Borage, borage, borage

In light of my new foraging fun (I now forage at least once a week to make soup for Danda and I), I have got a book called Food For Free by Richard Mabey and am looking into things like edible flowers. I saw some beautiful photographs of borage and realised I’d seen it around quite a bit but not realised what I was looking at nor that I could eat it. And it looks beautiful on a plate of light summery fun, a salmon fillet perhaps and some greens. With some beautiful borage on the top.

In honour of this new discovery, I have composed some poetry. I would describe my style as philosophical and thought-provoking.

Borage, borage, borage

There’s a garden down the road with some borage,
I wish I had some borage,
I’d eat that borage with my porridge,
I’d have a breakfast of borage porridge.

I’d like to forage that borage,
I wish I had borage like that borage,
I think it’s my favourite borage,
And boy, do I like to forage!?
I’d like to forage that borage.
For my porridge.

Forage, borage, porridge.

Beekeeping (day 2)

Last Sunday was day 2 of the beekeeping course in London that I started the week before. And the second day was no less amazing than the week before.

We learned primarily about swarming and that is what I shall talk about here.

A bee colony will naturally want to swarm because that is how they reproduce. One colony will split into two and they will each go on living their lives.

When a colony gets bigger, the bees at the outer edge will have less of the ‘queen bee substance’ as they are quite far away from her. If they get too far, they will think there is no queen and they will panic and start building queen cells. The queen is under instruction from the colony so will have to go and lay eggs there.

It is at this point that she gets ready to swarm, as she sees it is her time to leave (usually around the three year mark). Off she goes, taking all the flying (foraging) bees with her and we will deal with her in a moment.

Left behind are the ‘house bees’, who are worker bees who are not yet going out foraging and the queen bee cells. They will build more than one to give themselves a good chance that at least one will produce a queen. If the first queen emerges and she sees there are other queen bees developing in their cells, to get rid of the competition, she will go outside the cell, make a noise and if there is a response from inside, she knows there is a bee growing so she stings it to kill it.

If, however, one of these queen bees emerges and there are two in the hive, they will either have a full on fight to the death or the hive will choose sides and kill the unlucky one by crowding around her so the temperature rises and cooks her to death. Or they will sting her to death. Nice.

The half of the colony that left earlier, will hang out somewhere temporarily while you, the beekeeper, catch them (hopefully) and take them to a new hive. This can be a real headache if they’re in a neighbour’s garden or if they go somewhere high up and you can’t reach them or if you catch the colony but the queen bee is left behind so they will just fly back to her at the first opportunity. There are a whole host of potential problems.

But the clever beekeeper has a way of convincing them they have already swarmed by simply moving the whole hive about 400ft away and putting a new hive in the spot where the old hive was. You then take the frame which has the queen bee on it and put it into the the new hive. When the foraging bees go out to collect nectar and pollen, they will return to the new hive as it is where their old hive was. Thus, you have the queen bee and all the foraging bees in a new hive. And ta da! The bees think they have swarmed!

The bees left behind are the house bees and the eggs, which is how it would have been if there had been a natural swarm. Everyone is happy.

And no-one’s children have swarms on their bikes! Woop woop!

We also saw an extraction machine, which basically spins around the wax frame sheets, causing the honey to fly out and run off. We also tasted tons of different honeys, my favourite being the heather honey and the manuka.

My mind is blown. Yet again. Bees are my heroes.

Danda and the dock leaves

Before I proceed with this story, I would like to remind you all of what happened last summer when I picked a blackberry for Danda. It was the first blackberry of the summer and I picked it for Danda and trekked up the biggest hill in the world to give it to him. You’ll have to check the post for his reaction.

So last week, I went foraging. I now have a book about foraging, called Food For Free by Richard Mabey. It’s fabulous and I’m cautiously working my way into new types of edible plants. It started with nettles…

…and has now expanded into dock leaves and dandelion leaves too. On the river near Ham House, there is an abundance of greenery for the taking. It’s like a forager’s paradise….

Nettles on the left, dock leaves toward the middle then dandelion leaves on the right. Dandelions are really good for you, apparently. And the whole plant can be eaten, from flower to root. Things like dandelion leaves and dock leaves were collected constantly and steamed and eaten like spinach but when spinach started to be grown more, we got away from eating these things.

Along I went, on my foraging mission, collecting lots and lots of greenery and thinking what lovely things I would make with it.

That evening, I decided to make a chilli with venison mince and lots of tomatoes and onions and fresh red chilli. As all these things are quite rich flavours, I decided to add the greenery in right at the end, just until it wilted a little, to lighten the whole thing up. So in it went, I stirred everything round, seasoned it and put it in bowls for Danda and I.

We dug in, munching away. I was feeling all at one with nature, eating my recently foraged greens in my dinner. I looked at Danda, knowing he was feeling the foraging love.

His face was a picture of uncertainty.

“It’s quite bitter,” he said, looking at it nervously.

“Put a bit more salt in,” I advised. He did so. He tried it again.

“O, it’s really bitter, Laura…. Do you want mine?”

And so I had two dinners and Danda ate toast. So that went well.

*I have since worked out how to counteract the bitterness. I need to put the greens in earlier, so the bitter taste is dissipated and the other tastes are allowed to come forward.

Why don’t I have a Michelin star yet?

Ok, so who is organising this nonsense? Where’s my bloody Michelin star? I shake my proverbial fist at you, food gods. It’s not like I don’t try. I do try. Very hard. Look (those breadsticks and crackers are all homemade)…

And look….

And look…

Yes, Mr Michelin, I made that. And no, your eyes are not deceiving you. That is homemade walnut and honey semifreddo you can see on the far right there. It’s all homemade, Mr Michelin. Including the cantuccini.

You want more? I got more.

And more…

All homemade. Even the pasta.

Now, Michel Roux and Rene Redzepi, because I know you’re both reading, it’s no good pretending you don’t, could you two sort this thing out for me. I honestly don’t get what’s taking so long.

Rene, I’m right up your street. I’d fit in perfectly at Noma. Did I tell you I foraged some nettles the other day?! Yeh. You see? That’s changed your mind, hasn’t it? I even bought a book about foraging today. A book, that’s right! Shit just got serious.

Now go get this thing sorted, people! I’ll keep an eye on the post.

Thanks, guys.