Litter Mob 4

Tuesday, first day of summer in the Northern Hemisphere and we headed back into the woods of Prospect Park. The longest day.

I never sleep the night before these litter mobs. I don't know why. I now expect it, so perhaps it is self-fulfilling. Three hours, max. I am not nervous, I just don't sleep. Vince brings me coffee early, I am queasily awake. We walk to the subway, I am grumpy and tired. Once in the woods it is forgotten.

The beautiful stewartia flower are open. We looked at them near the Audubon Center beside the pea-green lake upon which two swans and five fluffy cygnets sailed, pursued sluggishly by a box of pink gum. A turtle was laying her eggs in the grass. I had never seen such a thing.  We met up with our Natural Resources crew minders and Inge, a new volunteer. Later I fished another newcomer, Danielle, out from where she was a bit lost. I should lay a trail of crumbs. Just four of us today.

The brush we had dragged around the ancient tulips trees had stayed put. This is where the ground is badly compacted, with no chance of plant survival. Not too many new condoms or fresh trash, there. But up on the ridge towards Rick's Place -  a steep warren of interwoven paths and meeting logs (my term) - the litter was prolific. Bottles, condom wrappers, condoms, plastic, lube, cups, candy, the works. Behind a well-used log I found a beautiful cluster of young chicken-of the-woods mushrooms. A great delicacy, but they stayed put. Because the worst or most troubling is not really the used condoms. I am used to them now.  It is the soiled tissue paper, newspaper, the piles of human ordure at the base of logs, that hijack you as you walk by and swipe them into your bag. This worries me. We wear gloves, we have grabbers and bags, but you brush sweat off your face, or hair from the eyes, scratch an itch. I think we are hyper-aware of touching our own bodies with our hands, now, but it happens. As one polite young man put it, as we chatted about all the other people (it's always other people) who make a mess in these woods, "There is also much sickness here."

Ja well no fine.

I STILL like the woods. I see beauty every time. I see them as they should be. A quiet place of refuge and green. But I am beginning to feel like a sucker. Money is apparently poured into an amenity like a new skating rink while the real park disintegrates and is patched up piecemeal...And I ponder taking pride in one's work, and work ethics. Park employees working ten feet away from a pile of trash ignored it and drove away. Not their job? Unions? Self respect seems deeply attached to the issue of litter.

The photos above: The crucifix was the strangest thing we found, with seashells and glass beads. Part of a Santeria ceremony, perhaps. We put them carefully back. We did see an imposing woman emerge from these woods some weeks back and very priestess-like she looked, too.

So how about it, Commisioner Jeffrey? You said that you were going to tackle litter in the parks during your watch. And Mr Garner and Ms Lloyd of the Prospect Park Alliance? Prospect Park is your flagship. Its website invites children to experience nature, along with a nice picture of the log paths where we collect condoms. I invite you to tackle it with us in two weeks time, on the 5th of July. Right after a long weekend. Should be groovy.

Red Hook's gardens

Summer in the Northern Hemisphere. Enjoy this post while we pick up condoms in Prospect Park. Long story.

Van Brunt Street in Red Hook and an unintentional green wall cools the south face of building.  And a yellow cab in Red Hook? The end is nigh.

We walked to Red Hook. I needed to check on some nurseries in person, and the results were richer than anticipated. The Gowanus Nursery, above, had a wonderful selection of plants available. Truly unusual,well chosen and inspiring stuff (I'll do a post about them later - open only Friday through Sunday. Worth the trip). 

Further on, sidewalks and windows sprouted flowers. This mullein.

Wild onions, below, grew in the blue oil drums near the water at the Red Hook Park, beside Fairway's parking lot.

I wanted to see what was in bloom in the Lynden Miller-designed park (Pier 44 Waterfront Garden). I was not expecting too much - I have only seen the garden in late fall and late winter. We had last been here for a chilly February picnic.

I was wrong.

Yucca. If you want to see the finest yucca display in New York, see this park, now. I was really surprised. Beautiful against the yellow-leafed spiraea (probably S. thunbergii "Ogon") and the blue and grey nepeta.

Tall, luscious, voluptuous, creamy flowers...

And guess what? Yucca is edible. Flowers, pods, tuber.

Happy day.

The gardeners

Photo: Ellen Zachos

Find my main interview with Ellen Zachos on Shelterpop. This is the afterparty. Grab a glass. Party on.


In what zone were you born?

I was born in Manchester, New Hampshire, which was zone 5.  It may now be 6 on the updated USDA map, but I grew up in 5.

When did you start to garden?

1997

Early influences? 

When I was growing up my mother had a gorgeous garden and my yiayia was one of those old Greek ladies who could grow anything anywhere, so I like to think gardening was in my genes.

What is your favourite garden chore?  

Planting!

What is your least favourite garden chore?  

Weeding-sweeping-raking.  I know that's three, but I thought if I hyphenated I might slip it by.

Where would you like to garden?  

In a deep bed of fluffy loam somewhere in zone 7.  Is that too much to ask?

What would you like to grow, that you can't?  

Delphinium...I don't have the right conditions for them but I think blue delphiniums are the most beautiful flowers.

Where is your favourite private garden?  

My favorite private garden belongs to Mark, the friend who started me gardening in the first place.  He has created a tiny Rivendell in the PA woods on a mere 1/4 acre.  Every inch is planted perfectly and it's so well integrated into the surrounding woods that it feels expansive even though it's quite small.  There's always something to discover in a nook or a cranny but it doesn't look piecemeal because there are also large swaths of texture and color.  He'd like to have more sun, but I treasure its coolness in summer.

Gardener's Q and A

My new column on ShelterPop is a series of interviews with gardeners from all walks of life and all sorts of gardens. I shall be on the lookout for more gardeners to interview, so would love some suggestions. You might find yourselves on the list!

Today's interview is with Ellen Zachos, my foraging friend, author, wine maker, blogger, gardener and lecturer.

The interviews will be posted every two weeks on ShelterPop, with some additional questions as a companion here at 66 Square Feet. The web's attention span is short. We can't have long articles in one place. Sigh.

Some of the questions were suggested by you, dear readers! I would have liked to have included more, and may sneak another in, but time, space.

Many thanks to:

Hoover Boo who writes the blog Piece of Eden: What is the first plant you ever grew, and, Who inspired you to garden? 

And to Bridget, who writes Finding my KD: Is there anything you can't grow, but would like to?

To Monica of 3@12 for: Least favourite plant?

To Elaine of Bucolic Bushwick, whose question echoed my own, as impetus for starting the series: Why do you garden?

To Anonymous who may or may not blog anywhere, who asked: What nourishes the roots [I have rephrased this slightly]?

To Karen of sillydoggarden who asked: What is the best thing about your garden right now? And, What zone do you live in?

To Mrs Bok of the Bok Flock: What are your favorite plants and why [shortened to one plant]?

And to Frank, of NYCGarden: Who inspired, instructed you?

Edible day lilies

Yes, that is going to be a continuing theme around here: Eating previously ignored plants. The more I see the more ideas I get.

I am still not really comfortable describing this interest as "foraging" - I dislike labels -  but grammatically it sits well: It implies a search, a curious mind; though most of what I find I stumble upon. The sweet scent in the apartment right now comes from a bowlful of beautiful milkweed flowers that I picked in Red Hook this afternoon while heading home from the Pier 44 garden. Tomorrow morning they will be breakfast. I think. I may make simple syrup instead. What do you think? Hey, maybe I can do both, as they must be blanched, first, anyway. Imagine that! A milkweed-blossom-infused summer cocktail. Now we're cooking with gas! [See the results here]

Still, "foraging" separates the gathering and gatherers of wild and wayside foods from the shoppers for plants in groceries and farmers' markets, though the latter are steps nearer the truth of where our food comes from. We are all still eating the stems, roots, tubers, leaves, and fruit of plants. Those firm green broccoli heads are just thousands of unrealized, thwarted flowers. But the gatherer of wild foods separates them on the spot, as the plant grows, wherever that may be. Nipping the buds from the stem, snipping the fat spring stalk as it emerges, clipping the leaves from the branch - and brings them home to eat. Supper is always a surprise.

I must add that none of the day lilies you see above were harmed for the writing of this post. The buds in the salads came from Elsewhere. Nuff said. I wouldn't pick anyone's garden flowers. But please pick your own, because they are worth it.

These were quite mature buds, as you see, in full colour aleady. I sliced them lengthways and added them to a salad of Boston lettuce (butter lettuce to some), new peas, fennel and thinly sliced radish that I had wilted in salt, first. Light sherry vinegar vinaigrette. The buds are softly tender and have a distinct flavour that I cannot describe well. Young courgette (zucchini), a bit of cooked bean, something else, slightly, ever so slightly sweet. I have no idea why they are not sold by the score in supermarket clamshells and farmers' market boxes across the country. They are easy to grow and taste wonderful.

In salad No 2. I ditched the radish, but otherwise it was the same. The pea and day lily combination works especially well.

Speaking of day lilies, remember this garden?

The red roses that had been hacked to the ground, the climbing roses I said would never bloom again as a result?

As far as I can tell, these are same rose! Are they? What the bleep?! My world has been turned upside down. So, instead of leaving a perplexed note, I shall leave another one: "Eat your day lilies...and...about the roses?"

Other New York adventures with wild food:

Central Park - Japanese knotweed
Dead Horse Bay - Pokeweed
Inwood Park - Field Garlic
Prospect Park - Oyster Mushrooms
The terrace - Pigweed

June dinners

We have been eating. Above, a favourite, Roger Verge's aromatic chicken. As usual I cannot leave well enough alone so I roast this rather than braise it. But I am loyal to his overlapping slices of lemon and tomato on top of the chicken pieces, and to the use of carrot in the vegetables that surround them. Then I use onion, shallot,  garlic and fennel.  The lemon, tomato and carrot are key, after that do as you like. Roast with a quarter inch water for about an hour, hot.

Ha! I am so happy about this..Whatssss under the pot? A porterhouse steak. A thick porterhouse steak. I hate to touch the oven in warm weather. So, fire. But how to capture the heat? I usually cook these big steaks in cast iron in the oven at about 500'F for 8 or so minutes, after searing in a red hot pan. On the braai, Le Creuset came to the rescue,  upturned over the meat. Worked perfectly. I need never use the oven again. The meat was very good, from Los Paisanos, so that didn't hurt, either.

After it had rested and made lots of good juice I sliced it from the bone, sliced it again into thick chunks, and we ate it with fire-warm garlic bread (roof garlic, paper thin and tucked into between almost-cut-through bread slices with butter,salt and chives), and our day lily salad. Post Stones Shiraz.

On a hotter night when we hid in the airconditioning, cold meat, cheese, bread. See me slumming it with a mojtio.

I made a marinade after craving the sweet heat of ancho peppers. Roasted tomatoes, onion and garlic till just charred, whizzed them in a blender with the softened chiles and some seeds for spice, added orange juice, a handful of raisins for luck and bathed some baby back ribs in this delicious sauce before roasting them on bed of bayberry (origin, Battery Park). No pictures. Ate too fast.

Last night, a treat. We were a bit hungry after the kick off to the Eat Drink Local Week hosted by Edible as we'd arrived fashionably late (my fault) and the punctual and hungry attendees had eaten everything. Moral of the story, if it's a New York food party, arrive first. There are no rail thin models here drinking champagne and sucking on cigarettes; these people eat. Everything. So we hoofed it to nearby-ish Prune and waited a mere ten minutes before tucking into some roasted marrow bones and fried white bait. Wow, on the same menu. I love both.

Coming up, things with apricots, strawberries, berries in general. Soon it will be time for It. Red currants are ripening, somewhere. I look forward to finding more milkweed flowers. Green leaves in adundance, with bits of slow cooked pig flecked about.

Never write while hungry.

Wisteria beans are not edible

They are poisonous. But they will not kill you. You'll just get sick.

Sorry. Just a little shriek in response to many searches that land on this blog asking whether wisteria beans are edible. I write about rooftop beans, I write about ornamental beans, I write about wisteria, and they flock, led by search engines, finding no answer. So here it is.

No, no, no!

Bad dog! Spit!

The flowers, however, are edible. I know it's too late, but sprinkle them onto some pancakes next spring.