Tomaso's gifts

Tomaso said as he passed today, "Do you want some broccoli plants?" He gave me some last year, and they were very productive and very good. So although it was raining and I was trying to get a patch dug before my bladder gave out, I followed him to his allotment. On the way, he said, "You're not frightened of me, are you?" (He's about four foot tall and over 90). "Because people will gossip if they see you with me and say you are my girlfriend!"

After showing me round (again), he pulled up some broccoli plants, and then offered me some fennel plants too. I don't really like fennel all that much, but it looks impressive, and I thought if I put it up the top in the bit that I've just cleared, the Italians would praise me as they passed. Besides, it's all food, and food is sacred. So I said yes, and he carefully counted out ten plants. He put them in a sugar bag, saying he'd been making jam from his plums, then handed me another bag and told me to look inside. Inside was this circular twist of bread which I think he said his daughter "who has the shop" had made. It was a bit dried out, but it tasted delicious: it was flavoured with fennel seeds and salt. As I was starving by then, because it was nearly tea-time, it was very welcome.

As I left to go back to my allotment, Tomaso gave me a hug and said, "You are like my wife and my daughter!"

Leeks and fennel - staple winter stem vegetables

The past few visits have been devoted to digging. I dig three rows on the new allotment, then if I've got any energy left, do some work on the SA allotment. Today I noticed the Salvation Army allotment was looking quite neglected in places because I had been spending all the lovely autumn weather we've had recently (apart from yesterday, when it poured) on the Cat allotment. So I put a bit of work into it, clearing around my few leeks to allow them a space to breathe. Big John gave me those leeks earlier in the summer, when mine had all died of rust. These - there must be about nine or ten - look fine, but are still only small.

I ate some of my fennel in a stir-fry tonight, together with some of my cabbage. I photographed Cathy's (No. 40) fennel, to show you what good Italian fennel should look like. Mine are much smaller, but are coming on. They smell wonderful when cut.

I also cleared my edges around the sprouts, as the grass had made inroads on the plot. It was all very backbreaking - I can only do so much - but it looks better now, and tomorrow I'll have to return to my digging.

Winter vegetables - English and Italian

When I got to the allotment today, Joe (56/58) was planting garlic and Joe (86/87) was planting red onions.

When I passed latter Joe, he told me I should be earthing up the fennel plants he gave me, or they would bolt.

I asked him again which of the winter lettuce he'd given me were which, because by now I was completely confused, and he pointed them out patiently and gave me their names. I turns out I've got them all wrong.

Anyway, it explained why the "lettuce" I tried the other day was bitter - it's name is cicora, i.e. chicory. The red one is cicora rossa. He says they develop hearts like lettuce. There is another chicory which I have, which he says you must dig up and transplant deep at the end of this month, because it has a big root (I guess this must be the chicory they make coffee with).

Later on, he brought me two lettuces in a bag and said, "Try them, see which one you like." One - the frizzy one - is scariola - the other, I think, is cicora.

In contrast, I had the first of my winter greens yesterday - a couple of miniscule cauliflowers and the first sprouts.