Fennel’s finefettle in

Monty’s herbs from the Mediterranean have loved this summer’s baking heat – and none has flourished more than the fennel

ONE of the fascinating things for a gardener about this exceptional summer (although in ten years’ time I suspect it will have become the rule rather than the exception) is not the bad effects of a prolonged drought and heat, but which plants have coped well.

My Mediterranean herbs have loved it, and none more so than the fennel, Foeniculum vulgare. This towers tall and vibrant green, topped by an umbel, or cluster, of fluorescent-yellow flowers now beginning to set seed. When I say tall, I mean huge – some plants reach 3metres when their deep tap root anchors into a particularly fertile section of our clay loam. They are stately, majestic even, and I adore them.

So it is a shock to see fennel at home on a Mediterranean hillside where they are stunted, wispy, yellowing little things, a shadow of the plants that grace our gardens. Despite their diminished natural size, however, they produce plenty of flower and seed, which ensures their survival. Fennel seed has always been the main harvest of the plant, over and above the foliage, although its beauty is sufficient harvest enough to justify its inclusion in any border.

Both the feathery, filigreed leaves and the seed have a distinctly aniseed flavour, and are often used to accompany any oily fish or roast pork. The seeds, usually taken as an infusion, have always been used as an aid to digestion and are delicious eaten straight from the plant – in fact, throughout late summer, I often grab a handful to munch. They can also be collected as they ripen in August or September to sow for future plants.

Fennel is a perennial, although it is a good idea to replace plants after three or four years if you’re harvesting them for their leaves and seed, as the flavour deteriorates as they age. Sow the seed in early spring and bring on the young plants until they are large enough to handle, then plant out where they are to grow. It’s no use transplanting established plants or trying to divide them as, because of their deep tap roots, they hate being moved.

Bronze fennel, Foeniculum vulgare ‘Purpureum’ is smaller, tinged with bronze and rather hardier than its green cousin. This self-seeds in our flower borders where it always looks exceptionally handsome.

Florence fennel is the vegetable cousin of the herbal fennel and has been bred to put its energy into forming especially large, overlapping bases to the leaves we call its ‘bulb’ – which is the part we eat – although it is not in any horticultural sense a bulb.

I love it and always grow it, but with varying success because, like many wonderful things in life, it is capricious, temperamental and demanding, as well as being worth every second of trouble.

If it gets too dry or cold it will bolt, the energy that should be forming the delicious base going into long, woody stems – a process that’s irreversible.

The secret is to handle it as little as possible, to never let it dry out, but give it good drainage, lots of sunshine and to ensure it is growing in soil with lots of organic matter. To that end, most books will advise sowing direct into the ground – in about May or June for earlier varieties like ‘Perfection’, or the beginning of July for later varieties, such as the super-large ‘Romanesco’, which will remain good for harvesting into late October.

However, I like to sow the seeds in modules, then prick these out into 3in pots, planting them out as soon as the roots are formed enough to hold together in the pot. This way I can protect them from cold nights before they’re large enough to grow strongly. Mind you, this summer, the chance of a cold night would be a fine thing!