Jackie French: chard hard to beet

Answer: Coloured Swiss chard (also known as rainbow chard or, if they have only red stems, ruby chard) is also known as ''that silver beet with coloured stems'' or, back in my childhood, ''spinach'' because in those days of scarce refrigeration true spinach would not survive in Queensland's heat, either in the garden or in the back of the veg man's ute, which travelled the suburbs twice a week with dusty cabbages, trusty Queensland blue pumpkins, "apples'" (variety unspecified), speckled oranges and bunches of limp ''spinach''.

Chard also goes by the names of Swiss chard, silver beet, seakale beet, leaf beet and beet spinach. It's a close and leafy relative of beetroot, whose leaves are also edible but puny. The green chard varieties with white stems have larger leaves and more of them than the ones with coloured stalks but the coloured ones are prettier.

The first reason to plant chard now is: it's hardy. Drought, heat, frost – it doesn't care. It grows. Ignore it in a heat wave and it will die back, then leaf again as soon as it gets water. Admittedly it won't grow much in mid-winter unless you live in ''light cardigan needed on a winter's evening'' kind of climate.

Fail to feed your chard and it will do nothing much beyond produce a few pale leaves. But if/when you get around to giving it tucker and water, it will produce abundantly.

Chard's worst problem is a scatter of small brown splodges that can die back, leaving small, brown edged holes, distinctly unattractive, until you pick and cook and eat it – by the time it is quiche, soup or made into a topping for pasta, the blemishes will be gone (or at least disappeared). But if you long for chard with a perfect complexion, do not spray or cosset. Just remove all the leaves, and hope the next lot are leafy perfection. And, if not, remove them and try again. A good few delicious meals later and you will reach your goal.

The next reason to grow Swiss chard is that it is always there. Wondering what to have for dinner? Dash to the garden, pick chard and a lemon, grab dried pasta, olive oil, currants and pine nuts; sauté chard, nuts, currants and oil; cook pasta; squeeze on a dab of lemon. Eat. Need to feed a sudden horde? You have ''spinach soup'' (add packaged larder stock and a spud or two) or ''mostly chard'' quiche. Try sautéing it in olive oil with a little garlic and a few anchovies – they dissolve in a lovely rich way.

Coloured chard is also beautiful in a wholesome vegie way. I'd grow it in our front garden if we had a front garden and if we didn't have wallabies who have sophisticated tastebuds and love chard too, though not as much as roses.

Possibly the best reason to grow your own chard is that it's enormous. I mean a bunch-of-blooms-for-the-opera-diva-on-opening-night type big. One bunch half fills a grocery trolley. Buy two and your arms will be filled and you'll need to peer over them on the way back to the car. Giant bunches of chard should really only be carried a maximum of twenty metres, i.e. from garden to pot, in case you trip.

The solution: Plant now. Seeds will germinate in about a week and be seedling-high in two, but if you doubt your germinating power, buy a punnet or, even better, two, as once you get used to having a useful staple in your garden you will use large amounts of it.

Water well; mulch madly; feed weakly and weekly, as the more you eat the more you will need to feed it. Show it off by breaking the ''never carry Swiss chard far'' rule by bringing vast bunches into work, ostensibly to give away but mostly to show off. And let everyone see those stems too, pink and red and yellow.