambol mentioned, spicy and sweet, that I might attempt next, keeping a close eye on the amount of salt I use, of course.

Hot Sweet Date-Onion Chutney
pg. 28 of Mangoes and Curry Leaves by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid

• 3 dried red chiles, stemmed
• 2 tablespoons raw sesame oil, or vegetable oil, or ghee
• 1 large white onion (about 1/2 pound), coarsely chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, or to taste
• 1/2 cup chopped pitted dates

"Put the chiles in a small bowl, add 1 cup hot water, and set aside to soak for 10 minutes. Meanwhile, heat the oil in a wok or karhai (see Glossary) or a wide heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onion and salt and cook until the onion is well touched with brown, about 10 minutes. Remove from the heat and set aside.

"Drain the chiles, place them in a food processor, add the chopped dates, and process for 30 seconds to finely chop. Add the onion mixture and process for about 15 seconds to chop and blend the ingredients. Alternatively, place the drained chiles on a flaat stone mortar and grind to a paste with the pestle, add the dates and grind, and finally, add the cooked onion mixture and coarsely grind, leaving some small chunks.

"Taste the chutney for salt, and adjust if necessary. Serve in a condiment dish. (Store leftovers in a well-sealed glass jar in the refridgerator for up to several weeks). Makes 1 cup; serves 6."

For more recipes and commentary on the above recipe (or to see the Glossary) please check out the cookbook! Especially recommended for food culture junkies and food p**n addicts like me.