Tag Archives: R. Gertrude Jekyll

rose petal jam: part 1

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I have lost all sense of the seasons, only the roses tell me that it’s summer not spring.

Time then, to make rose petal jam, something I’ve been meaning to try for several years.

Having spent the best part of a rainy morning googling recipes, I realised that almost without exception the ones I found contradicted one another on every aspect of the process: always pick flower heads first thing in the morning! Only ever pick at the end of a hot sunny day (Ha! Fat chance – though today is looking promising), bruise in sugar, steep in water, boil for no longer than four minutes, boil for an hour and so on…
In the end I decided on a pick-and-mix approach with the recipes, taking the instructions I liked and adding my own, gleaned from my experiences making various types of jam, jellies and marmalade. I picked a couple of handfuls of flower heads (early morning, in a light drizzle, no proper sun for a week), which produced about 30g of petals.

And this in turn produced about three or four tablespoons of very runny jam. The recipe I stayed closest to insisted that my brew would reach setting point within four minutes. I watched, waited, tested but it was clear that it would take hours to get to setting point, so after thirty minutes I gave up and glooped my potion into a jar. On the upside the smell in the kitchen was amazing.

Today, the rose petal syrup has set slightly – I think a night in the fridge helped – and it looked distinctly jammy and tasted rather delicious on a crumpet. I’d give my effort a 6 out of 10, but I can see where the process could be improved.

I’ll make a fresh batch later this week and it will be interesting to see if the sunshine we’ve been promised improves the flavour at all.

I’ll post my recipe once it’s been tweaked and tested.

early bird

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I’m not naturally an early riser. I’m more of a night owl, still awake at 2am with my head stuck in a book. But during the summer months, when it is properly hot and the terrace outside the kitchen is warm under foot at 7am, I am happy to leap out of bed at the weekend far earlier than I might do on a week day.

Apart from the cat and the dog, I have the kitchen to myself and I can potter in the garden with a cup of tea in hand undisturbed.

I had planned to pick some roses, but they looked so pretty peeping through the bronze fennel and the nepeta that grows around them, I found I was only prepared to pick the blowsiest flowers, the ones that are close to going over, and of course the minute I did most of the petals fell off.

Fortunately some of them made it and a bleary-eyed child has just wandered into the kitchen wanting to know the source of the lovely smell.

Sorry if some of these shots are a little dark – to get really good photographs of a garden you need to get up an awful lot earlier than my 6.50 start. More like 5am. Then the light is perfect and you don’t end up with heavy contrast or bleached-out flatness.

 

she’s back!

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The roses have begun and Gertrude is out. I’ve lost count of how many buds there are, but it’s looking very promising. William Lobb and Veilchenblau, shouldn’t be far behind. And by the end of next month, if we get some sun, Ferdinand Pichard will be doing his stripy thing. It is about this time every year that I think, Tulips! Pah! Roses are best.

That’s until next spring when the tulip fever will take hold once more. But right now
it’s roses, and I am determined to get some more. It’s a shame these images aren’t scratch and sniff – she smells divine!

pick of the week

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Back in May, when I planted up the newly terraced beds, I was worried that I’d left it all too late for there to be any chance of the garden looking interesting this summer. But three months later, although in no way finished, the garden is full enough to provide me with a daily fix of flowers. Not massive bunches for huge vases, but small posies just large enough to fill a stem vase, little jug, jam jar or tin can. The bunch above, which includes roses, fennel flowers, sweet peas, sedum and achillea (I was guided by the colours on the golden syrup tin), was picked at the start of the week for a friend’s birthday.

The next morning I gathered the slightly garish little selection above for the bathroom windowsill. It’s not the most tasteful affair, but something about the clash of the nasturtiums and achillea with the soft mauve of the Verbena bonariensis, and the hazey blue of the catnip pleases me – it feels slightly 70s for some reason, like a jolly wallpaper design for the kitchen. Later the same day, rather obsessed with the nasturtiums, which seem to be taking over the garden (more in another post), I picked the flowers below.

The need to keep the sweet peas producing prompted the picking of the next bunch, that and the desire to have the scent filling the kitchen. Incidentally, this vase is my best bargain ever – 25p in a charity shop. I don’t know anything about it, it has no mark, but I love its nipped in waist and the graphic grey, black and white stripes which are enlivened by little raised dots of orange and teal – odd and lovely in equal measure.

By midweek my inner Constance Spry had awoken fully, and I found myself tip-toeing through the flower beds in my pyjamas, scissors in hand. No plant was safe. Sedum in particular has been a regular target – fortunately I have a lot of it – and it has proved to be not only a very useful filler, propping floppier flowers up and bulking out the little bunches, but also a star in its own right. I like mixing it with knautia and fennel fronds -

and with verbena bonariensis, which I also have in abundance.

Yesterday I went all out and just cut a bit of anything I could reach without falling over: the last of the buddleja (Black Knight), more verbena, knautia and nepeta, sweet peas, again, some roses – Gertrude is in flower once more –  scabiosa and a lone anemone.

It’s not a great picture, but this little jug of flowers smells amazing – the combined scent of the musky, honeyed buddleja, the heady sweet peas and the fresh sweetness of Gertrude Jekyll is out of this world. The perfume curls up the stairwell from the kitchen so that every now and then you catch a little waft as you move around the house.

The jug, one of a pair, is a bit of junk shop treasure rather than a charity shop bargain, and it’s perfect for flowers. I’m planning to use it for the Nigella which is about to flower any day now.

ferdinand & gertrude again

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The first ‘proper’ bunch of flowers from the garden. Ferdinand Pichard is looking magical, filled with buds and fresh green leaves. But there is also quite a lot of powdery mildew, despite my efforts to control it. I am also concerned that the spot I’ve chosen for Ferdinand is less than ideal – the reach of the hazel is such that the rose sits in shade for a large part of the day. I think the loppers will be out this weekend.

Gertrude Jekyll is producing beautiful fat flowers on a daily basis, despite being less that 2ft tall, though she is already beginning to creep up the wall.

I cut some nepeta, the first peachy-pink Iceland poppy, and a sprig of tarragon for height, and packed them all in an old marmalade pot along with the roses.

This is how they looked this morning. For those who are interested in these things, Ferdinand outperforms Gertrude on the perfume-front, which is impressive as Gertrude Jeykll is a renowned for its fragrance. And my mother, who has a Rosa Mundi (which looks similar to Ferdinand Pichard, but is a good 2-300 years older), says that Ferdinand Pichard has the upper hand there as well.

NB: Both Roses came from David Austin.