Vines go all out in the sunshine

In time, things did happen. They grew at a tremendously fast and furious rate to produce enormous leaves but no fruit. After necessarily pruning them, I discovered this encouraged them to grow even faster and larger, outstripping the ivy and other more leisurely plants.

During those early-learning days, I had been informed that vines can produce grapes in northern England – flourishing examples are recorded at Westow, near Malton, Leventhorpe, near Leeds, and several others, including one near Holmfirth in “Last of the Summer Wine” country. I am not sure of the situation in County Durham or further north. There are others further south such as Lincolnshire and beyond and I am assured there are more in the North-East because it seems the quality of wine produced by English vineyards is extremely good.

It is increasing in popularity as vineyard owners gain more experience in their craft.

In my case, our rampant vines, whose variety I do not know, produced blossom a year ago, so we excitedly awaited the next step which we hoped should mean grapes. It did – both vines proudly showed off their crops of tiny dark-blue fruit, each one smaller than a pea and about the size of an individual berry of the kind found on elderberry bushes.

Most finished their brief lives as bird food, our garden birds having a most enjoyable time testing and tasting them, but even the tiny grapes ignored by the birds did not grow larger. We tasted one or two – they were little more than skin and stone with a bitter taste reminiscent of sloes. They were not the sort of thing to eat for leisure or as a desert, not even incorporating them in a meal or salad of some kind. Nonetheless, the birds loved them.

This year, however, things improved. We pruned the vines as recommended in gardening books, and when spring came around they embarked on their usual gallop across the south wall, clinging to any wires, cables and protrusions they encountered. They threatened to envelope the fatsias, herbs, fennel and clematis as we steered them in other directions, but they seemed to like the trellis I had installed and welcomed the support granted to them by television aerial cables.

They managed to produce a profusion of blossom which attracted bees and hoverflies in their thousands and then we watched in fascination as the fertilised blossom turned gradually into those tiny pea-sized grapes. I wondered if this year would be different – would we actually succeed with a crop of edible grapes, or would we leave them all to the birds?

This year, as we know, produced one of the finest springs we have known for a long time, and it was followed by an equally warm and pleasant summer, ideal for crops. As apple growers watched their orchards swell with the season’s generous growth of prime fruit and farmers watched their rich harvests ripening in the fields, so we watched our tiny grapes swelling into larger ones.

How large would they grow? I began to wonder whether I should obtain some wine-producing equipment or be prepared to tread the grapes in the bath to produce the raw material for a glass of two of Chateau Billy-Biter. Billy-Biter, by the way, is an old North Riding word for blue-tit of which there are many in our garden, some of whom have shown a keen interest in our grapes at their tiniest. On the other hand, perhaps they were more interested in the tiny insects they could find in such places?

Our crop of grapes was amazing. Our two busy vines produced a wonderful crop of dark-blue grapes, many bunches of which were concealed by their huge leaves.

Although not so large as the grapes we buy in fruit shops or markets, they were presentable and the larger ones, all containing pips, were fractionally sweeter than their tiny relations. We decided they were too bitter to enjoy with our meals or as a leisurely treat, but as we debated their future, the garden birds had a party.

The blackbird that lives around our garden seemed to know he was trespassing among the grapes because, instead of flying to them, he ran across the terrace with his head down as if hiding during an illicit mission. However, although we allowed the birds, and probably some small mammals, to feast on our grapes we did harvest a few. My wife found a recipe for tasty grape jelly and produced a jarful, some of which I incorporated in a casserole. It’s been a good year for grapes!

Good advice

Continuing the theme of eating home-grown fruit and vegetables, I have noticed this autumn unusually large numbers of health warnings highlighting the dangers of eating fungi. Mushrooms are included, especially those that grow in the wild.

The simple reason for such concern is that some poisonous fungi can be mistaken for edible wild mushrooms, especially by children or even adults enjoying a day in the countryside. Somehow children and adults need to be made alert to the dangers, and this is never an easy task. It is not easy to describe a fungus without examples or illustrations.

Obviously, the most basic advice is that when you are unsure about eating or even picking particular fungi (sometimes called toadstools) or even mushrooms you should leave them alone and tell your children and friends to do likewise. If you persist in wishing to eat fungi and mushrooms, buy them from supermarkets or reliable fruit and vegetable shops.

When I was a child exploring a vast rural area, the simple advice I received was (a) leave fungi and mushrooms alone, and (b) if it was a bright colour or odd shape, this was often an indication that it was poisonous and at least dangerous to eat or even touch. Some were sufficiently powerful to cause death while others would create digestive problems and pains.

For example, the aptly-named and very dangerous Death Caps and Destroying Angels both look very similar to the wild mushrooms we know as Field Mushrooms but sadly there is no simple and reliable rule to distinguish one from the other. Would-be fungus eaters should learn to recognise all varieties – or leave them alone.