The Parsnip Project (4)

I had a message yesterday from someone asking me why I had not posted on my blog for a while and how was the parsnip project going?

I realise I have been silent here for quite a while and the reason is down to the scale of work I have on at the moment. To find just a few minutes to blog about the minutia of my day or the eccentricities of Italian life has been difficult and to be honest I don’t see my workload lightening any day soon.

But I do feel an update on the parsnip project is due.

So the French lady’s toilet roll germination method failed miserably, with just one seed bursting into life, so I undertook another method. I had the half a barrel with potatoes growing inside, (which we harvested last week and jolly nice they were too) and so filled the other one that was waiting for the loo-roll seedlings that never appeared with compost and left it in the sun to warm up.

After a few days in the sun the compost was lovely and warm, so I watered it in the morning and left it until the early evening when it was still warm and quite moist and then I sowed the remaining parsnip seeds.

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That was just over 13 weeks ago and they are doing really well as you can see, so I have my fingers crossed that come November/December we’ll have some lovely parsnips for our winter dinners.

I’ve also started off my cauliflowers, a month later than I would in the UK, and they are doing really well, I have 32 planted up in a semi-shady spot and just hope they don’t die during the August heat; I think maybe I should have waited a few more weeks before sowing them.

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Passata

As you drive through the villages here, you can see rows of ripe tomatoes growing in the gardens, I drive past my neighbours with his lines of short bushes on which hang swollen red peppers, his French bean plants are laden with a multitude of green fingers and his chillies, like mine are bursting with a riot of red fruits. I sun-dry my chillies and they last me for a year, and I have other veg I’ve grown stored in the freezer. My neighbour was out today picking his tomatoes, he has about sixty plants so you can imagine how many kilo’s of fruit he’s got. “I’m making my passata this weekend,” he tells me. That’ll explain the crates of empty Peroni bottles outside his front door.

I’m surprised how many Italians still bottle their own tomato sauces considering the work involved and the relatively cheap price of passata in the shops. The only explanation must be that it tastes better than the mass produced ones, and I guess there’s that satisfaction of growing and producing something yourself to feed your family, not to mention the memory of summer past as you taste it outweighs the laborious process.

Making the red sauce is a long-winded affair, first the tomatoes are cleaned and dropped into boiling water for a few seconds to split the skins. Once cooled they’re passed through a passapomodoro, basically a sieve that removes the skin and seeds. The pulp is then cooked and if you’re flavouring it with herbs or spices these are added during cooking. The bottles or jars are cleaned and sterilised in advance and kept warm in the oven. The warm sauce is bottled, lids are secured and the sauce is then allowed to cool. The bottles are then placed inside a large container of water: my neighbour uses and old oil-drum, a fire is lit below and the bottled sauce is heated through again, thus creating a vacuum and sealing the lids properly. Once cooled the sauce will remain good for several years, but no self-respecting Italian would use any left over passata once a new batch has been produced.

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Needless to say mine is from the supermarket, I don’t think I could be bothered with the work involved and can I really drink enough Peroni to get the bottles for sixty plants of fruit?