Jackie French's advice on gumnuts for ACT gardens

As one whose normal methods of flower arrangement is the grab and bung method – grab what is blooming and bung them in a vase – this arrangement was striking not just for its beauty but its simplicity: two liliums, a handful of dried sedges (sedges have edges but rushes are round) and a branch of gumnuts. Big stunning gumnuts, nodding on the branch as if their stems weren't quite enough to support them. Which they probably weren't.

Replace the liliums with other blooms once a week or so and that arrangement would stay stunning for months if not years.

One of the best trees to grow for vase-worthy gumnuts is Corymbia ficifolia, the red flowering gum native to south-west Western Australia. It has gnarled trunks and branches and usually pinkish buds before the flowers open. It often grows multi-trunked, but is best kept trained to one, as one of the two will be likely to split away and leave you with a wounded tree susceptible to rot.

It will grow from southern Australia through to the subtropics, but will need to be protected from frost for its first few years and given the most protected spot away from cold winds in very frosty areas. It has large blue-green leaves, but the flowers are the most stunning feature. They bloom in late spring or early summer, and range from fire red to scarlet or orange coloured, there are even white and a rather pretty pale pink available now too. Seedlings are a bit of a lucky dip, but you can buy grafted ones like Wildfire (which may not be the most inspired name for those gardeners worried that summer may bring more than fiery-coloured blossom). Most of the grafted varieties are smaller than the original species (up to eight metres tall) and there are also a couple of dwarf varieties that will grow to about three metres.

The grafted varieties will also give reliably predictable coloured blooms at reliable times. The tree is drought hardy, once established, and its roots relatively non-invasive for such a large tree – though any large tree can be a problem near drains and houses. It is fast growing and will reach between nine metres and 20 metres depending on where it's grown and who its parents were. But if you are growing the red flowering gum – or any other gum – for its blooms, you need to prune regularly to keep them within cutting reach – or grow one of the dwarf varieties.

If you let them grow tall, avoid planting them near paths and lawns – the leaves drop more than many gum trees and those gumnuts that look so magical on a tree or in a vase are beyond nuisance level on a path when you are trying to push a stroller over them or if you slip on them.

The best time to prune is after blooming – and after the seeds have ripened, that is, grown large but not begun to fall. Then prune hard.

Another good gumnut producer is Eucalyptus alpine, the Grampians gum, so it is very frost hardy, growing in varied shapes as the wind blows its large blue-green leaves. Cut it back hard for new leaves. It grows from 2½ metres to four metres high and is drought hardy once established. If you let it grow to its full height, use a long handled fruit picker to cut the flower stalks.

Any gumnuts can be picked for ornamental use indoors. Keep the stems as short as is convenient for vase use. They will start off green, turn yellow-ish then turn brown. Pick as soon as the brown appears as once the seed inside matures the gumnuts will drop from the trees – or drop from the stems sooner when you pick them. It can be difficult to find the right picking time, so begin when they begin to brown and keep picking every few days to find which gives the best sized nuts as well as the longest hanging time.

The best results usually come from air drying them before bunging them in the vase. Hang up small bunches in a dry, cool but darkish room and leave till the wood snaps, not bends, or looks … well, dry.

Various lacquers can be sprayed on them to make them shiny or deepen their colour, and these will also help stop the gumnuts falling from their stems. Don't get too ambitious – remember the size of the nuts makes them heavy, so they are prone to falling.

You may even find that benign neglect will give you dried gumnuts – place in a vase, forget to top up the water and a few weeks later your green gumnuts and stems may be brown and the nuts reasonably firmly attached to the stems.

Gumnuts can also be painted gold, silver, powder blue or red and, while this may sound ghastly – and often is, used discreetly and with far more artistry than I am capable of, they can be beautiful.

I prefer the big bad banksia men in flower arrangements. They never pressed my buttons when I was a child as decent villains just as I never identified with Snugglepot and Cuddlepie as decent protagonists. But growing, picking and using banksias are other stories. Speaking of which, do revisit Snugglepot and Cuddlepie. Even if the story fails to enchant, the illustrations – and the knowledge and love of the Australian bush and its plants – almost certainly will.

This week in the garden:

* I am dreaming of planting but can't with the threat of further pollution, this time with heavy metals tainted by cyanide from a planned tailings dam only 10 minutes' flood time above us. If this modification is passed, I will be a gardener in memory and in dreaming, but nothing more.

Five times in 2013 we had to quarantine and clean our water system, but that was only mud and grit. If next time it is heavy metals, possibly also contaminated by cyanide and its byproducts, the soil would be poisoned for generations to come, or longer.

I cannot do that to the land I love;

* But I can pick: carrots even sweeter from so much frost; beetroot; small silverbeet leaves which are as big as they grow in winter;

* And watch the two wedge-tailed eagles balance on the wind above the valley. Soon, perhaps there will be only one, then as the wind warms, three, with the parents showing the small one how to stop flapping and let the updrafts do the work;

* Gazing longingly at seed catalogues, strongly recommended for anyone who wants a range of flowers or veg that you may not be able to buy in punnets or want to save money – seeds are much cheaper than punnets of seedlings;

* Looking for the signs of declining days of winter, the clematis and wonga vine buds swelling, the lawn daisies getting ready to bloom, the birds harvesting the spiders' webs from the window sills; and

* Smelling the air, which is the best sign of spring, even if I couldn't see I could still tell what the season is. This is cold air still and almost though not quite blossom-less. But it has a different scent from deep winter. Try it at dawn, midday and then after dark. Three different scents, and they change throughout the year.

The fish on the menu sounded delicious. "Does it come with vegetables," I asked.

"Tomato confit," I was told, in a voice that clearly didn't have English as its first language.

"Could I have some vegetables, please?"

"It comes with tomato confit."

"But could I please have some vegetables?"

"Vegetables? What kind of vegetables?"

"What do you have in then kitchen?"

Which finally got us to potatoes. How would I like them cooked? Sauteed? Boiled?

"Boiled," I said, having given up hope of steamed veg, which is my usual request while travelling to try to get a reasonable – or even half reasonable – vegetable intake.

"I will give you potatoes," she said.

And she did.

There is an art to boiling potatoes. I should have known she would. I should have known it as soon as I heard they had real spuds, instead of only frozen chips (hand-cut wedges, according to all too many menus, meaning pre-cooked, mashed and made into chip shapes before being fried in trans fats and dished up).

The plate arrived with a salad – an extremely good one of many shredded veg and leaves – along with a platter of potatoes in their jackets, firm and not overboiled and grainy, the skins still intact not shredding off, the whole hot and dressed in an olive oil and lemon juice vinaigrette. There were at least four spuds there, three more than I wanted, but at first glance I knew that the plate would be empty before I put it out the door. That was 10 minutes ago – I'm writing this on the laureate tour to Kalgoorlie, though I will be home again by the time you read it. (Kalgoorlie, by the way, is magic. Go there.)

4 medium spuds, skins on
Enough water to half cover them in a pot

Dressing:

3 tbsp olive oil
1 tbsp lemon juice
1 small clove garlic, crushed
salt to taste which, even if you don't normally eat salt, you may need for full flavour (this is one of the few times I use salt in cooking)

Bring the spuds to the boil, turn down to a simmer, cook for five minutes then turn them over with a spoon. Cook another five minutes and insert a skewer to see if they are tender, or almost. Take off the heat, pour off the water then put on the lid – or a folded-up clean tea towel if you haven't got a lid. Leave for 10 minutes to steam in their own heat then put on a low heat again, rolling them around in the moisture that has condensed.

Then use tongs and an oven mitt on your hand and a sharp knife to slice neatly, arrange in concentric rings on a heated plate, then pour over the dressing. Serve at once.

This is excellent very hot, or tepid, or at room temperature, but not cold as in fridge cold – or even Canberra unheated house, winter morning cold, as cold leaches away flavour.

Sprinkle with chopped chives or dill if you want to be fancy, but there is no need. Their very simplicity is stunning. And delicious.

No, I don't like too highly spiced food either and, yes, I know that much of what is sold as wasabi is horseradish with green colouring. But this recipe has the right sting, enough to give flavour but not burn, a delicious foil for broad beans that may lack flavour, which is the case with frozen broad beans as to be realistic, most of you reading this don't have a crop ripening, nor are you likely to lug home a couple of kilos and peel them by hand.

Nor need you for this one. The bland frozen broad bean does very well with this. Savour home-grown broad beans just as they are, lightly cooked. But try this for the others.

4 cups broad beans, thawed and then their plastic-type cases rubbed off between your fingers – laborious but they are truly luxurious if you take the time. Watch a good DVD while rubbing.

Now boil for five mutes or till tender but not disintegrating – test after three minutes. The younger and smaller they are, the faster they cook.

Turn into a heated bowl and top with the sauce, or place a couple of spoonfuls of beans on each warmed plate and serve sauce separately.

1 tsp wasabi (or less or more to taste)
½ cup thickened sour cream or creme fraiche

Mix well. Heat gently or serve as it is.