Love the herb bug

The other night I was watching some River Cottage related programme about three hungry boys or something like that. Another day, another foodie show. 

Watch here (UK only I think)

However, as with all that Hugh and his mates seem to do, there is a combination of a challenge and a moral determination. This time round, it's to get from A in Somerset to B in Cornwall without so much as a penny or petrol. A converted milk float and a few supplies. But otherwise, it's fend for, and feed yourselves.

So far, so West Country.

But. Within minutes of setting off they go and raid Hugh's garden for essentials to feed them (see 6 minutes in). The things that will give them fuel, see them through the harsh conditions ahead. So what do they nick?

Oragano, sage and lemon thyme. 

I mean, come on. Seriously guys, where on this earth are those considered to be essential other than Hampstead? And lemon thyme? Not even normal thyme, you have to go for the fancy stuff. Sheesh.

Yet herbs have a hold on people and it's this hold that I want to explore as both a gardener and fledgling cook. So I've come up with a new challenge. To create the most abundant herb garden and start to see what impact it has on my everyday food. And I'd like some help too.

I've got a small legacy from previous owners/tenants. First of these is a bay tree, which despite regular use just grows like mad. I'm not complaining as I've come to love it.

I also have a small clump of chives. I've cut it right back because last year after it died off in the winter, brand new shoots were the first hint of spring growth. Vigourous and positive, I await this year's spring charge!

So for my challenge I've bought / still have some of the standard herbs but I'm also looking for the rare, the under-rated and the downright unfashionable. Tweet me, comment or email the one herb you think I should try to grow and cook.

As I grow I'll be asking my partner in cooking crime Ruth to give me recipes and tips on her blog yummymummycookingschool but don't let that stop you sending us your suggestions too.

For more, head over to my shockingly named About thyme page...

In the night(mare) garden

Never did I think that gardening would seep into my nocturnal mind and, like the worst bindweed, take hold in the middle of the night.


I woke up from a vivid dream during the week, feeling sad. Bad dreams have that ability, as if it should make no difference that its your imagination at play. May as well be real.


Just why do nightmares exist? They're just not fair really, are they? There's plenty else troubling us. Daily stresses from work, responsibilities and well, having to deal with bad people. If journalists are to be believed these are politicians, rioters, bankers, civil servants, the police, Rupert and James Murdoch, Joey Barton, immigrants and the grey squirrel. 


But you should never believe what you read in the papers probably because they hide the fact that bad people are in fact the usual culprits estate agents, traffic wardens, the Dragons from Dragons Den (all those broken dreams), wasps (just evil) and, er, journalists. 


And as if to make things worse, good dreams are amazing but there appears to be only one BFG in this world to deliver them. As I live on the ground floor I think he keeps missing me.


I have a lovely, if rampant bay tree in my garden. After a year of not being touched bar the odd few leaves picked here and there I decided to give it a trim and use the leaves. Since then it has spawned shoots, fresh leaves and is reaching for the high heavens. I love it.

My roast chicken is now the finest in Bristol, thanks to this treat of a tree; my vegetable lasagne the envy of all those who have never tried it. My freezer is overflowing too, so prolific is its crop, and I do wonder if I should offer to supply the greengrocer?


Now, our true selves are revealed only when drunk or dreaming. (Although I might have been drunk when I heard that. Or dreaming).


Well, if it's true then my greatest fear is the loss of my bay tree. Yes, my heavy heart was caused by the playing out of a story in my sleep, where I was extolling the virtues of this hardy herb to a visitor. Eager to show off its wonder I took my guest outside where all I saw was a tree, dying, it's bark rotting and a handful of leaves to its once proud crown.


I wish I could say I jumped out of bed to reassure myself that it was indeed all a dream. But I was stuck in Holiday Inn Preston. Not a bay tree in sight. Just a bus station.

Bet you never thought you'd see this on a garden blog. I think it's a striking building, but you may not agree...

For all I know this dream could have been a premonition, a call for help from the garden, the sign of a now unbreakable bond - a bit like twins...12 hours later and I was back on home turf and finally got to rush out to the garden and inspect the damage. And no, I'm no mystic Tom. My bay tree was laughing at me, with more leaves than ever and harbouring this beast:

A reassuring sigh later, I was picking its leaves for the pot wondering quite what the horrors that forthcoming night would bring...