Showing posts with label Edible Gardening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edible Gardening. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 2, 2025

The ramps have risen!

The ramps on the tiny terrace have broken their long hibernation. They made flowers last year, in summer, long after their leaves had disappeared in the heat. Several seeds formed and matured and I dug them back in. I wonder if they will germinate?

It takes around, give-or-take, roughly, approximately, more or less, seven years for a ramp grown from seed to be able to make its own flowers, and seeds. 

Don't encourage vendors to sell mountains of ramps. Do ask them to sell ramp leaves only. They can be packaged just like delicate leaves like chicories and salad. And do soak some of the rooted plants overnight before planting them in pots or in the soil where they will get spring sunlight and summer shade. They are an Eastern US native, and appreciate cold winters. Compost, leaf litter, and slightly acidic soil help, too. But mine just grow in potting soil, with some of their woodland neighbors. 

Many of my overwintered bulbs did not make it and turned to mush: lilies, alliums (the ornamental kind).  It's not the cold that bothers them, but a repeat freeze-thaw cycle, and wet feet. Ramps like wet feet, for a bit. And here they are.

Read all about how to grow ramps in this story. And what ramp habitat looks like in spot we visist every spring, in the Catskills.

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Monday, March 13, 2023

How to grow ramps - and why

What is that green shoot? It has four friends, too. They are all - well, cough, all five - ramps, just up in a pot on our terrace after a curious winter (deep freezes in December, thaws, record-high February temperatures, more freezes, and a lot of rain).

When you have seen a mountainside green with ramps, five plants in a pot might not seem like much. But when you have seen a forest where ramps used to grow, and that is now bereft of their green leaves in early spring... those five cultivated ramps are a big deal.

Ramps are a wild onion - Allium tricoccum and A. tricoccum var burdickii, and they are a beloved wild, native, edible plant; so loved that they are being harvested into oblivion in some US states, and in Canada. 

But they are not hard to cultivate. Love ramps? Have some land or a pot or a garden?

Find how to grow them in my Ramp 101 story for Gardenista. At least, that was the original title - it has been modified. I do harvest wild ramps in a place where they are abundant - leaves only. 

And that is my mantra: #rampleavesonly

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New Forage Classes - March, April and May

 

Wednesday, February 15, 2023

Radishes - it's time

 

I love radishes.

They have a remarkable affinity for eggs - high on my list of Loved Things. Also, toast. (Perhaps everything has an affinity for toast?)

They were the first vegetable I ever grew, as a very small person living in Bloemfontein, in the heart of South Africa. So there is that, too. 

In our Cobble Hill days (the terrace of the original 66 square feet size) I raised them on our so-called roof farm - a collection of pots where fava beans, peas, tomatoes, aubergines, peppers and raspberries grew. And this year I will sow them again, this time in the windowboxes on our Windsor Terrace...terrace (the neighborhood name makes its Instagram hashtag a cinch - #thewindsorterrace). 

It's been years since I grew and harvested my own radishes, so recently I spoke to two vegetable gardeners - Hemalatha Gokhale and Randi Rhoades - whose work I admire a lot, and listened to their radish-growing wisdom, for a story for Gardenista. You will find it in this link: Radishes: Early, Easy, Delicious.

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4 March - my NYBG Foraging Class

Tuesday, August 6, 2019

Growing galangal


The tropical and subtropical edible forest story continues:

And then came two species of galangal, bought from Companion Plants at the Ohio Pawpaw Festival last September (and screened for either explosives or drugs at airport security in Columbus - the screener had also never heard of pawpaws, the Ohio state fruit). 


Galanga alpinia looks a lot like cardamom (in the background), ginger and turmeric (all members of the Zingerberaceae family) and it kept its leaves indoors through winter. Now, in sticky August, it is shooting for the waxing moon.


The more exotic-looking Kaempferia galanga is native to the shaded and humid forests of Indonesia, Malaysia, India and Southeast Asia. It is endangered in the wild. It is one of several plants referred to as galangal and is used as a herb and spice as well as medicinally and in perfumery.

It disappeared completely, indoors, so for most of the winter the worried Frenchman looked at what he thought was a dying plant and then an empty pot (I was in South Africa for three months when my father was ill and passed away). When I came back I wiggled my fingers under the soil to see if its rhizome was still sturdy and firm. It was. We relaxed. It was just sleeping. Every few weeks I gave the invisible plant a light drink. In May it went outdoors when the temperatures overnight stayed above 50'F. In very early June the first leaves appeared, tightly furled and upright, before they relaxed and lay flat on the soil's surface.  It hates direct sun, so is sheltered behind a leafy salvia.


And today (TODAY) I glanced down while sipping my morning coffee on the terrace and noticed what looked like a fallen white flower on the leaves. I looked more closely. It bloomed!


While I bought these two plants to use in the kitchen I am not sure when I will steel myself to eat up some rhizome. But their leaves are heavily aromatic, and maybe soon I will snip one, and begin the Malaysian experiments I have been longing to try.

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Thursday, August 16, 2018

Saturday, July 21, 2018

Les Animaux


The June-July garden is very popular with the local animals. Free black raspberries!


Free chaises longues!


Free spa!


Free black raspberries! (Uh....)


Free pea trellis!!


Free black raspberries!

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Wednesday, September 20, 2017

Back to the garden


I have been trying to redress the wrongs of months of minimal gardening.

On Monday I turned in the manuscript of Forage, Harvest, Feast - the new book that I have been working on for, oh, some time, now. Until I see it again, after the first round of editing, I get to do the things for which there has been no time. I have missed gardening.

Today I pulled out some crazy damn morning glories and hacked back dead things and cut back nettles (allowed to grow but setting seed), calamintha and agastache. I pulled dahlias and transplanted hordes of volunteering thimbleweed (Anemone virginiana). If you need a plant that gives back, that's the one. And I planted cool weather edibles even though the tropical storm weather has brought humidity back after some freakishly autumnal and clear August weeks.

The mosquitoes were still biting. The striped, daytime invaders. But I hope that when I return from South Africa at the end of October I will find peas, and arugula and bok choy and lettuces in the vegetable patch And no more mosquitoes.

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Thursday, September 14, 2017

Fresh ginger


Every morning I spend about 10 minutes in the garden with a cup of coffee, looking at things and watering. Then I go back in and work. I have missed gardening as the new book has taken over my life. But today I had a good excuse: I needed fresh ginger for a recipe I was working on. The leaves in the two troughs nearest the house (where my Thai basil forest and curcumin also grow) are looking healthy and I could see the pale new rhizomes pushing out of the soil.


If you are used to tough, store bought ginger, as I am, fresh ginger is unbelievably beautiful.

I planted rhizomes that had begun to show small pale new sprouts (no leaves, just swellings), well after the last frost date, once nights were reliably above 50'F. These troughs have a couple of morning hours of sun for May, June and July, and right now they are in complete shade again.


The pink at the base of the culm (the botanical name for a grass stem) is gorgeous. The skin is transparently thin, and simply disappeared as I microplaned it into a filling for dumplings.

Next year I will plant more ( I think I said that last year...).

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Monday, August 21, 2017

Hot roots



I grew horseradish for the first time, this year. It arrived from Johnny's Seeds (in the company of several seed packets whose contents failed to germinate altogether - I don't think it was Johnny's fault, but it was frustrating) in March. I planted it in long holes, dug at an angle. It took months to show signs of life.


But all five roots sprouted, and there they are, looking uncannily like yellow dock (Rumex crispus). I think we will be able to harvest some, conservatively, late in the year. Or perhaps I should save them, for next early spring, which is when the fat, rude rude roots start showing up in local stores for Passover. I can't help blushing when I pick one up (each one has two balls, plus, er...you you know). You harvest them by cutting of the large root and saving the side roots for replanting. Left too long they become gnarly and fibrous. All this is theoretical knowledge, for me, clearly.

Freshly grated horseradish is one of our favourite condiments, eaten raw, its sting going straight up the nose, rather than down the throat.


Thursday, June 1, 2017

The stinking rose


My 12 (foot) x 12 vegetable plot at the back of our garden has at last yielded decent garlic. I planted eight rows, total, late last fall. Two short rows each of four kinds of garlic. The garlic above was planted from organic New York state bulbs, bought at the greenmarket (farmers market, for non New Yorkers) last fall. I pulled it earlier than I should have, but I needed the space for some bush beans and it was hogging a sunny spot. Key word: sunny.


The little garlics on the table above, left, are big enough to pickle. So they have been pickled. They are delicious to scrunch up on their own, with some toast, maybe, to add to curries, or drop into Gibsons.


There are the pretty ones, again. I'm afraid we have eaten half, already. The rest are in a petite braid, curing in a window.


What remains? Four more rows, including some elephant garlic, above, which has produced fatly beautiful scapes. These are finding their way into bright green spring minestrones, pestos and crunchy bruschetta.

Otherwise? After a quick dash around the garden with a cup of coffee it's mostly recipe writing and testing at my desk. Which is also the dining table, in winter. When I get worried about how well I am doing I remind myself that here are worse jobs. It's a little like playing, professionally, with occasional glimpses of glory (ramp leaf dumplings, tonight, for example, preceded by a ground elder cocktail that would have knocked my socks off, if I had been wearing any...).

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Monday, May 15, 2017

Last call for arugula flowers



These flowers belong to the arugula I planted last fall. The plants were extremely tenacious, lasting right through winter and feeding us until just a few days ago, when I pulled them out. Yes, I did feel bad.

I let them bloom because I love their unassuming, four petaled flowers on tall, tall stems, and because I thought the honey bees might love them, too. The honey bees did not. Slow to arrive, they have now been visiting the allium flowers and ignoring the brassicas. Maybe they know something I do not?

So the arugula came out, making way for baby spinach and lettuces. A fresh arugula sowing will take place later in the week (I save up gardening as a reward for book work done). This crop has performed so well in the vegetable plot that I began to take it for granted and am now caught with my arugula pants down: we have none. For a salad addict that is just frightening.

The lettuces should be afraid. Very, very afraid.

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Monday, April 10, 2017

Spring time


Spring arrived on Saturday. Meaning, the sun shone, after many grey and wet days. Today was Day Three of sun. And lots happened. On 2nd Place hyacinths have usurped crocus at the feet of our lady of the flowers. Two doors down the owner of a small pink peach tree sat on a folding chair and puffed his cigar.


Early cherries have opened. This one did not suffer damage from the early warm, late cold of February and March.


On 3rd Place one of my favorite gardens is waking up. 

Otherwise, the pace is increasing: Foraging season has begun. Wintercress, spicebush flowers, early Japanese knotweed and garlic mustard are appearing. My time is spread between scouting, gathering, cleaning, shooting, cooking, shooting again, writing, and eating (the reward). The window is narrow and these ingredients, at their peak, are ephemeral (RUN, FORREST!).

Tonight we ate outdoors for the first time this year. A deeply fragrant little roast chicken perfumed with chopped field garlic and fresh turmeric.  

In the garden things happen overnight. Fiddleheads unfurl, fava beans rise. The Oregon wasabi has been planted, the New Jersey turmeric must go in, and some Nicotiana plants are arriving in the mail from California along with tender summer bulbs from Virginia. Trade is alive and well.

Hold onto your hats.

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Friday, March 31, 2017

Grow Journey on a Bun


The last day of March. Did anyone see it sprinting past? In what direction was it headed? What was it wearing???

Tomorrow is April.

And I have microgreens. I have been collecting all my leftover Grow Journey seeds - just a few from each packet from over a year's worth, mixing them up and tossing them in seed trays every few weeks. They have provided welcome and miniature salads for lunches at home, while I work. I have been tied to my laptop with writing for the forage cookbook. Taking a break to snip microgreens and cook an egg (they belong together) has been very welcome.


These seedlings are a collection of kales and mustards and beets and lettuces.


Please note the steam. Bitten into while hot.


And then there was today's breakfast of defrosted baked olive oil dough (worked like a treat) experiment, with hot sauce...

In the garden I have sown Grow Journey's mâche (lambs lettuce) and a purple Indian mustard. After swearing off tomatillos last year (they made so many I was overwhelmed), Grow Journey's seed of the month package contained purple tomatillos. What is a gardener to do? Simple: change her mind. Who could resist? I will bottle them and make them into sauce. I have never done real canning, but it is time to learn something new, in the preservation department.


I am waiting to sow the tomatillos as the seed trays in the bedroom - the brightest room in the apartment - are beginning to take over the world.

As always, you can sign up for a free, 30-day Grow Journey trial, no strings attached. In return you will receive 5 packages of USDA certified organic heirloom seeds. One of the greatest benefits of membership, as I have said before, and will again, is the growing support you receive on your personal dashboard. The specific as well as general horticultural information made available to you is top notch and reliable; it is not only exceptionally educational, but also very interesting. Having this resource in one place, rather than having to surf the web for answers, is time saving as well as convenient. I know I have learned a great deal.

What are you planting now?

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Thursday, March 2, 2017

Marrrrrch


An interesting day. Work at home, go out to fetch emergency mulch, lock myself out, hop the fence to break in again, cycle to a meeting at Brooklyn Bridge Park, cycle home, scurry into the garden with bags of just delivered mulch.

The weather swings wild this week. Midweek it was T-shirts and flip-flops for a walk in the hood on my usual errand route. Balmy. Then came a crazy wind. The next three nights we will dip well below freezing, and on Saturday it's supposed to be 16'F/-9'C.  So...those tender green shoots and buds appearing in the garden are going to be frost fried. Then there are the darn potatoes. I know. My fault. In an effort to stave of the worst I bought some bags of cedar mulch from our local hardware store and mounded it in rows over the most vulnerable plants. Interesting experiment. By the way, far right, above? The leaves of the saffron crocus whose flowers I harvested last November.


The tatsoi is beginning to look very good after overwintering but I decided to pick half of it. A subterranean line of purple potatoes is planted between the tatsoi rows.


The tatsoi needs a very good soaking to dislodge grit (and oyster shell) and then I think I will wilt it and serve it with nothing but a slosh of sweetened soy.


Guess what that is? Monkshood. It bloomed well into November. Very pretty spring foliage. They are all ready to rock and roll, so I dumped some mulch on them too. I'll scrape it all off early next week.

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Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Mesclun, a short word for lots of leaves


Grow Journey seeds of the month in the blue light of a cold winter afternoons, above. We had a two day spring scare but are back to more appropriate temperatures, and I don't think they will last. I have been gardening. Seed trays are sprouting (8 artichokes, so far), and in the vegetable plot seeds have been sown after one more oyster shell powder application. As fast as I prep beds, the damn squirrel trio has been excavating. I must figure something out.

When you log into your personal Grow Journey account you now have access to an expanded My Seeds description, which covers the seeds you have received, past and present. The information here goes far beyond anything any other seed company is doing in terms of providing specific background and cultivation instructions for those seeds, edible landscaping advise, and other useful growing tips. So instead of Googling madly and deciding what online sources to trust, you have everything in one place. The information is equally helpful for new gardeners and experienced gardeners. This component comes from Grow Journey's Education Director, Eliza Holcombe Lord, who is a permaculture teacher, master naturalist, and master gardener. "She knows more about plants, soil, insects, and the natural world than anyone we know," writes Aaron von Frank, Grow Journey's co-founder.


Bear with me for a copy and paste, to give you a taste of what I see when I log into my account. This is two thirds of the info for just one of my February seed packets, a mesclun mix. Every seed gets the same treatment (the photos are of my mescluns past, as the current batch is still germinating).

"...this [Spicy Spring Salad Mix] is our exclusive robust mix which we’ve curated to contain varieties that are unique and grow well together. We’ve put together a blend of traditional arugula, ‘Winter Red’ kale, ‘Bellesque’ endive, ‘Paris Island’ romaine (cos), ‘Brussels Winter’ chervil, ‘Pokey Joe’ cilantro, garden chives, ‘Wrinkled Crinkled Crumpled’ cress, ‘Tatsoi’ spoon mustard, ‘Golden Frills’ mustard, and ‘Vivid’ choi. These are all fast-growing varieties that will mature at roughly the same rate to produce a colorful and richly flavored braising or raw mix. If you prefer your salads on the milder side, just mix it with the amount of lettuce you prefer to dilute the strength. TIP: If you don’t like cilantro, their seeds are easy to recognize and pick out since they are large and round (cilantro seeds are also known as coriander – the spice). In case you aren’t familiar with the appearance of whole coriander spice, we’ve included a photo to help you identify them below. The arugula and mustards will be sweet and mild after frosts and spicier once they age or the weather warms up.


"All of these varieties are tolerant of light frosts and grow best in cool fall, spring, or winter-covered weather (season extension supplies). In warm weather they become bitter, spicier, and bolt (flower and set seed). Mesclun is usually sown densely, like pepper sprinkled over soup. To make sure your seeds spread evenly, you can thoroughly mix the packet of seeds with around a pint of sand or potting soil before sprinkling it in your desired planting location (only mix in the seeds you plan to plant that day). If your soil is kept moist and fertile, you can start harvesting in as little as 3 weeks! Make sure to use scissors and trim the plants approximately 1-2 inches above the soil level so their crowns can resprout additional flushes of leaves. Harvest at any size (even sprouts, though 4-6 inches tall is ideal). You also have the option to space the seeds further apart if you prefer mature “heads” of leaves instead of giving a haircut to a “chia pet” patch of baby-leafed varieties. Mesclun is grown a little differently than regular greens, even though it is often the same species and varieties of seeds. Make sure you check out our instructions to get the best results.


"Mesclun mixes are one of the easiest and most aesthetic vegetables to mix into an edible ornamental landscape. They automatically include a rich palette of colors and textures, provide almost instant gratification with their short maturity, can be adjusted in size to fit almost anywhere, and they even have attractive flowers later in the season. You can squeeze a square foot patch of mesclun seeds between young transplants to make the bed look full while the transplants plod along to full size (by the time the summer veggies need the space, your mesclun can be removed) or you can get even more creative.


"For a really whimsical approach, take a long piece of yarn or other string and loop it in shapes and twists on the soil surface between the other vegetables in your bed until you like how it looks. Next, take your mesclun seeds and sow a 3 inch strip of them all along your piece of yarn. When the mesclun begins to grow, it will look like a ribbon elegantly woven between your other plants. If you prefer something less time consuming, try creating a stencil by cutting a shape out of a piece of posterboard or an old cardboard box panel. Lay it on the ground and sprinkle your seeds inside the shape. The larger the shape, or the more often you repeat it in the landscape, the more visual impact your mesclun plantings will have. Even just a simple circle could look great—if you use your circle stencil every 2 weeks when you succession sow your greens, your garden will have an eye-catching, uniform case of the polka dots in no time!


"Planted in a Container – Just like using mesclun in the landscape, there are few edibles as easy to turn into a pretty patio or front door accent as mesclun mixes in pots. If there were ever a “just add water” option for ornamental container gardening, mesclun would fit the bill. Since you know your mesclun greens will look great all by themselves, your biggest task is selecting a pot you enjoy. There aren’t many restrictions for colors or patterns either, since this mesclun comes in an array of pretty greens, blue-silver, chartreuse, and purple. It’s also got nicely textured spiky, feathery, rounded, and compound leaf shapes to prevent monotony. As long as your pot is at least 8 inches deep and has a diameter wide enough that you can plant your seeds approximately ½ inch apart from each other, you’re good to go.


"If you’d like to do something else to spice up your spicy mesclun, consider tucking other fully edible plants in a large container and then sowing your ring of mesclun around them. Pansies are a great option since they prefer the same cool growing conditions and their leaves and flowers have a faint wintergreen flavor. Pea shoots or podding peas are another perfect partner, perhaps with an attractive trellis or topiary ball to climb on. Another choice is to use larger specimens of greens in the center of your mesclun for size contrast (such as colorful kale or chard) or a plant that will eventually take over the pot when the mesclun fizzles out (just make sure to choose a plant that tolerates cool soil and has no toxic parts in case you accidentally clip its leaves when doing your salad haircuts). Some fully non-toxic options are strawberries, most culinary herbs, nasturtiums, borage, calendula, celery, fennel, or onions."

...they're not messing around.

Also new on the Grow Journey website is the Organic Gardening Supply Store, a curated Amazon store and effectively a one-stop shop for anyone who wants to garden organically. Want great organic, heirloom seeds, organic gardening learning resources, organic gardening products? All there, from live ladybugs to seed starting supplies to  gardening books.

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Monday, February 20, 2017

The days off


Weekend. We drove out to Fort Tilden. If you climb a hill on the barrier island you can see Manhattan.


And the bridge that hums like angry bees when vehicles drive over it. The weather was warm, but the world still said winter.


We stayed for a picnic. An elderly man skinny dipped nearby. He was tanned all over.


Then I came home to the soaking peas and fava beans. 


On the public holiday (Not My President's Day) I dug the overwintered greens back into the soil of the vegetable plot and added more oyster shell, for good luck. Then I planted two kinds of peas, the fava beans, some baby broccoli, 'Bel Fiore' chicory, Asian greens, 'Wasabi' arugula and watercress. I re-arranged some pots, moved a volunteer elderflower, planted some cinnamon ferns and Eremurus, was disgusted with some very poor quality Lowe's iris rhizomes (I know, what was I thinking?) and watered it all in with a kelp emulsion.


I found some forgotten carrots, too. Quick pickled with just salt and sugar they were very good.

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