|  Inspired by Daisy and her flock,the Tromboncino posed as the mother duck and the Zephr zuccs as the ducklings. Ready for a change from my usual selection of zucchini varieties last year (Zephyr and Costata Romanesca),I was drawn to the description of a vining form requiring a sturdy trellis for its rampant growth. It was Zucchetta Rampicante,otherwise known as Tromboncino for the huge,fruits that form,reminiscent of brass instruments when left un-harvested. Both FEDCO and Pine Tree Seeds,two of my favorite seed companies,carry the seed. Since one of the plants on my heavy-duty grape trellis died the year before,I decided to try the tromboncino in its place. As advertised,the vines grew like crazy,climbing up to meet the grape vines overhead and fruiting prolifically in July and again in September. These elongated zucchinis hang elegantly from the vines and as described in the FEDCO catalogue,they are “tender,mild,sweet and nutty when harvested as summer squash at 8-12.” FEDCO also indicates that any fruit that grows beyond that stage can be baked as winter squash. I didn’t mean to grow a fully mature Tromboncino,but as the leaves withered in early October,there at the top of the trellis was a magnificent specimen. Very photogenic. I can’t wait to see what dramatic characters will arrive with the next season’s planting of Tromboncino.  Still life - Seated Tromboncino in fall foliage.  Newly re-designed hoop house. If winter had arrived in November, as it often has in the past,we’d have been unprepared,crops left un-harvested and poorly protected and the detritus of our not-so-neat outdoor existence,ready to be lost under the snow. But nature was kind this year,bestowing a deliciously pleasant November with short,golden days of low-slung sunlight,brightening the browns and greys of the normally dismal and dripping stick-season. So we indulged in puttering,finishing the season’s tasks without urgency. Now with the darkest days at hand and the arrival of sub-freezing temperatures,winter is welcome to bring it’s cleansing cold and insulating blanket of snow. Clear skies earlier this week brought temperatures close to zero degrees F. In the hoop house the kale,mache,lettuce,parsley and other hardy greens,draped with insulating fabric row covers,kept at a reasonable 27 degrees –a temperature that those hardy plants should be able to handle without stress. The newly re-built root cellar is holding steady at about 40 degrees –a little too warm for good storage –but is likely to drop into the optimal mid-30s as the winter cold settles in. Learning from the collapse of our hoop house in the great March snowstorm of 2011,we redesigned the structure this fall,giving it a higher,more sharply-angled profile with better bracing. The hope is that it will now shed snow more effectively so the weight of another unexpectedly heavy snow fall won’t be a problem.  Inside the hoop house before the row covers went on,the new sitting area at the far end. We also indulged ourselves by extending the length of the hoop house another 4-5 feet to make a little sitting space on the far end. Now on sunny winter days we have a comfortable place to rest and for winter picnics. Just seeing the Adirondack chairs there,makes me feel happy. As I’ve noted before,the mental health benefits of having a hoop house in a climate of long winters,is probably it’s greatest asset. In the main garden,a light coating of snow covers the bed where a 6-12″layer of straw is kept dry with a tarp. This insulates carrots stored in the ground right where they grew,preventing the ground from freezing. Because it requires so little work,this in-ground method for storing carrots is my favorite,but it should be avoided in years when rodent populations are exceptionally high. There’s nothing like the pleasure of digging through the snow and rolling back the tarp to fork up a brilliantly orange carrot,the smell of live,black earth hitting the nose when everything around is frozen. I also love the the sharp crack a freshly harvested winter carrot when it’s cut —the sweet crunchiness can’t be beat  Cabbages,Brussels sprouts and a fig tree in the root cellar. Root cellar crops also offer the same satisfying crack of freshness when storage conditions are optimal. Cabbage plants can be pulled up by the roots and placed on the dirt floor of the root cellar. With a little mulch over the roots and an occasional bucket of water sloshed around to keep the roots moist,these vegetables will keep for months in excellent condition. Even if the outer layer of leaves blacken,the inner leaves remain crisp and delicious. Root crops are packed in buckets and plastic containers,layered with wet wood chips. I like wood chips better than other recommended media like sand or peat moss because the wood chips are readily available,light weight,and keep the roots moist (to maintain freshness) but aerated (to prevent rot). Our root cellar is built into a slope and integrated into the retaining wall on the north side of our hoop house. This enables easy,snow-free access in the winter. The original interior walls of the root cellar were built with hemlock boards but after about ten years the wood rotted and it finally fell apart. Eric rebuilt the cellar this summer with concrete block walls and a new,better insulated door that prevents heat from penetrating the necessary chill of the root cellar when the hoop house heats up on a sunny day. So far,all these new winter systems are performing well. Here’s to continued learning and improving! Best wishes for home-grown success to you and yours in 2012.  Fresh basil with bags of frozen pesto Basil,that indispensible warm-weather herb and best friend of tomatoes has been a gardener’s favorite for years. Yet during my first 25 years, basil was no more than a jar of gray, flavorless flakes in the spice cabinet –a far cry from the verdant and evocatively fragrant summer staple we know as basil today. Basil withers at any hint of frost so as the days shorten and temperatures start to dip in September, the urgency increases to make pesto and freeze it for the precious fresh-from-the-garden taste in winter. Back in the late 1970′s, Eric hitch-hiked to San Francisco where a food-savvy friend introduced him to basil pesto at an Italian diner. He returned full of enthusiasm for this amazingly simple, radically different and deliciously addictive pasta sauce. At that time, we’d never heard of fresh basil and it wasn’t easily available commercially – at least not at the places we shopped. So he tried making it for us using not-so-fresh spinach and parsley along with some dusty dried basil. Needless to say,we were not impressed with this new dish! Within a few years of that introduction,basil pesto had become a fixture in trendy restaurants and sweet basil found a permanent place in home and market gardens. It’s hard to believe that before then,summer could come and go without the taste and smell of fresh basil! I have since grown,harvested and made basil pesto for freezing every year, aiming for at least dozen batches,one for each month of the year. Five or six plants started indoors in March and planted out in June,provide plenty of leaves for our household. Having only a refrigerator freezer, I store each batch of pesto in a freezer bag and flatten it when freezing it to conserve space. I find this much more convenient than the better-known method of freezing pesto in ice cube trays. If you want just a little pesto, you can easily break off a corner of the frozen pesto from the bag and leave the rest in the freezer. If not using a whole batch for a meal,we often transfer the pesto after it thaws to a glass jar,where tightly sealed,it keeps well in the fridge for weeks adding pizazz to sandwiches, soups, salads and sauces. For years we made pesto using the normal recipe with all raw ingredients. While it tasted perfectly good,if not used immediately, the pesto would turn dark around the edges – not very attractive. Cut edges of basil leaves oxidize and turn black and frozen pesto loses its vivid greenness. (Finger tips blacken when processing a lot of basil too.) Thanks to Eric’s penchant for watching cooking shows,we discovered a surprising way to avoid the oxidizing effect and preserve the rich green color of pesto for the winter table. By blanching the basil leaves! Here’s a recipe we’ve adapted from the execellent and accessible Italian recipes of Michael Chiarello. 4 cups packed fresh basil leaves 1 medium clove of garlic 1 teaspoon sea salt 1 cup olive oil (half of that extra virgin) If freezing the pesto,then just prepare the ingredients above. If making a pasta sauce immediately,then add a few tablespoons of nuts and a half cup of grated Parmesan cheese. Prepare a large pot of boiling water (unsalted) for blanching and an ice water bath in a large bowl or sink. Drop the basil leaves into the boiling water and stir for about 15 seconds. Remove and shake off excess hot water then plunge leaves into the cold water,stirring to cool the leaves as fast as possible. Gather up the chilled leaves in your hands and squeeze as much of the water out as you can. Roughly chop the leaves and blend with oil, garlic and salt until oil turns green. Blanching might sound fussy and time consuming but I find it takes less effort than processing the leaves raw. I always washed and removed the water in a salad spinner anyway. That took just about the same amount of time as blanching and somehow seemed more tedious. When making multiple batches of pesto (3-4 batches can be made without it being a major chore), I blanch all the leaves first,ending up with a fist-sized pile of limp basil leaves from each 4 cup batch. This saves time and also makes it possible to take a break from the kitchen or even refrigerate the blanched leaves in a sealed container for another day before processing and freezing the pesto. The Chiarello recipe calls for regular (non-virgin) olive oil, under the theory that extra-virgin will overwhelm the flavor of the basil. That certainly lowers the cost of making pesto and keeps the pesto lighter. But I prefer using half extra-virgin for added richness. Try this pesto with some newly-dug baby potatoes for a lip-smackingly delicious pesto potato salad!  Mixed runner ducklings following Daisy,ten days after hatching. One day in early June,Daisy and Violet Duck found themselves free outside their rolling safety cage as their careless people rushed off to work. Normally they stayed out to forage only when the people were home. At night and any time they were left alone,they were put into their pen where they could enjoy fresh air,water and a new patch of grass every day without danger from the many predators salivating at the thought of a juicy duck. When the careless people returned that evening,Violet was gone. A prominently displayed calling card from M. Fox (scat) with a clump of Violet’s feathers next to it told the sad but all too familiar story. Violet had been a timid little duck but a good side-kick to the older and more outgoing Daisy and they had contentedly eaten slugs and grubs,laid eggs and entertained the people for four years without incident. Now Daisy needed a companion. The trauma had stopped her egg production but she still acted “broody,”wanting to nest. So the people put a smooth,egg-shaped stone into her nest and it immediately became her reason to live. She diligently sat on that egg day and night,barely eating and drinking. Once a day she could be coaxed off the nest to run around,poop,quack and preen,but within 15 minutes was always back on her nest,meditatively keeping the stone warm and toasty.  Daisy resting and watching the eggs hatch. After trying unsuccessfully to find a suitable companion,the people learned they could mail-order fertilized eggs from eFowl.com. A few days later Daisy went out for her daily ablutions and when she returned to the nest,instead of a single granite egg there were 12 real ones! She hesitated and turned away as though she would abandon them,but a heartbeat later resolutely stepped into the nest to begin her new life as a mother. And what a great mother she’s been! Her people were nervous about what to expect and how to prepare for the hatchlings. The books on duck care,stressed that Indian Runners were not among the breeds with good mothering instincts. Did that mean she couldn’t be trusted to properly care for the little ones? Even the normally chatty Internet was silent about how to compensate if a duck mother was deficient in doing her job. In retrospect the people realized that the lack of information was testiment to how little humans are needed when mother ducks are in charge. Even Indian Runner moms know just what to do. First evidence of maternal competence came when the eggs arrived. To make sure the eggs would be turned periodically,the people marked each egg with an X and O on opposite sides. Sure enough,she was turning them every few hours.  Rolling duck pen with attached house -- an evolving system for duck safety and happiness. When the hatching began 27 days later,she squatted over the little fuzz balls as they emerged,keeping them warm without crushing those that had hatched and maintaining heat for those still in their shells. Quite an athletic feat! Nine out of the twelve hatched –fuzzy little Runners ducks in a mix of colors. By day 29 it was obvious that the remaining 3 eggs were not viable. They began to dry out and the previouslywell-maintained nest was flattened –tromped down by duckling stampedes. Daisy did not object when the dead eggs were removed. A week later,Daisy demanded to leave the now-claustrophobic duck house so she could lead the flock outside into the caged pen. The ducklings were elated,racing around and nibbling on the grass. Thanks to the recent hot spell with ambient temps averaging in the high 70′s,Daisy was finally able to relax,and not work so hard to keep them warm. Each day their fuzz has increasingly been replaced by warmer proto-feathers. They are now comfortably handling nights in the 50′s without stress. Daisy’s work as a mom is nearly complete. She watches them indulgently from a short distance,a distinct look of pride on her little ducky face.  A clump of garlic scallions from a bulb left in the ground the previous year. For anyone who cooks and likes zesty food,garlic is a year-round essential. Doing without just isn’t an option. Happily,garlic is absurdly easy to grow in Zone 4,so my goal is to never buy garlic,especially any shipped in from the West Coast where the majority of commercial garlic is grown. For the most part,my goal of year-round garlic is met,but at this time of year,during the gap between the last bulbs from the previous year and this year’s new crop,it might seem that buying garlic is the only option. Turns out there are a lots of home grown options —as long as you’re willing to explore beyond the familiar,papery garlic bulbs that we all know so well. Let’s start with last year’s crop. A single,fall-planted garlic clove transforms into a fully formed bulb with multiple cloves by July. With so little effort involved,it’s a great deal! Harvested and dried for storage,then kept in a cool,light,well-ventilated space,garlic bulbs last in good condition until sometime in winter when they start to form green sprouts that begin feeding off the stored energy in the clove. Just before the sprouts form,we’ve found it pays to process and freeze all the remaining bulbs by trimming and peeling the cloves and popping them raw into a container for freezing. (Good to do while watching the tube or cranking up the tunes.) Frozen garlic can be used right out of the freezer and tastes just as pungent as when fresh. A quick rinse to remove any ice crystals and the cloves are ready to crush or chop. Easy and very handy to have around. Our frozen garlic ran out out in April this year. Luckily we’d made it to wild leek (ramp) season when the slightly garlicky taste of ramps and the imperative to eat freshly harvested,wild green things,held us over for awhile. Then it was on to the garlic chives. These are perennial plants similar in habit to common chives but with flat,strap-like leaves that offer a mild but distinctly garlicky flavor. Like regular chives,garlic chives are most tender and flavorful in spring and fall when the weather is cool. The garlic (or Chinese) chives have the added benefit of throwing up multiple clusters of tiny,white,star-like flowers in late summer and fall. These pretty little flowers can be used as garlic taste-bombs,sprinkled on top of dishes. The plants tend to be neater and better-behaved than their common cousin,so I often refrain from dead-heading and allow garlic chives to self-seed among the other perennials or tuck the plants into the corners of my vegetable beds. The leaves can be chopped or clipped with scissors and added directly to salads or used as garnish. When cooked,they should be added at the end to retain maximum flavor. At this point June,it’s the season of ”garlic scallions,”immature bulbs that haven’t formed into cloves yet. These can be used just like scallions including much of the stalk. I can’t bear to use up any plants from my main garlic crop this way,so am always delighted to see isolated clumps of serendipitous shoots arising from last year’s garlic beds. The shoots come from whole bulbs left over from the previous year’s planting that I somehow missed when harvesting in the summer. They simply stayed in the ground and sprouted in the spring. Often they are from the less-robust bulbs that would have been under-sized anyway so these volunteers are perfect for use as garlic scallions. I’m thinking about intentionally planting a few of my smaller bulbs this fall to ensure a steady supply of garlic scallions next spring and in early summer.  Garlic scapes left to curl,just for fun. Next in line are the garlic scapes, just now starting to form on my early crop of stiff-neck garlic plants. These curling flower stalks should be removed,not only to capture the good eating,but also to signal to the plant that it needs put its remaining energy into the bulb. The scape ought to be picked before it starts to curl to avoid toughness but I tend to let some go a bit longer just to admire the scapes’supremely smooth and elegant spirals. Scapes have a mild flavor,enhanced by quick steaming or sauteing. A newly discovered but delicious use is pesto made from garlic scapes. Scapes will only form on stiff-neck garlic varieties. Once the fall-planted garlic bulbs finally reach full size,it’s time to pick some juicy,crisp,young garlic. When garlic is harvested early,the skins are surprisingly moist and flexible,and the water-engorged cloves slice cleanly and crush with a satisfying crack. We like to cut and saute them in generous “garlic-as-vegetable”slices. If picked too early when the divisions between the cloves first form,the cloves will be undersized and mostly made up of the thick layers of skin. It’s interesting to see and feel their unusual texture at this stage but not much use in the kitchen. A little trial and error is required ascertain the right time to pull up the bulbs for young garlic. For young garlic,I grow a 2′x 3′patch of garlic in my hoop house,planted in October specifically for early harvest in June. This gives me decent-sized young garlic bulbs a little earlier than the main crop and I can harvest early without feeling like I’m robbing from the all-important winter storage crop. In another month,the skins of the garlic plants will become dry and papery and the lower leaves of the plant will begin to yellow and die. When the bottom 3-4 leaves lose their green color,its time for the main harvest. But until then,let’s savor the many variations on a garlic theme available in the early summer garden.  Wet woods in May at a patch of wild leeks. Record-breaking flood levels on Lake Champlain,saturated soils,galloping streams,and days of rain. Depression and complaints about the weather abound. But rain can be beautiful too. Tromping through dripping,soggy forests can be miserable but with a water proof cap,a rain jacket to keep the core dry and rubber boots for splashing through the muck,it’s really not so bad. After a long winter,I certainly don’t want a little rain to keep from communing with the newly green forest! Once under the canopy of the trees,diffuse light,unbroken by shadows,glows with surprisingly warm hues. Glistening vegetation shines bright against darkly moist leaves on the ground,mosses and lichen vivid with moisture. These delight the eye while gurgling brooks and rushing streams bring pleasure to the ear. And then there’s always food to be found for the belly! Today’s wet ramble brought me to the dead,crumbling elms at the bottom of our hill,bursting with pheasant back mushrooms (Polyporus squamosus). Unlike other wild mushrooms,pheasant backs are easy to find and their fruiting predictable. They appear reliably when the trees leaf out and identification isn’t hard,especially because of their oddly out-of-context scent. Who can ever forget the distinct smell of watermelon rind exuding from a wild mushroom! They can be very tasty if picked as young nubs,while still tender. As always,do your homework to positively identify wild mushrooms and cook them well.  Pheasant back mushrooms ready to pick. Tonight,the pheasant backs were added to a barley risotto,seasoned with wild leeks (ramps),a veggie broth,dry white wine,butter and sea salt. It was my most successful dish to date using pheasant backs. Finished off with parsley from the garden and a grating of a local hard cheese (the superb Cabot Cloth Bound Cheddar) then plated with fresh-picked asparagus and a light salad of lettuce,arugula and claytonia from the hoop house,this turned into a surprisingly satisfying feast. The finely chopped mushrooms disappeared into the risotto’s creaminess,giving it a gentle,savory flavor. In past efforts to cook pheasant backs,the rubbery texture of the mushrooms detracted from the taste. Evidently,the key is to cook them long and slowly. For the risotto,I riffed off of several recipes in Epicurus (search on “barley risotto”). After sautéing all the ingredients and deglazing with wine,hot broth was added then cooked under pressure for 10 minutes before cutting the heat and letting pressure release naturally. (You don’t need a pressure cooker to make barley risotto.) Just before eating,I added a little more broth together with finely chopped wild leek leaves,cooking them briefly until hot and fragrant. The parsley and cheese were sprinkled on top.  Wild leeks and pheasant back mushrooms,cleaned and prepped for cooking. Since discovering barley risotto recently,it has become a favorite dish. As a lover of grains,I prefer meals composed primarily of vegetables and what Eric calls “variations on gruel.” Risotto,one of my favorite gruels,provides a neutral foundation for nearly all the delicious produce gathered from woods and garden. So learning that it can be made using unrefined barley instead of the usual white,Arborio rice,was a revelation. I recommend this nutritious and satisfying food to warm you after a wet walk in the woods,in hopes that it will raise your spirits as the rains continue to fall.  Belgian endive grown as a root crop. Imagine a care free-crop you can grow all summer,pick in the fall and store in a closet for winter harvests of fresh,crunchy salads. It’s not a dream but a Belgian endive! I’ve just started harvesting my 2010 crop this month. It all started back in June when the endive was planted along with my storage carrots around the summer solstice. Over the warm months the plants grew dark green,lettuce-like leaves and deep,vigorous tap roots. There’s no temptation to harvest the leaves at this stage as they taste impossibly bitter. In mid to late fall,I dug up the plants along with other roots destined for the root cellar. The endive leaves were cut off,leaving a stump about an inch high above the root,and the roots trimmed to leave about 6 inches of the fattest part.  Pruned and potted endive roots,ready for forcing. For my compact,house-friendly,no-mess forcing system I use a 5 gallon bucket to contain any moisture,and replant the endive roots upright in a 3-4 gallon plastic nursery pot with used potting soil,packing the roots closely together. The pot is watered thoroughly and after it drains,placed into the bucket and covered loosely with several layers of newspaper,or an overturned cardboard box and the bucket cover. The point is to keep light out but to let air circulate. Then comes the hard part. You need to find a consistently dark place with a temperature that stays around 50 degrees F. Too warm and the resulting leaves will be fuzzy and lack crunch. Too cold and the roots will refuse to sprout. Any light penetration onto the leaves will turn them green and render them inedible. I use a closet on the north wall of the house in our guest bedroom that is kept cool when not in use. I keep my fingers crossed that no one will visit for an extended stay and over-heat the room during the period the endive shoots or “chicones”are growing! Commercial growers of Belgian endive tightly pack the roots in boxes of sand and grow them in a dark,temperature-controlled place. I tried sand my first year but found it too heavy to lug around. Any medium that holds moisture and drains well seems to work just fine. Since potting up the Belgian endive occurs at the same time that I am dumping out the soil from the summer’s potted plants,it makes sense to reuse the spent soil for this purpose.  Chicones in February,ready for harvest. If you want succession crops throughout the winter,you can store the pruned Belgian endive roots in a cold root cellar or in the bottom of a fridge,just as you would other root crops,either in a loosely sealed plastic bag or planted in a dry medium that can be watered and brought to 50 degrees when you’re ready to begin forcing them. I found that one bucket usually suffices especially because most roots will continue to push up multiple small buds after the first cut. And by the time those are done,we are usually harvesting ample greens from the early spring hoop house. French chefs are said to carefully cover Belgian endive in their shopping baskets to prevent any light from greening the leaves on the walk home. That not only illustrates how easily the endive leaves can be ruined by light but also testifies to the aliveness of produce grown at home or from local fresh markets. It’s the slight sweetness from blanching and the hint of bitterness that accompanies the mild flavored,cream colored leaves that make Belgian endive such a prized ingredient in winter. I love simply picking the chicones,rinsing and breaking them apart for perfect little leaf “boats,”crunching them along with other raw vegetables or filling them with tasty dips for appetizers. They also can be cooked as in this pan-braised recipe,transforming the crisp leaves into a smooth, caramelized side dish —delicious but something I rarely make because I can’t stand to use up so many chicones in one recipe. Tonight I made a version of this Belgian endive and mache salad that,accompanied by Eric’s just-baked,crusty bread,made a light but very satisfying supper. It was a special thrill to use mache harvested this afternoon from our hoop house,still-tart Empire apples from a local orchard,and a tangy,smooth Vermont blue cheese,dressed with our home-made apple cider vinegar, maple syrup and a local sunflower oil. Who says you can’t produce wonderful fresh salads in February,even in Zone 4!  Beans at various stages of maturity from scarlet runner and other pole bean varieties. Beans have me entranced. Each year I plant ever more varieties for drying and shelling. The colors,patterns and sizes,the smooth coolness clicking through my fingers,the ease with which they grow,and the tasty and nutritious meals they create,keep me under their spell. As a teenager,I was shocked to hear my very proper grandmother recite,Beans,beans,the musical fruit / Makes your pants go tootely toot! I realize now that everyone knows that rhyme and the only thing shocking about it is that I’d never heard it before then. But whenever I recall the rhyme now,the word musical is replaced in my mind by magical. I came under the spell of dried beans a few years ago after reading Gaia’s Garden. It inspired me to begin experimenting more deliberately with polyculture,the art of growing mutually beneficial plants together. The theory suggests we mix in with our primary crops,plants that serve specific functions of enhancing plant and soil health such as those attracting beneficial insects (dill and fennel blossoms),nutrient accumulators (dandelion and comfrey),and nitrogen fixers (clovers and legumes). So I started tucking bean seeds in between the tomatoes,lettuce and using the classic native American technique of vining beans on corn. The beauty of growing beans for drying this way is that you can seed the beans in early summer and then forget about them until fall. Once brown,the whole plant with the bean pods attached can be pulled up (or cut the stem and leave he roots) and stored in a dry, airy place for a week or two before threshing. The beans appear to grow compatibly with a wide variety plants and different varieties of beans can be planted side by side. More often than not,they will form beans true to seed. This enables those us who garden intensively in limited space to have the pleasure of growing a rainbow of bean varieties.  New bean variety on top with the likely parents below. (Click on images to get a blow-up.) Occasionally cross pollination does occur. This summer I ended up with some attractively speckled beans –black on a tan background –that were nothing like the beans I’d planted. I’m guessing that my new bean is a cross between King of the Early and Black Coco. I’ll plant the new variety this summer and see how it grows and tastes. Perhaps it will provide a gateway into a new hobby in plant genetics. Home grown and dried beans are great in the kitchen too. Not only are they delicious but if used within a year of harvest,they cook much faster than most store-bought beans. I prepared a taste test of four of my home grown bean varieties for a dinner party last week and cooked each batch separately in my pressure cooker,paying close attention to timing. In retrospect maybe the pressure cooker wasn’t the best approach. Even with the extra vigilance and drastically reduced cooking times,I nearly over-cooked all the batches. Furthermore,the beans may have been over-soaked in a misguided effort to make them as tender as possible. Achieving that perfectly cooked bean between too firm and too soft is tricky since the older and dryer the bean,the longer it needs to soak and cook so to determine the cooking time, you not only need to consider the variety but also the age of the bean. Since the beans were a little mushier than they should have been,I don’t think the taste test was a true as I’d hoped. The flavor and textural distinctions between varieties were negligible. We tasted both the liquor (cooking water) and the beans. The only flavoring was salt. My previously identified favorite,the Hidatsa Shield Bean,did not impress our guests. I thought it had a sweet note that was lacking in the others,but the two early-ripening kidney-style beans,King of the Early and Tigers Eye,that I had dismissed as less flavorful,got surprisingly high marks. Scarlet runner beans were notable for their large size and slightly spicy flavor,especially in the richly colored liquor.  Bean varieties taste tested,from left:Tigers Eye,King of the Early,Scarlet Runner,Hidatsa Shield The overall take-home from the tasting was nothing new –that all fresh,home-grown dry beans are quick to cook and delicious. Inexplicably,perhaps because of the beans’freshness or due to the thorough soaking and rinsing before cooking, I experienced none of the infamous bean-induced music after the tasting. Based on what I’ve learned as a bean-obsessed gardener,allow me to offer an alternative version of the bean rhyme. (I tried but couldn’t come up with a good phrase to end with astute.) If you have a better rhyme,don’t be shy. Please share it. Beans,beans the magical fruit! Easy to grow and ever so cute.  A groundhog,outstanding in its field. Gardeners unite in observing the second of February as the start of spring! Despite the annual,mindless media babble at Ground Hog Day,the party line that pegs the start of spring to the equinox,and the persistence of the northern winter lasting many more months,spring’s initiation belongs in early February. It has everything to do with light. At this point in our revolution around the sun,the rate of change in the lengthening daylight begins to accelerate. Our bodies can feel it,as can all living beings. (At least those of us who remain unfrozen!) Plants can once again obtain enough energy to put out new growth. Our fur-less human skin resumes its remarkable ability to metabolize Vitamin D from sunlight. (Since Halloween,the sun angle in the north has been too low to power these phototrophic miracles.) From now until May Day and then more slowly to the Summer Solstice,we’re in for a heady ride of ever increasing daylight! Whee! Agricultural societies around the world have marked this turning point in the midst of winter. Ancients in Britain celebrated Imbolc – the first of the four cross-quarter days,mid-way between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. Candlemas,a feast in the Christian calendar,also occurs at this time,marking the end to Epiphany and making a turn towards Lent. Themes of purification are expressed in practical traditions of cleaning out any wilted and dusty remnants of the Christmas celebrations. In northern cultures,Candlemas,marking the mid-point of winter,was the time to check stores of food and fuel to ensure that half remains. Setsubun in Japan,also observed in early February,marks the start of spring,often coinciding with the lunar new year. Households gather to toss roasted soybeans out the door,voicing a chant to throw out the demons and welcome luck into the home. Chasing masked demons adds to the drama and fun. Beans are then eaten to bring good luck —one bean for each year of a person’s age. We could benefit from adopting a version of the Setsubun customs to help banish the corrosive effects of cabin fever,winter sicknesses and the overall blahs and to invite fresh aspirations for health and happiness into the home.  Kindergarten depiction of Setsubun To celebrate Ground Hog Day properly,we need meaningful and up-to-date traditions in keeping with the past. Here are a few ideas. - Cast out the demons by giving the house a good cleaning,chasing out the dust bunnies,recognizing that no matter what the groundhog sees today,there will surely be a another two to three months of life indoors. Gardeners might as well clean and sort now because once the greening finally arrives,housework will have no appeal whatsoever.
- Bring good health and happiness into the home by giving potted plants a deep watering in a sink or shower,rinsing the leaves,and amending the soil with worm castings (restocking your worm bin with fresh leaves,paper,straw or other carbon materials too),and pruning and fertilizing the plants to fuel vigorous new growth.
- Start life anew by planting seeds. Toss some seeds into a jar and sprout them,adding a fresh zing to meals. If you’re inclined to start onions and other long-season seedlings in February,then use this occasion to set up the seed-starting gear and get planting.
- Feast with friends,preparing hearty meals that take time to cook and eat,bringing in new flavors by experimenting cuisines from around the world.
Any other suggestions for observing the day? If gardeners claim Groundhog Day as our own,should we settle on another name? Do we really want to honor an arch-nemesis? But change to what? “Candlemas” is pretty but too churchy and ethereal. “Imbolc” feels too pagan,with superstitious undertones. Others are too obscure. Despite my initial qualms,I think “Groundhog Day” works. It conveys an appealing irony and playfulness. We could even get semi-serious and infuse Groundhog Day for Gardeners with a “love thy enemy” or “live and let live” message – a worthy reminder,with a hint of social and ecological significance. On that note,Happy Groundhog Day,and to all those hibernating varmints,dreaming of tasty picking in our gardens,we love you!  Old seed storage system on left,new system in the middle and jars for the home-grown seeds on the right. ‘Tis the season of seeds! A time to organize and order seeds for the up-coming season while other garden-related tasks are at a standstill and before the seed companies get too busy. My process starts at the computer,updating the Excel seed list,highlighting any seed varieties or types that are out and that need to be purchased. Then I study the seed catalogs,deciding whether to order the same varieties as before or to try something new. It’s an OK system but every year,I end up spending a little time searching the web to see if anyone has a better idea or has developed a brilliant new tool for keeping track of seeds. In that pursuit, I recently came across this video presenting a very simple and elegant system for storing seeds. For years I had stored mine in Oblaten tins because they were available,having received the delicate wafers as a gift every Christmas. I couldn’t bear to throw out such nice tins so ended up storing seeds in them. It wasn’t a bad system —the tins were tight and kept moisture out but the round shape was clumsy to use and space consuming. Plus I had to group seeds in into broad categories like “roots”and “tomato family”that meant sorting through a pile to get to the ones I needed. Once I saw how much easier and efficient it would be to store “carrots”separately from “radishes”in clear, ziplock sandwich plastic bags,I immediately made the switch. Goodbye tins,hello baggies. Hope this will be the first of many new and improved gardening systems for 2011! | |
