I haven’t blogged properly for a couple of weeks, so I thought I better get back in the swing of things.
The allotment has been somewhat neglected over the fortnight in favour of bike rides, but it’s that time of year when the plot is being put to bed for the winter, so I’ve only been making fleeting visits for harvesting.
Things move slowly at the moment – or so I thought. Maybe it is the unusually mild November temperatures, but out of nowhere this beauty of cauliflower has appeared.
I’ve never been able to grow caulies before. Research tells me they have a reputation for being tricky to grow, so when I saw the caulie pictured I was as excited as Bizkit the sleepwalking dog.
Basking in cauliflower success, there’s a big part of me that feels like I’ve finally made it. I’ve joined the big boys. I want to run around with it above my head like the Olympic torch shouting ‘Look what I’ve done! Look what I can do! I AM PREMIER LEAGUE!’
I want the allotment show to be this weekend so I can rip up the cauliflower section, and a Norwegian commentator can tell the assembled crowd that ‘Boss Man Ron, Neat and Perfect Man, Merv the Pumpkin King, Power Station Andy, your boys took a hell of a beating!’
Except I’m not that confident just yet. Or competitive. Vegetable shows scare me, to be honest. And the old boys have grown more veg than I’ve eaten hot dinners. Remember your respect, you little upstart!
The cauliflower weights in at a chunky 4lb 14oz, which incidentally is bigger than any fish I’ve ever caught. As my mate, Alastair said, “That’s gotta be a lakeful of cheese sauce going over that MOFO.”
And when Ailsa gets back from blogging at the <shamelessplug forthemissus>National Cancer Research Institute 2010 conference</shamelessplugforthemissus> on Wednesday, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.