Can you tell what it is yet?

January 11, 2005

Can you tell what it is yet?

Anyone care to hazard a guess as to what this shoot is the first sign of? Answers tomorrow ... extra points if you provide me with a delicious recipe for using said plant in the kitchen.

This picture also shows off the wonderful Perrone-patented slug sleeve™. Ok, I haven't actually patented it, and it transpires that lots of other people cut plastic bottles into rings and place them in the ground to protect tender young plants, but I thought it up all on my own, alright?

11 Jan 2005 20:39:00 | Photos

3 Comments

Could it be rhubarb by any chance? It's about the right time of year for it.

If so, here's a link to a recipe using it: http://www.deliaonline.com/recipes/r_0000000988.asp.

All credit to Delia, but I can at least vouch for its deliciousness!

Posted by: Kevin Laurence | January 11, 2005 at 11:28 AM

Definitely rhubarb, but mine's buried under snow. Don't expect to see what you've got in the photo till end of March or beginning of April.

Posted by: Kathy | January 11, 2005 at 03:50 PM

You're right ... rhubarb it is. It's only a small plant as yet so I won't be forcing it this year, but I am hoping for enough stems for a few rhubarb crumbles - thanks for the recipe Kevin!

Posted by: Jane Perrone | January 12, 2005 at 10:15 PM

The comments to this entry are closed.

Abandoned chard There's a parcel of land beyond my own five-pole allotment plot where people used to tend their allotments in years gone by, but the ground has been left to go wild, aside from occasional mowing by the local council who own the allotment land. At the end, next to the farmer's field, there's an impromtu heap where people chuck everything from rotting potatoes to broken bamboo canes, even though they are repeatedly told not to by the people who run the allotments. It seems odd to me that even people with allotments don't hoard every bit of green matter for...

Hyacinth bouquet A dinner guest gave me a pot of three pink hyacinth bulbs as a gift a couple of weeks back. Rather than immediately staking them, I foolishly allowed them to reach for the ceiling, then, just as their scent reached its most intense, they keeled over like a trio of teenage girls after one too many Bacardi Breezers. Still, the task of wrangling them back into some kind of sober uprightness was made pleasant by the wafts of perfume released every time I touched the flowers. As usual, all my plant stakes are at the allotment (which, although only a...