STARTING FRESH

Posted in Garden Update, Winter Gardening by jonesamye

I have always appreciated a fresh start. I like mornings. The first of the month. I even like Mondays – although I’ve never been a nine-to-fiver, which I’m sure helps with that. Did you have “do over”s when you were a kid? I like those too. And here we are in the New Year, the biggest fresh start of all.

So I’m calling this blog post a fresh start. I’m sorry I’ve neglected it for so long. I know how frustrating it can be to follow a blog and look forward to a new post and not get one. First it’s disappointing. Then it’s annoying. Then it makes you angry. Eventually you give up. I can’t blame you. I’ve done it too. I won’t make any promises, but I missed you and I hope you’ll come back and see what’s happening in the garden from time to time.

We’ve had a pretty mild winter so far, and I’ve been able to continue to eat out of my garden, which is really gratifying. We had our first hard freeze only a few nights ago, I think it got down to 16º. We’ll see how it looks out there tomorrow when it warms up a bit, but last I checked I still had

Swiss chard,

kale,

collard greens,

broccoli raab, which went crazy and tried to escape the hoop –

fortunately I found a really cute weight to hold down the floating row cover –

and leeks.

We’ll see how much longer everything lasts.

I’ve been pretty busy out there even so. It has long been a personal goal of mine to create enough compost to be able to give all my beds a layer of homemade organic matter at the end of the season. I’ve been working towards closing that loop since I started my garden three years ago and I got much closer this year. I was able to put a 2″ layer of mulch on 237 ft² of a total 410 ft² of gardening space. I am determined to do the entire garden next year.

I even sifted it! The empty beds got a nice helping of this black gold.

Then I got a cool leaf blower that also sucks.

Ok, it doesn’t suck, it rocks, because it sucks up leaves and shreds them which reduces them about ten fold and makes a great (free!) mulch with which to put a bed to sleep for the winter. This will reduce spring weeding and encourage earthworms.

Then, come spring, I’ll dig everything in and be good to go.

I also got the important fall planting done. On October 22, I planted French grey shallots.

They are said to be the cremé de le crop of shallots and I mean to find out. (We’ll talk more about them later.)

On November 20th I planted three kinds of garlic, about 40 cloves in total. Two softnecks, Tochliavri and Broadleaf Czech and a hardneck, German Red.

All were from the garlic I planted last year and harvested on June 24th. I used the largest, healthiest cloves I could find. Another loop closed.

I still have garlic in storage in the garage, but a lot of it is starting to sprout. We’ll see if it lasts me through the winter. Here’s an interesting article on storing garlic from Rodale’s Organic Life website (http://www.rodalesorganiclife.com/food/6-ways-make-garlic-last-longer). I must experiment with all those great methods next season.

Because it’s been so mild and there’s not much left to do in the garden proper, I’ve also been playing with rocks in the dirt. I’m expanding the perennial bed and making a border between it and the lawn.

I don’t know what it says about me, but this is honestly one of my favorite things to do. If you live in the Ozarks, you probably have a pile of rocks somewhere on your property. If not, rest assured, they are there, just under the surface, daring you to dig a hole.

That’s a hole I dug to plant a tree for a client and the pile of rocks that I excavated during the process.

Indeed.

So that’s the lowdown. The seed catalogs are rolling in and we’ll be starting seeds here in a few short weeks. I’m determined to grow some nice cabbages this year, as well as Brussels sprouts, and I’m going to give artichokes and celery a go. I’m going to be diligent about the cucumber beetles and teach you how to make the best homemade cornichons. And I plan to turn more of my yard into a dedicated herb garden. I also have some fun projects to share with you. So please come back and visit.

Circling back to fresh starts, the only official New Year’s Resolution I made this year was to meditate daily. I know that learning to sit quietly with my thoughts is at the foundation of any sort of relationship I have with myself – and therefore anyone and anything else. And so far so good. I’ve missed a day or two in there and wondered why I was feeling antsy and more scattered than usual. But I forgave myself and did it the next morning. And while I realize that actual do overs are the stuff of school yards. That once life begins often the best we can do is stumble blindly through the underbrush, trying to keep up and not lose an eye. And that any wisdom we gain along the way is mostly through chances we didn’t take, mistakes we can’t take back, and betrayals we will always regret. I also realize that no one is immune from those experiences. If meditation is teaching me anything, it’s that every breath, every moment, is an opportunity to start fresh

I wish you all the fresh starts you can manage.

Happy New Year.

13Aug2015

LATE-SUMMER LETHARGY AND AN ELDERBERRY SHRUB

Posted in Hedgerow, Medicinal Plants, Sambucus canadensis, Wild food by jonesamye

There’s always something to contend with as a gardener (and as any kind of living creature, I suppose) – bugs, weather, disease, timing, pathogens – but the one that’s been plaguing me lately is my own lethargy.

I googled lethargy to make sure that was the particular word I wanted and here is a list of its synonyms: sluggishness, inertia, inactivity, inaction, slowness, torpor, torpidity, lifelessness, listlessness, languor, laziness, idleness, indolence, shiftlessness, sloth, apathy, passivity, weariness, tiredness, lassitude, fatigue, inanition, hebetude. That about sums it up. All I’ve want to do is be inside, in the A/C with my dog, lost in a book. Or at the lake. Which is why my blog is weeks behind.

(By the way, I’m completely obsessed with the book I’m currently reading, Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel. It’s about a post-apocalyptic traveling performance group who roam the area around the Great Lakes twenty years after a flu pandemic has killed 99% of the population. They perform Shakespeare. It’s incredible. I can’t wait to finish it and I never want it to end. It was very deservedly nominated for the National Book Award. I’m in love with it.) More about the flu a little later…

Back to my inanition. It seems silly to blame it on the heat. It gets hot in Arkansas in August. And humid. And deafening. That incessant ratchety acceleration of cicadas makes it seem that much hotter. Pulsing. Electric. Alive. I know this. I accept it. I have been known to relish it. But this summer, it has indeed induced hebetude.

Meanwhile, the tomatoes, peppers, and okra are in their prime and ripening faster than we can keep up with them. Some like it hot.

There’s a mantra I adopt about this time every year, it goes like this. Next year….

Next year I will stake my sauce tomatoes. Next year I will plant fewer shishito pepper. Next year I may skip zucchini entirely.

In the spirit of staying inside and making use of the bounty that is August, I’ve been in the kitchen.

I pickled radish seed pods.

If you neglect to harvest your radishes, by choice or dereliction of duties, they will flower and then eventually those flowers become seed pods. They are a delicious treat, like a mild radish in a different form.

I made salsa verde.

In an attempt to use up an overlooked zucchini that consequently grew to the size of my forearm, I made zucchini bread.

Although when all was said and done, it made use of less than half of it.

I spent the better part of two days making and painstakingly documenting homemade ketchup, which was, very disappointingly, an epic fail. I suppose I’ll find a use for it, but you won’t be getting it for Christmas.

I made chile verde.

I made heirloom tomato sauce. Twice.

I made a simple and delicious carrot soup (http://www.101cookbooks.com/archives/a-simple-carrot-soup-recipe.html). Do you know this site? Heidi Swanson’s blog 101 Cookbooks is a beautiful, elegant, site with unique, healthy recipes. There is something very soothing about it. All that clean white marble, those sumptuous photos of that virtuous food, very inspiring.

And then I fried okra.

Oh, and… I made an elderberry shrub! Remember elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) from the Hedgerow post? (https://thecultivator.net/?s=hedgerow) Well it bloomed. This is May 21st.

And by August 8th, we had berries.

Some of which I managed to get to before the birds did.

The berries are beautiful, glossy purple-black with vibrant magenta stems. As a plant it is a gangly, unruly thing. The eminent horticulturalist Michael Dirr says it is “only suitable for rough areas of the garden.” But it suffuses those rough areas with a rich history of mystery and medicine.

In most of Europe the elder was so closely connected with magic that permission had to be asked for its use of the dryad, Hylde-Moer (or Elder-tree mother) who resided in it. If treated well, the goddess was benevolent, thus elders were often planted around houses for protection. It was also believed that they repelled lightning strikes – one more reason to plant one near your house. The rise of Christianity suppressed nature worship and the elder became the tree of witches, and as the site of Judas’ hanging, an emblem of sorrow. It’s mentioned in several of Shakespeare’s plays. It was also believed to mark the entrance to the Underworld. If you fell asleep under one you might end up there and never return. Good thing I’ve been taking my naps inside.

Medicinally, elders were considered ‘the medicine chest of the country people’. In 1633, a Dr. Blochwich published a comprehensive book titled The Anatomie of Elder that spends 230 pages listing its virtues and uses. And as recently as 1995, it was used to treat a flu epidemic in Peru.

Our North American elder is Sambucus canadensis, while the Europeans have Sambucus nigra. They are very similar in terms of physical properties and how they are used, although ours is more heat tolerant and shrub like, whereas S. nigra can grow into a small tree. They have been used extensively – bark, leaves, flowers, berries, and even a fungus that grows on the tree – since the Romans for ailments from toothaches to the plague. Another North American sambucus, red elder (S. racemosa) is extremely toxic. Incidentally, the bark, stems, leaves, unripe berries, and even the tiny stems on the berries of all sambucus contain cyanide producing glycocides, which can be poisonous, so stick with the flowers themselves and the ripe purple berries, and to be on the safe side, heat both of those as well.

The flowers make an relaxing, restorative tea whose properties change if they are used fresh or dried, hot or cold. Fresh flowers have a mildly laxative effect and can help with constipation, while a tea made with dried flowers is used to drive out fever. This quality, along with its anti-inflammatory traits, a slew of antioxidants, and more Vitamin C than oranges make it a highly effective treatment during cold and flu season, it’s also used for asthma and hay fever.

Or try the flowers lightly battered and fried for a delicate spring fritter.

An infusion of the leaves can be used for a variety of skin ailments including sunburn, and to ward off mosquitoes.

The berries can be used to make jams, jellies, cordials, syrups, or, in my case, a shrub.

A shrub, or drinking vinegar, was the first carbonated soft drink. It originated in 17th century England and was brought to America by the early colonists as a way to preserve the essence of fresh produce. Shrubs fell out of favor when we got home refrigeration, but are having a renaissance in the craft cocktail movement of our moment. Today’s mixologists use them as a novel way to add complexity, acidity, and even nutrition to cocktails, but they’re also great simply mixed with carbonated water as a new old-fashioned soda.

Shrubs at their most basic are fruit, sugar, and vinegar, but the process for combining them can differ. In one method, the fruit is macerated with sugar for several days, then the resulting syrup is strained and mixed with vinegar. Alternately, the fruit can be crushed and mixed with vinegar, this can be strained, and the resulting fruit-infused vinegar can be mixed with sugar. It can be heated or not. You can get creative by experimenting with different vinegars and sweeteners, as well as adding aromatics. Culinate has some great ideas (http://www.culinate.com/articles/features/shrub_love) that I can’t wait to try.

For my first elderberry shrub, I placed one cup of clean berries in a pint jar and mashed them up with a fork.

Then I added a cup of apple cider vinegar, shook it up and put it in the refrigerator overnight, shaking it a few times for good measure.

The next day I strained it

and put the strained liquid in a saucepan with a cup of cane sugar. This would be the time to add aromatics. For my next elderberry shrub I’ll add ginger and some cloves at this point.

Once the sugar was melted, I let it cool, poured it into a jar, and voila, a cocktail enhancement that can ward off the flu! Elderberry gin and tonics for everyone!

_____________________________________

I’ve also done some work out there trying to get a fall garden planted. The planting is not the hard part, it’s keeping it alive – see above – bugs, weather, timing, pathogens, torpidity…

So far I’ve got arugula, broccoli raab, spinach, collard greens, kale, calypso beans, fennel, and cucumbers coming along.

I hope you’re all staying cool and collected and if you’re not getting anything done, I hope you’re not beating yourselves up about it.

Thanks for stopping by!

28Jul2015

SHARPEN YOUR KNIVES, TOMATOES ARE HERE!

Posted in Summer harvest, Tomatoes, Vegetable Gardening by jonesamye

As a gardener, going out of town for a week in July is like living through a time-warp. Is there a better word for that? For the gap between your last experience of a thing and the change that thing endures in the meantime? For instance seeing someone you haven’t seen in a while who has gained or lost a lot of weight. Or cut their hair. Or aged. Children who were this tall the last time you saw them. Something that has endured so much change that you are taken aback. Sucked into the now from wherever you were like Christopher Reeves in Somewhere in Time when he pulls the penny out of his pocket and love is lost forever. That passage of time and change needs a name. A poetic name!

“Life” is not quite what I had in mind.

Well my garden did that while I was away. I ran out of time to mow my yard and then it poured the night before I left. I circled it on my list, code for: to be dealt with later.

Dealt with indeed. While I was gone, summer in Arkansas happened. By the time I got home, it was a foot high and covered with seed heads. I’m surprised there wasn’t a code compliance sign in my yard!

Now, I have a lawn mower. And for that I am grateful. It is not the mower of my dreams, but we know each other well enough that by working together we can get the job done. Which does not mean I have not yelled expletives about my mother at it.

Sorry mom.

Sorry neighbors.

Or wanted to take this cool sledge hammer to it.

Talk about missed opportunities for a zen moment.

But, if I can get it started without dislocating my shoulder, and if I lift the hatch on the back at the end of every row to allow the grass to shoot out onto my sweaty sunscreen covered leg, making me look like a female Sasquatch, and if I buck it up onto its back wheels every twenty seconds or so when it starts to sputter out, together we can get the job done.

This, however, was more than we had ever dealt with together.

So when it, very vocally, said “Forget you, I’m taking a break”, I took that opportunity to rake up the extra grass and dump it on my compost heap. Only to start the whole process all over again.

In this manner I cussed and sputtered and bucked and raked my sweat-drenched, grass-covered Sasquatch way through my foot-high grass for all the neighborhood to witness. And over the course of two days the yard that I can usually mow in twenty minutes was finally tamed.

And now a week later it needs it again!

Talk about the importance of keeping up with things!

I also came back to a mountain of tomatoes, potatoes, green beans, tomatillos, peppers, onions, hard-neck garlic, beets, carrots, zucchini as big as my forearm, and kale covered with harlequin beetles.

Do you know these guys? Murgantia histrionica. Whenever I see these beautiful beetles, I feel like King Lear, “Oh, I have ta’en too little care of this!” Rebuked, as they tend to show up when things are outside their window of seasonality and therefore stressed. The compost heap for you!

Eventually though, we managed to get things a little more under control.

We harvested potatoes.

And dismantled the potato box.

These are a variety called Yellow Finn that we grew for the first time this year.

We threw some on the grill wrapped in tin foil and they were astoundingly good. Creamy and buttery and rich and delicious. Truly stellar and highly recommended.

We also harvested green beans, onions, and tomatillos. Salsa verde, and soon!

So now that the garden is a bit more manageable – although there’s still plenty of cleaning up and fall planting to be done – the overwhelm has moved indoors. What to do with all this bounty!?

First things first. Sharpen your knives!

Because we are in the sweet spot. Where a luscious summer meal can be made of a perfectly ripe heirloom tomato sprinkled with salt. But to unleash that goodness you need a really sharp knife.

And to get a really sharp knife you need a whetstone. I got mine in New York, but I chose it because it was made in Arkansas and I was homesick. I have since discovered that the finest natural whetstones are made out of novaculite, which is sedimentary rock composed of microcrystalline quartz. Novacula means razor stone. And the purest novaculite is found in the Ouachita Mountains near Hot Springs, Arkansas. Arkansas sharpening stones are the benchmark for oil stones and have been since native Americans used them on their arrowheads. Pretty cool, huh? There are several grades of sharpening stones, and many whetstones have two sides. Start with the coarse one and finish with the finer one, kind of like an emory board. Many sources I referenced recommended using a honing oil with your whetstone, but I’ve always used water and it has worked just fine.

It’s important to soak your whetstone before you use it. I try to soak mine for at least fifteen minutes.

Once it’s soaked, get yourself set up with a towel and your knife.

It’s good to have some water nearby to keep everything lubricated. If you google knife sharpening, people are all over the place with it and I think they make it seem much more challenging than it really is – people on the internet can be like that. I’ll refer you to this short video (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bAmxc_U2dGs), which demonstrates it quite concisely – if you find the music annoying, just turn off the volume. The important factor is consistency. A consistent 20º angle, consistent pressure, and being consistent on both sides of your knife. You could certainly have it done professionally, but it’s your knife and it’s not difficult. I believe in you. And as you know, a dull knife in the kitchen is far more dangerous than a sharp one. Buy a good quality chef’s knife and take good care of it. Don’t put it in the dishwasher, keep it honed. and it should last your whole life.

And the livin’ is easy!

8Jul2015

GONE FISHIN’

Posted in Garden Update, Summer harvest by jonesamye

Okay, I haven’t really gone fishin’. But I am going on a trip! I’m going to New York for the first time since I left in late 2011 and I’m not quite sure how I feel about it, plus getting out of town can be challenging for me, because I have a garden and a dog. Both are hard to leave behind, but both are in good hands. Plus it’s been pouring for two days, so that helps the garden part.

And then there’s New York. I was so infatuated with New York for so long, and when we finally got together I was happy. Really happy. I was so full of the possibility of us. Our future together. The things we would do. That lasted for a while, but eventually it all became too much – too much drama, too much energy, too much money. I couldn’t remember why we were together anymore and I felt lonely all the time. I had to admit to myself that I wasn’t getting what I needed out of our relationship. I had to cut my losses and let it go, regardless of what I had invested in it. Our break up was drawn out and exhausting and it took its toll on me, but I don’t think New York has thought about me once. And that’s okay. I’m cool with that. I can honestly say I have moved on. I can be grateful for the experience without feeling stupid and used.

Except now I’m returning…

I had that ↑ talk with my dear friend Kenneth and when we realized that it really was like a break up, I could laugh at it, and now I’m just so excited to see my friends that I don’t even need to see New York. I don’t care what it thinks of me. Because we are never ever getting back together.

Oh, and while I’m there I’m also going to see Taylor Swift with my seven-year old niece, five-year old nephew, both of my sisters, my brother-in-law, and one of my very best friends, so how can I not shake it off?!

In the meantime I’ll give you an update of things around the garden and when I get back we can talk about New York and Taylor Swift and the carrot seed tape I recently made, and who know what else?

We are currently harvesting potatoes

and carrots

and green beans

and we’re very close to tomatillos.

I am enraptured by tomatillos. The way those floating lanterns catch the light and glow is entirely mesmerizing. Granted, there hasn’t been a lot of light for them to catch lately, but when they do it’s hypnotizing.

We’re also getting very close to an onslaught of ripe tomatoes.

What we don’t have are cucumbers. After going out every night for a week with my camping headlamp on to intercept slugs, they were finally coming into their own and starting to climb…

…only to be laid low by bacterial wilt. Major bummer. We can talk about that when I get back too.

I started some new seeds and they have already sprouted, so hopefully all is not lost and I’ll get to tell you all about the joys of homemade cornichons a little later in the season.

We also have a mystery guest. I have no idea who this is.

I know it’s a squash of some ilk, but that’s all I’ve got. David found it as a seedling in the onion bed and moved it outside the fence. I thought it was a yellow crookneck originally because that’s what was there last year. Whatever it is it’s growing like gangbusters in all directions.

I don’t know if I should harvest it small, or let it get big, or what! Maybe it’s a cross breed? I’ll try to figure that out when I get home. The wheelbarrow back there is my feeble attempt to barricade deer from the okra. And that neon green thing is a mesh bag of Irish spring for the same reason.

They’ve been helping themselves to my roses too! Those bags of soap remind me of girl scout camp. Good times!

So that’s about that. I hope everyone is having an awesome summer so far!

5Jul2015

HARVESTING GARLIC

Posted in Growing Garlic, Harvesting Garlic by jonesamye

I recently harvested my first crop of softneck garlic. (The hardneck is still out in the garden.)

I expected this to happen in July, but I’d been keeping an eye on it because the leaves were starting to turn brown and I knew that knowing when to harvest garlic was a matter of observation. A reading of the leaves as it were. When more of the leaves are brown than green the time is nigh. This is also the time to cut back on watering, so as to begin the curing process.

We’ve had a lot of rain lately, and I didn’t want them to rot, or plump up and split their skins, so I had been keeping an eye on the weather as well. I waited until we’d had a pretty dry run and then on June 24th, I did a test. I used my trusted hori-hori (Japanese soil knife) and gently loosened the soil around a bulb before pulling it out. I know what garlic looks like, but it was still exciting to pull up a fat head of perfectly formed garlic – it’s funny how easily I’ll take nature’s triumphs as my own.

I carefully pulled up the rest of them, gently brushing off some of the soil. They seem tough, but if they end up being stored for months, I didn’t want any damage to end up as an entry place for rot or disease – I’ll make sure to use any compromised heads first. I spread them out on a soil screen and placed them on bricks in my garage to complete their cure. A shady spot with good air flow is what they need. This should take 3-4 weeks. I’ll turn them every few days and when all the leaves are brown, they’ll be ready to clean and braid.

Garlic couldn’t be easier to plant and it’s a lovely way to end (or start) the gardening year. The last entry in my 2014 garden journal is from November 21st, the day I planted garlic. When everything in your garden is brown and crunchy it’s good for the soul to be planting anything. It closes the circle. Garlic gives you a great return on your investment and is yet one more reason to look forward to spring.

Most sources will tell you that it’s important to start with organic cloves, as those that come from the grocery store come from who knows where and are treated with who knows what (probably a sprout and root inhibitor). I ordered mine from Seed Savers Exchange (http://www.seedsavers.org) in early September. I chose Broadleaf Czech, and Tochliavri both softneck artichoke types, and German Red a large rocambole hardneck. I also picked some up at our farmer’s market and promptly forgot what kind they were. Music? I planted them anyway. A little mystery never hurt anyone. They’re hardneck, I’ve figured that much out.

There are basically two kinds of garlic – hardneck (Allium sativum var. ophioscorodon) and softneck (Allium sativum var. sativum). Sativum means cultivated in Latin.

Hardnecks send up a stiff flower stalk or “scape”, around which are circled a single row of cloves. They have fewer, larger cloves with a more complex, stronger flavor. There are three groups within the ophioscorodons; rocambole, porcelain, and purple stripes. The outer wrapper is looser, so they don’t store as long as softnecks.

Many growers remove the scapes to make sure the garlic channels its energy into making bulbs, not flowers. I haven’t done that yet, and I suppose I should. But I love the scapes! They seem so inquisitive, like a flock of boisterous birds. If you harvest them, or see some at the farmer’s market, they have lots of uses in the kitchen. You can chop them like a scallion and add them to scrambled eggs or stir-fries, you could make pesto with them, or pickle them.

Okay, I did an experiment, I cut off some scapes and left others, we’ll see if it makes a difference, or if I waited too long.

Softnecks don’t really have a stem. What they have is a pliable bundle of strappy leaves which can be braided together decoratively for storing. They are composed of several rows of smaller cloves all wrapped up in a tight outer wrapper. Softnecks store longer and travel better than hardnecks, thus they are the kind we most often encounter in grocery stores. There are two main groups of softnecks; artichoke and silverskin. The most common domestic variety is California silverskin.

Last November I prepared to plant garlic by digging compost and bonemeal into 2014’s fruit bed, knowing it would be this years root bed.

I separated each head into cloves.

And then pushed each one into the soil pointy-end up. I spaced them about 6″ apart.

And voila! Nothing to show for myself. That’s the thing about planting bulbs. Delayed gratification.

I mulched them pretty heavily with pine straw and then went inside for several months.

When spring sprung, so did they.

Here’s Wilson inspecting my work on March 16th.

April 15, 2015
April 23, 2015

May 25, 2015

Garlic is a true wonder food the history of which has been traced back at least 10,000 years to the mountainous regions of Central Asia. And unlike many of our highly manipulated modern foods with ancient antecedents, garlic has not been changed all that much from its wild form and therefore maintains most of its wild nutrients.

Notably, since the fall of the Berlin wall, hundreds of Russian varieties have been introduced which is why we are starting to see so many new cultivars. It’s fascinating how far political change can reach.

Garlic has antioxidant, antibacterial, antiviral, anticlotting, and anticancer properties. From the slaves who built the great pyramids, to ancient Olympian athletes, from Roman armies to French priests during the Black Death of the Middle Ages (English priests, who turned up their noses at it, didn’t fare as well) garlic has been used to improve strength, increase stamina, and for disease resistance. In WWI it was used to treat gunshot wounds and fight infection and during WWII it was dubbed “Russian penicillin”. Those Russians were on to something as common bacteria are one thousand times more likely to become resistant to our modern antibiotics than to garlic.

And while garlic is a good source of manganese, Vitamin B6, Vitamin C, copper, selenium, and phosphorus, what makes it the anti-everything King are its sulfur compounds, the most important of which is Allicin. Interestingly, allicin is not present in whole garlic but is created when garlic is cut or chewed. When this happens a protein fragment called alliin and a heat-sensitive enzyme called alliinase react with each other to form allicin. AND, if you immediately add heat to the equation most of that all-important sulfur compound and the benefits thereof are negated. So if you learn anything from this post, learn what I recently did. Once you slice, chop, or press your garlic, let it sit for ten to fifteen minutes before you heat it. This will allow the maximum amount of allicin to be created and you can reap all those lifesaving benefits.

Vive la Garlic!

26Jun2015

NEPETA FAASSENII ‘WALKER’S LOW’ aka CATMINT

Posted in Catmint, Dead heading, Nepeta, Perennials by jonesamye

Like a movie director working with a particular troupe of actors, garden designers often work with a palate of favorite plants. I know I do. It only makes sense to work with plants that you know and trust. Luckily I have a garden to experiment in, so while I am willing to put up temporarily with the occasional diva or thug in my own workshop, I can do my best not to subject anyone else to any high maintenance actors.

There are exceptions to every rule, but for the most part I appreciate plants that are low-maintenance, subtle in color, have a long bloom time, attract insects, and are drought- and deer-tolerant. “Walker’s Low’ catmint satisfies every one of those criteria.

Nepeta is a flowering perennial from the mint family, Lamiaceae, a large family with cosmopolitan distribution – meaning mints are found just about everywhere. Remember the spring weeds Lamium purpureum and Lamium amplexicaule? Cousins, I suppose. Other familiar plants in the in the mint family include; basil, rosemary, sage, oregano, thyme, lavender, hyssop, bee balm, and salvia. You can usually identify mints by their square stems, their opposite, decussate leaves (a fancy botanical word which means each pair of opposite leaves is at a right angle to the next pair, making an X), and distinctive aroma.

Nepeta x faassenii ‘Walker’s Low’ is a cross between Nepeta racemosa and Nepeta nepetella. It gets its genus name, Nepeta, from an ancient Etruscan city, Nepete. Today the city is known as Nepi. It is located at right about the knee cap of the boot that is Italy and is known for its mineral springs. Its species name faassenii refers to J. H. Faassen, the Dutch nurseryman in whose nursery it was first found and it’s varietal name-Walker’s Low-refers to a Irish garden, not its height. It was named the 2007 Perennial Plant of the year by the Perennial Plant Association.

It has a nice round mounding habit, which I really appreciate.

APRIL 8 APRIL 15 APRIL 23

I find mounding plants very calming. I love plants with fireworks too, but they wouldn’t work as well for me without the contrast of nice round mounds to set them off. Here they make a nice green foundation for the purple alliums to erupt out of.

Those mounds can eventually reach 48″ wide by about 30″ tall. They make a nice, albeit tall, ground cover as well. The foliage is a powdery grey-green, and it’s flowers a subtle periwinkle blue. They smell good too. I especially love them with lamb’s ear, another mint family relative, whose big fuzzy grey-green leaves echo their own smaller ones, although it’s tricky to get the spacing just right so the catmint doesn’t smother the lamb’s ear as has happened in portions of my chorus line.

Nepeta’s common name is catmint. Many catmints, including Nepeta cattaria – what we know as catnip, contain a compound called nepetalactone that has a euphoric effect on cats. Fortunately, Finnegan, the cat I have attracted, does not seem to be attracted to mine. And neither are deer – thank goodness! What is attracted to it is every flying insect around. In full flower they are positively thrumming with bees and butterflies. I’ve even seen hummingbirds taking a sip, or perhaps they’re after the insects… It’s a beautiful thing regardless, even if the cabbage white butterflies who feed on my brassicas are among their company.

‘Walker’s Low’ blooms from May to about mid-June and if you give them a nice shearing right about now,

they will bloom again in late summer. It can be hard to cut back something that so many insects are enjoying, but this is a good time of the year to do it as other plants fill in to provide sustenance for our crucial pollinators.

Plants like Veronicastrum virginicum ‘Fascination’ – talk about fireworks, like a purple candelabra.

Can you see all those bees?!

Another insect favorite is Echinacea purpureum or Eastern purple coneflower, see here with a white variety called ‘White Swan’. Behind them is Caryopteris x clandonensis ‘Dark Knight’, yet another of the family Lamiaceae, just coming into its own fuzzy blue prowess, they love that too.

‘Walker’s Low’ is a sterile hybrid, so they won’t reseed like some other nepeta species. I’m hoping to expand my perennial bed another few feet on the other end and repeating my nepeta moment there. I’ve read that when you need more plants you can cut off a piece of the existing plant and move it to where you want it, filling in the hole left behind with compost. I don’t doubt that would work, as this is a really hardy, highly recommended plant.

11Jun2015

Fava bean and pea crostini

Posted in Appetizers, Cooking from the Garden, Fava bean and pea crostini, recipes by jonesamye

I don’t know when it started, but in the past few years, my good friend Jennifer has become obsessed with horse racing. Her unbridled enthusiasm has gotten our entire group of friends interested as well. Such is the beauty of a well-tended obsession. She recently had a Belmont-watching party, and I must say, watching American Pharoah win the Triple Crown – the first horse to do so in 37 years – was surprisingly emotional and stupendously thrilling.

I wanted to take an appetizer capitalizing on what was ready to harvest in my garden and an adaptation of Jaime Oliver’s “Incredible smashed peas and fava beans on toast” was just the thing. I love Jaime Oliver. He’s so enthusiastic and accessible. Not to mention adorable. I love all his cookbooks, but I especially love Jaime at Home. It’s seasonally based around his amazing kitchen garden and is full of beautiful photos and growing information. There’s a show too. It’s like the cookbook come to life. I can’t get enough.

I bought a baguette, some lemons, and some parmesan. And while I was at the farmer’s market, I picked up some gorgeous fromage blanc from White River Creamery (http://www.whiterivercreamery.com).

Then I harvested peas and fava beans.

I would be lost without those little scissors. I use them to harvest almost everything. Favas, peas, beans, peppers, tomatoes, herbs. There are few things more frustrating than ripping off an entire stem when you only meant to get a pepper. Plus a clean cut is important because it leaves less of an entrance for diseases to enter. I also just like scissors in general. I find them the perfect embodiment of form and function. I think these babies are particularly attractive. Photogenic too. I picked them up at Pearl River Mart in New York (http://www.pearlriver.com) with no idea they would serve such a purpose in my life. I also like this basket for harvesting. When it’s cooler I use a big stainless steel bowl, but once it starts to get hot, they heat up so quickly that they’re no friend to tender legumes and leaves.

Watch your back. This guy is notorious.

I also harvested some radishes and mint.

There’s always an opportunity for a moment of zen when you’re shelling legumes. So even though time was ticking to make it to the party, and I was documenting, I tried to take it.

Once your beans and peas are shucked, put some of the raw peas, a few mint leaves, and some salt in a mortar and pestle.

And, as Jaime would say, bash ’em up!

I must admit, I don’t have the right mortar and pestle. I tried both of mine. And while I love them both as objects, what I really need is one of those molcajetes that they make quacamole in. Something with a little more grit. It all worked out eventually, but I did break a sweat.

When you get a nice mash working, start to add your fava beans. Jaime used his raw, but I blanched and peeled mine. Once everything is good and pulverized, add some olive oil to make it creamy, plus some parmesan to ground all that freshness. And then kick it into gear with some lemon juice. Keep tasting until you have the perfect balance of bright creamy salty freshness.

Now you may not have fava beans hanging out in your garden waiting for you to fulfill their destiny, but this next bit is a keeper. Crostini. “Little toasts.” They are a cinch to make and are the perfect vector for truly endless numbers of toppings. Slice a baguette thinly, brush with olive oil (a little brush for olive oil is a really handy tool to have around), sprinkle with salt and pepper, and pop in a 350º oven for 15-20 mins. Voila! They only challenging part is getting them golden brown without burning them. I was feeling fancy, so I smashed a garlic clove and gently rubbed it on mine. I broke a couple, so I had to be extra gentle. But then I had testers.

I made a little salad with julienned radishes, pea shoots, lemon juice, olive oil, and salt.

Then, to assemble, I spread a little fromage blanc on each crostini, put some of my lovely green mash on, and topped them with the radish salad.

I needed something for the middle of the plate, so I tossed arugula, pea shoots, a bit of mint, and some fava bean shoots with olive oil and lemon juice, tossed on the few remaining radishes, grated some parmesan and lemon zest on top, grabbed a bottle of wine out of the fridge and raced to Jennifer’s. Luckily she lives about two minutes away, so I just took the platters as they were.

Thanks for the party Jennifer! And Congratulations American Pharoah!!!!!!!

1Jun2015

CAULIFLOWER

Posted in Cauliflower, Cooking from the Garden, Growing cauliflower by jonesamye

I am writing about growing cauliflower successfully today, because this might be the only chance I get!

This refined variation of Brassica oleracea (var. botrytris) is notoriously hard to grow because of its strict requirements for consistently cool moist weather and because as a member of the brassica family it is manna for every bug that plagues a garden. Okay, maybe not every bug, but some really determined ones.

Spring this year in Fayetteville has been exceptionally cool and while it’s not quite true, it feels like it has rained every day for weeks. In fact, it’s raining right now! I can’t remember a spring like this. If this is what it takes to grow cauliflower successfully I’d better take note.

To give you an idea the hurricane vase in the picture above is all rainwater. It’s even more full now.

You might be surprised to learn that cauliflower, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, collard greens, kale, kohlrabi, and heading cabbages are all variations on the same plant – Brassica oleracea – a weedy biennial that originated in Europe and Northern Africa. Each cultivar was developed by emphasizing a different part of the plant. Kale and collards emphasize the leaves. In cabbages, the terminal bud was exploited. With Brussels sprouts, it’s the axillary, or lateral buds that were tweaked. And with cauliflower and her kin broccoli, it’s the flowers, or inflorescences that early breeders concentrated on. That head of cauliflower is actually a mass of flower buds stopped in development before bloom.

Like its fellow members of the brassica family, cauliflower is incredibly good for you. It’s high in Vitamin C, Vitamin K, and fiber- which is important as it binds with cholesterol to sweep extra fat out of the body. It also contains protein, thiamin, riboflavin, niacin, magnesium, phosphorus, folate, potassium and manganese. It’s a good source of choline which plays important roles in brain development and memory, including protection from age-related memory decline (note to self: remember to eat more cauliflower). Additionally, sulfur compounds in cauliflower have been shown to kill cancer stem cells, improve blood pressure, and maintain healthy kidney function. They are full of antioxidants, phytonutrients, and glucosinolates – which keep the immune system from over-reacting. When our immune systems get too wound up too often it can result in chronic inflammation that’s linked to heart disease and cancer.

They are also really versatile in the kitchen. Raw, they’re an elegant crudite, or – I can’t wait to try this – finely ground in a food-processor they become a kind of rice or couscous which can be eaten raw in a tabouli-like salad, cooked with broth risotto-style, or frozen until you think of the perfect application (http://www.thekitchn.com/how-to-make-cauliflower-rice-couscous-cooking-lessons-from-the-kitchn-203344). They lend themselves beautifully to roasting, stir-frying, and pickling. They also add low-calorie, nutrient-rich, creaminess to purèes and soups.

My first attempt to grow cauliflower was last year (2014). I started ‘Giant of Naples’ seeds indoors on March 3rd.

On March 31st, I began hardening them off outdoors.

And on April 10th I planted them out in the garden.

Only then did I order a floating row cover from Johnny’s Seeds. (http://www.johnnyseeds.com)

When it arrived I covered them up to protect them from marauding insects.

To no avail. Daily, I diligently lifted the veil and picked off the green catepillars (Pieris rapae) that are remarkably the exact same color as the cauliflower leaves. I had lots of gorgeous leaves for them to eat.

But absolutely no cauliflower. Not a curd. In fact the only glimpse of white I had was the fluttering cabbage moths who were laying the eggs that were becoming the worms that I was picking off. Very discouraging. In the windy picture above, the flower pot on the left side contains gaura ‘whirling butterflies’ – a perennial that I love. I had read somewhere that the moths were territorial and would think that space was already occupied by fluttering cabbage moths. No such luck.

Ultimately, my June 27th journal entry reads “I need to get the leaf bed cleaned out and just admit that cauliflower and broccoli was a bust. Will I try again? Probably.”

And…scene.

This year I entirely neglected to start cauliflower and broccoli seeds at all, but while I was buying my onion seedlings, I impulsively picked up an 8-pack of cauliflower seedlings labelled ‘Snow Queen’. (Although, I’ve found very little information about this variety online, and quite a lot that rings true about ‘Snow Crown’…) Regardless, nothing ventured…

I planted those out on March 17th and oh so proudly harvested five heads on Thursday, May 28th! In between, it rained and rained and rained some more. We built a PVC frame, but I never put on my floating row cover. And at some point – a little too late – I blanched them by tying the leaves up around the heads to keep them white.

The perfect cauliflower is a thing to behold, tight creamy white curds cradled in sturdy, elegant, leaves that seem to turn more blue as they age. Such refinement. They became very popular in France during King Louis XV’s reign as they were a favorite of his mistress, Jeanne Beçu Comtesse Du Barry. Like Parmentier and his potatoes, cauliflower is forever entangeled with the Comtess Du Barry, so if you see crème Du Barry on a menu, know you’re looking at cauliflower soup – and don’t lose your head.

White cauliflowers are typical, but they also come in creamy orange, chartreuse, and a purple that doesn’t even look real. Check out this gorgeous spread from our farmer’s market. Those crazy green fractal ones are romanesco. My next challenge.

Here’s my crew. Perhaps not the finest specimens in all the land, but my mother’s love is blind. And while I know most of my success was Mother Nature’s, I’m still pretty pleased. Time will tell if I ever do it again.

I should have harvested them sooner, and not all at once. Ideally, you want tight, white, curds as the flower heads are called. They should be 6-8″. A couple of mine are larger and coarser than ideal and are tinged in purple. Purple heads are a result of sunlight activating anthocyanins which are pigments that occur in the tissues of all higher plants. They are what create the purple and red hues we see in autumn leaves.

But we ate them nonetheless!

Roasted cauliflower is a revelation. Olive oil and salt is all you really need. That and a 450º oven with a little tossing about now and again. Depending on the size of your florets they should be ready in about 30 minutes. Beyond that, they lend themselves to your endless culinary creativity. Fresh lemon juice and herbs? A creamy cheese sauce? A little fishy brine in the form of anchovy or fish sauce, and maybe some capers? You could go Asian with garlic and ginger. Or Indian aloo-gobi style with potatoes, peas, curry and turmeric. Mustard, parsley, mint, or dill all work nicely. Beans, polenta, or pasta will make it more substantial. And pork, pork always works.

I had friends over for what I dubbed Cauli-palooza! ™ We had Cajun-spiced roasted cauliflower to start, a homegrown arugula salad with the first of the season roasted beets and goat cheese to break things up, and then seared sea scallops on creamy cauliflower puree with roasted cauliflower steaks, braised greens, and an oyster mushroom piccata sauce. Good stuff. And great company, but only passable photos.

An aside. When I worked at Elettaria in Manhattan, our strange and brilliant wine-guy, John, had this wine-education kit. Le Nez de Vin. It was from a company called Wine Aromas (http://www.winearomas.com). They provide educational tools that develop your sense of smell and enhance your enjoyment of wine. The kit we had was Les Defaults. The defaults. It contained twelve little vials. These were full of molecules directly linked to the twelve most common faults in wine. We all sat around and smelled these little vials and talked about wine. Pretty cool. Until we got to number nine. Number nine was cauliflower. The second I smelled it, I gagged. It made me angry. Like when someone accidentally hurts you and your first instinct is to hit them back. It was awful. Worse than vegetal, rotten apple, vinegar, glue, soap, sulfur, rotten egg, onion, horse, moldy earth, or cork. I held that against cauliflower for a while. But we’re really good now.

In cauliflower’s defense, the stench results when those, oh so good for you, sulfur compounds are released. That’s why it’s not a great idea to boil cauliflower for very long. Maybe a quick blanch before another method. Because, not only does overcooked cauliflower smell bad, it becomes less good for you. And there are so many healthier, less smelly ways to do it.

On the tails of my success, I’m going to try growing some more for fall. Based on an October 20th first frost date, Clyde is advising me to start seeds inside on June 21st, plant them out by July 26th, to begin harvesting in October. I’m skeptical. Summer is so hot. I don’t see how they could stand it. But I have some seeds for ‘Amazing’ cauliflower from John Scheepers, about which his catalog reads,

“Aptly named for its unique attributes, it is amazingly adaptable throughout the U.S. Both high-heat and freezing-cold tolerant, Amazing has uniform, bright-white, deep dome, 10” heads that are…self-wrapping! Hooray! Its productive sturdy plants have large, dense curds with tight florets just bursting with flavor. (OP.)”

Nothing ventured…

22May2015

KINDRED SPIRITS

Posted in Fellow Gardeners, Green Smoothies, Potato Boxes, Spring Gardening by jonesamye

One of the best thing about being a gardener, besides a daily invitation to participate in the miracle that is life, is getting to visit with and learn from other gardeners. So many vegetable gardens are tucked away in backyards behind fences, but since my garden is in my front yard, I get to visit with a lot of my fellow gardeners. It’s made me much more invested in my neighbors and my neighborhood, not to mention my garden. And I learn something from every encounter. I find gardeners as a group to be a generous, smart, and humble people who can laugh at themselves as a small part of a grander story. Gardening can be as rewarding as it gets, but there are endless challenges too. From weather to worms, we’re all in this together. Sharing war stories and strategies makes the whole experience that much richer.

My neighbors Sam and Sue have an enviable garden a couple of houses away from mine and I finally got over there to take a tour of this year’s progress. They are very innovative gardeners and I always come away inspired. For instance, after many years of experience, Sam has built the ultimate tomato cages. They are bamboo fortresses. I can’t wait to see the monsters he grows in these!

They grow several local varieties of tomatoes that I am excited to try. We’re going to have a neighborhood tasting later this summer. I’ll let you know the results.

This year Sam also built some beautiful potato boxes. (And that’s Sue’s tulle cover over the bed behind. Such a good idea and one I am borrowing. I never put my floating row cover on this year because I didn’t want to miss out on the action. With tulle, rain can get through, but bugs can’t, and you can watch the progress. Brilliant.)

I was so inspired by Sam’s potato boxes that I built my own. Mine are nowhere as lovely as Sam’s, but they are doing the job. I built them in situ because the potatoes were already planted and it seemed like the easiest way to do it. I had planned to just pile up pine straw around the potatoes, but ultimately I’m pleased to have a container. I hammered in 2″ x 2″ stakes and then measured scrap lumber to fit, cut it, and screwed it to the stakes. Because I hoard old lumber (among other things), I was able to build them without a trip to the lumber yard, although because I built them in place I was really grateful for my yoga practice. Contorting your body with an electric screwdriver while trying not to step on the fava beans was definitely challenging, but I did it! When I’m done I’ll take them apart again and hopefully the lumber will lend itself to another use.

Once I got them built I filled them with layers of pine straw and compost. I am lucky to have a loblolly pine tree in my yard because pine straw makes really good mulch. I was initially worried about its acidity, but at pH 6.2 – 6.7 it’s ideal for most plants, and it breaks down so slowly that it wouldn’t be a problem anyway. Plus it’s easy to remove when you’re done with it and it doesn’t take your valuable soil with it. And unlike other mulches, it’s highly sustainable, it just happens. Attractive, available, and stable – sounds like a potential date!

When my tree sheds its needles in the fall, I rake them up to store in old burlap coffee sacks (something else I hoard). But I had already used up last fall’s stash.

Fortunately, a good friend of mine has a family pine straw farm (http://www.pinestrawfarm.com), and he was kind enough to drop off a couple of nice looking bales to tide me over. Thanks Sparrow!

The Yellow Finn potatoes are blooming now which means they are starting to make potatoes!

In a couple of weeks I’ll get to start treasure hunting!

In other news around the garden during this wet cool spring…

Peas are just starting to produce their pods. I went ahead and harvested a few because I couldn’t wait. They weren’t quite ready but I ate them anyway. And I’ve been adding the shoots to salads. Any day now…

The sugar snap peas are getting nice and tall and have beautiful flowers, some of which are pink, but no peas yet. We’re still debating whether to give them something more to climb on. They seem pretty strong and stable on their own so far.

And there are baby fava beans!

My salads are going to start getting much more company!

Gardening teaches you so much about yourself. I have been surprised and not a little ashamed to discover that I am a bit of a vegetable hoarder. Now that I have made this discovery, I’m better able to understand what’s behind it. Partly I’m still trying to figure out how much of everything to grow and who to give the excess to. But it’s also that when everything looks so pretty and lush and so many shades of green, I want to look at it, not harvest it. Yet whether I like it or not, my garden is constantly teaching me the profound truth of Use It or Lose It– to the bugs and the bolting and the ravages of time. These days I make a concerted effort be where I am and eat what I’ve got, to take a salad to every get together I attend, to eat at least one a day myself, and to push lettuce on anyone who walks by and I still can’t keep up! It’s truly amazing how much food a 4 x 8′ bed can produce.

Luckily, another great gardening neighbor turned me onto green smoothies. Teresa is one of those naturally beautiful people who just glows, I don’t know if it’s the smoothies, or genetic good fortune, but I was all in. She also has a wonderfully exuberant garden in her front yard full of flowers and vegetables. I try to walk by it often with Wilson to see what’s happening, there is always so much to learn from other people’s gardens!

For a smoothie, she puts greens and water in the blender, lets that liquify, and then adds fruit and whatever else sounds interesting. The internet abounds with ideas. I put some wheat germ and avocado in with a frozen banana and a bunch of mixed greens (arugula, kale, chard, broccoli rabe, lettuce, parsley) and it was really good. Plus I felt so virtuous and healthy and clean. And if you harvest and wash a bunch of greens at one go, you’re ready to make them for a couple of days. Spa living at home!

And one more way to eat what you’ve got.

11May2015

BROCCOLI RABE

Posted in Broccoli Rabe, Cooking from the Garden, recipes by jonesamye

I love vegetables in general, but for whatever reason, I love Broccoli Rabe the best. Something about that bitter turnipy bite is like a tonic to me. It flavor has a wild spiciness about it that I crave. And I always feel virtuous and powerful when I eat my greens. It’s Italianness helps too. Italians just seem to know how to enjoy life. And how to eat. I like to align myself with those qualities. My favorite dish, my last meal, would have to be the Southern Italian classic orechiette with sausage and broccoli raab. I can’t really explain it. It’s just the dish that hits all my notes. Spicy, bitter, sausage, greens, pasta, parmesan. I don’t even know how I came across it in the first place. I know my friend (and ex-boyfriend), the famous Matthew Posey, used to think it was called “Barclay Rob”, which still makes me laugh, so I know it’s been at least ten years. And I know my dear friend Laura and I enjoyed it together while I was living on Hoboken, one of the moons of Italy. But that first experience is lost to me.

Broccoli rabe (Brassica rapa subspecies rapa), is believed to have originated in China as well as the Mediterranean. It is known by many names. Some of its other aliases include rapini, broccoli raab, rapi, cime, friariélli, broccoletti, and cimi di rapa (which translates to “turnip tops”). It is in the Brassicaceae or mustard family. It is a leafy green vegetable that forms buds that resemble broccoli, but unlike broccoli the buds don’t become heads. It is actually more closely related to the turnip, which I think you can taste. Bitterness is its signature and it’s popular in Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and Asian cuisines.

And incidentally, it’s incredibly good for you.

Its loaded with Vitamin K-which gets it’s name from the German word for blood clotting (kloagulation), who knew? Vitamin K is believed to reduce the risk of atherosclerosis by directing dietary calcium into bones and thus preventing its build-up in the arteries. That also makes Vitamin K crucial for bone health, which is increasingly important as we age.

Broccoli rabe is also a great source of Vitamins A and C, as well as fiber, calcium, folate, iron and manganese. It turns out that bitter foods promote digestion by hitting receptors in your tongue that stimulate the stomach to produce gastric acid. And the better your food is digested, the more nutrition you derive from it. We Americans don’t eat a lot of bitter food. We lean more towards salty and sweet. But once again, diversity is key. Chinese medicine treats liver ailments with bitter herbs and foods. And since the liver plays important roles in circulation, excretion, metabolism, detoxification, and the regulation of hormones it behooves us to keep it healthy.

So eat broccoli rabe, it will make you feel great!

Broccoli rabe can be hard to find in Fayetteville, Arkansas, (which might be another reason I like it, anytime I get to eat it is a special occasion) but it’s not hard to grow your own. Plus, it’s an early and fast crop and the sooner I can be eating from my garden, the happier I am. Supposedly, you can even plant them late in the season, after a hard freeze. The seeds will wait out the winter and you’ll get an early crop the following spring. I’ll definitely be trying that this winter.

This year I grew two kinds, Spring Raab, whose seeds I got from from High Mowing Organic Seeds (http://www.highmowingseeds.com) and Quarantina Cimi di Rapa from Seeds from Italy (http://www.growitalian.com). The name quarantina signifies that it’s ready in forty days. I sowed a row of each on March 21st and was eating them both by the end of April. The seeds are typical of the mustard family – small, dark, and perfectly round. They need only be pressed into the surface of the soil and watered in well. Once they sprout you can thin them out and eat the thinnings as micro-greens.

In the photo above it’s the last two rows, those at the very top of the photo. This was taken on April 15th.

There are two rows in the photo above, the one on the left is Spring Broccoli Raab, the other is Quarantina. I’ve found that Spring has larger leaves and is much slower to make buds, in fact as of now, it still hasn’t. But the leaves are big and delicious. Quarantina was slower to come along, but it makes buds much sooner. This is good, because the buds are tasty, but you have to be quick, because once they’ve formed buds they bolt or make flowers really quickly. Go ahead and eat those too! I bet they’d be great tempura style. If I had to choose, I’d probably go with Spring, at least for spring. Perhaps Quarantina will come into her own during a fall planting.

They haven’t been too bothered by insects, but they are right next to that bug-magnet cauliflower, so we’ll see how they fare. I shoulda/coulda/woulda put my floating row cover on a month ago, but I was too enamored with being able to see everything grow. My neighbors use lightweight tulle on their leaf crops, you can see through it which is really nice. I’m going to look into a supply of my own…

One of the simplest and best ways to enjoy Broccoli Rabe is simply sauteed with garlic. Some recipes suggest blanching it before cooking, to curb the bitterness. I’ve never felt the need to do this, but maybe I’ll give it a try. It’s bitter flavor also works well with anchovies, oil cured black olives, walnuts, potatoes, white beans, mozzeralla, sun-dried tomatoes, or a fried egg, to name a few. It’s also a great pizza topping.

The classic broccoli rabe dish would have to be with orechiette pasta and sausage.

Orechiette, which means “little ears” is a small, round, flattened pasta from Apulia, Italy, the heel of the boot. It’s one of my favorites. The bite-sized pasta neatly captures ingredients like a pea or a morsel of sausage. (It’s hard to take a good photo period, but taking a good photo of sausage is for the real pros.)

Orechiette with Sausage and Broccoli Rabe

Servings: 1
Time: 30 minutes
Difficulty: easy
Print

1 cup orechiette pasta

2-3 cloves garlic, thinly sliced

1-2 red serrano peppers, minced, or you could use red pepper flakes, or skip it all together

1 link Italian sausage (I like it spicy, but sweet is good too, and a nice complement to the rabe’s bitterness)

2 big handfuls of broccoli rabe, chopped (stems separated and chopped)

Parmesan cheese

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

Optional toppings: fresh lemon juice, toasted bread crumbs

Start a saucepan of water for your pasta. I use a cup of pasta per person.

Heat a splash of olive oil in a cast-iron skillet over low heat. Add the sliced garlic and chopped pepper and sauté until the garlic turns a nice golden color. (I sometimes throw in an anchovy here too, but I’m crazy like that.) Squeeze the sausage out of its casing into the skillet and use a wooden spoon to break it up into smaller pieces.

When almost all the pink is gone from the sausage add the broccoli rabe stems. Give them a couple of minutes head start and then add the chopped rabe leaves. You might need to do this in a couple of batches. Sprinkle with salt and several grindings of fresh pepper. When you add the leaves to the skillet, add the pasta and a teaspoon or two of salt to the now boiling water.

Continue to sauté the broccoli rabe until it is wilted to your liking. If this happens before your pasta is ready, turn off the heat and let sit until the pasta is ready. When the pasta is cooked the way you like it, pour off a half a cup or so of the pasta water and set aside before draining the pasta.

Place the pasta back in the saucepan, add the broccoli rabe and sausage mixture, some of the reserved pasta water, and a bit of grated parmesan. Stir until it’s moist and integrated, adding more pasta water if necessary.

Serve immediately with parmesan, black pepper, and a drizzle of olive oil. And maybe a squeeze of lemon to kick it into gear. Or some toasted bread crumbs.

For a vegetarian option, I’ll substitute oil-cured black olives for the sausage.

Buon Appetito!

The Cultivator

Can you dig it? I knew that you could.