Slowish Food

A couple months ago I was at the Meredith Corporation office in Des Moines on business, and got to take a tour of the Better Homes & Gardens test garden. It was, as you might expect, jealousy-inducing and so peaceful and colorful, one just wanted to tuck in and take up residence. The garden manager explained that the garden is about 12 years old, "really quite young for a garden," and that they've continued to refine and hone it. As she said, "You're never really DONE with a garden." What a comfort to know that even the BH&G staff, with their Better Garden, sees gardening as iterative.

Which is a long way of saying that my tomato harvest wasn't what I expected. I have about 10 tomato plants in (three are grape and other tiny varieties that volunteered when we moved the old compost location). The tomato plants went insane in early summer, growing taller than me before they toppled over. I had visions of being overrun by tomatoes; handing out heirloom varieties to lucky neighbors and keeping the stovetop canner in constant use. I spent a lot of time researching what to do with my bumper crop once it came; perhaps a bit less (some might say no) research on ensuring the bumper crop.

So we're getting a few tomatoes a day, and we're eating them now. I stand at the mangle of bushes and eat cherry and grape tomatoes off the vine. All in all very pleasant, but it's a good thing our winter eating isn't dependent on our Purple Cherokee harvest.

Fortunately this past weekend an old friend and co-worker dropped by. Dave and I worked together my first job out of college, and have stayed in touch over the years. For the past decade he's been a a volunteer at Gingko Community Garden (that's him on the home page!), an urban garden that supplies fresh, organic produce to those in need. He took a quick look at my toppled tomato plants and had a few tips I'll be integrating next year:

Prune. Getting rid of the nonproducing (but not downward-pointing) stems will mean a fuller stem and a better harvest. Let the plants more plant energy into creating the fruits, not more foliage.
Move the tomatoes to a sunnier spot. My backyard gets ample morning sun to grow lots of things, but tomatoes need lots and lots of afternoon sun. In fact, the huge growth is likely less attributable to my green thumb as to the plants trying to grow and stretch and get themselves to a sunnier spot. Next summer, I'm putting them in the front yard where they'll have constant access to sun. (Dave reminded me, realizing I'm a pretty lazy gardener, that this will mean I'll need to water more often. Noted.)
The sunnier spot goes double for the tomatillo plants. I chalked up the fact that these plants only produced sad little empty husks to their being overwhelmed, nay intimidated, by the monster tomato plants. In fact, they probably needed more consistent sun.
Stake. In years past, I've forgotten tomato cages until the plants were too big for them. So I was patting myself on the back over the fact that all were in cages this year. Dave reminded me that I also needed to stake them. This could save the current embarrassment of having a small step-ladder next to the garden trying to keep the fruit of toppled-over plants from touching the ground.

With the garden doctor on hand, I also complained as a helpless victim about the bores that had eaten my zucchini plants. Rather than the bushels of zucchini these plants should have produced, I got one -- one -- before the vines rotted and had to be pulled up and replaced with kale. Dave explained that I could actually bury the nasty part of the vine and the healthy part likely would take off and continue growing and producing. Nice tip.

He also tasted my basil and disagreed that it tasted "wrong" and "soapy," and I made a delicious pesto that night.

I'm already planning next year's garden, what I'll do better, what I'll research, where I'll get seeds. Mucho thankso, Dave.

In other news, this one headed off to kindergarten last week. He's taking it like a champ, and has been excited about the bus and chill about having his personal style succumb to a uniform. I'm in denial that he's this big a boy.

I'm going to pretend that she's never going to grow up:

So there.

Labels: garden, Just blogging; family

Today is my birthday. The day has been low-key. Phil has strep, and went to bed early, which left me alone, quietly, with things I love:

My Kindle, newly loaded with this month's reading group book (The Shadow of the Wind), a stack of favorite print books, my little knitting bag loaded with a knitting project (We Call Them Pirates hat in the new Amy Butler organic yarn), and a martini -- with blue-cheese stuffed olives, no less.

And Pepper:

Pepper is an 11-year-old Dachshund we're test-adopting. My uncle and aunt had to find a good home for Pepper when they moved from their house on 7 acres to a retirement condo. The family voted 4 to 1 (with Phil as the lone dissenter) to try Pepper out. So far, relatively so good. Current voting has 4 of us loving Pepper, and Phil neutral. But we'll win him over.

I worked from home for 2 days to help Pepper transition to our little family. He was a nice colleague:

Max and Pepper are becoming fast buddies:

Downloading the pictures of Pepper, I found a sampling of random happiness from the last couple months. Like dapper Tommy being ring bearer at Phil's cousin's wedding. Here's Tom hanging out with his cousin and giving himself the photo bunny ears. Goofy boy:

Tom took his role very seriously; it's unclear if this is a wedding or funeral:

Aren't the bride and groom adorable?

And here's Sylvia peeling a hard-boiled egg. Shirtless:

And helping me with the lavender harvest. Pantsless:

My new favorite thing in the world: the Pioneer Woman's Potato/Leek/Bacon/Goat Cheese Pizza. Try it if you haven't. You'll thank me. i think I was the only one eating this one: