The return of amaranth each summer reminds Catherine of another life.
By Catherine Watson
IT’S 23 years since I left my Collingwood life behind and moved full-time to Wonthaggi.
Each summer I’m reminded of that other life when the amaranth seedlings appear in my rocket and herb bed.
My old Greek neighbour Anna used to bring me vegetable dishes made from her own garden: young broad beans cooked in the pod with garlic and herbs, stuffed zucchini flowers and horta, a mix of leafy greens, including amaranth. All slow cooked, slathered in good olive oil and lemon juice, served at room temperature and delicious.
Anna gave me some plants when I moved and there must have been some amaranth seeds in the soil, because the next year they came up in my garden and they’ve reappeared every year since. Never so many that they become a nuisance – maybe 10 or 20, just enough to be very welcome.
IT’S 23 years since I left my Collingwood life behind and moved full-time to Wonthaggi.
Each summer I’m reminded of that other life when the amaranth seedlings appear in my rocket and herb bed.
My old Greek neighbour Anna used to bring me vegetable dishes made from her own garden: young broad beans cooked in the pod with garlic and herbs, stuffed zucchini flowers and horta, a mix of leafy greens, including amaranth. All slow cooked, slathered in good olive oil and lemon juice, served at room temperature and delicious.
Anna gave me some plants when I moved and there must have been some amaranth seeds in the soil, because the next year they came up in my garden and they’ve reappeared every year since. Never so many that they become a nuisance – maybe 10 or 20, just enough to be very welcome.
