Better late than never?

As per my usual M.O., I have nothing ready to go in my winter “garden”.  It’s almost November, and I don’t have a cabbage or broccoli seedling to my name.  

This time, it wasn’t for lack of trying.  Ok, so maybe it sort of was a lack of trying.  But I managed to start a flat of seedlings in September.  An entire flat guys!  Eight or ten different varieties of plants.  About six of each variety.  

I was all excited about my new coconut-based organic seed starting mix.  A little dry, but it held moisture pretty well.  And the color change from wet to dry was so drastic that I could see the difference even from my upstairs bedroom window.  

I did everything right.  Appropriate watering, sunlight, protected from the more harmful elements.  I could taste the kohlrabi now.  It was going to be a glorious winter of cabbage, kale, cauliflower, broccoli...  Mounds of snow peas...

Three days later, the first seeds popped their heads out of the dirt.  Awwww.... I love it when they’re so tiny like that.  Three tiny plants striving for the sun.  I couldn’t wait for their brothers and sisters to join them in that journey towards... feeding my face.

Days later, those three little seedlings were still standing.  But they were the only ones.  

My germination rates SUCKED!

To be fair, I was using seeds that were 1-2 years old.  But still, I should have had a better time of it than that.  I even over-seeded all of those cells.  So many tiny cabbage seeds wasted...  

I bought some new seeds.  They’re in, waiting for me to get my crap together again.  I just haven’t had the heart.  I keep looking at that abandoned flat and shake my head.  

• “Where am I going to put them if they sprout?”  
• “I just don’t have the time.”
• “I’ll need to buy more potting soil.”

Whine, whinge, complain, bitch, moan.

But now I want some kale.  So I’ll be planting those suckers today.  Temperatures be damned.

Don’t worry, I’ll keep updating on their progress...

Moving on up! Erm, right?

This is more for my personal reference than anything else.  But if I find it useful, maybe someone else will, also.

The USDA released a new hardiness zone map in January of this year.  It appears that I have been bumped.  Instead of staying in zone 8b, my city has, by the skin of its teeth, been moved into 9a.  Not a huge difference, to be sure.  But this may actually require some attention.

http://planthardiness.ars.usda.gov/PHZMWeb/#

Tomatoes.  Those perfectly sweet-tart tangy acidic fruits that are the long-awaited harbingers of summer.  And for the gardener, at least yours truly, the determining factor whether or not the harvest is a success.

Tomatoes.  I sort of just sighed in my head writing that.  I love them.  And with all the different varieties, it's hard to choose a favorite.  Cherry tomatoes: the candy of the tomato world.  Beefsteaks: amazing between two slices of soft multigrain bread with a healthy smear of basil aioli, salt, and plenty of black pepper.  Romas.  Sometimes not so good for fresh eating, but cook those puppies up, sauce, paste, canned whole; they take on a whole new dimension.

I went to visit the family homestead yesterday.  All told, there's around 18 acres of land.  My parents and grandparents usually have big gardens going.  This spring my parents didn't plant, and my grandparents have scaled back a lot.  To some, a dozen tomato plants doesn't seem like "scaling back" but that's what it is, at least for my grandparents.

Unfortunately, this season they were over-run by leaf-footed stink bugs.  The plants have a TON of tomatoes on them, but they're all sagging pitifully on the surface of the soil.  So I did what I have always done.  I created a kangaroo pouch in my shirt, and picked as many of those tomatoes that were close to ripe as I could.  Several varieties of cherry, roma, and beefsteak tomatoes eventually found their way into a bag for me to take home and do something with.

I made sauce.  Tasty, delicious, roasted tomato sauce.

1.5 to 2 lbs of tomatoes (I used whatever I ended up with)
1 large yellow onion
6-7 cloves peeled garlic
1/4 c olive oil

Roast in a high sided pan at 400* F until everything gets mushy and starts to caramelize

Transfer everything into a pot and blend with an immersion blender or CAREFULLY process/blend into a smooth-ish sauce.

Then add:

2-3 Tbsp fresh oregano
4-5 Tbsp fresh basil
1 Tbsp rosemary (optional)
dried marjoram (I need a new plant)
1 Tbsp sugar (dried cane)
salt to taste

Cook on medium-low for as long as you deem necessary.  Mine was good after a few hours, but I left it on the stove for about 8.  Oops.  Strain if you don't want to deal with the seeds or tiny bits of skin.  I didn't, because I'm lazy.  Can and process if you want, I threw mine in the fridge and freezer.  Makes about 3 quarts.

My start

As I've grown into something vaguely resembling an adult, I continue to realize just how lucky I am.  While I was growing up, my mom had a huge vegetable garden.  We're talking rows upon rows to the tune of around 600 sq.ft.  I pretty much grew up in the dirt.  I was that grubby child, with dirt under her fingernails and pollen on her nose.  And barefoot.  Always barefoot.

My mom would plop me next to her to pull weeds, plant seedlings, and poke holes with my skinny fingers for direct seeding.  Once I became more dexterous, I started seeding whole rows by myself and then subsequently thinning the mess out once everything sprouted.  Planting young starts was always my favorite.  Seeing those poor root-bound plants come out of the flats, teasing the roots out of their tangled mess, and sticking them in a hole in the ground.  Once they were watered, they almost instantly greened; seemingly thanking you for getting them out of purgatory.

Watching all those little seeds and plants grow and thrive under frequent watering and rich soil was always exciting for tiny me.  Finding forts among the towering tomatoes and zucchini plants with fuzzy leaves the size of my torso to fan at myself.  I don't actually remember tending to the plants during this process, other than bounding through the rows, most of the actual work was left to the mother.  However, I was certainly in the thick of things.

But my favorite part of the whole process?  Harvesting.  I mean, really, what grower of edible plants doesn't look forward to the harvest with much anticipation?  Only at this point in life, it was less "harvest" and more "salad bar".  In typical childlike fashion, nearly anything that entered my grubby grip ended up consumed.  Cherry tomatoes?  Immediately popped into my mouth like sun-warmed tangy candies.  Carrots were washed with the hose, or at least wiped off on the front of my shirt, before they were crunched down.  Baby zucchinis were gnawed to their blunted stem ends.  Radishes, snow peas, asparagus, green beans, snap peas, broccoli, you name it, I ate it straight from the ground or stem.  Nothing was safe from my chomping baby teeth.

Luckily I was a pipsqueak, so eventually some of that produce ended up in the kitchen to be consumed in an actual meal for, you know, the rest of the family.

I never had trouble with the whole, "where does your food come from?" thing.  I know, first and foremost, my food comes from the earth.  I'm baffled by the idea that anyone who consumes anything doesn't know that green beans grow on vines or on bushes, or that brussels sprouts grow on a stalk.

I love growing food.  Maybe it's because I was lucky enough to have a mother that gardened.  Maybe it's because I believe that my understanding of plants allows me to cook tastier foods.  Maybe it's because I not so secretly want to live off the land.  Maybe it's because heirloom seeds and open pollination is really important to me.  Or maybe it's simply because I just really like to play in the dirt.

You know...  It's probably just that last one.