Daffodil hour

The Frenchman's birthday daffodils ablaze in the early afternoon sunlight, now bright through the skylight as that medium-size star climbs higher and higher in the pre-spring sky.

These were the first daffodils I have seen sold locally, and that means we'll have them for the next couple of months. In parks and gardens, they are already in bud, but still tightly closed.

Choose your pepper wisely

 I didn't grow up with hot food. The spiciest it ever got was a single, intact chile (which would have been spelled chillie, in South Africa) in a curry—accompanied by strenuous warnings to the effect of, Watch out, there's a chillie in there somewhere! Perhaps a whole chillie in a bottle of sherry used for cooking. Surprisingly effective, actually. My mom added it to soups.

So where and how did I convert? This country. Living with a food-loving Mexican for four years may have had something to do with it. New York City, and it's plethora of Southeast Asian eateries. And simply being on the continent in proximity to so many forms of fresh and dried chiles had significant powers of persuasion.

I like heat, now. A lot. But there's heat and there's heat. For my recent experiments making shatta, a gently fermented and staple chile condiment eaten in Palestine (and other Eastern Mediterranean countries), I learned that long red cayenne peppers make a fantastic shatta—sweetly hot and mellow. But that compact Scotch bonnet peppers (I know, what was I thinking?) blew the house down.

I have been eating a dab of shatta almost daily, especially on lunchtime eggs. (The eggs above were for a picnic after a plant walk, and there were no complaints.)

And atop labne, with an egg and some crisp celery and mint? Delicious, and pretty darn healthy, too. 

My shatta recipe is up on Gardenista.

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Snowdrops

The snowdrops always surprise me. There's a patch of them in the northern reaches of Prospect Park (furthest from our local, southern end) that always blooms weeks ahead of anything else. And this really was the winter for snow, and real cold, at last.

The trees are many weeks away from leafing out, but buds on their bare are beginning to swell. the leaf litter below is thick, and the snowdrops lift brown leaves as they rise.

Even though I am drawn to native plants (wherever I - and they - may be), it's hard to dislike these small tokens of botanical life. And their emergence always makes me wonder what is happening, right now, in that narrow valley in the Catskills, where a wild, clean stream is rushing from the mountains, and a sunny slope is beginning to think about thawing.

It's the last day of dark afternoons (although even those have been growing brighter). Daylight Savings Time will give us sudden, Sunday sunlight, right past 6pm.

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Shrubs with White Flowers

It's early March. No new leaves, yet, in Brooklyn, but the Asian witch hazels are in bloom and little past bloom. Snowdrops have been out for weeks, as usual. Crocuses have appeared. It's a good time to dream of gardening.

Viburnum, above, the scented snowballs belong to a V. carlesii cultivar. I make a fizzing cordial from them every mid-spring.

One of the sweetest garden fragrances I know belongs to daphne.

 And a fat rhododendron on our terrace in very early summer.

I made a list of 17 shrubs with white flowers for a Gardenista article, because who doesn't want their garden to gleam at night?

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From here, there

The bare-branched, flat-roofed view from the terrace in February. It was warm enough to sit out for the first time this week. 

The bare trees will leaf out, and then bloom. The roof...will stay flat. Until it is actually flattened and until a new building rises and eats the view of the trees. I hope the trees make it, when that happens. They are old and imposing and very beautiful. 

From left to right: catalpa (lush white blossoms in early June), then a space. Then a horse chestnut (scented candelabras in May), and another catalpa—a many-branched green mansion where raccoons romp and shout in summer. A space. Then a Chinese scholar tree, whose fruit is besieged by birds, including monk parakeets from the nearby Green-Wood Cemetery colony, through winter. Hidden, out of frame to the right, are an oak and a hackberry.

I repotted some plants and rehomed some adopted shrubs and ramps, transferring them from white plastic buckets to terra cotta. The ramps had already sprouted, three inches below the soil's surface.

Tomorrow will be balmy, on the 1st of March. And then a deep freeze, again. Winter is still here, but things are happening.

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How to Grow Ramps

Hot

It's not exactly pepper season. But it's so bloody cold that we need something very hot. Enter the world market, and cayenne and Thai chiles. Chillies. Chilis. 

The plan is to make shatta, a hot sauce from the Eastern Mediterranean. There is a recipe for it in Sami Tamimi's beautiful cookbook Falastin (a.k.a Palestine - there is no p-sound in Arabic), where the chopped peppers are fermented conservatively in the fridge. I'm throwing caution to the whipping, doom-laden winds and will ferment at room temperature, since very little happens in the cold. 

Stay tuned.

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Signs and wonders

Invasive, delicious, and it perseveres, nay, thrives!...in winter. Field garlic. Allium vineale. Right now relishing the snow.

Tonight it will add welcome green pungency to a chicken pot pie.

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 Book a Winter Walk and Picnic