The generosity of broccoli

The first of the broccoli heads are peaking through the leaves; little promises of a harvest to come. I keep an eye on them, watching to see which will be the first to be ready.

It took me a long time to give broccoli a place in my garden. It seemed like such a large plant for such a small harvest of something so readily available in the shops. All those leaves and such a small edible head; not worth the space it would take up in my small patch where space is premium. Or so I thought.

When my kids were small, I used to tell them that ‘eat your broccoli’ was Mummy-speak for ‘I love you’ because broccoli is full of goodness. It’s high in vitamins C and K, iron, potassium, and has a fair amount of protein along with a good dose of fibre. The kids were never convinced but eventually learnt to not leave it on the plate. (Although one only ate the flowers and the other only ate the stalks!)

I don’t know why I originally decided to give it space in the winter garden. Perhaps it was something to do with the luscious look of the dark green leaves. Or maybe because it has always been such a staple in family meals and I feel there is something about growing a vegetable myself that brings a deeper appreciation of it.

Whatever the reason, last year I planted eight broccoli seedlings in autumn. They grew big dark green leaves in abundance. I’m told the leaves are edible, similar to kale, although tougher. But I decided not to eat the leaves but rather to let them and do their photosynthetic best to pump nutrients into the heads. Although I did pick a few outer leaves for the chooks, much to the chooks’ delight.

In time, and it takes considerable time, the heads grew large enough to harvest. They did this in an agreeably staggered fashion, so rather than having eight heads of broccoli ready to harvest in one day, I had a steady supply of broccoli over a few weeks. I harvested them by cutting the heads and leaving the mass of leaves, planning to continue to use them as chook food.

This is the point where broccoli starts getting generous. Just when you’d think the plants were spent and had done their thing, tiny shoots sprout from beneath where the heads have been cut. Very soon I was harvesting an abundance of these shoots – just like broccolini. The plants gave and gave and gave. And then gave some more. Eventually even I didn’t want to eat it. As spring sprung in the garden, my enthusiasm for picking the broccoli waned. Some began to flower; the tight green buds bursting forth in small, pale-yellow flowers. The bees now joined the broccoli feast, fossicking among the flowers and flying off laden with golden pollen. And I added a few of the flowers to salads.

Finally, the diamondback moths arrived and their caterpillars began to make lacework of the leaves. I pulled the plants up and gave them to the chooks, caterpillars and all. I watched them as they clucked and pecked and dined delightedly, and I decided broccoli would always have a place in my winter garden. Its generosity amply rewards for the space it takes.

Inside

Truth told, I’ve mostly been neglecting my garden of late. I am practically chained to my desk, putting the finishing touches to my book manuscript. The deadline for submitting it is imminent. Actually, it’s today. I feel it is almost done, all 88,000 words of it, but I’m doing just one more read through before I send it off. I know there will be queries and suggestions from my editor, and rewriting and editing to do, so it’s not really finished. There’s still a long path ahead between now and publication day next year, but progress has definitely been made. It is a very, very good feeling!

Thanks for reading.

Jill