The Long and the Short of It

They may be short, but they are mighty.

And very unlike their companions in the backyard.

But I love them all.

The Return of My Salad Days

 Over the years I have grown many varieties of lettuces, with greater and lesser success, depending on the weather, the watering plan, the seeds, the voracious caterpillars and just dumb luck. In the past while though, I really haven't saved room for lettuces  - the outcomes were so questionable that it didn't seem worth the effort. And, after 40+ years of daily salads, my tastebuds were simply bored.

Nonetheless, this winter I gave it one more try with Gustav's Salad from Baker Creek Seeds. The little seedlings which were started inside in late January survived dramatic downpours, a month of no rain, two separate heatwaves and stupid digging squirrels. I can't say that lettuce will always be in the garden, but if there is lettuce out back, it will be Gustav's.

Thank you, Rancho Gordo

I occasionally buy beans from Rancho Gordo, even though I grow plenty of beans here. I buy them because I want to first try them, to see how we like them. Then, if we do like them, I plant some to grow here. So buy a pound, save out a few ounces, just in case, and enjoy the rest!

So far, the two that have made it into the garden are heirloom runner beans from Oaxaca - Ayocote blanco and Ayocote morado (the Ayocote negro was just too "beany" for me). Both varieties are pole type beans, producing masses of flowers, and requiring (and attracting) pollinators to produce beans. 

Ayocote blanco beans have white flowers and white beans (like, duh!); morados have scarlet flowers and reddish-purple beans. I prefer the flavor of the blancos, although they are very sloo-ow to produce. Even here in mild Oakland you almost run out of season before they are ready to harvest.  

The morados get on with life in a more timely fashion. And they are so, so pretty. They also need to cook, and then cook some more, before settling into soft goodness. 

Ayocote Morado Beans

One Plus One Equals Peperonata

 Finally, finally, finally. The San Marzanos are finally ripening, right along side of the peppers. 

San Marzano Tomatoes

Mountaineer Peppers

So it's peperonata (I don't exactly use the recipe from Joyce Goldstein's Enoteca, but I do look at it) almost every night. And I haven't heard any complaining. 

Buon Appetito!

Fava Season

What more is there to say?

It's That Time of Year Again

Harvest time, I mean. And at least in this, it has been a lucky year. Let's just not talk about the eggplants, okay?

Amish Paste Tomatoes

Aconcagua Roasting Peppers (banana for scale)

The Last Squash

Promise. We ate or gave away all the other ones. And most definitely, the last post about squash for a very looong time. Promise.

But you have to admit, it's a beauty at 12.5 lbs. (although other people have said things like, "hilarious" and "gonna be a lot of soup"). All true, but not very nice to say out loud. 

(Banana for scale)

Sisters

Back in the days, as in, last year, when the wrens happily nested in their gourd house, life was good. But this year, it became all too obvious that the birdhouse was becoming a rickety tear-down. Something needed to be done.

A packet of seeds, a pile of compost and a long growing season later, we got some new housing stock. Potentially. All related, and all still connected. (Since then, they have been cut off the vine and moved onto the porch for shelter.)

I'm not yet hopeful, perhaps just wishful, that they will cure properly (or at least some small number of them won't rot out completely) and become new homes for the next generations of wrens. 

Oddly (Ab)Normal

I know that they are tromboncino squash.  I know this, but still my eyes have to blink a few times rather quickly to avoid a freakout. 

Because they are definitely weird-looking. Like the fossilized internal organs from a long-extinct ruminant. Or some giant invertebrates who only appear out of the ground on every third Harvest Moon during prime numbered years. Or even as a friend commented, "I have to say, that photo is strangely anatomical, I'm almost blushing."

Good soup, though, and lots of it.

Better Late Than Never, Right?

 Mid-October, and the San Marzano tomatoes are coming into their own. But since they're all ripening up at once, they're having different futures: some are for roasting now and the rest are for sauce for this winter. And for me - it's back to the kitchen!

No Complaints

 Well, it's looking to be a really crappy year in the vegetable patch, but there are compensations: 

LILIES GALORE

No, you can't eat them - poisonous to you, me, cats, dogs, most everyone - but a feast for the eyes!

The Sweet Season

Sweet Peas (Lathyrus odoratus) Hi-Scent

Una Abundanza (An Abundance)

So the tromboncino squash didn't do poo-poo this past summer, but the other guy sharing the turf did just fine: two 10+ pound Marina di Chioggia squashes (Cucurbita maxima). 

Green-gray on the outside, orange on the inside, it's considered one of the premier winter squashes. Sad fact is that I don't really like winter squash very much. Soup is fine, ravioli is tasty, but that's about my limit. 

Now you may wonder why I would grow something that I don't really like. Well, we were given a squash, which was turned into a delicious soup. So I saved some seeds, thinking that it would be my chance to see whether, with one of the best squash varieties in town, grown under ideal conditions (tee-hee), my narrow, judgmental mind could be persuaded. 

And the answer? A big fat "maybe". I looked at a ton of recipes for roasted squash - considered to be the best technique for enhancing the flavor - and (mostly) followed the instructions. Tasted it, and decided that it was simply, wonderfully, just okay. Excellent for your health, pretty on the plate, far superior to anything you could get in the market, easy to grow and very productive, but... just okay. 

Having said that, and having even done the required homework, I can now honestly recommend Marina di Chioggia squash. Especially if you like that kind of thing. 

Housing is for the Birds

Way back in 2017, I got involved in a silly experiment - gourd growing. The vines took over the entire driveway and produced four very large, and, if I may say so, beautiful offspring. These gourds were always in the state of going-to-be: a lidded pot; a decorative bowl; a something that needed time and attention. And an empty space on some table or shelf somewhere. 

Instead, they sat on a very high shelf in the garage, looked down on me with contempt and impatience, and collected dust. Until yesterday, when I noticed that the early wren bird was once again exploring the birdhouse in the backyard. It was an aha moment - those lazy, languishing gourds could be someone's new family home.

A trip to the Oakland Tool Lending Library, a little bit of fiddling (to get the cord through those small holes) and filing (to smooth out the drill holes) and, ta-da!, a new home for a wren, chickadee or titmouse family. 

Now because all of these little birdie types are aggressively territorial, these new gourd-homes had to be located in someone else's yard - one to the neighbors across the street, and the others far, far away in other neighborhoods. Fingers crossed that the new avian residents use them in good health and happiness.

The Zucchini Sex Goddess Returns to Work

Tromboncino Zucchini

I didn't think it would happen this year, given how late the squash seeds got in the ground, how long they sulked and how s-l-o-w-l-y they grew. 

But now that it's almost September, some long-suppressed urge to procreate must have kicked in because the squash are finally, finally, finally taking off. 

So maybe by October, there will be plenty enough zucchini and squash to share with (scare away?) the neighbors.

Marina di Chioggia Winter Squash

SummerTime

Red Sun Sunflower

Salad Days

Over the years I have trialed many varieties of lettuces. Almost all have been good, if not very good. But Bronze Arrow has stood out as an excellent performer winter and summer, wet and soggy, or with little water under sunny, hot skies. Pretty to eat, and highly edible.

Bronze Arrow

Thanksgiving Bounty

Oregon Homestead Sweet Meat Squash

 

Sweet Meat - a classic squash variety of the Pacific Northwest, traditionally first eaten on Thanksgiving. This 10 pounder was locally grown in the front yard. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Talk of the Town

 Not really, just my little 27' wide block. And only the talk of the many pedestrians, bicyclists, baby stroller pushers and dog walkers who use my street:

Yes, those lilies. My, oh, my, but the regal lilies (Lilium regale) truly outdid themselves this year. 

Winter's Bounty into Spring

Somehow, the pepper plants decided that this past winter really wasn't so bad, so they kept producing little peppers all winter long. Yes, they were tiny, but mighty - intensely flavored, crisp and sweet. It took a large handful to make a serving, but as a garnish, chopped into a salad or added to a stew, they were a bright reminder of summer. 

The Last of the Peppers from Last Summer

Two weeks ago they had to make way for new plantings. We can only hope that the new generation will be so prolific and tenacious.