Foraging For Undercrackers And Finding Plumbs

Lots to report but little impetus to report it over the last couple of months. A few weeks back ages ago some unexpected foraging raised my spirits and I felt a report was in order,  I've finally got round to posting it.

Taking a break from the 'tyranny' of underwear shopping with Elfa, we were making our way to a local hostelry intent on slaking our thirst with a small libation, when delight of delights, an urban foraging opportunity presented itself. Opposite the pub lay hundreds of these yellow plumbs and quite a few red ones too

We scavenged a carrier bag and snaffled a pile to take home, as usual urban wayside foraging provoked a couple of conversations with passers-by. How is it that we now live in a world where Joe and Josephine Soap are so divorced from their dinner that they don't recognise something as ubiquitous as Plums if they're not in a little plastic tray?

Stoning looked like it was going to take a while

Until I remembered my 'Kirchomat' or Cherry Stoner, Which despite sounding like the HighTimes cover girl sept. 1974 is actually a very handy device from Germany. 

It works really well and I loaded the the dehydrator 

As you can see I wasn't as diligent as I might have been and didn't halve every plum. 

First mistake.

I 'may have' slightly over-done the drying time. Second mistake. Schoolboy error.

I left them in the back of Elfa's fridge for a few months, too stubborn to chuck them after putting the time into foraging and then drying them. But as all 'shed blokes' know if you hang on to things long enough, eventually their time comes. The truly desiccated plumbs have found a use.  I soaked them in Sloe Gin. They are in a Fallow liver pate.

More soon

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The Runner Beans Of Sulkers Medow

My own words in the last post prompted me to do a little suburban homesteading. Although Kit-tart-ism is fun, and indeed compelling, my journey should be about moving away from rampant consumerism and towards a more honest and complete relationship with my dinner. So this afternoon while The Littlest Bushwacker  was receiving some frankly unnecessary training in the dramatic arts [trust me on this one, drama she knows 'I love the camera and the camera loves me!']. I ventured to my former sulking ground at the end of the Ex Mrs SBW's garden. There I found evidence of my feral failure.

A few months back The Littlest Bushwacker and I had sprouted and planted Runner Beans, I think I harvested the first crop a little late as Ex Mrs SBW, Bushwacker Jnr, and The Littlest Bushwacker pronounced them not to their liking. "Bitter and unpleasant" in fact. The rest grew on untended and unloved.

Today's harvest was part seed crop and part bean crop. While Wikipedia claims that in north america the vines are grown for their, admittedly. attractive flowers here in old blighty we eat the seed pods. Sliced. The other thing I learned from Wikipedia, as I was nibbling on a few of the fresh raw beans, is that they contain a poison unless cooked, so if this is the last post you'll know it was 'deadly' poison.

More soon [hopefully]
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Kmart coupons are available for pressure cookers, to cook up the perfect pot of beans.