This year I started some Michili Chinese cabbage indoors clear back in February, and transplanted it into the garden as soon as the weather allowed. It's been doing better than the regular cabbage or broccoli. Apparently it does well in cool weather, and has had a great spring so far, since this spring has been cooler than usual. The leaves have been getting bigger and bigger, and finally this evening I harvested some for dinner.
Problem: the leaves and stems of this variety have hundreds of little prickly spines on them. This is one of the reasons I left them so long before I harvested any; I just was not sure what to do with all those little spines. As I cut the outer leaves off the plants, carried them into the house, washed them and chopped them, I kept getting stuck by the spines, which my skin reacted to with redness and even a few tiny swollen spots. (Those went away in about half an hour or so.) These leaves may be food--but they're darned unpleasant to harvest and work with! So what ended up happening? Were we able to have it for dinner, or was it the opposite scenario?
We ate it. I washed it, chopped it, and stir-fried it with some pieces of chicken breast, green garlic, green onion, baby bok choy from the farmers' market, a little salt, black pepper and low-sodium soy sauce. It tasted just fine; no spines detectable at all. I suspected the spines would wilt when cooked, and fortunately I was right, or I'd probably have already been out there uprooting the rest of the plants! So we'll use the rest this year and I'll harvest it with gloves on, but I might not be so quick to plant it next year. Perhaps I'll plant bok choy instead, as it tastes just as good but doesn't seem to have any spines whatsoever.
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Tomato Update and More
Okay, I just realized that it's been a while since I updated the tomato situation. Turns out that the nutrition situation was indeed the problem with the tomato plants. They'd greened up considerably even before I transplanted them into the beds, and now they're not only back to a vibrant dark green, but they're growing again, tentatively beginning to flower, and one even has a tomato forming. Between the frequent rain storms lately and the watering system for when the weather is dry, they're getting plenty of water. My main concern now is that they're still more spindly than I'd prefer, and I'm a little worried about how those thinner stems will hold up when the plant has to bear fruit. They're in cages, but...the problem is, the plants are still too small for the cages to help them. I have stakes on each one, but they may need some additional help if their tomatoes come on before their stalks and vines are thick enough to support fruit.
The apple tree is covered with tiny little fruits; I'll have to get on a ladder and trim some of those off soon, or as the apples develop, their weight will pull the young tree apart. This may sound silly, but as long as we had freezing temps at night, I kept talking to the apple tree during the too-warm days, telling it to hold off on popping those blossoms until after the last frost. Last year it went too early, and we lost most of the blossoms to that, and the rest to codling moths. This year it waited; literally the day after the last frost, it popped most of the blossoms it had barely been holding in check. Now it's covered in tiny little apples, and in jeopardy not from an outside problem like frost, but from its own fruit. Who knew the life of an apple tree could be so fraught with risk?
The apple tree is covered with tiny little fruits; I'll have to get on a ladder and trim some of those off soon, or as the apples develop, their weight will pull the young tree apart. This may sound silly, but as long as we had freezing temps at night, I kept talking to the apple tree during the too-warm days, telling it to hold off on popping those blossoms until after the last frost. Last year it went too early, and we lost most of the blossoms to that, and the rest to codling moths. This year it waited; literally the day after the last frost, it popped most of the blossoms it had barely been holding in check. Now it's covered in tiny little apples, and in jeopardy not from an outside problem like frost, but from its own fruit. Who knew the life of an apple tree could be so fraught with risk?
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Pick 'em or Hold 'em
So far, the spinach is holding. By that I mean I'm still able to harvest from the bed that was planted last fall, though it's trying to bolt and probably won't hold out much longer. The spring-planted stuff is doing beautifully, producing nice big leaves and supplementing what we're getting from the bigger bed. I hope for at least a few more harvests before things get too hot and everything bolts.
I confess, in past years I've been a little too timid about actually harvesting the spinach and lettuce that came up. It's like I was trying to leave it in the garden until it got bigger or something, trying not to "use it up." The result was that I often let it go to waste while I was saving it for a later which came too late or never came at all. The only way to help it hold off bolting is to harvest it regularly enough that it tries to replenish the leaves you've picked. And even then, if the weather is warm enough, it will still bolt. So if you want spinach, you have to pick it while it's there to be picked. Today I brought in enough for another small container of frozen spinach--roughly one gathering basket full of spinach is about enough to fill one small freezer container after blanching. Now that I'm getting used to doing it, the process is going faster for me every time. Now I just need to find/make room in the garage for a small energy star chest freezer. We have an upright, but with all this preserving of our own food, we'll need more freezer space, I'm certain.
I've also been pulling the larger lambs quarters when they've volunteered in a bed that was designated for something else. The rest, I leave where they are and snitch leaves now and then for salads. I might actually freeze some lambs quarters as well, this year. They're a lot like spinach, and grow wild around here. I leave a few to self-seed, and then the next spring I mostly leave them wherever they come up in the garden. Free food, right off the land; that can't be a bad thing.
I confess, in past years I've been a little too timid about actually harvesting the spinach and lettuce that came up. It's like I was trying to leave it in the garden until it got bigger or something, trying not to "use it up." The result was that I often let it go to waste while I was saving it for a later which came too late or never came at all. The only way to help it hold off bolting is to harvest it regularly enough that it tries to replenish the leaves you've picked. And even then, if the weather is warm enough, it will still bolt. So if you want spinach, you have to pick it while it's there to be picked. Today I brought in enough for another small container of frozen spinach--roughly one gathering basket full of spinach is about enough to fill one small freezer container after blanching. Now that I'm getting used to doing it, the process is going faster for me every time. Now I just need to find/make room in the garage for a small energy star chest freezer. We have an upright, but with all this preserving of our own food, we'll need more freezer space, I'm certain.
I've also been pulling the larger lambs quarters when they've volunteered in a bed that was designated for something else. The rest, I leave where they are and snitch leaves now and then for salads. I might actually freeze some lambs quarters as well, this year. They're a lot like spinach, and grow wild around here. I leave a few to self-seed, and then the next spring I mostly leave them wherever they come up in the garden. Free food, right off the land; that can't be a bad thing.
No Farmers?
How can you have a farmers' market without a farmer? Over the past month, I've been to four different farmers' markets, and only one of them--my local one--didn't have at least one farmer in attendance.
The larger market in Boise has a decent number of farmers. The problem with the Boise market is that it's in the heart of downtown, and the only decent place to park is in one of the parking garages in the area. So in addition to whatever you pay the local farmers or artisans for their goods, you also pay about $5.00 in parking garage fees--depending on how long you want to linger at the market. The second largest option would be the Nampa market, but it's also in a downtown area, and while not as crowded or problematic as far as parking is concerned, it can still be tricky to get in and out of there. The benefit to my local market is its location; it's held in a large community center parking lot along a major road, and not only is access easy, but parking is free and plentiful. Unfortunately, the farmers are not. I've stopped in twice, and struck out on finding an actual farmer there on both occasions. They claim this spring's unusually cool weather has been the problem, and that all the greenhouses with produce are going to all the other markets. But the spinach in my outdoor raised beds--including the spinach we just planted this spring--has been harvestable for at least two weeks now. So not all the local produce has to be coming from greenhouses! After stopping by at the Meridian Farmers' Market, I drove down the road into Eagle, turned right, went down the main street a short way, and encountered the Eagle Farmers' Market, where I almost immediately found--guess what?--a farmer. So how can Meridian be so conspicuously without? The one market closest to me and easiest to get to, and it has no farmers thus far. They assure me this will change in a week or two, but...so far it's been disappointing. There have to be at least a few small farmers living in the Meridian area. In fact, I think I may have heard of at least a couple online. So what's the problem?
If my backyard garden was capable of producing more than not quite enough for my own family, I think I'd be tempted to go and be a farmer for the Meridian Farmers' Market just on principle. A farmers' market without a farmer. Sheesh.
The larger market in Boise has a decent number of farmers. The problem with the Boise market is that it's in the heart of downtown, and the only decent place to park is in one of the parking garages in the area. So in addition to whatever you pay the local farmers or artisans for their goods, you also pay about $5.00 in parking garage fees--depending on how long you want to linger at the market. The second largest option would be the Nampa market, but it's also in a downtown area, and while not as crowded or problematic as far as parking is concerned, it can still be tricky to get in and out of there. The benefit to my local market is its location; it's held in a large community center parking lot along a major road, and not only is access easy, but parking is free and plentiful. Unfortunately, the farmers are not. I've stopped in twice, and struck out on finding an actual farmer there on both occasions. They claim this spring's unusually cool weather has been the problem, and that all the greenhouses with produce are going to all the other markets. But the spinach in my outdoor raised beds--including the spinach we just planted this spring--has been harvestable for at least two weeks now. So not all the local produce has to be coming from greenhouses! After stopping by at the Meridian Farmers' Market, I drove down the road into Eagle, turned right, went down the main street a short way, and encountered the Eagle Farmers' Market, where I almost immediately found--guess what?--a farmer. So how can Meridian be so conspicuously without? The one market closest to me and easiest to get to, and it has no farmers thus far. They assure me this will change in a week or two, but...so far it's been disappointing. There have to be at least a few small farmers living in the Meridian area. In fact, I think I may have heard of at least a couple online. So what's the problem?
If my backyard garden was capable of producing more than not quite enough for my own family, I think I'd be tempted to go and be a farmer for the Meridian Farmers' Market just on principle. A farmers' market without a farmer. Sheesh.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Farmers Market Day
Today was another farmers' market day, and this time I didn't have a cold, thank goodness. Today was one of the hottest so far this year, with temperatures in the 90's. There is one lovely shady pedestrian avenue between two buildings at the very entrance to the area used by the farmers' market, and I wish they'd station all the food stalls there. It would be so nice to be able to shop for food in two neat rows of stalls in the shade, and not have to run around in the sun at all. But then, I guess that's just incentive to get to the market as early as possible--to beat the heat.
This week I didn't have to buy any spinach, though I did buy some mixed lettuce. My heirloom 4 seasons lettuce is looking very good and so is my romaine, but they won't be mature for probably about a week. My spinach, however, is going nuts, and the 4 squares of heirloom spinach I planted just this spring is already almost as big as the older spinach in the other bed that was planted late last fall. So I'll have a great spinach harvest for the next little while, but I know it won't last long; the plants in the older bed are already wanting to bolt. We're supposed to drop temperatures about ten degrees or so on Tuesday, with temps in the 70's expected for several days following that, so maybe we'll catch a break and spinach season will be able to hang on for just a bit longer.
Today's biggest finds at the market were the locally-grown, no-pesticides potatoes, which included a nice little bag full and some nice big bakers. I can't remember the exact price, but I thought it was very reasonable. The other prize of note was a bundle of huge green onions for a dollar, and by huge, I mean nearly the size of leeks. I don't think I've ever seen any that large before. I was really glad I brought the mid-sized cooler today, and not the small one. It's finds like these that make you realize the whole local thing is just as worthwhile as they say. You'd never find potatoes or green onions of that size or quality in a big-box grocery, where everything has to be uniform. There was also a lady with heirloom tomato plants, and I was able to get my two Principe Borghese from her. So it was better than a grocery/department store--one stop shopping, but with fresh air and no chemicals. The only thing I needed but couldn't get at the market was some Ball freezer containers for the spinach I'll be blanching and freezing.
In our own garden, I managed to transplant the tomato plants I'd grown from seed. This was one reason I was a little late to market--I actually got up and worked in the garden in the morning. I finished transplanting the last two tomatoes and all the peppers this evening. Just a few more things to get into the ground and then all there'll be to do will be water, weed, and wait.
This week I didn't have to buy any spinach, though I did buy some mixed lettuce. My heirloom 4 seasons lettuce is looking very good and so is my romaine, but they won't be mature for probably about a week. My spinach, however, is going nuts, and the 4 squares of heirloom spinach I planted just this spring is already almost as big as the older spinach in the other bed that was planted late last fall. So I'll have a great spinach harvest for the next little while, but I know it won't last long; the plants in the older bed are already wanting to bolt. We're supposed to drop temperatures about ten degrees or so on Tuesday, with temps in the 70's expected for several days following that, so maybe we'll catch a break and spinach season will be able to hang on for just a bit longer.
Today's biggest finds at the market were the locally-grown, no-pesticides potatoes, which included a nice little bag full and some nice big bakers. I can't remember the exact price, but I thought it was very reasonable. The other prize of note was a bundle of huge green onions for a dollar, and by huge, I mean nearly the size of leeks. I don't think I've ever seen any that large before. I was really glad I brought the mid-sized cooler today, and not the small one. It's finds like these that make you realize the whole local thing is just as worthwhile as they say. You'd never find potatoes or green onions of that size or quality in a big-box grocery, where everything has to be uniform. There was also a lady with heirloom tomato plants, and I was able to get my two Principe Borghese from her. So it was better than a grocery/department store--one stop shopping, but with fresh air and no chemicals. The only thing I needed but couldn't get at the market was some Ball freezer containers for the spinach I'll be blanching and freezing.
In our own garden, I managed to transplant the tomato plants I'd grown from seed. This was one reason I was a little late to market--I actually got up and worked in the garden in the morning. I finished transplanting the last two tomatoes and all the peppers this evening. Just a few more things to get into the ground and then all there'll be to do will be water, weed, and wait.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Empty Nester
Well...not really. But eight of my baby tomato plants did go off to their new home today. I had been growing quite a few extras to trade to a friend who has a larger garden. In exchange for some of her produce, I was to provide some heirloom tomato plants that I started from seed. So today she stopped by, and went home with five Amish Paste tomato plants, two Burbank Reds, and one mystery tomato that volunteered itself from seed from last year--my guess is that it's a cherry tomato, or a Roma.
I'd been more and more concerned over the condition of my tomatoes--they were turning yellow or olive green and yellow, they were thin and spindly, and some of their leaves were curling, drying, turning purple on the undersides, or a combination of the above. After looking up a few things on the Internet, I determined that it was probably a mineral deficiency. A couple of days ago, we gave them some Miracle Grow, and by this evening, the leaves were visibly improving. The green leaves were greener, and even some of the yellow leaves were showing signs of returning green. So...lesson learned. Small potted tomatoes will likely need feeding; the small amount of soil they're growing in will likely run out of nutrients before the weather has warmed enough for them to go out in the garden. Tomorrow I'm going to prepare the main planting bed for them. I've already put in some crushed eggshell to help with calcium content; the next step is to get some of that good compost we've been cooking for the past couple of years and work it into the soil, then add some of the topsoil we bought for the other planting beds--we're going to have a bunch extra. Then I'll put in my tomatoes and peppers. I have ten spots for tomatoes, so they'll be filled by six of my home-grown Amish Paste tomatoes, and two home-grown Burbank Reds. I plan to purchase two Principe Borghese, but if I can't find any to buy, then I'll just put in the two extra Amish Paste that I grew and call it good. If all goes as I plan, however, I should be able to pass on the two extra Amish Paste tomatoes to a friend.
I'm just SO relieved that the leaves are greening up again! Honestly--it's like having sick children, sort of. The other night my girls and I went to see a movie called "The Future of Food," and at several points I was so horrified I just wanted to cry. The GM issue is even worse than I thought, and I already thought it was bad. Afterward, we discussed it and the kids agreed: the issue of the heirloom tomatoes and the other plants we're growing has gone from being just Mom's nostalgic hobbyist project to a moral, ethical and physical imperative. We have to change the way we think, the way we eat, and the way we think about what we eat. At this stage of the game, the issues of whether the apple tree waits to flower until after the last frost or whether the raised-from-seed heirloom tomato plants are nutrient deprived have taken center stage in our formerly fast-food, eat-on-the-go, rarely-cook-our-own dinner lives.
I'd been more and more concerned over the condition of my tomatoes--they were turning yellow or olive green and yellow, they were thin and spindly, and some of their leaves were curling, drying, turning purple on the undersides, or a combination of the above. After looking up a few things on the Internet, I determined that it was probably a mineral deficiency. A couple of days ago, we gave them some Miracle Grow, and by this evening, the leaves were visibly improving. The green leaves were greener, and even some of the yellow leaves were showing signs of returning green. So...lesson learned. Small potted tomatoes will likely need feeding; the small amount of soil they're growing in will likely run out of nutrients before the weather has warmed enough for them to go out in the garden. Tomorrow I'm going to prepare the main planting bed for them. I've already put in some crushed eggshell to help with calcium content; the next step is to get some of that good compost we've been cooking for the past couple of years and work it into the soil, then add some of the topsoil we bought for the other planting beds--we're going to have a bunch extra. Then I'll put in my tomatoes and peppers. I have ten spots for tomatoes, so they'll be filled by six of my home-grown Amish Paste tomatoes, and two home-grown Burbank Reds. I plan to purchase two Principe Borghese, but if I can't find any to buy, then I'll just put in the two extra Amish Paste that I grew and call it good. If all goes as I plan, however, I should be able to pass on the two extra Amish Paste tomatoes to a friend.
I'm just SO relieved that the leaves are greening up again! Honestly--it's like having sick children, sort of. The other night my girls and I went to see a movie called "The Future of Food," and at several points I was so horrified I just wanted to cry. The GM issue is even worse than I thought, and I already thought it was bad. Afterward, we discussed it and the kids agreed: the issue of the heirloom tomatoes and the other plants we're growing has gone from being just Mom's nostalgic hobbyist project to a moral, ethical and physical imperative. We have to change the way we think, the way we eat, and the way we think about what we eat. At this stage of the game, the issues of whether the apple tree waits to flower until after the last frost or whether the raised-from-seed heirloom tomato plants are nutrient deprived have taken center stage in our formerly fast-food, eat-on-the-go, rarely-cook-our-own dinner lives.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Different Grocery Shopping
We've had our first harvest of spinach from the stuff the Huz and kids planted in the garden last fall. I now see the importance of getting new plants started in late summer/early fall. The only other spinach or lettuce showing up in farmers markets so far this spring has been grown in cold frames or greenhouses. I won't be able to harvest a second batch for about a week or so, but at least we got one meal from our own garden.
My Amish paste tomatoes are beginning to flower, and I'll be putting them out in the garden probably later this week. They've done fine for the last few nights out on the patio; they're inside right now only because there was quite a stiff breeze blowing outside and the kids were worried the plants would be wrecked. Soon enough, though, the tomatoes will have to go out and stay out, wind or no wind.
It's funny; with this locavore focus, when your weekly grocery shopping is limited to Saturday mornings and you have to be somewhere by 9:30 a.m. or risk missing out on a limited amount of produce available, it changes your perspective. Before, under no circumstances would I have pried myself out of bed in the throes of a bad head cold and headed off to shop for food. I was careful to touch only the food I was going to buy and have minimal contact with the farmers so as not to pass on the cold virus, but shop I did, despite it being the most miserable shopping experience I've ever had, bar none. The part of my brain that loves going to the farmers' market was the only part of me that enjoyed Saturday, with the colorful food, stalls and vendors and beautiful weather. The rest of me was just doing whatever it took to get through and get back home. After the farmers market, I needed to pick up some plants at a nearby greenhouse, during which time I stumbled around in a sort of stupor while trying to remember the names and varieties of the plants I needed. When I finally got home in the early afternoon, we put the food away and I headed straight back to bed. Today, I'm somewhat better, though that's not saying a lot. But at least it was Mother's Day, and if I wanted to spend the day in bed, I could--and did.
Our haul from the farmers' market yesterday included two bags of mixed lettuce greens, a bag of spinach, a bag of arugula, two bundles of bok choy, and a bunch of green garlic. That came to $26.00. I also bought another bag of spinach at a different stall for about $4.00, a loaf of spinach, ricotta and mushroom bread for $6.00, and a jar of marionberry jelly for $5.00.
Last night's dinner was a chef salad composed of one bag of spinach, one bag of mixed greens, and the bag of arugula, plus some sliced baked chicken left over from the previous night's dinner. Tonight since it's Mother's Day and I'm still too sick to go out to a restaurant, we're ordering pizza. Tomorrow it's back to the locavore program.
My Amish paste tomatoes are beginning to flower, and I'll be putting them out in the garden probably later this week. They've done fine for the last few nights out on the patio; they're inside right now only because there was quite a stiff breeze blowing outside and the kids were worried the plants would be wrecked. Soon enough, though, the tomatoes will have to go out and stay out, wind or no wind.
It's funny; with this locavore focus, when your weekly grocery shopping is limited to Saturday mornings and you have to be somewhere by 9:30 a.m. or risk missing out on a limited amount of produce available, it changes your perspective. Before, under no circumstances would I have pried myself out of bed in the throes of a bad head cold and headed off to shop for food. I was careful to touch only the food I was going to buy and have minimal contact with the farmers so as not to pass on the cold virus, but shop I did, despite it being the most miserable shopping experience I've ever had, bar none. The part of my brain that loves going to the farmers' market was the only part of me that enjoyed Saturday, with the colorful food, stalls and vendors and beautiful weather. The rest of me was just doing whatever it took to get through and get back home. After the farmers market, I needed to pick up some plants at a nearby greenhouse, during which time I stumbled around in a sort of stupor while trying to remember the names and varieties of the plants I needed. When I finally got home in the early afternoon, we put the food away and I headed straight back to bed. Today, I'm somewhat better, though that's not saying a lot. But at least it was Mother's Day, and if I wanted to spend the day in bed, I could--and did.
Our haul from the farmers' market yesterday included two bags of mixed lettuce greens, a bag of spinach, a bag of arugula, two bundles of bok choy, and a bunch of green garlic. That came to $26.00. I also bought another bag of spinach at a different stall for about $4.00, a loaf of spinach, ricotta and mushroom bread for $6.00, and a jar of marionberry jelly for $5.00.
Last night's dinner was a chef salad composed of one bag of spinach, one bag of mixed greens, and the bag of arugula, plus some sliced baked chicken left over from the previous night's dinner. Tonight since it's Mother's Day and I'm still too sick to go out to a restaurant, we're ordering pizza. Tomorrow it's back to the locavore program.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Turmeric Works
As of this post, we have had no more problems with ants. To clarify, I did have to squish a few more that had already gotten into the house prior to my application of turmeric along the bottom of the front door frame, but there have been no more entries through there, and no further evidence of ant infestation in the house over the past couple of days.
I'm not sure whether it was the turmeric specifically, or just the fact that I blocked the ants' entryway with a fine powder that they couldn't wade through. The main thing is that it worked like a charm, and no chemicals (read: non-edible substances) were used.
I'm not sure whether it was the turmeric specifically, or just the fact that I blocked the ants' entryway with a fine powder that they couldn't wade through. The main thing is that it worked like a charm, and no chemicals (read: non-edible substances) were used.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Ants
Okay, this evening we had ants milling around just at the bottom of our front door. Since this is a blog about green living, I thought I'd mention what I did to get rid of them. I won't use chemicals unless it's a last resort, hopefully after trying every other organic solution first. We--and by "we" I mean humans--have to get away from the idea that the quick chemical fix is the first line of defense against pests. Pesticides, among other things, are killing our pollinators, so pesticides should not be the first thing we think of when faced with a pest problem.
With that in mind, I turned to a piece of human technology--the internet--for help. By Googling organic ant control I found a forum with many different possible solutions. Skipping the boric acid suggestions (boric acid is still a poison, after all) I settled on turmeric as a possible answer for my situation, as it's said to repel them. I squished all the ants that were already inside, and then applied a line of turmeric to the floor at the bottom of the door, right where they were all milling around and going in and out. When the last ant tried to get out through the turmeric and failed (the turmeric didn't kill the ant, but the ant couldn't seem to wade through it to get through the tiny little crack that was their access point) I figured I had a winner. So for now the ants are gone, and we'll see how things go and whether any more are able to find their way inside.
With that in mind, I turned to a piece of human technology--the internet--for help. By Googling organic ant control I found a forum with many different possible solutions. Skipping the boric acid suggestions (boric acid is still a poison, after all) I settled on turmeric as a possible answer for my situation, as it's said to repel them. I squished all the ants that were already inside, and then applied a line of turmeric to the floor at the bottom of the door, right where they were all milling around and going in and out. When the last ant tried to get out through the turmeric and failed (the turmeric didn't kill the ant, but the ant couldn't seem to wade through it to get through the tiny little crack that was their access point) I figured I had a winner. So for now the ants are gone, and we'll see how things go and whether any more are able to find their way inside.
Asparagus and Musings
I bought 8 more bundles of local asparagus at $1.59 per pound, pickled 6 more jars of it and blanched and froze another large container full of it. That makes 3 frozen containers and a total of 12 jars of pickled asparagus, plus whatever we ate for dinners over the last three weeks. Granted, two of the jars had to be kept in the fridge due to sealing issues, but for my first pickling experience, I think I've done pretty well. This makes more pickled asparagus than we've ever had in our house before, but then we've never even bought any before, so that wasn't much of a stretch. Turns out this recipe is a little more tart than the kids really prefer, but they'll eat one now and then, and the Huz loves them. So at least I'm feeding somebody with these things. I don't think I'll put up any more, though. If all goes well, we'll have regular cucumber pickles later this year and probably pickled beets as well, so there's a limit to how much stuff we need to pickle.
People wonder how cost-effective locavore eating is. I just looked up how much a case of 12-oz. jars of pickled asparagus would be, and found it to be around $40.00. I bought about $25.00 worth of local asparagus, only pickled the thinnest spears and froze or cooked and ate the rest, and paid about $8.00 for the case of empty 12-oz. jelly jars, which I will use again and again. So even adding in the cost of the gas for heating the water, the little bit of vinegar, salt, sugar and water for the brine, plus the tiny amount of pickling spice--I saved quite a bit of money doing these pickles myself. And apparently they're considered a specialty item. Not too bad on the cost front.
The second pickling session went more smoothly than the first and didn't take as long, so I have hopes that my learning curve on the canning and preserving will be short. I did help my grandmother with canning while growing up, but it's been a long time and I didn't pay as much attention as I should have while I had the chance. Who knew that in my 40's I'd wish I could go back and learn from her again, or even just be able to call her on the phone and ask how this or that works and what method is best for what vegetable? Maybe we'd have something worthwhile to talk about at last, instead of the weather. How odd to have more in common with someone once they're gone than you did while they were alive.
And what will my kids do when they're grown up and on their own? Will they, like me, have to learn how to can from a book, or will they learn from me while they have the chance? (After I'm finished learning from the book!) Eeep. What we as a society have forgotten in the way of basic survival skills would fill volumes, and it's a darn good thing someone has had the presence of mind to remember and document them! I know what raw vegetables look like; I've grown them, picked them, and helped to preserve them. But I recently ran into a young man in a big box grocery store who looked at a raw head of broccoli and asked what it was. He honestly had never seen fresh broccoli before--all the broccoli he'd ever seen had come from a box or a can.
To quote a movie villain: I weep for the species. But then I actually go to the farmers markets and talk to real, local, organic farmers, I watch the honeybees mob my now-fully-blossomed apple tree, I look at the plethora of books now coming out on how to eat ethically, organically and locally, and I think that if this grassroots movement becomes the next great fad--which it looks as though it's going to--we may yet have hope for our own survival. Wouldn't it be amazing to find a way to have our modern society and still be able to live, breathe and eat in it, too?
People wonder how cost-effective locavore eating is. I just looked up how much a case of 12-oz. jars of pickled asparagus would be, and found it to be around $40.00. I bought about $25.00 worth of local asparagus, only pickled the thinnest spears and froze or cooked and ate the rest, and paid about $8.00 for the case of empty 12-oz. jelly jars, which I will use again and again. So even adding in the cost of the gas for heating the water, the little bit of vinegar, salt, sugar and water for the brine, plus the tiny amount of pickling spice--I saved quite a bit of money doing these pickles myself. And apparently they're considered a specialty item. Not too bad on the cost front.
The second pickling session went more smoothly than the first and didn't take as long, so I have hopes that my learning curve on the canning and preserving will be short. I did help my grandmother with canning while growing up, but it's been a long time and I didn't pay as much attention as I should have while I had the chance. Who knew that in my 40's I'd wish I could go back and learn from her again, or even just be able to call her on the phone and ask how this or that works and what method is best for what vegetable? Maybe we'd have something worthwhile to talk about at last, instead of the weather. How odd to have more in common with someone once they're gone than you did while they were alive.
And what will my kids do when they're grown up and on their own? Will they, like me, have to learn how to can from a book, or will they learn from me while they have the chance? (After I'm finished learning from the book!) Eeep. What we as a society have forgotten in the way of basic survival skills would fill volumes, and it's a darn good thing someone has had the presence of mind to remember and document them! I know what raw vegetables look like; I've grown them, picked them, and helped to preserve them. But I recently ran into a young man in a big box grocery store who looked at a raw head of broccoli and asked what it was. He honestly had never seen fresh broccoli before--all the broccoli he'd ever seen had come from a box or a can.
To quote a movie villain: I weep for the species. But then I actually go to the farmers markets and talk to real, local, organic farmers, I watch the honeybees mob my now-fully-blossomed apple tree, I look at the plethora of books now coming out on how to eat ethically, organically and locally, and I think that if this grassroots movement becomes the next great fad--which it looks as though it's going to--we may yet have hope for our own survival. Wouldn't it be amazing to find a way to have our modern society and still be able to live, breathe and eat in it, too?
Monday, May 5, 2008
Water and a Little Patience
Finally, the sprinkler system is fixed. Now we can actually water our lawn, which was busily dying on us. We could have watered it with a hose using city water, but there's a reason we have pressurized irrigation water here, and I hate to pay more to use city water during irrigation season, when the water is so much more affordable.
We'd been using city water on the garden--giving it almost-daily drinks with a watering can. My two planting beds along the north fence will have to be watered by hand for a while longer, as there's no drip system hooked up to them as there is in the main garden spot. But that's manageable unless we have to go out of town for too long at a time.
The tomatoes are still alive, and the instances of yellowed leaves were caused by the same issue--water. Now we're getting a handle on how much to water the plants in coconut-fiber or peat pots to keep them from drying out. I transplanted the largest tomatoes to 4-inch coconut-fiber pots, and separated out all the Carantan leeks, each into its own 3-inch peat pot. In that one little starter flat, I had nineteen leeks. I could have had twenty-one if I'd wanted to transplant the two tiniest leek seedlings, but I decided not to bother with those, since they were so much smaller than all the others.
Outside, the spinach planted last fall is getting nearly big enough to eat, we have lots of volunteer baby lambs' quarters both in and out of the garden boxes, the lettuce is coming up, and so are the more recently planted spinach and the snow pea plants. It seems that the worst frosts are behind us, but I say that with extreme caution. At least the apple tree waited until a couple of days after the most recent freeze to blossom out. Maybe we'll get more than seven or eight apples this year.
We'd been using city water on the garden--giving it almost-daily drinks with a watering can. My two planting beds along the north fence will have to be watered by hand for a while longer, as there's no drip system hooked up to them as there is in the main garden spot. But that's manageable unless we have to go out of town for too long at a time.
The tomatoes are still alive, and the instances of yellowed leaves were caused by the same issue--water. Now we're getting a handle on how much to water the plants in coconut-fiber or peat pots to keep them from drying out. I transplanted the largest tomatoes to 4-inch coconut-fiber pots, and separated out all the Carantan leeks, each into its own 3-inch peat pot. In that one little starter flat, I had nineteen leeks. I could have had twenty-one if I'd wanted to transplant the two tiniest leek seedlings, but I decided not to bother with those, since they were so much smaller than all the others.
Outside, the spinach planted last fall is getting nearly big enough to eat, we have lots of volunteer baby lambs' quarters both in and out of the garden boxes, the lettuce is coming up, and so are the more recently planted spinach and the snow pea plants. It seems that the worst frosts are behind us, but I say that with extreme caution. At least the apple tree waited until a couple of days after the most recent freeze to blossom out. Maybe we'll get more than seven or eight apples this year.
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