The Garlic Scape Caper

I walked out to the garden the other day, and saw this:
That, I found after a bit of Googling, is a garlic scape. And not only can you eat it, you should eat it. Leaving it on the plant will eventually sap strength from the bulb - not good.

Which begged the question: how big were the bulbs under there?
I am not a patient person.

Just ask my husband. Ask anybody.
Ask, well, ask this garlic plant.It wasn't very big as you can see. I replanted it and apologized with lots of water and gentle patting. (It's still not dead several days later...)

Instead, I just harvested the scapes and prepared to make some uber-yummy pasta primavera.
Chopped 'em up:They taste -- now get this! -- garlicky! And a little salty. Very nice flavor.

Threw them in a saucepan with some other stuff:Added mushrooms, sundried tomatoes . . .. . . some garden-grown oregano:. . . some summer squash, red peppers . . .
. . . garden-grown arugula, some white wine, yummy cheese . . .. . . saved some garden-grown basil to sprinkle on top:
And then we ate it before I remembered to take a picture of the finished dish. Doh! Should only have my wine after the photographs are done. Trust me, though; it was a delish dish. Try it out with whatever you have on hand.

Here are some other pretty pictures from the garden last weekend:

Happy chard:
Happy Amish Sugar Snap Peas in spring rain:


And a wee bean trying to make it out of the dirt.
Cilantro that is moving on to the next phase of life:
Spinach that was hiding so I wouldn't eat it (had it for dinner last night).
And summer squash getting ready to start a riot.
That's the update!

Cold frames!!

One of the many benefits of being married to a former home builder is that I can say things like, "gee, I wish my vegetables had cute little houses to protect them from the frost," and - viola! - I come home to discover exactly that. Two cute little houses to protect my tender plants from the encroaching winter.To prepare my garden for these boxes, and for last night's frost, I had to pull up the red pepper plants and hang them to dry in the garage.And then we moved the frames onto the gardens in front:Today, there's much to do:

• harvest basil
• harvest coriander
• harvest carrots
• turn compost and enrich beds
• rip up squash vines
• rip up tomatoes
• "top" brussel sprouts (cutting off the top to encourage bud maturation)
• plant garlic

I'll check back in later with updates and pictures. Enjoy the beautiful fall day!

(that) Party's over!

Good-bye, Minneapolis. Good-bye, Palin, McCain, Giuliani. See you in no sooner than 4 years. (fingers crossed).(In way of explanation, they made confetti out of their nominee's head. Uh huh.)

Got on airplane; got off airplane. Slept for 16 hours.

At home, I found these:
-- and a bewildered nest of tomato plants. They've grown so fast as to outstrip their girth and support. When I checked on them, they were all doubled over, hanging their (tomato) heads looking very depressed. Their malaise, coupled with a forecasted tropical storm, prompted me to whip out the twine and bamboo sticks. Malaise, no more! Now they're trapeze artists.
Oh, this is exciting: remember the overgrown cilantro plants that were too pretty to kill? This is what they looked like several weeks ago:
Now the have seeds!
Cilantro, as I sort of knew, is three herbs in one: the leaves used fresh, the roots (when dug before the plant has gone to seed), and then the mature seeds (coriander). I say sort of because it's all just book learnin' until I could prove it in dirt.

I didn't know when to harvest the seeds, so .34 seconds of research online told me this:

Harvest the seeds when they turn a light brown and the entire plant is dried, usually 2-3 weeks after flowering. Cut the stems before much shattering has occurred, and hang the plants in a a warm, airy place to dry. Because many of the seeds will fall out, place the cut stems over a cloth to catch any that fall, or put the stalks inside a paper bag. Make sure the fruit is thoroughly dried, which develops the flavor of the seeds. To save seed for your next crop, just store the whole pods in a cool, dry location. For culinary use, rub the pods to release the seed from the seed coat. The dried seeds can be stored for months in an airtight container in a cool, dark place.

The pole beans are happy, and have jumped to the top of my list of favorite plants to grow.

The squash are all simultaneously dying and reproducing. I don't get it.
The cantaloupe are galloping along, which makes me sing with delight. If I manage to grow a cantaloupe, a block party will be thrown, mark my words.
And the yippee-radishes are growing up. Half of them were wiped out by a varmint (again, great word), but these are the hardy survivors.
And the peppers are still popping.That's the garden update, but I have more news . . . stay tuned.

Jonah and the worm

The last post was a bit of a downer; sorry about that. This one should be better.

I'll start out with a happy picture.


They look like good friends, don't they?

About the whole dying of squash and feelings of failure and frustration thing - I've come to some thoughts about it.

(these are the dying cucumbers:)
It's out of my control, and I shouldn't get angry about it.

In fact, I didn't even plant those squash. They literally kept popping out of the ground (from the compost, I think) and I pulled all except for two in the name of science. Until they declared themselves as butternut squash, I called them "mystery plants." That's what they were - a mysterious gift that came out of the dirt.

And then they died, but they weren't mine to begin with, so I should get over myself. That sums up a lesson that pops up in many religious traditions (for instance, the Hindu god Shiva both destroys and creates), but I came across an old testament story that deals with an actual squash.

(Spoiler alert: I'm an agnostic and not pushing any particular religion or religion in general here)

At the end of the story of Jonah, he's sitting on a blazing hot hill waiting to see if God will smite a sinful city that Jonah had warned to repent. While he's waiting, God causes a squash plant to grow over him to provide shade and comfort. Then the next day, a worm kills the squash. Jonahs' pissed and yells at God, who basically replies, 'Hey, it wasn't yours anyway, so chill.'

My takeaway is that it's just not about me. I can appreciate the heck out of gardening and helping things grow, but I'm a part of the process just like the rain or the plants. My ego has gotten in my way, and it's blocking the view.

And look: the squash is sending up flowers even as it goes down in flames. Now that's life force!
End sermon.

Back to garden.

Another happy picture:Marigolds are just about the coolest plants ever. You can't kill them, they bloom all summer and they repel all sorts of bugs.

The brussel sprouts are looking like the nipples of a very pregnant dog:
The bell peppers (the ones that did not fall victim to the recent snail onslaught) are starting to blush. It's adorable:
Here's the snail that killed my other beautiful pepper. But I'm not mad (see above).

The cilantro has gone to seed, but I'm letting it go because it is so darn pretty:
We have 20,000 green tomatoes just waiting for me to go out of town to turn red.
And the behemoth Brandywine is just about to become lunch.

I've given up on the onions I had planted several months back. The tops had fallen over long ago, but I just packed them with compost and figured I'd give it time. Well, today, the tops were officially dead and gone, so I dug up what there was and plan to use them in a bean salad soon. They appear to have multiplied underground, but I must have planted them too close together and they just stopped growing.

Lesson learned: plant onions farther apart.
And on the jam front: last night I made 35 (that's thirty five) jars of peach jam. They were selling lavender flowers at the farmers market, so I got frisky and made a small batch with those, and a small batch with both candied and fresh ginger. I also swapped out the cane sugar, to a large extent, with clover honey. Tastes good; bad idea.

The stuff will not gel. Arg!! I have 35 jars of yummy slop. Gr! But at least it looks pretty.So lesson learned: don't use honey in jam. Or at least, don't expect it to gel if you do.

That's all for now, friends.