Leeks vinaigrette

Do you ever stand in the vegetable aisle of the supermarket or at the greengrocer and look in astonishment at all that surrounds you? I’m often amazed at the beauty and nourishment the natural world offers, but I also wonder at how clean and perfect everything is. I have been growing vegetables on a small commercial scale for more than 15 years now and have a working knowledge of what seeds each of the vegetables come from, how long they take to germinate, what conditions they like and the time taken from sowing to harvest. For me, each vegetable has a story to tell long before a recipe gets written for it.

If people ask what my favourite vegetable is, I automatically think of what has just come into season, but a perennial favourite has to be the leek. I must be honest here, I have never grown a leek that looks like ones you buy commercially. Mine never get that big and they never have the ratio of green to white that a commercially grown leek has, but they are always sweeter and softer.

My leeks start their life as a tiny black seed. Carefully sown on a flat tray, they are transplanted into the ground when they become the width of a piece of fishing line. They are then left in deep, well-tilled soil for a varying number of months, depending on the size at which I wish to harvest them. At various intervals the soil is heaped around the stems to lengthen the white shank. Each year, several leeks are allowed to flower into the classic ball of an allium flower and left for another six months for the seeds to develop on the head until they are dry enough to be harvested and stored for the next round of planting.

The journey from sown seed to a seed that can start the process again is about two years. Yet when you look at the pristine leeks piled up in their section of the supermarket, none of that story comes through.

Leeks are hardy plants, albeit a little time-consuming at transplanting time. They are also one of the few vegetables that will grow 12 months of the year and can withstand cold much better than other members of their family. They can be eaten from the fingerling stage all the way through to the more mature size. They love butter and potatoes in the pan and have a softer, sweeter flavour than many of their cousins. This recipe calls for thin, baby leeks, which are often available at farmers’ markets. Or you could chance your hand and sow some at home.

Here is a simple recipe that speaks of the produce at hand, nothing more, nothing less. A dish whose simplicity doesn’t reveal the whole story, until you take a moment to immerse yourself in the wonder.