In season

November 18

In now: Ripe honeydew has a waxy, cream-coloured skin and juicy flesh. It is sweetest at room temperature.

At its best: The mysterious mushroom increases its growth in response to barometric pressure, even in a climate-controlled shed. Salute the weirdness in salads and grills.

Best buy: The white and yellow-fleshed peaches grown on the NSW north coast and around the Hawkesbury are coming good.

In the vegie patch: The soft fresh leaves of kaffir lime are delicious finely shredded and scattered over anything Thai. Adults only – infuse leaves in vodka for a week. Discard leaves, experiment with a Christmas cocktail.

What else:

  • keep an eye out for Bel Oro melons which arrive in November
  • last chance for artichoke preservers
  • the Northern Territory mangoes are at their peak
  • look for Sydney-grown big sweet camerosa strawberries



Plants I love

Falling in love with the wrong plant

Any successful gardener will tell you that the easiest way to a great garden is to grow whatever loves the conditions you can provide. Grow shade seekers in the shade, don’t plant bog-lovers in sand, and stay clear of cold-climate lovelies if you live in most parts of Sydney. It’s so simple and so sensible. Yet how few of us fail to fall victim to some kind of plant envy!

For Japanese chef Hideo Dekura, the soft spot is fresh wasabi. The plant loves to grow in the fresh-running cold water and rich soil of Japanese snow-fed mountain streams.


Not so easy to replicate in Chatswood, but Dekura has given it a go. More than once. An early attempt involved growing the wasabi root in a cool room in a refurbished fish tank that could move the water over the roots. The plant died; Dekura suspects the problem was that the water wasn’t fresh. I suspect it was more than that. Other Sydney-based wasabi aficionados have confessed that they water their potted specimens with ice cubes. Again, this seems to be a short-lived success, but if you’d like to try, Diggers has plants on offer. Its cultural notes are brief but encouraging – grow in cool, dense shade with constantly moist soil. Dekura is following the advice and so far his potted wasabi is going well.

Food is not the only passion. Perfume lovers buy brown boronia in spring to enjoy its much-vaunted scent, and then compost it, knowing it can’t easily be grown in a garden. I can’t resist the buy-then-watch-die drama of the brilliant blue West Australian Lechenaultia biloba. And then there’s the glory of the peony.


Mickey Robertson, who gardens at Glenmore House in Camden, can’t say no to glimpses of Britain. Her bluebells finished on a westerly-blowing morning last month, just a fortnight after they bloomed. Growing them is a doomed endeavour: she planted two bulbs to start with and some 20 years later there are only a dozen, but there are sentimental reasons behind her crusade for a spring sea of bluebells. “My husband picked me a bunch of bluebells in a glade in Scotland and I fell in love with him so I have to grow them. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s only a tiny pocket.”

Perhaps it’s time to change the rule: plant what loves your conditions in most of your garden, and plant what you love where you can enjoy, however briefly, whatever it offers. Robertson routinely kills another must-grow British classic, lady’s mantle, Alchemilla mollis. “I have just got a new one and have it in a pot.” The ladies mantle won’t survive the summer, but if, before its death, droplets of rain pool and glitter on the leaves, and the plant offers up its froth of feathery flowers, “it will give me inordinate joy”, she says. What else is gardening for!

alchemilla mollis


In season

November 11

In now: After harvest garlic is air-dried to cure it and allow for longer storage. Some growers are selling fresh, juicy, uncured heads now. Buy to use fresh.

Hard to find: Lemons are always in short supply at this time, and imported fruit from the US fills the gap. Savvy growers will have frozen some juice from their own harvest.

Best buy: Mangoes are late this year, but tray prices are finally encouraging.

In the vegie patch: Sweet corn germination can be patchy so sow two seeds to a hole. In case of double success, remove the weaker twin.

What else:

  • try a firm nectarine. It will crunch like an apple and though the juice won’t run down your chin, it still tastes good
  • bad weather has been affecting banana prices; but they are coming good now
  • keep an eye out for raspberries from Victoria
  • Victorian growers save their strawberries for Melbourne Cup celebrations, but once the race is run the fruit starts coming north
Other people's gardens

Peter Gilmore’s garden

I was hoping that Peter Gilmore would offer to whip me up something for lunch. Just something simple, like this plate of peas:

Peter Gilmore

After all, how often do you get to be in garden (and kitchen) of one of the world’s great chefs!  Sadly, no lunch, but plenty of high quality snacking in the garden. And, as you’d expect the snacks on offer weren’t as straightforward as a cherry tomato ripe on the vine. First – silver sorrel.

Silver sorrel, Rumex scutatus

This is the silver-leafed form of true French sorrel, which is also called buckler-leaf sorrel, Rumex scutatus.  The pretty little heart-shaped leaves are blue-green with cloudy grey markings and they taste like sour green apples.


Next, the creamy-lemon petals of a daylily called ‘Joan Senior’, which are sweet, with the faint onion bite of a leek. Par-cel, a hybrid of parsley and celery, tastes like the pale inner leaves of celery heart, but look like ruffled bright green parsley.


Unlike most gardeners, Gilmore, whose restaurant Quay, has been part of S. Pellegrino’s World’s 50 Best Restaurants for five years in a row, doesn’t grow food for the family. Instead, his four 10-metre long raised beds are experiments in flavour, texture and beauty. “I grow different things every season, things I haven’t tried before,” he says. “There’s so much to explore. This gives me a huge platform to surprise people.”  Here are the beds, the spring plantings just coming up, and the highly divided kale going to flower for future seed.

Peter Gilmore's garden

It was the humble pea that entwined Gilmore in a love of gardening. He writes in his new book, Organum (Murdoch, $100) about the awe of watching the seed develop and the revelation that all parts of the plant were edible at all stages of its development. (See dish above – hot buttered peas with fried pea blossoms, fresh bean, pea and carrot flowers and sprigs of agretti, which, following the current trend, is called Garden peas, cultured butter, sea salt, crisp pea blossom. )“Vegetable beds took over the garden,” he says. “I bought the kids a trampoline as compensation, but then I planted around and under that too.”

The goal of the garden is delicious novelties, which ironically enough are not new at all, just unknown. This season he has high hopes for an heirloom melon from Rajasthan. If it works out, he’ll pass his experience and seeds on to his growers, Tim and Elizabeth Johnstone, who’ll grow it for a season to get to know it, save the seed, then grow it the following year for use in the Quay kitchen.

The sources for his vegetative exploration are seed merchants: Diggers, Cornucopia and Eden here in Australia; Gourmet and Kitazawa in the US; Seedaholic in Ireland; and others, all stored in plastic containers in a cupboard in the kitchen.

Seed packets

Gilmore eschews seed-raising beds, preferring to sow direct into beds prepared with his own compost. Plants are mulched with lucerne, which feeds the soil as it breaks down, and the beds are rested for a month at the end of winter and refreshed with occasional cow manure.

Peter Gilmore

The garden also has space for an orchard, planted into hollow water pipes to mitigate against the very steep slope and poor soil. There are figs, pomegranate, Seville orange, West Indian lime, a purple-fleshed peach, apricots, a Cox’s orange pippin, and right down the bottom, a white mulberry. We pluck the ripe dangling fruit. It’s sweet and fragrant and has the surprise and elegance to score a role in a Peter Gilmore dish. ‘How good is that!’ he says with quiet satisfaction.

White mulberry. Morus alba

I’ll just have to get to Quay to see how they become lunch!

In season

November 4

In now: The first cherries picked in Hillston, NSW are a French variety called Earlise. The fruit is kidney-shaped on a short stem with firm, dark red flesh. It won’t store well so buy to eat.

The new thing: Andean Sunrise is a new little yellow-skinned potato developed by Dutch seed breeders. The pale gold flesh has a sweet flavour and floury texture – perfect for roasting. Duck fat optional.

Best buy: Hunt up tray prices on truss tomatoes.

In the vegie patch: Not feasting on sweet asparagus? Make a note to order crowns next winter to plant in a permanent patch.

What else:

  • lots of beetroot at good prices
  • purple asparagus has a moment in November. Use it raw to preserve the colour
  • bok choy is a bargain
  • Australian grapes are finally displacing the imports
Plants I love

Jacaranda time

A jacaranda in full bloom looks like a giant ruffled crinoline of the kind that Scarlett O’Hara’s cousin may have worn to the ball. The sight of these giant skirts forming a cotillion of purple around the harbour never fails to lift my spirits. Sadly for some Sydney-siders, the site of a jacaranda in full flower brings nothing but sweaty palms and a racing heart. The jac-fest coincides with exam time, at both HSC and tertiary level, so for some those purple domes will forever be associated with a feeling of being not quite prepared. (Help may be at hand: research from climate change watchers suggests that jacaranda blooming is shifting forwards. It may soon signal the football grand final rather than education’s grand finale.)

These natives of South America look magnificent paired against the golden combs of the native silky oak, Grevillea robusta, or the striking scarlet buds and blooms of the Illawarra flame tree, Brachychiton acerifolius. Flame trees and jacaranadas both flower on bare wood, having dropped their leaves in early spring, and this accentuates the colour shock. The bad news: you need plenty space to create painterly effects with these trees. Jacarandas will develop a crown of 10-15 metres wide and a height about the same. That makes them the wrong choice for a small backyard. Equally, a fence-side planting is unlikely to impress the neighbours. In 2011 a woman took her neighbour to the Land and Environment Court complaining that the overhanging branches of his jacaranda were ruining her washing. The court ultimately ruled that birds rather than the tree caused the stains on her laundry. The tree may have flourished, but it’s doubtful whether neighbourly relations did.

For most urban gardeners jacarandas are best enjoyed beyond the home garden. Hunters Hill offers especially good jac-viewing from the water. On land, Paddington and Balmain do a lovely line in purple-fringed Victoriana and the leafy north shore colours purple in November. (That northern lilac haze has often been credited to a nursing matron at the Mater Hospital who is said to have handed out jacaranda seedlings with babies. This fabulous story sadly has no evidence to support it.)

If you do have room for a jacaranda, bequeath to future generations a wonderful shape by careful positioning (backlit in early morning or late afternoon is particularly photogenic) and judicious early pruning. Every three years for the first 15 cut any competing trunks at the base, to maintain a single trunk. Thin the canopy to develop stronger branches, removing crossing branches and those at odd angles, but never removing more than 20 per cent of the growth; always cutting just outside the branch collar; and only ever in the dead of winter. Bad pruning results in ugly vertical growth, which will be on view wherever jacarandas have lost the argument with the electricity wires.