Joe McNamee: How I grew wild garlic in the back garden of my suburban home

Home-grown wild garlic is the gift that keeps giving

A walk in the woods, foraging for in-season wild garlic, sounded like just the ticket.

On Paddy’s Day just passed, I rose before dawn to transport a teenage son and his comrades to the station as they headed off on a trip abroad, me blessing myself and praying they had none of the blithe fecklessness of my own careless youth.

Already up, I decided to make good use of my morning before the parade. A walk in the woods, foraging for in-season wild garlic, sounded like just the ticket.

Since moving into an apartment last year, regular forays into the ‘wilderness’ have become even more essential.

My apartment may house more tropical plants than a small jungle and I am also beginning tentative steps to create a roof garden but nothing as yet to rival my old garden, constructed over two decades and including a huge variety of edible plants.

I still miss stepping away from my desk during the day for a brief mooch around the garden, plucking weeds, sticking hands in soil, picking something to nibble or enhance the evening meal to come. That natural smorgasbord included wild garlic and three-cornered leek.

So how did I get wild garlic (allium ursinum) in the back garden of a three-bedroomed suburban semi-detached?

Well, on one particular year, rather than opting for my usual copious wild harvesting of leaves and flower heads in the wild, I instead dug up a couple of bulbs, no more, and to atone for permanently ending the life of a wild garlic plant in the wild, resolved to harvest no more that year.

Back home, I planted them in a dark, damp corner, under the shade of giant ferns. The following year saw a small cluster but not sufficient to harvest, beyond a single taste.

I left them alone the following year as well and the year after was rewarded with a pretty decent crop as they began to roam beyond their original base. They might well have colonised that entire corner had I not subsequently introduced two more ‘invaders’, the three-cornered leek (allium triquetrum) and wild strawberries (fragaria vesca).

Now, those two reprobates would grow in your eye! A year later, mini-forests of three-cornered leek had leapt from the raised beds where I did all my growing and were blithely sprouting from the gravel paths that ran between the beds.

Meanwhile, wild strawberries became a creeping ground cover that ran through the beds, annexed swathes of gravel and even took, cuckoo-like, to leaping into pots and forcing the original occupants to shove up in the bed.

It wasn’t the worst possible outcome. Three-cornered leek is quite delicious in its own right — not quite as astringent as wild garlic, but with an allium undertow that is bright and refreshing and, as it thrives long into the summer, is a favourite addition to my most treasured dish of all, the first new potatoes of the
season, partnered with all the butter in the world.

Wild strawberries, if left unattended, might well have covered the entire house in time — but pop a single fruit into the mouth and you’d forgive it a multitude of sins and more. The tiny berry is seemingly the keeper of the true essence of strawberry, an eye-popping tartness and acidity in comparison to its larger, sweeter and more mellow domesticated cousins (fragaria ananassa).

They are not only an instant refresher in their own right but make for fantastic grace notes in both sweet and savoury cooking and are exceptionally versatile when dehydrated.

But returning to the wild garlic. In the early 90s, while trying to sell imported Mediterranean garlic from a market stall in Kenmare to a local farmer in his 70s, he was entirely dismissive, telling me he already had his own garlic.

This Doubting Thomas was convinced he was mistaken until he returned two hours later with a plastic shopping bag of wild garlic, leaves, and flowers. I was smitten and have been ever since.

My Paddy’s Day harvest wound up in a compound butter to melt over poached turbot and in a puree with good olive oil, lemon juice and salt, blending it in with Velvet Cloud sheep’s yogurt, to serve with grilled lamb kebabs. And, considering the day that was in it, a meal every bit as Irish as corned beef and cabbage!

Table talk

I have many fond memories over the years of the small but perfectly formed Burren Slow Food Festival (May 10) and the Burren Slow Food Banquet (May 9) at the Burren Storehouse, in Lisdoonvarna, Co Clare, is always a highlight.

Chef Peter Jackson, who also offers very tasty fare in the Roadside Tavern, will serve up a delicious four-courser showcasing the stunning local produce and a champagne reception sponsored by Burren Smokehouse.

burren.ie

The very talented chef Paddy Phillips (experience includes Wa Sushi, Glenlo Abbey, Aniar, Loam) fetches up at Blackthorn Restaurant, in Bearna, Co Galway, for Umi (April 21) a pop-up 10-course omakase tasting menu in which he showcases his extensive Japanese culinary experience from his travels through Japan. The meal also comes with a Japanese tea-pairing.

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TODAY’S SPECIAL

The Bean & Goose single origin range is very approachable, still some remove from the more outré funky and fruity flavours at the far end of the single origin chocolate spectrum which can be overly complex and challenging for the real chocolate novice and, accordingly, are ideal for Easter chocolate gifting.

The sisters also put the fun into chocolate eating, most notably with their renowned giant sharing slabs, their Easter range including a Hot Cross Bun flavour sharing slab, along with their moulded Handsome Irish Hare (€30.50) in single origin Ecuadorian 40% milk chocolate or 62% dark chocolate, and a limited edition Spring Bean Goose 2026 (€30.50), sounds delightful: 36% Esmeraldas Ecuadorian white chocolate with rhubarb, cultured Irish buttermilk and organic Madagascan vanilla.

beanandgoose.ie