Spring 2010 Cornish Gardener 29

Spice up your garden with an autumn crocus

M

OST people know that saffron is the most expensive spice in the

world; and they probably know that the reason is because it takes millions of the tiny stigmas taken from the centre of the flowers to make just one kilo of it. Saffron is a favourite spice, aromatic, fragrant and slightly bitter, in many parts of the Mediterranean, the Middle East and the Far East. In Spain, for instance, it is an integral part of the favourite national dish paella for both flavour and colour. It is, therefore, strange that the history of Cornwall is so much connected with saffron, both as an industry and as a flavouring and colouring in cakes, buns, breads and biscuits as well as in savoury cooking. The history of how saffron came to Cornwall is fairly vague. It is said that it was brought in by the Phoenicians who came to our shores to trade in tin. Perhaps those long ago Phoenician sailors brought the spice with them and introduced it to the local inhabitants, who then wanted to know where it came from. The tiny corms would then be bartered and when they grew well a new industry was born. It must have been quite a sight in autumn, fields of purple flowers growing on south facing fields.

F

act or fable? Nobody really knows, but by medieval times saffron

was extremely popular, although only with those who could afford it. It was also, of course, used as a powerful dye, producing a bright yellow colour. In Cornwall, and Devon, saffron has never lost its appeal and the specialities of these two counties include saffron cake and saffron buns. Even the familiar hot- cross buns are saffron flavoured and coloured. Today most saffron is grown on the Indian sub-continent, the Middle East, Spain and Italy.

The high cost of labour killed

off the English growing industry.

Saffron comes from the autumn crocus C sativas, a pretty bright purple flower with the distinctive red stigmas, three to each flower. It is these which are hand picked and dried for saffron. Although from a hot environment, C sativas is fairly hardy although it needs a warm sunny place with no shade, along with well drained and manure rich soil. As they are tried and tested in Cornwall over the centuries they obviously do well.

P

lant the corms in June, much deeper than you usually would plant

corms, at least seven to ten centimetres deep. Plant in borders, raised beds or in containers. The flowers arrive in mid to late autumn. Like all crocus they look better planted en-masse or certainly in groups. As for growing your own saffron – it’s nice to think you can but it will take around 150 flower heads to produce one gram of the spice when dried. And a very long time to pick.

R

eader Jill Long from South East Cornwall thought others might

like to share some of the delightful poetry from a little book she has inherited. The poems are taken from a book by Reginald Arkell called ‘Green Fingers’ published more than 70 years ago.

A Perfect Lady

I knew a girl who was so pure She couldn’t say the word Manure.

Indeed, her modesty was such, She wouldn’t pass a rabbit hutch; And butterflies upon the wing Would make her blush like anything

That lady is a gardener now, And all her views have changed, somehow.

THE autumn crocus, the bright red central stimas are picked by hand to provide saffron.

She squashes greenfly with her thumb, And knows how little snowdrops come: In fact the garden she has got,

Has broadened out her mind a lot.

The old lawn

My lawn is very, very old; Three hundred years, at least, I’m told It saw the Roundheads marching through, And heard the cheers for Waterloo.

A man admired my lawn today; And how it laughed to hear him say: ‘Your bit of turf looks nice and flat. Next year, I’ll have a lawn like that.’

The lady of shalots

Have you forgotten, Curly Head

That night beside the Parsley Bed?’ I have forgotten it,’ she said. ‘Do you recall the word you spoke

That night beneath the Artichoke?’ ‘Oh that,’ said she, ‘was just a joke.’ ‘Have you forgotten how you cried

Among the Onions?’ I sighed ‘Well, do you blame me’, she replied. I spoke of sympathetic scenes Between the Parsnips and the Beans’

But when I called her my Shalot

And said what Celery I got – She told me not to talk such rot. Ah, Kitchen Garden, soaked in rain I ne’er shall see her like again. Page 1  |  Page 2  |  Page 3  |  Page 4  |  Page 5  |  Page 6  |  Page 7  |  Page 8  |  Page 9  |  Page 10  |  Page 11  |  Page 12  |  Page 13  |  Page 14  |  Page 15  |  Page 16  |  Page 17  |  Page 18  |  Page 19  |  Page 20  |  Page 21  |  Page 22  |  Page 23  |  Page 24  |  Page 25  |  Page 26  |  Page 27  |  Page 28  |  Page 29  |  Page 30  |  Page 31  |  Page 32