TABLE TALK #139
Once upon a time, long before sourdough starters and seasonal veg boxes, growing your own was a matter of survival, not smugness.
Today’s Table Talk takes a tour through the rows of rhubarb and tumbledown sheds, and asks how the humble allotment became a beloved British institution.
🍝 MAIN COURSE 🍝
Allotments might look quaint, but their roots are anything but twee.
Rewind a few centuries, and things were a little more turbulent. After the Inclosure Acts of the 18th and 19th centuries gobbled up swathes of common land, working people were suddenly fenced out of spaces they’d used for grazing animals, foraging, and growing food.
To soften the blow (and avoid angry pitchfork mobs), landlords began offering tiny plots of land - or “allotments” - for labourers to grow their own food. A kind of rural peace offering.
Only it wasn’t just a rural thing. As cities grew, so did the need for green space. Allotments popped up on the fringes of factories and railway lines - lifelines for working families living in cramped housing with not a garden in sight.
Fast forward to the Second World War, and Britain goes full "Dig for Victory”. At the movement’s peak, over a million allotments were in action. Parks, rooftops, schoolyards, and even palace gardens were turned over to spuds and sprouts. The King kept an allotment. The Queen grew onions.
It was like a national bake-off, but with marrows.
It was like a national bake-off, but with marrows.
Photo Credit: Maurice Patton
Today, they’re no longer essential for survival, but try getting one.
In some parts of the country, the waiting list is longer than the one for Glastonbury tickets. In London alone, some plots have 20-year queues.
So what’s the draw? Part escapism, part community, part wholesome rebellion. Allotments have become little green sanctuaries in the middle of the sprawl - where people go to unplug, potter, and coax things into life. They’re about as analogue as it gets.
And then there’s the food. Freshly dug potatoes taste like actual potatoes. Strawberries still warm from the sun are basically jam in berry form. Even the humble leek becomes heroic when you’ve grown it yourself, fended off the slugs, and remembered to water it during that one week of summer when it didn’t rain.
So yes, there are probably easier ways to get your hands on a carrot. But in a world that moves fast and scrolls even faster, there’s something quietly radical about slowing down and growing your own. A plot of earth, a packet of seeds, and a little patience.
Plus, you get a shed. And everyone knows the shed is the best bit.
Subject: Detached Town Gardens, Nottingham
Photo Credit: Historic England Archive
Photo Credit: Historic England Archive
🍮 SWEET ENDINGS 🍮
If all this talk of allotments has got you eyeing up your windowsill and wondering whether you’ve got space for a grow bag, you’re not alone.
Here are a few of our favourite veg-forward cookbooks for the fruit of your labour...
🥕 River Cottage Veg Every Day! Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall doing what he does best - seasonal, comforting recipes that make even the most everyday veg feel like a treat.
🥬 Kapusta by Zuza Zak A soulful celebration of Eastern European plant-based cooking. Think Polish dumplings, pickles, and poetic little stories folded into every recipe.
🌽 Big Veg Energy by Georgina Hayden Bold, bright and beautiful. This one’s all about giving vegetables centre stage - and doing it with serious flair.
🍷 WHAT'S NEW
FROM
WEDNESDAY'S DOMAINE? 🍷
Once upon a time, I won a trophy for “General Endeavour”. A wonderfully British nod to the noble art of trying hard - not quite smashing it, but showing up with admirable consistency nonetheless.
That spirit of turning up, taking risks, and grafting quietly behind the scenes feels especially true when you’re building something from scratch.
Which is why we’re particularly chuffed that our Cuvée just picked up a Gold Medal at the World Alcohol Free Awards.
Big things rarely happen overnight. But every so often, there’s a moment that makes all the scary leaps feel worth it. This was one of those.
Cheers to everyone who’s enjoyed a glass along the way,
Until next week,
Luke x
