Garden Porn ("Winter vs. two but's" final installment)

The mailman came the other week and delivered a fantasy. The seed catalog is 98 pages of wishful thinking and undreamed-of self confidence. Gorgeous images of vegetables - voluptuous, dewy and thrown together in opulent piles - promise themselves to me, if only I am skilled enough.

There's the rub. The produce is one sort of taunt, the obvious one. But the real fantasy here is that I could be the sort of master gardener to coax these beauties from the earth. That I could pop a seed, maybe two, check in the morning and wham, I'm a garden goddess. Gone would be the memories of puny carrots, short as erasers and equally tasteless. Forgotten is that dreadful August day when I accidentally cut the main vine of the winter squash. And I'd no longer feel so inadequate when faced with the mountains of robust produce at each farmers' market.

The etymology of the various vegetables listed in the catalog could be a study in itself. Some names are plainly descriptive: (ie, the albino beet)

some are mildly offensive:
(the "lazy housewife" bean),

and some are straight to the point: ("Jacob's Catle Gassless" bean - which is "Reported to have half the flatulence of regular Jacob’s Cattle." FYI).

I think two of my favorite names (given that I've think this whole magazine is a greener, dorkier version of porn) are "Kentucky Wonder Bush" and "Kentucky Wonder Pole." I am not making this up.

I guess Kentucky really is for lovers.

Moving on - let's talk about carrots. And my very, very inadequate, puny carrots that fed only the ants. I have hope for this year, though, for several reasons. First, now that the soil has had a year to assimilate all the compost I've added, I think it will encourage more downward growth (longer carrots). I think that last season, too many nutrients near the surface encouraged the carrots (and some beets, too) to hang out close to the soil surface.

So I'll try again with my Danvers Carrots, but a new bull's in town. Meet Oxheart:

"Hard to find heirloom introduced in 1884. Uniquely shaped short, very thick roots are 5-6" deep by 3-4" in diameter and grow over 1 pound very rapidly."

I like that they're already short, so when I pull up short carrots, I'll know they were meant to be that way. Also, I'm a Taurus and feel an affinity for anything stubborn and purposeful. Those veggies look pretty fierce. My money's on them.

Corn came next. I almost skipped this chapter because I don't really want to grow any corn in the space that I have. Besides, I'm getting chickens this spring and 8-foot-tall rows of corn may just push my neighbors over the edge.

But let me show you the pictures that nearly changed my mind. Meet Japonica Striped Maze:"Blue Jade":. . . and "Strawberry Popcorn:"The jury's still out.

Have you ever heard of ground cherries? I came across "Aunt Molly's Ground Cherry" and now I can't think of a more perfect plant."Ground cherries were recorded as early as 1837 in Pennsylvania. This outstanding variety originated in Poland and is prized for its clean flavor. Fruits are ½ to ¾" in diameter and are encased in a papery husk that turns brown when the fruits ripen. Stores 3-4 weeks in the husk. Extremely productive plants have a sprawling habit and grow 18" tall and 24" wide. Excellent citrus flavor, can be used for preserves, pies, over ice cream or in fresh fruit salads. Starts fruiting by the end of July and continues until frost and a little beyond, extremely productive."

To summarize the rest of my notes:

Definitely going to plant eggplants. Looking at Florida High Bush ('cause they produce lots of sturdy little eggplants),Lista de Gandia (because they're gorgeous) and Thai Green (because I like to eat them).

As for lettuce, I'm totally confused. I wasn't happy with last season's variety (I picked up some seeds at a grocery store), and I don't know where to begin.

I'll plant as many peas as I possibly can, especially the Amish Snap Pea.

Ditto for sweet bell peppers such as Wisconsin Lakes.

Tomatoes, OMG. SO many. Mostly Brandwines, because they are divine, and lots of yellow pear-shaped miniature ones such as Beam's Yellow Pear Tomato.
I have to stop here or this post will go on an on and on and...

Bottom line: I'm staying away from the monocrop seed packets at the hardware store. This season, it's all about genetic heritage, hope and luck.

Overdue autumn garden update

Wowee. Is anyone else ready for this election to be over? When that happens, maybe I can go back to Massachusetts and remind myself what my husband, cat and garden all look like. Until then, it's pretty much all work and travel, all the time. At least it's been fun.

So I have Erik to thank for this update that he lovingly wrote for me to keep me connected to my, ahem, roots. Here 'tis:


I went out this morning in my role as surrogate gardener and I'm here to report that your garden is happy but it misses you.

As for the front garden. Your peppers are happiest of anyone out there. As you will see, you are continuing to get color on a couple but the majority seem to be pretty certain they're just going to be green. I had to stake up a few as they had been loosing the battle with gravity in our absence. None appear to be over ripening so I'm leaving them up for now.

Parsley and radishes all look great. Basil and chives are continuing their reliable presence. Lettuce is coming along nicely although at a seemingly slower rate than in the spring. The squash plant is still trying to pump out fruit despite the fact that it's support system is withering up.
And I've come to the conclusion that our brussell sprouts are just going to be small. The biggest ones at the base of the plant are all starting to bush out a little bit rather than staying in their compact little head of leaves. Maybe I should try to cook up a few? They're still no bigger than a quarter.
And finally, the sad news, the remaining cantaloupe won't be waiting for your return. Its stem somehow got disconnected and the fruit has turned a ripe-looking whitish orange. I don't know what order that happened in but I'm guessing it was somehow prematurely disconnected from the vine. It is currently the size of a softball. A little rot had set in and it had become home to a number of fruit flies but i took it inside anyway and cut it open. As you'll see it looked quite nice. In it's honor i did try some but to be honest the flavor was so so and it was pretty over ripe and soft.
To the back garden now. Turning the corner of the garage, I found the back garden awash in red. Lots of tomatoes are getting close to ripe and a number had ripened and returned to the ground while we were away. I assume you took down all the squash vines in the back corner because they are now gone. Carrots all look happy (at least the their little green head tips). Purple bean plant is still spitting out purple beans (see the picture of the husky little bean I found) and it has currently got the neighboring tomato plant in a convincing sleeper hold. It is hard to tell where the bean plant ends and the tomato plant begins. And there are some new pink flowers in the bed by the driveway. Compost has been added to and turned. The back compost looks great. Not smelly and I could only identify the most recent additions. The front has a ways to go though and is still very full.

I think that is it.


(Thank you, Erik! - This is what I've been up to here in Ohio.)

Preparing for winter; Part 1 + other miscellany

Usually, fall is my favorite season. But this is not the usual year, for me. This year, I have a garden, and now fall means many new things, some of them ominous.

The gorgeous, almost violent bloom and harvest of this past growing season can't go on forever, and though I plan to try my hand at cold-frame crops over the winter, the time has come to prepare for the season ahead.

So I made a list . . .. . .and then ignored the list because 'turning compost' was #1 and I didn't want to do it.

So onto the tomatoes, which had to go.First, I had to disentangle them from the nine-zillion green twisty ties that secured them to innumerable bamboo posts:I salvaged what ripe tomatoes I could before sending the rest to the wheelbarrow, but most of them were destined for the compost bin.Here's the bed after I removed the tomato plants:
Ideally, I would immediately enrich the beds with finished compost, but when I went to check and turn the compost, I found it to be mid-cook and nowhere near finished. That is to say, it was very stinky and steamy. I don't think it comes through very well in this picture, but you can see some steam rising where I lifted a layer with the pitchfork:(it's not easy to stir and photograph compost simultaneously.

The other composter was further along. I knew this for several reasons. First, the volume had halved (several weeks ago, it was completely full). Second, it didn't reek. And third, it was much cooler. But it has a way to go because some of its components are still recognizable.I'm about to sound like an expert here, but in fact, I have no idea what I'm doing - this is all the result of a little research.)

After a season's worth a growth, it's a good idea to do something restorative for the soil (in addition to enriching with finished compost at some point). Farmers will often plant a crop that fixes the nitrogen in the soil into a more crop-friendly form and then acts as a "green manure" when it's tilled under and decomposes. Many plants in the legume family are good for this (such as buckwheat).

I had a couple to choose from (thank you, Mom), but I decided on the one that sounds like medicine you'd give a cat with indigestion: "hairy vetch."

The seeds of hairy vetch are small and round, like shrunken, smooth peppercorns. I dug up the squares where the tomatoes had been and planted several sprinklings of the seeds. I have no idea what to expect, but we'll see what happens.

While I was poking around in there, I came across a beautiful snail doing some serious damage to the pepper plants:He was relocated to the hydrangea bush.

The final thing on my list was the chives - they were out of control. So I chopped them all down and decided to give a go at drying them in the oven (despite the firm warnings on numerous websites about how they will lose their flavor).

Chopped them up, spread them on some cookie sheets and stuck them in the oven on the lowest setting:I had too many chives to dry in the oven, and I've always wanted to try chive scones, so I decided to try out a (half-made up) recipe:

Don't preheat the oven (I'll explain why later).

sift together:

• 1 1/2 cups white flour
• 2 tsps baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt

blend with (I used a food processor)

• 3 tbps butter
• 1/2 cup (or more) fresh chives

1. Put flour mixture in bowl and make a well in the middle.
2. Pour in a little more than 1/2 cup milk, but you want to use as little as you can get away with so the scones will be more flaky than chewy.
3. Cut in the milk with a knife, and combine just to the point where it all hangs together. Over-working the pastry dough will make it tough.
4. Turn it onto a floured surface, and roll it out to about 1" thick. Cut the scones out (I used a cookie cutter because I didn't have anything else) and place on an ungreased cookie sheet.
5. I used an egg wash made of an egg white and a touch of milk, whisked together with a fork. Brush it over the scones.
6. Sprinkle lightly with fresh-ground pepper and a touch of coarse salt.

Now for the confusing oven part:

I recipe I was using for reference suggested putting the oven at 220 degrees, but after a minute or two, I decided that would be entirely too low a temperature, and cranked it to 405 and eventually to 430 degrees. So next time, I think I would just put them in a cold oven and set it to 405 degrees, so it could rise and bake a bit before reaching full temperature. After it reaches 405, turn it up to 430 so the tops brown a little. Once the tops are golden, they should be done, and it shouldn't take more than 20 minutes, tops.

Here they are (er, were, before Erik ate them all):He calls them "grass cookies." So I guess that's what they are!

Tomatoes down and brown

Summer is over -- the tomatoes told me so. I walked out to the garden this weekend and found them, all yawns and elbows and bad posture, asking to be put to sleep for the winter.The cold nights are getting to them, and I'm pretty sure I prompted their early demise by inadequately supporting them throughout their growth.

Lesson learned: invest in those loonly-looking circular support thingies and don't rely on posts and twine to support indeterminate tomato plants.
So I harvested all of the red ones and am mentally preparing to bring down the whole crop pretty soon. Here's the haul + some basil and a few pole beans:
Garden eats are usually cheap as well as delicious, but tomatoes are the gateway fruit. Beautiful, fresh tomatoes and their bully friend, Basil, scream "turn us into a caprese salad!" and who am I to argue with the harvest?So I run off to the store to find some bufala mozzarella imported from (where else?) Italy to slice up and sandwich in between layers of ripe tomato flesh and basil leaves.

(this is not my picture:)Tomatoes? free. Basil? free. Bufala mozzarella? about $17.00/lb (about 2 of those balls). Makes about 6 caprese salads. That's crazy.

But oh, my, god. The flavors. Incomparable. They should use this to ease people off heroin.
In honor of my grandparents' visit this weekend past, we had a little dinner party with some of my favorite people. We had a garden meal of caprese salads, fresh spinach pasta (rolled out by little Ramona) tossed in garden pesto (see recipe), roasted pole beans with smashed garlic and served with no-knead, hot fresh bread (see recipe). And Matt brought a divine chocolate angelfood cake. It was a fabulous evening!-- Complete with dancing and somersaults.
Recipe for caprese salad:

(serves 2-3)

1. Grow/borrow/find/buy/steal:

• 3-4 gorgeous, good-sized tomatoes.
• 1 ball bufala mozzarella
• small handful of basil leaves
• good-quality extra virgin olive oil
• good-quality balsalmic vinegar
• coarse salt/pepper

2. Cut the stems out of the tomatoes and slice into rounds, about 1/2 inch thick.

3. Lay largest of rounds flat on serving plate (if making three salads, lay down three)

4. Slice mozzarella in rounds, slightly thinner. Lay one slice on top of each tomato slice.

5. Cover the mozzarella with 2-3 basil leaves

6. Drizzle with a little olive oil and then a little balsamic vinegar.

(The order is actually important, I've found, because without the barrier of the olive oil, the mozzarella takes up too much of the balsamic vinegar and gets soggy. You'll get a more pleasant separation of the flavors if you pour the olive oil first.)

7. Repeat until you've used up all your tomatoes and cheese, Top with a sprig of basil, oil and vinegar, sprinkle a touch of coarse salt on top and serve. Have pepper on hand in case you want it, but if the tomatoes are punchy enough, you will want them naked as the come.
Enjoy!

Union Square farmers market

Happy days.
Erik asked me yesterday if the Union Square farmers market (in Somerville, MA) is my favorite. I reflexively answered, 'no, they're all my favorite.' But this is not true. I love this one for no particular reason except that I love the vibe, the people, the vendors and the nearby coffee shop (Bloc 11 cafe).

That, and they don't seem to mind when I dig through their compost bins and score 25 pounds of squished peaches (as I did yesterday).Next year, I'm growing cherry tomatoes because these taste like candy:But the coolest find yesterday was this bizarre flower that looks like pretty brains.
It's called celosia.

And this is hilarious:

It is traditional fare in countries of Central and West Africa, and is one of the leading leafy green vegetables in Nigeria, where it is known as ‘soko yokoto’, meaning ‘make husbands fat and happy.’

(It's true. I found it on the internet.)

The wildflower maven, Ellie, at the Drumlin Farm booth, will explain just about anything to you regarding flowers or produce.
But the real reason I went to the farmers market was to buy as many tomatoes as I could for as little money as possible. I succeeded, thanks to Steve from Parker Farm in Lunenberg, MA. I gave him a $10 bill, and he gave me an empty wooden crate with the invitation to take as many as I wanted.
Today, I regret this feat, if only a little.

30 pounds of tomatoes, 6 pounds of onions, 1.5 pounds of garlic and 24 hours later, I've made 8 quarts of tomato sauce.

Was it worth it? Don't know, really, but I think so. Recipe post to follow.