Is Recession Preparing a New Breed of Survivalist? [Survival Today

Yahoo ran an interesting article this morning indicating a rise in the number of survivalist communities cropping up around the country. I have been wondering myself how much of the recent energy crisis is causing people to do things like stockpile food and water, grow their own vegetables, etc. Could it be that there are many people out there stockpiling and their increased buying has caused food prices to increase? It’s an interesting theory, but I believe increased food prices have more to do with rising fuel prices as cost-to-market costs have increased and grocers are simply passing those increases along to the consumer. A recent stroll through the camping section of Wal-Mart did give me pause - what kinds of things are prudent to have on hand in the event of a worldwide shortage of food and/or fuel? Survivalist in Training

I’ve been interested in survival stories since I was a kid, which is funny considering I grew up in a city. Maybe that’s why the idea of living off the land appealed to me. My grandfather and I frequently took camping trips along the Blue Ridge Parkway and around the Smoky Mountains. Looking back, some of the best times we had were when we stayed at campgrounds without electricity hookups, because it forced us to use what we had to get by. My grandfather was well-prepared with a camp stove and lanterns (which ran off propane), and when the sun went to bed we usually did along with it. We played cards for entertainment, and in the absence of televisions, games, etc. we shared many great conversations. Survivalist in the Neighborhood

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Create a Food System for Your Small Space

Posted By dpacheco On February 8, 2009 @ 6:46 am In Garden & Agriculture | No Comments

The following is an excerpt from [1] Fresh Food from Small Spaces: The Square-Inch Gardener’s Guide to Year-Round Growing, Fermenting, and Sprouting by [2] R. J. Ruppenthal. It has been adapted for the Web.

If you’re reading these words, chances are you that you live in a city and don’t have a lot of space. You have a small home with an even smaller backyard, a townhouse with a patio, or an apartment with nothing more than a sunny window. Regardless of what kind of space you have available, though—a rooftop, balcony, staircase, garage, storage space, windowsill, or countertop—you can probably utilize it for food growing. We may be limited by the amount of free space we have, but not by our imaginations. This book is about imagining what’s possible, about putting those ideas into action, and about producing good, fresh food for yourself and your family, even from tight spaces.

No one can ever be entirely self-sufficient in the city. But in most urban spaces, with enough creativity and dedication, you can grow a sizeable portion of the food your family needs. You may even decide to specialize in one crop, such as chicken eggs, mushrooms, or carrots, leaving you with more than enough to fill your family’s requirements for that food and still have enough left over to sell or trade for other things you need. By reading this book, you will learn some ideas and strategies for making productive use of your available space. You will learn what equipment and resources you need to get started. And you will receive my encouragement along the way, because it’s important to me that more people start reconnecting with their food sources. Think of this as an enjoyable “mini-course” in urban food production.

As you learn more about the possibilities, think about which spaces you can use for your food production. If you have space outdoors and want to start a small garden in the ground or in containers, then the most important considerations will be light and warmth. Most gardening experts will tell you not to even think about vegetable growing if you get less than 6 to 8 hours per day of
direct sunlight, but in fact you can raise many types of vegetables on much less light than this. It is true that to grow fruiting vegetables such as tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, cucumbers, eggplant, squash, or berries, your space needs to receive at least 4 to 5 hours of strong, direct sunlight per day (preferably more), plus some reflected light and residual warmth. If your light conditions are no better than this minimum, then I would recommend starting with smaller fruiting vegetables such as cherry tomatoes, which need less light energy to ripen than the larger varieties. The same goes for peppers: If you’re right on the edge of not having enough light and your summers are warm, you might be able to coax a few banana peppers or chili peppers to ripen, but probably not the larger bell peppers. Bright, warm, south-facing walls can add some reflective light, and a porch or patio light with a compact fluorescent bulb will help too. If your outdoor growing space is light poor, then look to legumes, root vegetables, and leafy greens. Bush beans and peas can handle partial shade, as can carrots, beets, and other root vegetables. Leafy vegetables such as spinach, chard, rhubarb, broccoli, cabbage, and kale can produce even in a shady spot that has some reflected light. Potatoes, herbs, onions, and garlic can function in partial shade also, but they are much more productive with more sunlight. Consider trying a variety of veggies at first to see what works on your site; you may be disappointed by some, but pleasantly rewarded by others.

You also can use outdoor space for growing mushrooms or for a chicken coop or bee colony, giving you a sustainable supply of fresh eggs or honey. Chickens can live in a coop or hutch on a minimal amount of space, whether it be on a lawn, porch, patio, or mounted on the side of a wall. Their manure can fertilize your garden too. Chickens are useful primarily for egg laying, and their eggs are a renewable resource that provides balanced protein and good nutrition. A beehive can take up even less horizontal space than a chicken coop, does not need sunlight, and takes less work than owning a dog. Raising a colony of bees in a medium-sized hive can provide you with 100 to 150 pounds (two or three big buckets) of your own honey each season.10 If you can’t eat it all, remember that local honey is expensive; you can either sell it or trade it (along with extra beeswax) for something else you need.

Indoor space can be used for gardening too if there’s a sunny spot on a windowsill or in a room: container vegetables, herbs, and small fruit trees are all possibilities here. The more vexing question is how to use shadier spaces such as extra rooms, closets and cabinets, garages, storage areas, unused bathtubs, and kitchen counters. Perhaps you never thought of these as growing areas, but where there’s space, there’s growing potential! I have a very vertical sprouting operation on top of my refrigerator that produces 2 to 3 pounds of sprouts per week for eating and wheatgrass for juicing. You could also raise gourmet mushrooms or brew ginger beer, wine, or kefir in that space. Start a worm bin on a balcony or in a garage for composting organic wastes or for fishing bait sales. There are many possibilities for using even shady urban spaces in a productive way.

If horizontal space is limited, don’t be afraid to think vertically: I have seen chicken cages mounted on vertical walls outside a person’s home, and many small gardeners successfully grow strawberries or tomatoes from baskets that hang from an eave or rafter. A dwarf fruit tree or berry bush can make the best use of a dusty patch of ground or large container, giving you a vertical harvest without using much horizontal space. We will cover a number of strategies to make the best use of available space and light. Think about what you might want to try in your space and then read the chapter on it. Each chapter gives you some idea of the needed facilities and helps you understand how to succeed. I’ve also included more information on additional resources in each chapter if you decide to actively pursue a particular strategy in greater depth. Since lack of light is the most common limiting factor in city gardening, consider the following brief overview of possibilities, each of which we will cover at greater length in the coming chapters.
Full Sunlight

This is the easy one: Here you can grow anything you can fit, including fruits, berries, and vegetables of all kinds. Your main limitations are likely to be climate and space, but thankfully you do not have to worry about a lack of light.
Low Light

Leafy green vegetables, bush beans and peas, and perhaps root vegetables may grow very well in partial shade. If you have at least some direct sun each day, you can try smaller fruiting vegetables, such as cherry tomatoes and banana peppers. You can also try berries if you have the space. In the chapter on fruit and berries, you will find an explanation of several types that may grow well in partial shade. You could also place a chicken coop or beehive here if the space is right.
Shade

Mushrooms do well in shade, and chicken coops, beehives, and worm bins can handle it also. If the space is indoors, you can use shady areas for raising mushrooms, growing sprouts, or as a place for your chosen fermentation, be it for yogurt, kefir, sauerkraut, kimchi, ginger beer, or other fermented foods.

Article printed from Chelsea Green: www.chelseagreen.com

URL to article: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/?p=1947

URLs in this post:
[1]

Urban Apiculture: Raise Bees in Your Apartment

Posted By dpacheco On February 2, 2009 @ 4:56 pm In Garden & Agriculture | 3 Comments

I am not a beekeeper. I have known beekeepers. I have watched them look after their bees and have been fortunate that some have shared their knowledge and honey with me. Each time I have tasted raw, local honey, I have wished that I had my own colony of bees. But I guess everything takes time and we need to pick our paths. For now I have my hands full with many of the other pursuits mentioned in this book, not to mention a family and a full-time professional life. But I do hope to try raising my own bees someday, and I hope you will consider it also.

Since I am not an expert, my information comes from books and from others who have raised bees and told me about it. And there are a number of reasons that we should all consider raising bees, which reportedly take less work than other animals you could keep. They also do the world a lot of good by pollinating our plants and trees. And of course they produce delicious honey, which is a valued commodity that you can eat, share, and sell if need be.

Your first step in considering whether to raise bees should be to examine local ordinances and make sure there are no restrictions on keeping bees in your county, city, neighborhood, or building. Bees can be loud and they can sting, so you’ll also need to make sure that no one in your family, nor the immediate neighborhood, has allergies to bee stings. Offering to share some honey the first year with neighbors might mitigate adverse reactions to the idea of your keeping bees.

Bees have a place in the city. Wherever there are flowering plants and trees, we need bees to pollinate them, and the urban [3] green roof movement is accelerating this demand. Chicago, which has been a leader in retrofitting many downtown buildings with green roofs, has a City Hall building with both a green roof and an apiary of bees on top. The roofs of the famous old opera building in Paris and posh Fortnum & Mason in London’s busy Piccadilly Square are two more examples of famous urban buildings that play host to colonies of bees. In addition to their pollination services, bees provide honey as a nice byproduct, and this is the reason many become beekeepers.

If you have an outside area that is bordered by a hedge or fence, then this could be a perfect place for a hive, shielding the bees from neighbors’ view. In addition, such a barrier can force bees to fly higher on take-off, minimizing the dangers of human interaction. Beehives do not need to be in full sunlight, and even in cold temperatures, bees work to seal off the hive from wind and they cluster in the center of the structure where their combined body heat can keep the colony going through a cold winter. According to Backyard Beekeeper author Kim Flottum, keeping bees takes more work over the course of a season than keeping a cat, but less work than keeping a dog. That may be an underestimation with the more recent disease problems that have resulted in a honeybee die-off in many regions, but with adequate research and preparation, you can become a successful urban beekeeper even on a small scale.

Keeping bees is a commitment, just like keeping pets. Before taking on such a responsibility, you would be wise to talk to some local beekeepers in your area and perhaps see if you can spend a day with one of them and his/her hives. There are a number of state and local associations across the United States and around the world. The [4] San Francisco Beekeepers Association offers an introductory beekeeping class for both members and nonmembers; for those who do not have space for their own hives, the association also can host your hive for a small fee. The [5] Vermont Beekeepers Association also provides workshops for novices, as well as a mentoring program with experienced beekeepers. A former president, Ross Conrad, wrote the book [6] Natural Beekeeping: Organic Approaches to Modern Apiculture. The [7] Texas Beekeepers’ Association has an extensive network of local affiliates that hold regular meetings and provide support to novices. The [8] Toronto District Beekeepers Association offers prospective beekeepers an opportunity to meet with experienced beekeepers and discuss the craft. (They also hold a honey-tasting competition.) Try searching on the Internet or checking with your local Cooperative Extension agent to see if there is an active beekeeping club in your area that could give you some advice on starting up.

Beginning beekeeping kits, which generally include two hives with eight frames as well as the basic equipment you need to get started, cost in the neighborhood of $215 at [9] Betterbee. [10] Dadant Beekeeping and [11] Golden Bee sell basic kits beginning around $150. If you decide to start with a kit, make sure that it is made of durable materials and that it can accommodate expansion with more frames and hives in the future. And before buying anything, I would advise approaching your local association or a neighborhood beekeeper for some advice on how to get started.

Another reason to start local is that you will, at some point, need some bees. And while you can mail order them, bees do not transport all that well. They can die or get stressed in transit, plus you may not know whether a particular variety is well suited to your region. Getting locally proven and healthy bees from someone in your area, if at all possible, is the way to go. If these are not available or if you need to re-queen, then order from a reputable mail-order source; your local beekeeping group should be able to recommend some. And before getting any bees, it is instructive to take a class or read a beginners’ beekeeping guide such as one of the books mentioned above, that can teach you about the different types of available honeybees and their attributes, advantages, and disadvantages. These include their tendency to swarm or defend the hive as well as their winter cold-hardiness and their proneness or resistance to certain diseases.

Speaking of diseases, the onset of colony collapse disorder (CCD) in many regions of Europe and North America has deservedly received some media attention in the last few years. CCD is a term coined to describe the sudden disappearance of worker bees from a colony, which causes it to collapse suddenly. For reasons that are not entirely understood, more than two-thirds of the managed bee population in North America has died off in the course of the last few seasons following similar reports in Europe. This follows a dramatic decline in our wild honeybee population, which has been a trend for some time. Since at least 30 percent of our world’s fruit and vegetable crops need bee pollination, CCD is an extremely serious issue for humans as well as a cautionary flag for would-be beekeepers. Scientists do not fully understand whether CCD has resulted from pathogens, tracheal or varroa mites, pesticide use, climate change, or other factors. Since bees pick up whatever is out there in our environment, even the small-scale hobbyist beekeeper needs to be proactively prepared to combat mite infestations and disease problems. You owe it to yourself, as well as your future colony of bees, to research your responsibilities fully before taking them on. That being said, there is so much to be gained from beekeeping, and your bees provide such a service to the world around you, that I hope you do strongly consider this noble pursuit.

Article printed from Chelsea Green: www.chelseagreen.com

URL to article: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/?p=1927

URLs in this post:
[1] Fresh Food from Small Spaces: The Square-Inch Gardener’s Guide to Year-Round Growing, Fermenting, and Sprouting: http://www.chelseagreen.com/bookstore/item/fresh_food_from_small_spaces:paperback
[2] R. J. Ruppenthal: http://www.chelseagreen.com/authors/r_j_ruppenthal
[3] green roof: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/index.php?p=1923
[4] San Francisco Beekeepers Association: http://www.sfbee.org/
[5] Vermont Beekeepers Association: http://www.vtbeekeepers.org/
[6] Natural Beekeeping: Organic Approaches to Modern Apiculture: http://www.chelseagreen.com/bookstore/item/natural_beekeeping:paperback
[7] Texas Beekeepers’ Association: http://www.texasbeekeepers.org/
[8] Toronto District Beekeepers Association: http://www.torontobeekeepers.org/
[9] Betterbee: http://www.betterbee.com/
[10] Dadant Beekeeping: http://www.dadant.com/catalog/
[11] Golden Bee: http://www. golden-bee.com/

Project: Reduce Food Miles and Toxin Intake with Your Own Potato Barrel

Posted By dpacheco On August 9, 2008 @ 4:46 am In Garden & Agriculture, Nature & Environment | 2 Comments

The following article is excerpted from [1] The Carbon-Free Home by [2] Stephen and Rebekah Hren.

For creating food calories with minimal inputs of time, maintenance, and energy, the potato (Solanum tuberosum) simply cannot be beat. Spuds can be grown almost everywhere in the country, and many locales can harvest a spring and autumn crop.

Much to both our and the potato’s misfortune, today’s average spud is one of the worst fossil-fuel offenders that regularly makes an appearance on our plates. Often grown several thousand miles away (Idaho, where lots of potatoes come from, is about 2,400 miles from us, for instance), the common spud is also a prodigious consumer of fossil-fuel-derived fertilizers and pesticides.

There is, quite simply, no reason for this. Even folks with no gardening experience can organically grow tens or even hundreds of pounds of this extremely versatile vegetable with a minimal input of effort. Because the industrial potato is one of the worst offenders of sustainability and rectifying this problem by growing your own spuds is so straightforward, no garden should be diminished by their absence.

The potato requires heavy loads of pesticides only when grown in monoculture. Once the potato beetle or blight appears, it spreads like wildfire, easily hopping from plant to plant. Agribusinessmen (formerly known as farmers) prevent this from occurring on large potato farms by saturating every square inch of leaf and soil with herbicides and pesticides. There’s a good chance, depending on where you live, that your homegrown spuds won’t be troubled by any serious pests. Again, you won’t know until you try!

Here’s how to grow your own.
Potato Barrel

Renter friendly.
Project Time: An hour.
Cost: $5–10.
Energy Saved: High; conventional potatoes require large fossil-fuel inputs.
Ease of Use: N/A.
Maintenance Level: Low.
Skill Levels: None required.
Materials: At least one old bucket with holes in the bottom or 6-foot sections of at least 2-foot-tall chicken wire or hardware cloth; a few seed potatoes; compost; leaves or straw.
Tools: Shovel, wire cutters.

[3]

Obtaining planting stock. Selecting a strain of potato that does well in your area is crucial for success. Buy a locally grown, preferably organic variety from a farmers’ market or one of hundreds of heirloom varieties from a supplier that specifies your region. The potato thrives in cooler but not freezing weather. It requires around 100 days to mature, during the bulk of which time you want the average temperature to be in the neighborhood of 60 degrees F, avoiding heavy freezes or long periods of days well about 80 degrees F. Where we live, for instance, we can usually get away with planting in mid-March, harvesting when the tops have flowered and the plants turned yellow in late June. If we want, we can plant again in early August and harvest again in mid-November.

Planting your bucket. What makes the potato so easy to grow is that it will thrive in a variety of organic matters, including compost, and that it loves to grow in buckets. Think of your potato barrel as the final stage of your compost as it moves from the compost bin to the garden. Take a bucket at least 12 inches tall with holes in the bottom or no bottom at all. Alternatively, or in conjunction, take 6-foot lengths of 18- to 24- inch-tall chicken wire and form tubes (they don’t call ’em “tubers” for nothing). Shovel in some straw or leaves for drainage, then a layer of compost. Do this until you get about 10 inches from the top, or until you have at least 10 inches of organic matter, then throw in your spud eyes, about 6–8 inches apart from each other and a few inches from the sides of your bucket (further in from the sides if you’re using wire tubes). Layer on more leaves or straw and then another layer of compost, totaling at least another 4–6 more inches.

Water heavily once, then sit back and watch your spuds grow. The buckets and mulch will keep your taters weed free and moist in all but the driest of climates. Spread your buckets or tubes out through your garden to make sure any potential diseases or pests don’t find their way from barrel to barrel, making sure they get at least 5 to 6 hours of sun a day.

Harvesting. After the plants flower and the tops yellow and die back, your potatoes are ready for eating (you can dig new potatoes before this if you wish). Turn the bucket over and pick up your tubers. Eat fresh or air-dry for several days and then store in a cool, dark place.

The compost you dumped out is ready for dressing any of your other garden plants. Fill the bucket with new compost for your next potato barrel to ensure plenty of available nutrients and that no diseases or other potato pests stay in the soil.

The sweet potato can be grown in a similar manner and is almost as prodigious. Sweet potatoes, however, love heat, although varieties have been bred that can tolerate even cool northern summers. Sweet potatoes are propagated from slips (shoots sprouting off a mature sweet potato), which can be purchased locally or grown by placing a sweet potato in a cardboard box of damp wood mulch in early spring. As the potato sends up new shoots, they are picked off and planted after all danger of frost has passed. Sweet potatoes require at least 120 frost-free (preferably hot) days before harvest.

(Photo courtesy of JTE.)

Article printed from Chelsea Green: www.chelseagreen.com

URL to article: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/?p=1268

URLs in this post:
[1] The Carbon-Free Home : http://www.chelseagreen.com/bookstore/item/the_carbonfree_home
[2] Stephen and Rebekah Hren: http://www.chelseagreen.com/authors/stephen_hren
[3] Image: http://www.chelseagreen.com/common/files/image/PotatoBarrel.jpg

Compost Happens: Creating a Fertile Soil for Your Garden

Posted By dpacheco On February 7, 2009 @ 5:45 am In Garden & Agriculture | 1 Comment

The following is an excerpt from [1] Four-Season Harvest: Organic Vegetables From Your Garden All Year Long by [2] Eliot Coleman. It has been adapted for the Web.

So often, the obvious solution is right at our fingertips, but it looks so simple that we fail to notice. Generations of gardeners have consistently come up with the same chain of logic: a fertile soil is the key to growing garden vegetables; compost is the key to a fertile soil. The first step in the four-season harvest is learning to make good compost. It’s not difficult. Compost wants to happen.

Compost is the end result of the decomposition of organic matter. It is basically a brown to black crumbly material that looks like a rich chocolate fudge cake. Compost is produced by managing the breakdown of organic material in a pile called a compost heap. Compost enhances soil fertility because fertile soil and compost share a prolific population of organisms whose food is decaying organic matter. The life processes of these organisms help make nutrients from the organic matter and the minerals in the soil available to growing plants. A fertile soil is filled with life. Compost is the life preserver.

Gardeners are not alone in their reverence for compost. Poets have found it equally inspiring. Andrew Hudgins, in a poem titled “Compost: An Ode,” refers to the role of the compost heap in uniting life and death: “a leisurely collapsing of the thing into its possibilities.” John Updike reminds us that since “all process is reprocessing,” the forest can consume its fallen trees and “the woodchuck corpse vanish to leave behind a poem.” Walt Whitman marvels at how composting allows the earth to grow “such sweet things out of such corruptions.”

Good compost, like any other carefully crafted product, is not an accident. It comes about through a process involving microorganisms, organic matter, air, moisture, and time that can be orchestrated in anyone’s backyard. No machinery is necessary, and no moving parts need repair. All you need to do is heap up the ingredients as specified in the next section and let nature’s decomposers do the work.
Compost Ingredients

The ingredients for the heap are the organic waste materials produced in most yards, gardens, and kitchens. That is what is so miraculous and so compelling about compost. If you pile up organic waste products they eventually decompose into compost. There is nothing to buy, nothing to be delivered, nothing exotic. This acknowledged “best” garden fertilizer is so in harmony with the cyclical systems of the natural world that it is made for free in your back yard from naturally available waste products.

The more eclectic the list of ingredients, the better the compost. That is only logical. The plant wastes that go into your compost heap were once plants that grew because they were able to incorporate the nutrients they needed. So don’t pass up any weeds, shrub trimmings, cow pies, or odd leaves you can find. If you mix together a broad range of plants with different mineral makeups, the resulting compost will cover the nutrient spectrum.

I suggest dividing your compost ingredients into two categories based on their age and composition. The two categories are called green and brown.

The green ingredients include mostly young, moist, and fresh materials. They are the most active decomposers. Examples are kitchen wastes such as apple peels, leftovers, carrot tops, and bread, and garden wastes such as grass clippings, weeds, fresh pea vines, outer cabbage leaves, and dead chipmunks. The average house and yard produce wastes such as these in surprising quantities. National solid waste data indicate that approximately 25 percent of household trash consists of food scraps and yard waste.

The brown ingredients are usually older and drier than the green ones, and they decompose more slowly. Examples are dried grass stems, old cornstalks, dried pea and bean vines, reeds, and old hay. The brown category is usually not well represented in the average backyard. To start, you may want to purchase straw, the best brown ingredient of all. Straw is the stem that holds up the amber waves of grain in crops such as wheat, oats, barley, and rye. After the heads containing the grains are harvested, the straw is baled as a byproduct. You can purchase straw a few bales at a time from feed stores, riding stables, or a good garden supply store.

The advantage of straw as the brown ingredient is that it will almost guarantee the success of your composting efforts. When home gardeners encounter smelly failures in their attempts to
make good compost, the fault usually lies with the lack of a proper brown ingredient. In years to come, when you become an expert at composting, you may choose to expand your repertoire beyond this beginner’s technique, but it is the most reliable method for beginners or experts.
Building the Compost Heap

Pick a site near the garden so the finished compost will be close at hand. Whenever possible, place the heap under the branches of a deciduous tree so there will be shade in hot weather and sunlight to thaw the heap in spring. A site near the kitchen makes it convenient to add kitchen scraps. Access to a hose is handy for those times when the heap needs extra moisture. If the site is uphill from the garden, the heavy work of wheelbarrowing loads of compost will have gravity on its side.

Build the compost heap by alternating layers of brown ingredients with layers of green ones. Begin with a layer of straw about 3 inches deep, then add 1 to 6 inches of green ingredients, another 3 inches of straw, and then more green ingredients. The thickness of the green layer depends on the nature of the materials. Loose, open material such as green bean vines or tomato stems can be applied in a thicker (6-inch) layer, while denser material that might mat together, such as kitchen scraps or grass clippings,
should be layered thinly (1 to 2 inches). These thicknesses are a place for you to start, but you will learn to modify them as conditions require.

Sprinkle a thin covering of soil on top of each green layer. Make the soil 1/2 inch deep or so depending on what type of green material is available. If you have just added a layer of weeds with soil on their roots, you can skip the soil covering for that layer. The addition of soil to the compost heap has both a physical and a microbiological effect: physical because certain soil constituents (clay particles and minerals) have been shown to enhance the decomposition of organic matter; microbiological because soil contains millions of microorganisms, which are needed to break down the organic material in the heap. These bacteria, fungi, and other organisms multiply in the warm, moist conditions as decomposition is initiated. If your garden is very sandy or gravelly, you might want to find some clay to add to the heap as the soil layer. As an additional benefit, the clay will improve the balance of soil particle sizes in your garden.

Article printed from Chelsea Green: www.chelseagreen.com

URL to article: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/?p=1945

URLs in this post:
[1] Four-Season Harvest: Organic Vegetables From Your Garden All Year Long: http://www.chelseagreen.com/bookstore/item/fourseason_harvest:paperback
[2] Eliot Coleman: http://www.chelseagreen.com/authors/eliot_coleman

Permaculture and Perennial Polycultures

Posted By dpacheco On February 17, 2009 @ 8:45 am In Garden & Agriculture | No Comments

The following is an excerpt from [1] Perennial Vegetables: From Artichokes to Zuiki Taro, a Gardener’s Guide to Over 100 Delicious, Easy-to-Grow Edibles by [2] Eric Toensmeier. It has been adapted for the Web.

“Permaculture (permanent agriculture) is the conscious design and maintenance of agriculturally productive ecosystems which have the diversity and resilience of natural ecosystems. It is the harmonious integration of landscape and people providing their food, energy, shelter, and other material and non-material needs in a sustainable way.” —Bill Mollison, from Permaculture: A Practical Guide for a Sustainable Future, 1990

Permaculture is a design tool to help you take all the garden elements you want (e.g., greenhouse, vegetables, shed, small fruits, pond) and integrate them in such a way that they become more than the sum of their parts. Permaculture is not about any particular type of food production, although it helped to develop and popularize the notion of perennial polycultures. The simple elegance of this idea has captivated me for the last 17 years. Whenever I am driving, walking, or riding my bike, I imagine the landscape around me converted to perennial polycultures.

Try to imagine polycultures of useful plants growing in public spaces everywhere. Vibrant ecosystems would surround our homes and neighborhoods, producing

* a diverse array of foods, from staple protein and carbohydrates to fruits, leaves, and roots;
* timber, bamboo, and other construction materials;
* grazing, browsing, and fodder for livestock;
* medicinal and culinary herbs;
* outdoor habitat for humans and wildlife;
* fuelwood for heat and cooking;
* fertilizers, compost feedstocks, and botanical pesticides;
* biofuels like vegetables oils to run diesel engines;
* and plant-based petroleum and plastic substitutes.

We’re not there yet. In fact, while some tropical areas have farmed this way for centuries, it is not yet certain that this vision is even possible for the frostier climates most readers of this book live in. But there is only one way to find out—to start experimenting on whatever land we have access to.

It isn’t enough to grow food sustainably—it has to be distributed equitably as well, and that’s going to take a lot more than perennial polycultures. We need political and economic systems that prioritize human beings and the environment over short-term greed and oppression. In such a scenario permaculture systems could provide the abundant basis of life in a “post-scarcity” agriculture. Perennial food systems could mean less work, less petroleum use, and more free time to enjoy life—that is, after the first few decades of working the bugs out and getting those trees to grow to maturity!

Ultimately, permaculture offers a vision of how humanity can participate in—rather than damage—our planet’s ecosystems and the process of evolution itself. When seen in this context, perennial vegetables are not just a novelty for the garden: They may just have a humble role to play in the future of our species and its relationship to the planet it calls home.

For further reading, see Bill Mollison and Reny Mia Slay’s Introduction to Permaculture and David Holmgren’s [3] Permaculture: Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability.

Article printed from Chelsea Green: www.chelseagreen.com

URL to article: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/?p=1973

URLs in this post:
[1] Perennial Vegetables: From Artichokes to Zuiki Taro, a Gardener’s Guide to Over 100 Delicious, Easy-to-Grow Edibles: http://www.chelseagreen.com/bookstore/item/perennial_vegetables:paperback
[2] Eric Toensmeier: http://www.chelseagreen.com/authors/eric_toensmeier
[3] Permaculture: Principles and Pathways Beyond Sustainability: http://www.chelseagreen.com/bookstore/item/permaculture:paperback

Save Money: Grow Your Own Veg—How to Start Plants from Seed

Posted By dpacheco On February 21, 2009 @ 1:45 am In Garden & Agriculture | 1 Comment

Starting plants from seed does not have to be difficult or time-consuming. Sure, it will take you a season or two to get the hang of it, but after that the process will seem simple. You will need a space indoors that has natural light from a window, or else a tabletop area above which you can mount a fluorescent light. If you want to start seeds outdoors with climate protection, you could use a grow-frame, plastic cover, or small hobby greenhouse. If you need an indoor light, do not spend the $200 for a hydroponic setup; simply head to your local hardware store and buy a cheap 2- or 4-foot-long fluorescent light that can be mounted under a cabinet or on a chain. The light wavelengths that these bulbs produce will not get you all the way from seed to fruit, but it is sufficient to give your young plants the foliage, roots, and start that they need. Compact fluorescent bulbs (CFLs) are fine as well, though normally these produce a single point of light rather than a row. The row of light works better unless you only plan to start a small handful of seedlings.

Your next step in preparation should be to find out the last average frost date for your location. This is the approximate, but very crucial date that is referred to on the back of many seed packets (for example, “Set plants out three weeks after last average frost date”). To find your last average frost date, check online or with your local nursery or agricultural extension agent. Victory Seed Company has an online frost date selector based on data from the U.S. government; it is available at [3] VictorySeeds.com. Another online chart is available for major cities from the Farmer’s Almanac [4] here (U.S. states) and [5] here (Canadian provinces). One warning: Microclimates vary significantly, and in my area a distance of a few miles can extend the frost date by a month. Keep an eye on the temperatures where you live and how much they vary from the closest point listed on those charts. The charts also show the first average frost date in the fall, which is good to remember when planning the length of your main growing season.

You will need some containers to start your seeds in. Think of the small seed-starting trays that seedlings come in when you buy them at a nursery; you can either purchase some of these seedling trays, or you can use any other small containers that can be filled with 2 or more inches of seed-starting medium. Small yogurt containers or cutout milk cartons are effective, and you can start a dozen small seedlings in a cardboard egg carton. You also can reuse plastic pots, even larger ones, and plant as many seeds as you can fit in the space. (Do not pack them in too tightly, though, since root growth is important and you will need to get them out without destroying the root system.) Punch a few holes in the bottom of any plastic containers you use to allow for proper drainage, as too much moisture buildup will kill seedlings. Another option is to use peat or coconut (coir) fiber pots, which can be placed right into the garden soil, alleviating some of the stress of transplanting.

For planting times, follow the recommendations on the back of your seed packets coupled with what you have learned about your last frost date. To maximize your chances of success, you can try two or three plantings of the same seeds, each spaced a week or two apart. This way, when your first pepper plants are ready to go in the ground, your next set is only two weeks behind. If it turns out there is a late frost and your first wave of peppers dies, then you have a backup set that’s ready to go. Using this method, you can save time and also challenge the seasons with a little more confidence: If you don’t stand to lose everything by planting your seedlings early, then you can take some chances on a very early planting.

Put some seed-starting medium into the containers. This can be garden soil, as long as it has enough organic matter to be fairly light, but it should be sifted so that any large pieces of material are kept out. Sifted peat makes a good starter medium and you can also buy good seedstarting potting soil from nurseries (overpriced, but one bag will last you a while). I always mix in a spoonful of compost or worm castings when I start seeds; you do not want to burn young plants with fertilizer, but these amendments are slow to release nutrients and they help strengthen the young plant’s immune system. Another option is to use the seed-starting blocks or pellets that are sold by some seed companies and in nurseries.

For anyone using peat products to start seeds indoors, I have two pieces of advice:

1. Some people believe that peat moss is harvested in a manner that is both unsustainable and environmentally irresponsible. If, after examining this issue, you agree, then look for a nursery or online retailer that sells the coconut (coir) fiber alternative, which works just as well and is sustainably harvested. Another company has introduced seed-starting pots made from composted cow manure, which is certainly a renewable resource, and if you cannot find these locally, then check out [6] Cowpots.com.
2. Peat pots and growing disks often are contaminated with the eggs of root maggots. This can be a big problem if you are growing seedlings in your own home, because you will get little worms eating your seedlings’ roots and a cloud of fruit fly-like insects within a few weeks of planting. To sterilize the peat medium before using it, either drench it in a 50/50 solution of water and hydrogen peroxide (give it a day or so to evaporate before planting) or nuke your wet peat products in the microwave for two minutes on high, which also should kill everything. (Keep an eye on it so you don’t start a fire since cooking times may vary, and make sure your significant other is not home at the time because your kitchen will smell very earthy.)

Plant the seeds according to the directions on each seed packet. (Do not bother planting beans and peas; they do not transplant well and are better sown directly in the garden.) You can plant two or three seeds per container or block and then thin the plants later, or you can take your chances and just plant one. Early in the season, even indoors, seeds will benefit from some heat and humidity for germination. Putting a plastic bag over the containers is one good way to make this happen. A clear plastic food tray also makes a good cover. Bottom heat speeds up the process and makes it possible to start seeds earlier; you can get a heating pad for seedlings from a nursery or place them on a warm surface such as the top of your refrigerator. As soon as the seedlings start to emerge, take the bag off and start giving them a little light. If you have a sunny window, put them there with a little protection. (A curtain, napkin, or plastic bag well-placed will allow some diffuse sunlight that will not burn young plants.) If you’re using a light, your fluorescent or CFL bulb should be on for 12 hours per day (more is okay also), and this should be a few inches from the tops of the seedlings so that they get enough concentrated light. Water the seedlings gently, either from the top of the soil or by placing the seedling containers in a tray of water until their soil seems moist. Make sure they are draining well, and do not overwater; this is a major cause of seedling failure.

Pick only the strongest (bushiest) plants and thin out the spindly and slower-growing ones. Many people suggest that, when the seedlings are up and growing, you run your hands over the leaves whenever you go by to mimic the wind and stimulate the plants to grow stronger in response. A week or so before you plant your seedlings in their final earthly destination, they need to be “hardened off.” This is a step that people too often neglect, and it basically means allowing the plant to slowly adjust to the temperature and climate of its new home. You do this by putting the seedlings outside for a short time each day and gradually lengthening this time period. Do not put them in a bright sunny or windy area at first. On the first day, put them outside in filtered sunlight for half an hour. The second day, leave them out for an hour. The third day, leave them out for two hours. Then half a day, then a whole day, bringing them in at night. If they are destined for a windy location, you can begin giving them a little of their customary wind, protected at first if need be. Wind actually can help make a seedling stronger and more vigorous, but only in small doses. After a week of this, let the plant stay out for a whole day and night in its new location, and then plant it the next day. For a peat or coco pot, place it directly in the soil; for other potted seedlings, wet down both the pot’s and destination’s soil first, then slowly take out the plant with its soil, and be sure not to damage the stem or leaves as you transfer it to its planting hole. If the night temperatures are still near freezing when you set out your plants, then cover each of them at night with a plastic yogurt container, milk carton, or soda bottle that is cut in half: These can make inexpensive season extenders if they help you get your plants in the ground earlier. But when in doubt, do not risk that your plants will freeze: Wait just a little longer to set them out until the frost danger has passed (unless, of course, you have another set of seedlings ready for backup purposes). Before I plant warmer-weather veggies, I always look at the weather report and make sure that their first week in the ground will be a warm one; this helps them get off to a strong start.

If you manage the “hardening off” well and allow the young plant to adapt slowly to its new conditions, then it will produce food for you more quickly than a direct-seeded plant. Using transplants also can allow more growing time for your last cycled crop. But if the plant becomes stressed during transplanting, its yield will drop and it may not survive at all, which negates any time saved from starting it indoors.

Article printed from Chelsea Green: www.chelseagreen.com

URL to article: http://www.chelseagreen.com/content/?p=1993

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/2002su_chayote.html

Chayote—A Small, Multipurpose Squash
Plants & Gardens News Volume 17, Number 2 | Summer 2002
by Scott Appell

In the ethnic groceries and markets of New York City, there is surprisingly little overlap of produce. Garlic, onions, shallots, and peppers wend their way through the neighborhoods, but few others do. One interesting interloper is chayote, Sechium edule, a bizarre little cucurbit, or squash relative, also known as the vegetable pear, which can be procured in Spanish Harlem, Little Mexico, and Chinatown.

Chayote (pronounced chi-YO-tay) originated in southern Mexico and Central America. It was long cultivated by the Aztecs, who called the plant chayotl. Spanish explorers introduced it to the Old World. Nowadays, it has many names: vegetable pear in most of the United States, mirliton in Louisiana, christophine in Haiti, xu xu in Brazil, and wobedo in the Lukumi language of Nigeria. The genus name Sechium is derived from chacha, the West Indian name for the plant, while the species epithet, edule, simply means “edible.”
Chayote, Avocado, and Watercress Salad With Lime Vinaigrette

(Serves four)
Salad

* 3 chayotes, about 7 ounces each
* 1 small red onion, thinly sliced
* 2 medium bell peppers (red and yellow), roasted, seeded, peeled, and sliced
* 12 olives
* 2 tablespoons caper berries
* 3 ripe avocados, peeled and sliced
* 1/2 cup fresh cilantro, chopped
* 1 bunch watercress, washed and dried, with large stems removed

Vinaigrette

* 1/3 cup olive oil
* 6 garlic cloves, peeled and finely chopped
* Fresh juice of 2 limes
* 1/2 teaspoon fresh-cracked black pepper
* 1/2 teaspoon crushed sea salt

Cut chayotes in half and simmer in salted water until firmly soft, about 15 minutes. Remove from water, let cool, and slice. Arrange watercress, peppers, onion, avocado, chayotes, olives, and caper berries on four plates. Sprinkle with chopped cilantro. Drizzle with vinaigrette. Serve with crusty bread.

Chayote is a very robust, tendriled vine that can easily climb 30 feet in a single season. The species has tuberous roots instead of the more familiar fibrous roots of its comestible cousins. Its cucumberlike palmately lobed leaves are rough in texture and can grow as wide as eight inches. (Note: Contact with the foliage may cause a rash on sensitive skin.) As with most cucurbits, Sechium edule is monoecious, bearing separate male and female flowers on the same plant. The blossoms are small and greenish white, and they produce ½- to 3-pound, pearlike fruit.

The fruit, which has uniform flesh and skin color, varies from dull white to light green, depending on the cultivar or variety. Generally smooth-skinned, in rare instances it is covered with soft, shiny, dark-green spines. The fruit is a good source of vitamin C, beta-carotene, and calcium, and it is unbelievably versatile. It’s eaten raw, pickled, sautéed, baked, steamed, stuffed, and stir-fried. In the tropics, it is even prepared as a confection in pies and tarts.

Unlike other squash, the fruit of the chayote contains a single large seed. Often called vegetable scallop, the seed is edible and considered by many to be the best part. It has a delicious nutty flavor when sautŽed briefly in butter; when deep-fried, it makes a nice alternative to french-fried potatoes. But the fun doesn’t stop there. Chayote is a multipurpose edible. In some countries, the young leaves, shoots, and tendrils are steamed or boiled, and the roots are boiled, baked, fried, or candied in syrup.

Chayote is quite easy to propagate and cultivate, and it makes an impressive annual trellis or arbor cover. The plant is extremely cold sensitive, so full sun is recommended, though it can tolerate light shade. Chayote needs a long growing season to flower and set seed; southern gardeners will most likely get better results than their northern counterparts.

The seed loses viability when removed from the fruit, so you need to plant the entire squash. Partially bury it in well-drained, fertile soil with the narrow end up and exposed to the elements. After about two weeks, the fruit will split open and a shoot will emerge. Immediately give the shoot support, and allow it plenty of space, as the vine has a tendency to cover everything that isn’t moving.

The first time I grew chayote, I planted three fruits in a 15-inch terra-cotta bulb pan, erected a simple teepee-style support made from bamboo poles, and placed the whole affair on a wide sunny windowsill. After germination, the vine covered my inadequate trellis within a week. The shoots soon worked their way under the window screens and proceeded to cover the fire escape outside. Two months later, the vines were introducing themselves to my upstairs neighbor, and I began to feel like Sleeping Beauty in her vine-covered castle.

Scott Appell is director of education at the Horticultural Society of New York and the author of four books, Pansies, Lilies, Tulips, and Orchids.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/2007fa_veglove.html

Vegetable Love—Celeriac
Plants & Gardens News | Volume 22, Number 3 | Fall 2007/Winter 2008
by Christopher Nicolson

Celeriac (Apium graveolens var. rapaceum), stalk celery’s subterranean relative, is an unassuming star of the autumn vegetable set. The cool, earthy fragrance and the knobbly ivory-brown exterior of celeriac are amiable and unpretentious—there is a sense of truth about this root and its aroma. A freshly scrubbed, unpeeled head of celeriac is a masterpiece of sculpture, its skin a map of innumerable nodes, crevices, and fine hairs, radiating muscularly around a pale green crown, trimmed to the quick.
Celeriac (Photograph by Murray Stanley)

Photograph by Murray Stanley

The substantial, grapefruit-size celeriac is understated—especially in comparison to stalk celery’s bright green, fibrous, and crunchy bravado. Like celery, celeriac offers a keen, refreshing taste. Unlike celery, celeriac has warm undertones of fennel, mustard greens, and sometimes hazelnut. Raw, peeled celeriac delivers its satisfying warmth in a lovely pale interior reminiscent in texture of turnips or kohlrabi. Cooked and peeled celeriac is as smooth a base for soup or mash as any potato and as comforting, but with a markedly lower glycemic index.

Celeriac is a biennial with a long growing season, up to 200 days, which for cool-climate gardeners means early-spring germination indoors. The extra indoor time and the wild appearance of the root’s aboveground stalks and leaves apparently cause North American gardeners to shy away from growing celeriac, and it’s yet to become a household staple here. European, and particularly British, gardeners seem more willing to plant it—they’ve long appreciated celeriac’s culinary charms. The Royal Horticultural Society has “knighted” several celeriac cultivars for their taste, shape, external texture, and the like. In the 2006 “Award of Garden Merit” rankings, RHS selected ‘Monarch’, ‘Prinz’, ‘Ibis’, ‘Kojak’ (which is smooth and rounded like the eponymous TV icon), and ‘Diamant’. Of these, ‘Monarch’, which is white-skinned and has a bold flavor, and ‘Diamant’, a medium-size root, are easiest to come by in the U.S. Otherwise, ‘Giant Prague’, ‘Brilliant’, and ‘Snow White’ remain commonly available to New World gardeners. We would do well to plant—and to eat—more of this noble root.
Celeriac With Roasted Walnuts and Pippin Apples in a Mustard Vinaigrette

* 2 large heads celeriac
* 3/4 cup shelled walnuts
* 2 medium Newtown Pippin apples
* 1 small lemon
* 1 tablespoon Dijon-style mustard
* 1/8 cup cider vinegar
* 1 tablespoon maple syrup
* 1/2 cup (or a little less) roasted walnut oil or neutral salad oil
* 2 tablespoons finely chopped fresh tarragon or flat-leaf parsley
* Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 275° F. Roast the walnuts until lightly toasted, let cool, chop, and reserve. Bring a medium pot of cold water to boil. Meanwhile, fill a bowl with cold water and the juice of half the lemon.

Peel the celeriac and immediately cut it into matchsticks roughly 1/4 inch wide and 1/8 inch thick. Place the matchsticks in the lemon water as you cut them.

Prepare a second bowl of cold water with the juice of the other half of the lemon, but add a handful of ice to this one. Set aside.

Next, carefully place the celeriac matchsticks in the pot of boiling water. Bring the pot back to a boil and cook the celeriac for 30 seconds to 1 minute. Immediately drain the pot and empty the celeriac into the bowl of iced lemon water.

Wash and finely slice the two apples, placing the slices in the un-iced lemon water as you work.

In a large mixing bowl, combine the maple syrup, vinegar, mustard, black pepper, and tarragon or parsley. Whisk in the oil by drops until the vinaigrette becomes creamy. Season to taste with salt.

Thoroughly drain the celeriac and apples and toss them with half the chopped walnuts in the vinaigrette. Refrigerate, and one hour before serving, let the salad sit at room temperature until cool but not cold. Garnish with reserved walnuts.

After all, celeriac does not require the greedy, diva-worthy attention that its cousin, stalk celery, demands. According to experienced growers, however, celeriac does require patience. Celeriac seeds should be germinated indoors beginning in late February. They require plenty of light and adequate (but not excessive) moisture. After seedlings have developed a few small “true” leaves, they may be transplanted to pots. Be careful not to disturb their delicate root systems—your dinner hangs in the balance.

Due to celeriac’s biennial nature and its tendency to become confused and bolt, mid-May is usually the earliest that celeriac should be transplanted to your garden. In the garden, celeriac likes moist, rich soil that isn’t too cold. Harvest can begin in early fall and continue late into the season. Celeriac keeps seemingly forever; trimmed roots can hibernate in a refrigerator for three to four months.

Once in the kitchen, celeriac can be transformed to accompany every course except dessert, and even that may be possible—celeriac sorbet, perhaps. A salad of briefly blanched then chilled celeriac, accompanied by roasted walnuts and apple slices and lightly dressed, is a little bit of autumn heaven. A soup of simmered, peeled, and pureed celeriac (over a base of onions and leeks) with a scattering of crisp bacon or pancetta is a meal in itself. And celeriac simmered and mashed with one small turnip and a potato, is a delicious match with roast chicken.

Celeriac—handsome, delicious, and straightforward—is waiting in the wings for its full entrance into the North American garden.

(A note to cooks: Whether it is eaten raw or cooked, as soon as celeriac is peeled of its protective exterior, it must be staged in a bath of lemon water to prevent oxidation until it is dressed or cooked.)

Christopher Nicolson, a freelance writer, lives in Brooklyn and Alaska. In Alaska, he and his family fish commercially for wild sockeye salmon in Bristol Bay.

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The Asparagus Pea—A Wonderfully Frolicsome Legume
Plants & Gardens News Volume 19, Number 2 | Summer 2004
by Scott D. Appell

I live on the Caribbean island of Vieques, seven miles off the coast of Puerto Rico. This year I am putting in a 75- by 50-foot vegetable garden and am wildly excited by the project. The ever-balmy weather prevents me from cultivating some of my northern cool-weather favorites—Japanese mustard, radishes, and sweet peas. However, it more than compensates by letting me grow some unusual tropical and Mediterranean vegetables, such as Malabar spinach (Basella rubra), sweet-corn root (Maranta species), and the wonderfully frolicsome asparagus pea.

Asparagus pea

Asparagus pea (photo: Thompson & Morgan)

The asparagus pea is one of the prettiest vegetables on the planet. Its Latin name, Tetragonolobus purpurea, is even prettier. The genus epithet, meaning “four-lobed,” describes the four little frills or wings that line the plant’s edible seedpods and give them a look of foursquare frivolity. The species name is meant to describe the purple color of the flowers—although, in fact, the flowers are deep red.

Why does the word “asparagus” appear in the common name? It may be because of the seedpods’ delicate asparaguslike flavor. Or perhaps it’s because some epicures say that asparagus peas are best treated like asparagus spears—boiled or steamed ever so briefly, drained swiftly, anointed with butter, and ferried quickly to the table for immediate consumption. Another common name for T. purpurea is the winged pea, but this seems a little too understated to me. Something like the “Pegasus pea” would be more appropriate, I think.

Asparagus pea is a scrambling, herbaceous annual legume endemic to the Mediterranean region of southern Europe, where it is a common spring-blooming wildflower in field and scrub. There are records of its cultivation in Sicily from the mid-16th century. Growing around 6 inches tall and 24 inches wide, the plant has small trifoliate leaves, and its deep crimson flowers are borne in pairs.
Thai Asparagus Pea Salad (Yam Tua Poo)

* 1 cup asparagus peas, topped and tailed, steamed till just tender, and plunged briefly in ice water
* 1 cup shrimp, boiled and shelled
* 1 cup extra-firm tofu, pressed to extrude excess water and cubed
* 1 to 2 tablespoons nam prik pow (Thai roasted chili paste)
* Juice of 1 lime
* Palm sugar or light brown sugar
* 1 cup coconut cream
* Salt
* 1/4 cup sliced garlic
* 1/4 cup sliced shallots
* 1/4 cup dried red chili peppers, sliced thinly lengthwise, with seeds removed
* Peanut or vegetable oil
* 1/4 cup crushed, toasted peanuts
* 1/4 cup dried, grated coconut, lightly toasted

Gently mix the asparagus peas, seafood, and tofu. For the dressing, mash the nam prik pow with a little lime juice and 1/2 teaspoon sugar until it dissolves. Add 3/4 of the coconut cream. Adjust flavor with sugar, salt, and remaining lime juice to taste. Fry the garlic, shallots, and chilis until crispy but not burned. When cooled, add the fried vegetables to the asparagus pea mixture along with the dressing. Mix gently. Add more coconut cream, salt, sugar, or lime juice to taste. Place in a serving dish and sprinkle the peanuts and coconut on top. Serves 2 to 4.

The winged pods that develop after flower pollination grow up to 3 1/2 inches long. The pods may be boiled, sautéed, steamed, dipped in tempura batter and deep-fried, or pickled. The mature peas have been employed as a coffee substitute. The comely flowers can be applied as edible garnishes to salads, cheeses, and pâtés.

Asparagus pea couldn’t be easier to cultivate, needing just average moisture, full sun, and standard soil to succeed. However, it does require a long growing season to flower and fruit properly. Relishing high heat in the summertime, the plant is perfect for the deep southern or southwestern potager. Seeds can be sown in situ in early to mid-June when the soil is thoroughly warmed and nighttime temperatures remain constant. (Asparagus pea seeds are available from Thompson & Morgan; 800-274-7333.)

Northern gardeners will have to start their plants indoors in early spring. They can solve the problem of early frost by cultivating asparagus peas in containers and moving them inside to a greenhouse or sunny bay window to complete maturation.

Asparagus pea plants need a little extra physical support to keep them tidy and off the soil. This helps avoid slug damage, facilitates air circulation, and makes harvesting a little easier on the back. Use inverted twigs to create a rustic support system, or weave a crude wattle fencing from fresh willow stems.

Pods need to be picked when they are just one to two inches long (or a day or two after the flowers fade). Otherwise, they become too fibrous to be eaten. This means you’ll need to make a daily foray into the vegetable garden to harvest them. Bring a stool and sit whilst picking—your sacroiliac will thank you. This is a great chore to do with children, who’ll have lots of fun searching through the foliage for the unusual-shaped pea pods. They’re also a lot closer to the ground than we adults!

Store the produce in zip-seal bags in the lower portion of the refrigerator until there is enough to make an entrée or side dish. Inevitably, some pods will go overlooked on the plants and mature to the point of becoming stringy and papery. Use the mature, small dry peas in any of your favorite legume recipes.

Scott D. Appell is a regular contributor to BBG publications and the author of four books, Pansies, Lilies, Tulips, and Orchids. He lives and gardens on the island of Vieques, Puerto Rico.

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Tasty Tubers and Fabulous Fungi—Unusual Central and South American Vegetables for Your Garden

Plants & Gardens News Volume 18, Number 2 | Summer 2003
by Scott D. Appell

If the Near East was the cradle of human civilization, then Central and South America can be considered its pantry. Crop cultivation may have begun in Mesopotamia hundreds of years earlier than it did in the Tehuacán Valley of Mexico, but the comestible flora of the New World now forms an amazing 75 percent of the globe’s cultivated food plants.

Just for reference, here’s a short list of edible plants that were domesticated by the Amerindians and have since become commonplace all over the world: corn, beans, squash, potatoes, tomatoes, peppers, pineapples, tomatillos, quinoa, cocoa, vanilla, and avocados. See anything you fancy?

Though there are many unusual cultivars of corn, squash, and other big-name crops worth profiling, I’d like to focus on some New World vegetables that you don’t hear too much about. They are fun to grow, pleasing to the eye, and delicious to eat. And cultivating these New World vegetables will give you a deeper insight into the history and ethnobotany of the indigenous peoples of America.
Smallanthus sonchifolia
Yacón

Yacón is a Peruvian and Bolivian cousin of North America’s Jerusalem artichoke, and like its boreal relative, it is cultivated for its edible tubers. The plant was highly prized by the Incas, and remnants of it have been found in the coastal archaeological sites at Nazca, Peru, dating from A.D. 500. The tubers are sweet, crunchy, and juicy, and they can be eaten fresh out of hand or stewed. They are wonderful when combined with a salad of raw carrots, raw sweet potatoes, and jicama root (see below), or when sliced with bananas and oranges. The tubers taste sweeter when they are allowed to cure in the sun after harvesting—a process called ckochascca in the Andes. Additionally, the foliage is cooked like spinach and eaten as a vegetable. The plants look very much like Jerusalem artichokes, growing three to nine feet tall and bearing slightly furry and sticky lance-shaped foliage reminiscent of Helianthus tuberosus. The smallish flowers range from bright yellow to orange and are borne in loose terminal heads. Yacón is quite heat tolerant but is very susceptible to cold—several hours at 32°F can kill all plant parts. It is hardy from USDA Zones 10 to 12. Grow it as an annual in northern regions. Plant yacón in light, fertile, well-drained soil, and water it regularly during dry spells.
Oxalis tuberosus
Oca

Oca is an oxalis with edible tubers thought to have evolved in Peru but cultivated from Venezuela to northern Argentina. Although rarely encountered in the U.S., it is a common crop in the Andes, second only to the potato in popularity. Interestingly, it was introduced into New Zealand around 1860, and it has gained culinary popularity there over the last few decades. The plant’s tubers look like small, stubby, wrinkled carrots and can be white, yellow, red, or purple, depending on the cultivar. After harvesting, they are sun-dried to increase sweetness and then boiled, roasted, or prepared as pachamanca (with meat roasted in a hole in the ground). The tubers are high in calcium and iron, crisp in texture, and—due to their oxalic acid content—tart in taste. Oca is often called the “potato that does not need sour cream.” The plant has an upright growth habit. The leaves are typically trifoliate and reminiscent of those of its cousin the shamrock. Oca is easy to grow and care for. It excels in average soil and full sun. Plant the tubers in spring immediately after the last frost date and harvest in late fall before the first hard freeze. Oxalis tuberosus is hardy to USDA Zone 7.
Tropaeolum tuberosum
Añu
Añu tubers, an important crop among the Andean people of Bolivia, Peru, and Equador.

Añu tubers, an important crop among the Andean people of Bolivia, Peru, and Equador.

Añu is a cousin of the more familiar garden nasturtium, Tropaeolum majus. It has been cultivated for its edible tubers since about 5500 B.C. Pre-Incan pictograms portraying the tubers have been found in the mountains of the high Andes, and today añu remains an important crop among the Andean people of Bolivia, Peru, Ecuador, Columbia, and Venezuela. The plant’s foliage is typically peltate (disc-shaped, with stalks attached away from leaf margins) like that of its common garden cousin, but its spurred, orange flowers are far narrower in shape. The tubers are boiled for about ten minutes before being served, and they possess some of the peppery taste so relished in the garden nasturtium. The young shoots and flowers are edible as well. Tropaeolum tuberosum is a short-day plant—that is, it only flowers and sets tubers in northern latitudes after the middle of September, when the day length is markedly shorter. Therefore, it must be cultivated as long as possible before frost hits in order to harvest a serviceable crop. Indeed, tubers are best harvested after the plants are killed by the first hard frost. Añu is hardy from Zones 3 to 6. It doesn’t perform well in warm, humid climates. The short-day cultivar ‘Muru’ produces white tubers mottled with purple. The selection ‘Ken Aslet’, which bears yellowish tubers attractively splashed with crimson, is day-neutral and begins to flower from July onward. Plant tubers or seeds in a loose, moderately fertile, well-drained, friable soil as soon as it has warmed up thoroughly. The plant requires regular watering and a trellis or other support on which to climb.
Pachyrhizus tuberosus
Jícama

The jícama, or yam bean, is quite in vogue now in nouvelle cuisine. It evolved in Mexico and Central America but was brought to the Old World by the Spanish explorers and spread eastward. Currently, it’s grown pantropically and is especially favored in Southeast Asia and China. Pachyrhizus tuberosus is a bean species cultivated for its large, crisp, juicy roots. The tan-skinned, white-fleshed, and beet-shaped tubers are eaten raw, stir-fried, boiled, roasted, or braised, and simmered in soups. They are divine when sliced thin and sprinkled with salt, chili pepper, and lemon juice. In Latin America, jícama is also a source of a starch used in custards and puddings. (Take note that all aboveground plant parts are considered toxic, due to their high rotenone content.) A climbing vine that easily grows 10 to 20 feet high in one long season, P. tuberosus has coarse, broadly trifoliate foliage. It is a short-day plant, so it will not produce its lavender or white blossoms—or its fuzzy, lima-bean-shaped pods—until after the middle of September. Southern gardeners will have greater success with the plant than their northern counterparts, as it takes five to nine months to produce harvestable tubers on plants grown from seed. Removing the flowers will result in larger tubers. If left in the ground, the tubers may actually grow five to six feet in length and up to 50 pounds in weight, although roots of this size are far too woody to consume. Jícama prefers full sun and rich, moist soil. It is frost sensitive and hardy to Zone 5.
Manihot esculenta
Cassava, Yuca, Manioc

Like maize, cassava as we know it today does not exist in the wild. It originated in South America as a result of the hybridization and selection of several wild species by the Amerindians of the Amazon Delta. The earliest archaeological records of it are from coastal Peru, dating to about 1000 B.C. Cassava is a shrubby plant that grows up to 12 feet high, with gray to dark gray bark and large, palmately compound leaves. It is cultivated mainly for its large, edible, starchy tubers (though its tender young leaves are also used as a potherb). Primitive, bitter-tasting cultivars contain potentially toxic concentrations of cyanogenic glycosides and therefore must be processed before eating. This involves laborious peeling, grating, washing, and squeezing of the tubers, followed by drying and cooking (and sometimes fermenting). Over the centuries, however, so-called sweet cassava varieties that can be eaten raw have been developed. Most modern commercial cultivars belong to this category. Their smooth-skinned roots can grow up to 3 1/2 feet long and may be eaten boiled, fried, or baked. Full sun or partial shade and regular amounts of moisture are required for cultivation. The soil should be of average fertility but well drained. Cassavas can be grown outdoors year-round in Zones 10 and 11. One cultivar is readily available through mail-order nurseries: Manihot esculenta ‘Variegata’. It bears spectacular leaves with creamy-yellow centers and carmine-red petioles (leafstalks).
Ustilago maydis
Huitlacoche, Cuitlacoche

No exploration of Amerindian agriculture would be complete without the mention of huitlacoche, or cuitlacoche. Known as corn smut by North American farmers, Ustilago maydis is a fungus that infects maize kernels and causes them to grow into large, light gray, gall-like structures several inches in diameter. When cooked, these spore-filled swellings turn black and have a delicious earthy flavor. Huitlacoche was cultivated by the Aztecs, and modern Mexican farmers know that infected ears of corn fetch higher prices. The fungus is incorporated into fillings for tamales and enchiladas, and is high in thiamine and niacin. The USDA once aimed (along with U.S. farmers) to eliminate corn smut completely. But ever since savvy restaurateurs started serving it as “corn truffle” in their upscale Mexican eateries, the department has been trying to develop methods for mass-producing the stuff on experimental farms in Pennsylvania and Florida. Huitlacoche spores are not sold commercially, but curious gardeners can encourage its growth on any corn cultivar. (Incidentally, though there are corn-smut-resistant selections, there are no smut-free varieties.) The Aztecs realized that huitlacoche prevailed during times of drought when temperatures ranged from 78°F to 93°F. They encouraged its growth by scratching the cornstalks at soil level with a knife—thereby allowing the water-borne spores easy entrance into the plant.

Nursery Sources:

Abundant Life Seed Foundation
P.O. Box 772
Port Townsend, WA 98368
360-385-5660

www.abundantlifeseed.org

Nichols Garden Nursery
1190 Old Salem Road NE
Albany, OR 97321
800-622-5561

www.nicholsgardennursery.com

Seeds of Change
P.O. Box 15700
Santa Fe, NM 87506
888-762-7333

www.seedsofchange.com

Tropilab Inc.
8240 Ulmerton Road
Largo, FL 33771-3948
888-613-4446

www.tropilab.com

Glasshouse Works
Church Street, P.O. Box 97
Stewart, OH 45778-0097
740-662-2142

www.glasshouseworks.com

Scott D. Appell is a regular contributor to BBG publications and the author of four books, Pansies, Lilies, Tulips, and Orchids. He lives and gardens on St. Croix, in the U.S. Virgin Islands.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/2006sp_spuds.html

Spring Beauty—A Woodland Wildflower With Tasty Tubers

Plants & Gardens News Volume 21, Number 1 | Spring 2006
by Scott D. Appell

One of our prettiest and earliest-blooming wildflowers—spring beauty (Claytonia virginica)—is also a delicious vegetable. It may be the definitive tater tot. Native to moist woodlands, sunny stream banks, and thickets in eastern North America, this low-growing plant has tiny underground tubers that can be prepared and eaten just like potatoes. Indeed, another common name for the spring beauty is the “fairy spud.”
Spring Beauty

Claytonia virginica
Photo by Jim Stasz at USDA-NRCS PLANTS Database

A member of the Portulacaceae, or portulaca family, and a cousin to other well-known wild edibles such as purslane (Portulaca oleracea) and miner’s lettuce (Montia perfoliata), spring beauty is one of about 15 species in the Claytonia genus. The genus is distributed throughout North America and Australasia and has long been a source of good snacking. Both the Iroquois and Algonquin dined on the boiled or roasted tubers of Claytonia virginica.

A perennial herb, spring beauty usually grows about six inches tall and eight inches wide. It sports grasslike, succulent, dark green leaves. In early spring, dense racemes of star-shaped, pink-tinged white flowers appear and last for about a month. When spring beauties blossom in large drifts across the landscape, the effect is stunning.

The tubers are found about two to three inches under the soil and measure from a half inch to two inches in diameter. In his classic culinary field guide, Stalking the Wild Asparagus, Euell Gibbons wrote a charming chapter on these wild edible treats. He remarked that the “spuds” don’t really taste like potatoes at all but rather are sweeter in flavor, like boiled chestnuts, though with a softer, smoother texture.

However, even back in 1970, Gibbons sounded a note of caution and restraint. He warned against overharvesting the tubers in the wild and diminishing the plants’ flowering display. “The tubers are good food for the body,” he wrote, “but after a long winter, the pale-rose flowers in early spring are food for the soul.”

These days, wild collection of spring beauty and other native plants is controversial, due to issues of sustainability. (In at least one state—Massachusetts—spring beauty is now listed as endangered!) In any case, it’s not necessary to harvest native edibles when we can grow them at home as a renewable delight.

Spring beauty is easy to grow in the garden and makes a handsome addition to the sunny or partially shaded wildflower collection. Just make sure to purchase your plants from nurseries that propagate their plants on-site rather than dig them from the wild. One good source is Gardens of the Blue Ridge (P.O. Box 10, Pineola, NC 28604; 704-733-2417; www.gardensoftheblueridge.com).

Hardy from USDA Zones 5 to 9, spring beauty is more often than not an ephemeral; the foliage tends to wither and fade away over the summer. Propagation of the plant is via autumn-sown seed or small tubers. Grow it in a humus-rich but sharply drained soil. If your soil is a little too sodden, work in plenty of sharp sand or turkey grit.

It’s best to harvest the tubers when the plants are in full bloom. This can be a challenge given the charming nature of the flowers. It also takes a lot of tubers to feed one person. However, damage to spring beauty beds can be minimized by replanting the tiniest of the tater tots and letting the beds rejuvenate for a couple of years between harvests.

The tiny, sweet tubers are high in potassium and vitamin A and are a good source of calcium and vitamin C. They can be eaten raw, boiled, fried, roasted, or mashed. They’re good in stews or casseroles or cooked with peas like new potatoes. The young foliage and stems may also be eaten raw in salads or steamed and served as greens. The flowers make an attractive edible garnish for hors d’oeuvres, cheeses, pâtés, and the like.

The easiest way to prepare the tubers is by washing them and boiling them in lightly salted water for 10 to 15 minutes, depending on size. When cooked, drain the tubers, anoint them with a little olive oil or a knob of unsalted butter, add salt and pepper to taste, and garnish with chopped parsley, chives, or chervil. Some people prefer to peel off the jacket before eating their fairy spuds, but I like to gobble them whole.
Salade Niçoise Amuse-Gueule
(A novel approach to the classic salad: makes 24 canapés)

* 24 spring beauty tubers, boiled, chilled, and halved
* 12 quail eggs, hard-boiled, shelled, chilled, and halved lengthwise
* 1 can of high-quality tuna in olive oil, drained and flaked
* 24 niçoise or picholine olives, pitted
* 12 anchovy fillets, halved lengthwise to make 24 strips
* 1 generous cup of mâche (lamb’s lettuce), washed and spun dried
* 48 haricots verts, boiled and chilled
* 24 slices of French-style baguette, sliced 5-inch thick, brushed with olive oil and lightly toasted, cooled
* Unsalted butter, softened

Butter the baguette toasts and adhere a little mâche to each. Divide and artfully arrange the rest of the ingredients on the toasts and serve.

Scott D. Appell writes, gardens, and teaches horticulture in Vieques, Puerto Rico.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/1998sp_sorbet.html

Sorbet: Herb- and Flower-infused Ices

Plants & Gardens News Volume 13, Number 1 | Fall 1998
by Elizabeth McGowan
Ice Cream Oeuvre

When Michel Platz opened Out of a Flower, a gourmet ice cream and sorbet company, his mother was his toughest customer. “She couldn’t understand why, with all my restaurant experience, I wanted to make ice cream,” recalls the garden-loving entrepreneur. In 1990, the French-trained chef turned in his toque at the tony L’Entrecôte restaurant in Dallas to devote his energies full-time to creating frozen confections that star ingredients more often seen in bouquets than desserts. It wasn’t until Platz supplied Pope John Paul II’s entourage with his award-winning edible flower- and herb-infused sorbets during the pontiff’s 1995 visit to the U.S. that he received his mother’s blessing as well. After all, it had to be a special dessert to earn a papal audience.

Platz’s mother needn’t have worried that her son’s culinary skills were going into deep freeze. With recipes combining unlikely elements (spiced cranberry with port, sage, and pecan; passion fruit and rose petal, for example), the Out of a Flower repertoire is clearly informed by a chef’s instinct for flavor nuance. In fact, several of the company’s 54 flavors, which are sold at specialty gourmet shops nationwide and directly by the company, evolved from recipes for soups and dressings Platz created while headlining at L’Entrecôte.

Of course, Platz needed to refine his technique to work with a frozen medium, and he’s learned some tricks of the ice cream trade over the years. He’s also added some innovations of his own. Wine, he discovered, prevents iciness in sorbet; pepper brings out the flavor of fruit. Some flowers and herbs work best when strained out of the preparatory mixture; others add zip when sprinkled throughout the finished product. “The flower must have a strong flavor and aroma or you’ll be left with nothing after the process of marinating,” Platz explains. He recommends nasturtiums, roses, snapdragons, and begonias. Rose geraniums are a particular favorite: “They give a nice color and you get a lovely fragrance in your mouth,” says Platz. Then again, you don’t want too much of a good thing. Marigold, for example, will overpower its fellow ingredients. “It works as a vinegar,” Platz warns, “but in a sorbet it’s too strong and bitter.”

Though his business has mushroomed from the seminal days when all of his flowers and herbs came from his own Dallas kitchen garden and he hand-delivered his products, Platz still uses only fresh ingredients and creates all Out of a Flower recipes himself. Two of his sorbets (the best-selling peach and champagne with mint, and passion fruit and rose petal) have taken home top food-industry awards.

But even a master chef has a flop now and then. Platz’s personal nemesis is the pansy. “No matter what color pansy we start out with, the finished product always ends up off-purple,” Platz sighs. “It tastes wonderful, but customers just don’t want to eat blue.”

For information about where to buy Out of a Flower products, call (800) 743-5696.
Flower Power

The staff of Plants & Gardens News put a sampling of Out of a Flower offerings to the taste test. The reaction to the five sorbets ranged from the enthusiastic “killer” to the less-than-complimentary “must be an acquired taste.” Following are the results on a scale of flower (no competition for Cherry Garcia) to flowerflowerflowerflowerflower (I’ll never eat Cherry Garcia again).

Peach and Champagne with Mint flower flower flower flower flower

“Wonderful aroma, good taste, very, very peachy!”

Passion Fruit with Red Rose flower flower flower

“Tart, very agreeable fragrance of rose.”

Strawberry, Sweet Rosemary, and Black Peppercorn flower

“May be an award-contender, but tastes like bubblebath to me.”

Red Cactus Pear flower flower

“Surprising banana flavor with a mild aftertaste of pear.”

Rose Geranium Blossom flower flower

“Superb! Tastes like India!” or “Nasty”—P&G readers, take your pick.

Christopher’s Green Tea flower flower flower flower

“Very intense, roasted flavor, stronger than you usually get in a Chinese restaurant.”

Lavender flower flower flower

“Delicate creamy flavor; subtle, but nice.”

Elizabeth McGowan is a former editor of P&G News.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/handbooks/saladgardens/2.html

Getting Started: Salad-Garden Basics
by Karan Davis Cutler

While our ancestors didn’t know ‘Early Girl’ tomatoes or ‘Red Sails’ lettuce, they knew a good deal about growing salad crops. “Close to his cottage lay a garden-ground,/With reeds and osiers sparely girt around;/Small was the spot, but liberal to produce...” begins Virgil’s “The Salad,” a poem written 2,000 years ago. His image of a salad garden is still timely: a conveniently located small, fertile plot protected from the wind that will yield generously.

Those with land to spare can spread their lettuces, carrots and tomatoes over a half-acre or more. A 100-foot row will produce 85 pounds of onions, 120 pounds of cucumbers or 150 pounds of cabbage, but few of us need harvests this large. Fortunately, we can also farm in Mason jars, clay and plastic pots, wood tubs and raised beds that measure 2 feet by 2 or 5 feet by 20. We can tuck cabbages between daylilies and shasta daisies and cultivate chives on the windowsill. The secret to salad gardening isn’t how large the growing area, but how good.

Except in hot regions, where protection from the afternoon sun is sometimes necessary, most salad crops do best in full sun. For gardeners with a less-than-perfect location, it’s a relief to know that some crops, including beets, carrots, chives, cress, endive, looseleaf lettuce, parsley, radishes, scallions, spinach and turnips, will succeed with only five or six hours of direct sunlight a day. All plants prefer to be out of the wind, though they also want good air circulation, which will help them ward off diseases. “Evil aire,” warned Thomas Hill, the author of The Gardener’s Labyrinth (1577), “doth not only annoy and corrupt the plants...but choke and dul the spirits of men.” And women.

Hill also talked about water, not only the need for adequate moisture but the need for well-drained soil. Ground where “the watriness shall exceed” will dash a gardener’s enthusiasm faster than an invasion of Japanese beetles. Carrying water isn’t much fun either, so try to locate your garden near a water source if you know it is unlikely to receive the one inch per week of rain that most vegetables need.
Soil Basics
Soil pH

While we’d all wish for humus-rich loam, the chances of getting it are about as good as catching wind in a net. Before you begin amending and enriching, however, it’s smart to determine what you have. Most vegetables do fine with a pH between 6.0 and 7.0. The majority of soils fall in that range, so a pH test probably isn’t necessary unless you suspect yours is highly acid or alkaline. But it is useful to analyze your soil makeup with a simple “jar” test: Take a half-cup of garden soil—dug vertically like a core sample—and place it and about two cups of water into a straight-sided clear-glass jar. Screw on the lid and shake. When the sample settles, it should be nicely layered: The sand will rest on the bottom, the silt above it, clay atop the silt, and the organic material will float on the surface. You can measure and calculate the exact percentage of each, or just eyeball it to know whether you’re working with sand or clay. Mostly sand? More humus will give it body. Mostly clay? More humus will open it up.
Fertilizer

In addition to friable soil, plants need an assortment of chemical elements. Three of the half dozen most important—carbon, hydrogen and oxygen—are available from air and water, but the remaining big three must be supplied by the soil: nitrogen (N), which promotes quick growth and deep green foliage; phosphorus (P), essential to root development and flower and seed production; and potassium (K), which helps plants resist disease and cold and aids fruit production. Most salad crops grow best in moderately rich soil that has an equal supply of nitrogen, phosphorus and potassium. Many gardeners overdo the fertilizer, though; if you regularly add compost and other organic matter to your garden, no additional fertilizers should be necessary. And by adding humus you’ll be improving the soil’s tilth at the same time. The ancient—and wise—rule is to feed the soil, not the plant. When earthworms become plentiful, it’s a safe bet that your soil is healthy.
Preparing the ground

For cold-loving crops like peas, it’s a good idea to prepare the ground the previous fall. I use a spading fork to turn the section of my vegetable patch that will be planted first, then cover it with shredded maple leaves mixed with horse manure, which will break down over the winter. In spring, as soon as I can get in the garden (the traditional test is to squeeze a fistful of soil—if it forms a firm sticky ball, it’s still too early to be gardening), I scratch in what mulch remains with a cultivator and plant. The rest of the garden is turned in the spring. If you use a rototiller, as I do, don’t get carried away. Garden soil is not improved by being pulverized to the consistency of river sand.
Planting & Transplanting
Sowing & thinning

Most seed packets provide recommendations for planting depths and spacing. Take them seriously. Seeds sown too deep will rot, especially in cold, wet soil, and plants set too close together will never have a chance to develop fully. That’s not a great problem with lettuces—you can harvest six small plants rather than one large one—but carrots or radishes that are crowded will fail to form roots. It’s painful to rip out healthy young seedlings, but close your eyes if you must, take a deep breath and yank.

Salad crops that begin their careers indoors, such as tomatoes and peppers, need an early start but not a too-early start. Plants sown prematurely become weak and leggy, so err on the late side, and don’t begin tomatoes and peppers more than six weeks before the frost-free date, especially if you’re gardening on a windowsill and not under artificial lights. I use standard-sized 10-by-20-inch trays filled with tapered cells-small, medium and large, depending on the crop-and a potting mix I put together with equal parts compost, garden soil and perlite. Any planting containers will do—clay pots, milk cartons, Styrofoam coffee cups, pie pans-as long as they have bottom drainage and aren’t excessively large. Two basil seeds are lost in a 10-inch pot filled with damp soil.

Commercial seedling mixes work as well as my home-made potting soil. Just be sure the medium you use is sterile-waking up to a flat of toppled seedlings, victims of the “damping off” fungus, is as discouraging as discovering woodchucks have moved into your garden. Keep the soil damp and provide plenty of warmth, at least 65¡ F, to speed germination. Once the seedlings emerge, move the flats to a spot where they will receive bright light but are away from cold drafts or drying heat. Water carefully— keeping the soil moist but not wet—and feed as needed. If you’ve sown in a nutrient-poor medium, such as vermiculite, peat or perlite, the plants will need to be fertilized: water twice a week with a weak solution of fish emulsion (two teaspoons emulsion to one gallon water). And thin, removing all misshapen or weak plants first, then enough plants to eliminate crowding.
Transplanting

If you’ve been a real early bird, your seedlings will need to be transplanted to larger, deeper containers before it’s time to take them outdoors. Handle them gently as you move them to larger quarters, and provide them with the richer soil they now need. Most salad crops transplant well, but carrots, cucumbers, spinach, summer squash, Swiss chard and turnips are fussy, so take extra care not to disturb their roots, and avoid handling any seedling by its stem. But don’t avoid handling it: Research shows that seedlings that have been gently brushed every day (use your hand or a piece of paper) are stockier and stronger than those left untouched.

Ten days before a plant goes into the garden is the time for “hardening off,” the horticultural equivalent of adjusting to leaving home. Many gardeners use cold frames for this process, but I simply move my flats to a shaded, protected location on my patio for three or four hours, then bring them back inside. Each day I extend their time outdoors and expose them to increasing amounts of sun and wind. By the time I’m ready to plant them into the garden, they’re spending both day and night outside.

Save an evening to plant out, or take advantage of an overcast day. Most salad vegetables should be set slightly deeper than the depth they were growing in their pot, and tomatoes should be buried at least half-way up their stem. After you firm the soil around the transplant, water it with a weak solution of fish emulsion and provide some protection from sun and wind for the first three or four days.
Increasing Your Yields

Whether you plant in tidy rows, broadcast seed in beds or garden in containers, two techniques will help ensure a steady supply of salads: succession planting and interplanting. One form of succession planting involves sowing in spaces vacated by other crops-planting a row of beans, for example, where the radishes had been—or planting short- and long-season crops, such as radishes and beans, together. The radishes will be pulled long before the beans demand all the space. Succession planting also refers to making small plantings every week or ten days, rather than one large planting. Lettuce, scallions and beans are among the salad vegetables that can be planted in succession. Many crops, such as spinach and peas, can be sown again in midsummer for a fall harvest. Breeders have made succession planting even easier by producing “early” and “late” varieties. I can set out ‘Earliana’ (60 days), ‘Early Round Dutch’ (80 days) and ‘Apex’ (100 days) on the same day in early spring and harvest cabbage from June until October.

Interplanting, or intercropping, is another way to have a constant supply of salad vegetables and also to increase your garden’s yields. Small vegetables can be tucked between larger ones—onions mixed in a bed of broccoli or spinach. When you’re mixing plants in a single bed or row, be aware of each plant’s root requirements: Shallow-rooted plants, such as garlic, endive or spinach, are best matched with deeper-rooted vegetables like tomatoes. Or combine large sun-loving plants, such as tomatoes or peppers, with shade-tolerant leaf crops like lettuce or spinach, which will benefit from the shadows thrown by their taller partners. Finally, don’t limit intercropping to the vegetable patch. Many salad crops are wonderfully ornamental—lettuces, cabbages and kales come immediately to mind—and can join the true ornamentals in your flower garden.

Still another way of increasing yields is to do what cities have
done—grow up. Cucumbers are natural candidates for trellising. Training the vines to ascend not only saves room, but also produces straighter, cleaner cucumbers and, according to more than one study, actually increases the number of fruits. Tomatoes should be staked or caged, rather than left to sprawl, and other vining plants, such as Malabar spinach and peas, do their best when allowed to follow their natural bend and climb.

A last method of expanding the harvest, at least for northern gardeners, is to extend it through the use of insulating covers, such as cold frames, plastic-covered tunnels, floating row covers and heavy mulches. Eliot Coleman’s The New Organic Grower’s Four-Season Harvest is the last word on the topic, the essential reference for salad gardeners who want to harvest lettuce, spinach and carrots long after common sense deems it possible. The growing season, Coleman explains, is limited to the warmer months, but there are no limits on the harvest season. I cry “uncle” in November, long after the first frost, but Four-Season Harvest makes clear that I could be cutting parsley in December, January and even March, if I wanted to.
Closing Down

The work isn’t over when the last turnip is pulled. Then it’s time to think ahead—to prepare and enrich the soil for next year’s salads. After cleaning up the garden—especially spent tomato plants, which harbor diseases—I sow a “green manure,” a cover crop of rye or red clover. It squeezes out weeds in late fall, protects the soil in winter and, when tilled under in May, enriches the soil. Any part of the garden not planted with a green manure I blanket with at least 6 inches of mulch—a mix of compost, shredded leaves, hay and horse manure.

This is the time, too, for planning next year’s garden, taking care to rotate the placement of my salad crops. Crop rotation not only helps the soil, it reduces problems from diseases and pests. The basic rule is not to locate the same thing in the same place year after year. Better still, avoid planting a spot with another member of the same plant family— preferably for three or four years, but at least for a year. Tomatoes and peppers are both members of the family Solanaceae, so I don’t plant peppers where the tomatoes grew last year. Instead, I’ll put the cucumbers where the tomatoes grew, and plant peppers where the peas were.

As the snow piles up outside, I plow through the mail-order seed catalogs. They offer variety that isn’t available at the local garden center, everything from new-minted F1 hybrids to open-pollinated old timers, such as ‘Black-Seeded Simpson’ lettuce and ‘Dinner Plate’ tomato. Disease resistance ranks high on my list of priorities, so I’m on the lookout for abbreviations such as “VF,” which indicates that the variety is resistant to verticillium and fusarium wilts. And I take advantage of regional seed companies, firms that specialize in cultivars that will thrive in my near-Arctic conditions. Then I take a serious look at my orders, admit that my family couldn’t possibly consume 19 different lettuces, 13 radishes, 11 tomatoes, 9 beans, 9 cucumbers, 8 carrots, 6 peas, 5 spinaches, 4 scallions, 3 peppers, 3 summer squash and an assortment of other greens, and I cut the order by two-thirds. A salad, after all, is a simple thing.

Karan Davis Cutler, guest editor for Salad Gardens, is the former managing editor of Harrowsmith Country Life magazine. She wages a never-ending battle with Vermont’s stoney soil.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/2006su_spinach.html

Red-Stemmed Malabar Spinach—A Deliciously Stunning Vine
Plants & Gardens News | Volume 21, Number 2 | Summer 2006
by Scott D. Appell

One of my favorite hot-weather vegetables is red-stemmed Malabar spinach, Basella alba ‘Rubra’. Easy to grow, versatile in the kitchen, and delicious to eat, this vigorous vine is unrelated to true spinach (Spinacia oleracea) but produces abundant large meaty leaves that are remarkably spinachlike in taste and form. The plant is also much better suited for summer growing than its better-known namesake.
Red-stemmed Malabar spinach

Red-stemmed Malabar spinach (photo Wit’s End Growers, www.pickoftheplanet.com)

Oh, and I forgot to mention this: It’s a thing of beauty. A number of years ago, I visited Wave Hill gardens, in the Bronx, New York, and saw red-stemmed Malabar spinach twining on a trellis and forming the backdrop for a display of dark-leafed cultivars of common economic crops—purple-stemmed sugarcane, black-leafed cotton, aubergine-colored beets, kale, and Swiss chard. The combination knocked my socks off!

Basella alba goes by many other common names besides Malabar spinach, including Ceylon spinach, Indian spinach, vine spinach, and Malabar nightshade. Native to India and Indonesia (Malabar is a coastal region in southwestern India), the plant is used in traditional cuisines as far westward from its point of origin as Japan and eastward as Africa. It has also been introduced to South America and the Caribbean.

Straight species Malabar spinach has yellowish stems and green leaves and is a pleasing enough plant, but it’s the red-stemmed cultivar ‘Rubra’ that really catches the eye (whether it’s growing in a pot or lounging in a salad bowl). The thick red stems contrast wonderfully with the round, highly textured, two- to four-inch-long dark green leaves. Red venation in the leaves adds another level of color contrast.

Malabar spinach grows eight to ten feet tall and wide and produces inconspicuous white-tinged pink flowers in its leaf axils. Upon fertilization, the flowers develop into small, highly ornamental, single-seeded purple berries. The juice from the berries is so intensely purple that it puts beet juice to shame. It’s used as a natural food colorant for agar (vegetable “gelatine”) dishes, sweets, and pastries.

Malabar spinach excels in warm, tropical areas, where it can easily grow a foot per day. It’s intolerant of any chills; thus, the only regions in the U.S. where it would be perennial are the Deep South or southern Florida. Gardeners in colder climates can grow it as an annual.

Basella alba prefers a humus-rich, sandy loam in full sun. Seeds can be sown in situ after all danger of frost has passed, or they can be started indoors eight weeks before the last frost date, hardened off outside, and transplanted one foot apart. Use any style of plant support you prefer: poles, teepees, chain-link fencing—I use a tall, recycled Eiffel Tower-esque metal étagère missing its glass shelves. Malabar spinach is amazingly insect and disease resistant, and that is saying a lot; down here in Puerto Rico, legions of caterpillars and grasshoppers can decimate an entire planting overnight, yet the spinach remains untouched!

Propagation from seed is a snap, and happily, the red-stemmed cultivar of Malabar spinach comes true from seed. Saving seed is easy too: Simply dry the entire fruit and use it for planting the following year. Stem and tip cuttings may be employed as well. (One source for the plant is Shady Acres Herb Farm, 7815 Highway 212, Chaska, MN 55318; 952-466-3391; www.shadyacres.com.)

The succulent leaves and stem tips are rich in vitamins A and C and are a good source of iron and calcium. They may be eaten raw in salads, boiled, steamed, stir-fried, or added to soups, stews, tofu dishes, and curries. Or you can use them as a filling for quiche, omelets, savory turnovers, and potpies. Since red-stemmed Malabar spinach can lose a lot of its red color when cooked, perhaps it is best utilized (visually speaking) in raw dishes.
Indonesian-Style Malabar Spinach

* 4 cups Malabar spinach leaves
* 3 tablespoons peanut oil
* 3 garlic cloves, finely chopped
* ½-inch piece galangal root or fresh ginger root, peeled and finely chopped
* 1 red chile pepper, seeded and slivered lengthwise
* 1¾ cups cream of coconut (not coconut milk)
* ¼ cup fresh lime juice
* ¼ teaspoon salt
* 1 scallion sliced into thin rings, including green tops
* 2–4 fresh kaffir lime leaves, or 2 dried leaves pulverized in a spice mill

Gently sauté the galangal, garlic, and chile in the oil for a few minutes, then stir in the greens and cook until they are wilted through. Drain off excess liquid. Combine the remaining ingredients in a medium-size, heavy-bottomed saucepan and heat to a bare simmer, stirring constantly. Do not let it boil. Add the cooked greens and mix. Serve warm.

Scott D. Appell writes, gardens, and teaches horticulture in Vieques, Puerto Rico.

[One of my favorite house plants, for a hanging planter.
granny]

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/2003sp_oliveoil.html

Olive Oil—Buying a Quality Bottle

Plants & Gardens News Volume 18, Number 1 | Spring 2003
by Niall Dunne

We all know at least a little bit about olive oil. It has played a big role in Western culture for millennia, not only as a food, but also as a source of fuel, medicine, and cosmetics. And over the last few decades, because of its delicious flavor, healthful properties (including high levels of beneficial fatty acids and antioxidants), and Mediterranean allure, olive oil has been at the forefront of the grain-and-veggie revolution in mainstream American cuisine.

In recent years, however, bon vivants in the media have been hinting that, as responsible consumers and wannabe epicures, we should all know a little more about olive oil. Boutique stores have opened in major U.S. cities with the aim of heightening our awareness about the magic of the olive.
Olive oil

Photo courtesy www.oliveoilsource.com

Olive oil is in many ways like wine: There’s the decent stuff meant for general use, and there’s the “vintage” stuff meant to be savored. The latter shouldn’t be wasted in a frying pan but rather drizzled on salads, pastas, or grilled foods, dipped into with bread, or even sipped neat so that its “organoleptic” qualities—its aroma and taste—can be fully appreciated. (Note that olive oil, unlike good red wine, does not improve with age. On the contrary, it has a shelf life of about a year.)

Buying a premium bottle is not just a matter of going to your nearest supermarket and picking up any old extra virgin. Many brands available in big stores come from large cooperative plants that inevitably produce blander products. Moreover, they are notorious for leaving essential information off their labels (such as the date of harvest).

But before going on, let’s get a little more background on olive oil, so we know what we’re talking about when we say provocative things like “extra virgin.” (It may not be immediately clear, except perhaps to chastity campaigners like Britney Spears, but some virgins are more virginal than others.)

Olive oil is produced by crushing or pressing the fresh fruit (as opposed to the cured table fruit) of the olive tree, Olea europaea, an evergreen tree native to the eastern Mediterranean. The fruit, botanically a fleshy drupe, appears in late summer and matures in color from bright green to purplish brown. There are hundreds of olive varieties (see the consumer web site www.oliveoilsource.com for a list).

Olives are harvested in late fall and winter. Fermentation of the fruit caused by damage or aging adversely effects the quality of the oil. Therefore hand-harvesting and immediate processing of the olives is ideal (but not quite feasible in mass-market production).

The naming and grading of olive oil is pretty straightforward. “Virgin” olive oil is obtained solely by physical extraction under temperatures that don’t alter the oil. Washing, decanting, centrifuging, and filtering are permitted; chemical solvents are not.

Virgin oil is subdivided into four categories based on aroma, flavor, and levels of free acidity (the less the better). “Extra virgin” oil has very high organoleptic qualities and no more than 1 percent acidity. “Virgin” oil is the same except with an allowable free acidity of 2 percent. “Ordinary” oil has good taste and aroma and up to 3.3 percent acidity. “Lampante” oil has poor organoleptic qualities, higher than 3.3 percent acidity, and needs to be refined for human consumption.

Virgin oil makes up only about 10 percent of world production. The rest is either “refined olive oil,” “pure olive oil,” or “olive-pomace oil.” These are okay for general cooking purposes, but nowhere near as desirable as the virgin oil.

Further jargon for high-end extra virgin includes “first cold-pressed,” which means oil from the first pressing (there can be more than one) of the olives, with no applied heat; “single estate,” which means that the oil comes from a single family business or farm; and “affiorato” or “free run” oil, the rarest and finest there is, obtained from either very coarsely crushed olives or olives piled high and squeezed by their own weight.

I recently took part in an olive-oil-tasting session at Oliviers & Co., a French-based specialty chain with a store in Manhattan. The company charges a high price for its merchandise, so naturally I was skeptical at first. But the folks working there were knowledgeable and relaxed, and if I was being hoodwinked, at least it was with style.

Oliviers & Co. breaks down its many oils into three flavor groupings—floral, herbaceous, and spicy—and provides a list of suggested food pairings for each. I tried a few, including Fattorie di Galiga e Vetrice, Harvest 2002, a first-cold-pressed extra virgin oil from Tuscany in the herbaceous category. A blend of different olive varieties—’Frantoio’, ‘Pendolino’, and ‘Morinello’—it was light and delectable, recommended as a companion for pasta and grilled vegetables. The tasting notes on the container (analogous to those on a wine bottle) read artichoke, green pepper, and bay leaf. But maybe my palate wasn’t developed enough: I thought I tasted hints of lemon and string bean instead.

I bought a 16.8-ounce tin of the Galiga for $28. It was probably worth it. But I think I’ll have to wait for Santa to buy me some oil from Tuscan grower Armondo Manni. Profiled recently in The New York Times and made from hand-harvested ‘Olivastra Seggianese’ olives, Manni’s Per Me and Per Mio Figlio oils are favorites of chefs Thomas Keller and Jean-Georges Vongerichten. You can buy them online at www.manni.biz and have them shipped in special temperature- and pressure-controlled containers—30 ounces for $255. Or there’s always butter.

Niall Dunne is the associate editor of Plants & Gardens News.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/2005sp_oregano.html

Mexican Oregano—A Tasty Twist on an Age-Old Flavor

Plants & Gardens News Volume 20, Number 1 | Spring 2005
by Scott D. Appell

After a lifetime of growing edible plants, I’ve come to the conclusion that “oregano” should be a botanical category of aroma and taste rather than the common name for any one herb. After all, there are so many plants with the requisite essential oils that provide oregano’s heady, easily recognizable fragrance and piquant flavor. Most folks in the U.S. are familiar with common oregano (Origanum vulgare), and many have used Greek oregano, Italian oregano, and Sicilian oregano—all cultivars of O. vulgare ssp. hirtum. Some even know about Turkistan oregano (Origanum tytthantum) from central Asia and showy oregano (O. pulchellum), which is popular in the Mediterranean region.

But the oregano experience is not confined to a single genus, Origanum. Take, for example, Cuban oregano, or Spanish thyme, called simply orégano in Spanish. This aromatic shrub and oregano analog is neither oregano (Origanum) nor thyme (Thymus), nor is it from Cuba or Spain, for that matter. The scientific name of this African native is Plectranthus amboinicus.
Mexican Oregano

Mexican oregano (Photo by Benny J. Simpson, Texas A&M Dallas, TAES-Dallas)

Origanum and Plectranthus both belong to the Lamiaceae, or mint family, so you’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s all just a family thing. But then along comes yet another wonderful oregano wannabe: Mexican oregano (Lippia graveolens)—also called orégano in Spanish—a member of the Verbenaceae, or verbena family. Little known in North America, this “oregano” is a great acquisition for plant collectors and herb gardeners alike.

Though not a true oregano, Mexican oregano is native to Mexico, as well as Guatemala and parts of South America. A somewhat ungainly shrub, it grows up to five feet tall and wide. Its brittle branches are very narrow, stiffly arching, and arranged in a seemingly haphazard manner. (The plant responds extremely well to pruning, so consider espaliers or topiaries as alternatives to the natural zigzag form). Its dark green, highly fragrant, corrugated foliage is minuscule—about 1/3-inch long by 1/8-inch wide. Tiny, starry-white flowers are borne intermittently throughout the year in the leaf axils.

Although a trifle difficult to find commercially (one nursery source is G.S. Grimes Seeds; 800-241-7333), Mexican oregano couldn’t be easier to cultivate. Full sun, heat, and fertile, well-drained soil are all the plant requires. Average moisture is just fine. Lippia graveolens is hardy in USDA Zones 10 and 11. Gardeners in Zone 9 might risk it outside all year, but heavy, cool, wet winter soils will be its demise.

Farther north, try Mexican oregano as a container specimen outdoors in warm weather and overwintered indoors in a greenhouse or south-facing windowsill. Indoors it will relish the same conditions as bay or rosemary—cool temperatures and fresh, circulating air. Watch for spider mites, whiteflies, and mealy bugs. Propagation is a breeze from ripe tip cuttings.

Mexican oregano has a sweetness and intensity that many gourmets prefer to the flavor of the true European or Mediterranean species. The leaves are a wonderful flavoring for fish, meatballs, sausage, tomato sauces, or any recipe requiring a strong oregano essence. Trim off some of the plant’s thicker branches and utilize them as flavor-enhancing skewers for seafood or poultry shish kebobs or vegetable brochettes. Whole branches can be strewn over hot charcoal to impart a fantastic taste to grilled foods.

In its native Mexico, the herb is sometimes called té de pais (”country tea”), because the dried leaves are brewed into an herbal tea. It is also employed in salsas, pozole (Mexican-style hominy soup, usually prepared with pork), adobos (strongly flavored Mexican seasoning pastes), and rajas (roasted and seasoned chile strips used as filling for tortillas or quesadillas or as a base for more complex dishes).
Roasted Tomato Jalapeño Salsa

* 1 pound ripe red tomatoes (2 medium-large round or 6 to 8 plum)
* 2 large fresh jalapeño peppers, preferably red-ripened
* 4 large cloves of garlic, peeled
* 1 small white onion, peeled and thickly sliced
* 1/4 cup Mexican oregano leaves (no wiry stems, please)
* 1/3 cup loosely packed chopped cilantro

Preheat the broiler. Place all the vegetables on a cookie sheet lined with lightly oiled aluminum foil. Place the sheet under the broiler. Timing is critical here; using a pair of tongs, turn the vegetables so that they broil evenly. Remove the garlic when lightly browned (a couple of minutes), and place in the bowl of a food processor. Remove the onions when wilted, soft, and lightly browned and add to the food processor. Allow the peppers and tomatoes to blacken completely (about 10 to 15 minutes). Peel the tomatoes and peppers (remove seeds if desired), coarsely chop them, and add to the processor. Pulse the processor a few times to make a coarse-textured purée. Place the salsa in a small saucepan and slowly bring it to a simmer, stirring gently but constantly. Add the Mexican oregano and cook for five more minutes. Remove it from the heat and stir in the cilantro. Taste for seasoning and add salt, if desired. Makes about 2 cups.

Scott D. Appell writes, gardens, and teaches horticulture in Vieques, Puerto Rico.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/1999sp_mesclun.html

Mesclun: A Truly Upscale Salad
Plants & Gardens News Volume 14, Number 1 | Fall 1999
by Elizabeth McGowan

The 1990s will go down in culinary history as the decade America became a nation of salad snobs. The era when iceberg lettuce descended to the status of Wonder Bread—acceptable only in airplanes, truck stops, or retro-diners as a side dish for meatloaf or tuna casserole. Sure, iceberg still makes an appearance in respectable restaurants to add crunch to more exotic salad fare—and to make the pricier greens stretch further. But iceberg as the main event? Strictly déclassé.
salad bowl

Designer greens began registering on the American gourmet radar in the mid-eighties with the importation of mesclun, a mix of baby lettuces and wild greens, including chervil, arugula, mizuna, mache, and endive favored in France. Like the French jeans that adorned the trendiest U.S. derrieres a decade earlier, mesclun, marketed with its continental cachet, was soon seen in all the right places.
Thoroughly Modern Mesclun

For tips on the compleat salad we went to Greens restaurant, San Francisco’s renowned pantheon of vegetarian cuisine. Here’s their creation to serve four.
Salad

* Salt
* 1/4 lb. yellow wax beans, cut to 2-inch lengths
* Light olive oil
* Pepper
* Sherry vinegar
* 10 cups mixed lettuces (Marvel of Four Seasons, Red and Green Oak Leaf, Red Butter, Lollo Rosa)
* Small head of radicchio
* Handful of arugula
* 1/4 cup hazelnuts, toasted
* 2 oz. crumbled goat cheese

Vinaigrette

* 2 T sherry vinegar
* 1 small shallot, diced
* 1/4 tsp. salt
* 2T hazelnut oil
* 2T light olive oil

Combine everything but oils, then slowly whisk in oils.

Boil beans for 3-4 minutes until just tender. Drain, rinse, then toss with olive oil, salt, pepper. When ready to toss salad, add splash of sherry vinegar.

Cut larger lettuce leaves; keep small ones whole. Trim radicchio base; cut leaves into large pieces. Trim arugula stems. Combine ingredients and toss with vinaigrette.

It proved a food in tune with its times. As medical journals touted greens for their preventive properties in heart disease and cancer, salads, ever more creative and no longer confined to opening act status, increasingly shared top billing with meat, fish, and pasta on dinner tables nationwide.

Mesclun also provided the perfect antidote to the excesses of the eighties. Elegant, without being ostentatious; delicious, but understated, mesclun reflected the restraint of more sober times. With Wall Street downsizing and the real estate market collapsing, mesclun and Range Rovers replaced caviar and BMWs as indulgences for those who still had money to spend, but the grace not to flaunt it—and those who didn’t have money, but wanted to look like they did. Mesclun, though expensive compared to its proletarian green cousins, added oeuvre to a menu, without breaking the budget.

Unlike French jeans, mesclun seems to be here to stay, surviving the boom of the mid-nineties and the current fluctuating stock market. It’s easy to see why: Once exposed to a peppery arugula or a tart purslane, how can Americans return to the pallid world of iceberg?

In typical Yankee fashion, Americans have put their own spin on traditional mesclun, democratizing the elitist green pool with leafy edibles of all descriptions and origins. This open admissions policy—and the packaging and cheapening of ingredients by produce giants—has some gourmands yearning for the highbrow mix of the French original. Food critic Marian Burros, for one, bemoaned the “dumbing down” of mesclun in The New York Times last year, panning the marketing of bland, pedestrian ingredients under a fancy name.

Of course, at this time of the year the vagaries of the produce stand mean nothing to gardeners. Free to grow whatever we personally define as mesclun, we can be as maverick or status quo in our salad adventures as we please, the French, food critics, and Dole, Inc., be damned. And if our tastes secretly run to iceberg, who’s going to know if we sneak some in the privacy of our kitchens? If we get caught, we can say we’re going retro!

Elizabeth McGowan is a former editor ofP&G News.

http://www.bbg.org/gar2/topics/kitchen/1999sp_lemongrass.html

Lemon Grass: A Very Versatile Herb

Plants & Gardens News Volume 14, Number 1 | Spring 1999
by Rob Newgarden

Taking care of the BBG Herb Garden is a diverse job: On a busy day it means about one-third actual gardening, one-third answering questions about our plants, and one-third listening to visitors’ gardening tales—a problem with this year’s tomatoes; a recipe for pesto; how they used sweet woodruff “in the old country.”

Many visitors are not gardeners, but may be curious about the source of a favorite flavor or an herbal remedy; others want to show the kids the plants they grew up with around the house or farm. Still others are avid gardeners, collecting plant ideas, seed, and cuttings whenever available.

One of the herbs most asked about by visitors of all varieties is lemon grass, Cymbopogon citratus. Many associate it with Thai restaurants, and the scent of the rubbed leaves has inspired detailed recollections of mouth-watering dishes tried at some favorite dining spot. Visitors from Caribbean countries are sometimes surprised to see this tropical herb so far north of their homeland. Folks from India, China, and, of course, Southeast Asia also recognize it without needing to read the sign. Some do confuse the handsome gray-green foliage with that of citronella grass (C. nardus) a bigger, mustier-smelling relative, until they breath in its clean aroma—pure lemon, as the common name implies.
Lemon Grass
Some Like It Hot

Lemon grass is a tropical perennial, native to southern India, but cultivated outdoors in practically all tropical regions. In the United States, it is root-hardy to about USDA Zone 9 (California, central Florida) where it goes dormant during the mild winter. It grows in an ever-expanding clump, increasing slowly by tillering rhizomes, and reaches about six feet in height.

In northern regions it grows about three feet tall—more in a very hot summer. It is completely controllable in the cooler-climate garden because it is not winter-hardy.

It does best in full sun, in the hottest possible place, and likes plenty of water and a periodic light dose of fertilizer.

In northern climes, before killing frosts arrive, lemon grass should be cut back to eight-inch stubs, dug up, and potted for winter storage. You can pot excess growth for your friends at this time. If you are lucky enough to own a heated greenhouse, bring it in. The scented foliage will regrow quickly and you’ll have a handy stash to use for flavoring winter recipes. Otherwise, store the potted clumps in the coolest part of the house or attached garage. Reduce watering to a bare minimum and let the clumps “hibernate.” When they start to show signs of life in late winter, move them to a warm, sunny window and resume normal watering. In Brooklyn we plant our lemon grass in mid-May, after a two-week “hardening-off” in a shady, protected, outdoor spot.

Prapap’s Chicken Coconut Soup

The more unusual ingredients from the list below can be found at an Asian market.

* 1-1/2 cups chicken broth
* 1 cup coconut milk
* 6 thin slices young galanga
* 2 stalks lemon grass, lower third only, cut into 1 inch lengths and crushed
* 5 fresh caffre lime leaves, torn
* (not cut) in half
* 8 ounces boned chicken breast, sliced
* 5 tablespoons fish sauce
* 2 tablespoons sugar
* 1/2 cup lime juice
* 1 teaspoon black chili paste
* 1/4 cup cilantro/coriander leaves, torn
* 5 green Thai chili peppers, crushed

Bring chicken broth to a boil in saucepan, then add galanga, lemon grass, and lime leaves.Add coconut milk, chicken, fish sauce, and sugar.Simmer about four minutes, or until chicken is cooked.Place lime juice and chili paste in serving bowl, then pour soup into bowl.Garnish with cilantro and crushed chili peppers.Serves 4.
Haute Cuisine and Home Remedies

Lemon grass is cultivated commercially for its essential oil, which is used to scent soaps, detergents, and air fresheners, and from which constituent compounds are isolated and used in turn to produce commercial vitamin A and an artificial violet perfume. But the most practical home uses are culinary and medicinal.

Prapap Kongsmai, BBG’s graphic artist, plant-label maker, and resident Thai chef, uses mainly the lower “stem” portion in his cooking. “When I owned a restaurant in Queens,” he recalls, “some people wanted to return the soup. They said the lemon grass was too tough! I had to keep from laughing.” In fact, only a cow could digest those stem segments—actually pseudostems, rolls of tough leaf sheaths that are finger-thick in lemon grass. During cooking the aromatic oil is released, giving dishes made with lemon grass their subtle citrus flavor. As for the visible portion that’s impossible to chew? “Just leave it on your plate,” Prapap recommends. So is there any part of lemon grass people actually eat? Prapap says that he occasionally uses the thinner leaf blades, sometimes slicing them paper-thin (across the grain) as an ingredient in a Thai seafood salad.

Roland Thomas of the BBG maintenance department comes to the rescue with another suggestion. Roland grew up on a farm on the island of Grenada and serves as BBG’s unofficial chief advisor on tropical foods. “In my country we use the leaves, stems, everything. We chop it up and dry it, and make a tea for fever.” Roland recommends boiling the lemon grass when using it as a fever remedy, but suggests merely steeping it to make refreshing tea. Use about two tablespoons per cup.
Seeds and Shoots

Visitors who ask me for seeds from our lemon grass are disappointed. The species flowers only rarely, and ours never has. However, seeds (which can be started on a windowsill) or plants are available from several nurseries (see box). Or, if you buy cut shoots of lemon grass at an Asian market, look to see if any true stem (where leaf sheaths are attached) is left intact at the base, below the pseudostem. If so, you can cut the leaves off short and “plant” the shoot in a pot of moist sand. It roots easily, and can be planted out in the garden where it will increase quickly in summer.

The fastest way to get a good crop, of course, is to divide a clump. Cut back the top, dig it up, and pry it apart. A fist-sized cluster of cut-back shoots with roots intact makes a nice division.

And let me end with a personal plea: If you visit the BBG Herb Garden, please don’t ask for a division of our lemon grass. I’m not supposed to give samples. But I’ll be more than happy to talk about it.
Seed Sources

Seeds for lemon grass can be purchased from the following nurseries:

* Kurt Bluemel, Inc.: (410) 557-7229
* Carroll Gardens, Inc.: (410) 848-5422
* Edible Landscaping: (804) 361-9134
* Goodwin Creek Gardens: (541) 846-7357
* Logee’s Greenhouses: (860) 774-8038
* Louisiana Nursery: (318) 948-3696
* Mellinger’s Inc.: (330) 549-9861
* Merry Gardens: (207) 236-9064
* Shady Acres Herb Farm: (612) 466-3391
* Sunnybrook Farms: (440) 729-7232
* Thompson & Morgan: (732) 363-2225
* White Flower Farm: (800) 411-6159
* Wrenwood of Berkeley Springs (304) 258-3071

Rob Newgarden regards his job as curator of BBG’s fragrant Herb Garden as a kind of continuing education program. “There’s so much to learn about the plants I work with. They’re not just pretty, but each one has a human aspect to their story,” he explains.

To qualify as an herb as defined by BBG, a plant must have a great significance to people. A plant’s application can be nutritional, industrial, or medicinal—sunflowers, which are used to create cooking oils, have their place alongside cotton, the king of fiber plants, and digitalis, to which many heart patients owe their lives. Small wonder that on a beautiful, sunny day when BBG has lots of visitors, Rob has a hard time getting his gardening done—because the Herb Garden plants are so important to their lives, people are always interrupting him for more information! Not that he minds. But after you read this issue’s “Plant with Pizzazz,” which will tell you everything you need to know about lemongrass, Rob is hoping you’ll have one less question for him. It’s spring, after all, and he’s got work to do.

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