Beautiful Apples

About three years ago I went to a grafting workshop at a nearby cider orchard and came home with what looked like two dead sticks wrapped in an elaborate bandaid.
After planting and tending and worrying, this year I have a healthy four foot tall tree with a collection of deep red Arkansas Black apples, a unique American variety that dates back to the late 19th century.
Arkansas blacks keep well and grow sweeter with storage but they really shine when added to pies and sauces for unique layered apple flavor.

Beans Of All Colors

We added two more beds to the vegetable garden this year. Even though I got a late start the plants grew wild and bushy (and drooping with fruit) while I was out of town this last time (James calls it "The Heart of Darkness"). So wild it's almost hard to find the edible bits, but with a little searching I have the garden I've always wanted. I can walk out to the beds, find enough beans for dinner and come in and cook them. So fresh so tender they don't need any enhancement. A little salt, a drizzle of olive oil and dinner is served.

Home Grown Pumpkins

A beautiful Speckled Hound pumpkin on the vine.
Sweet tasting thick flesh and a beautiful display, our nearly forgotten pumpkins have grown up and through summer squash, beans, tomatillos and beans (some are even hanging on the trellis). We have 5 fruits on our one little vine almost ready for soups, pie and maybe as a last minute coach for a last minute princess.
Fall looks better and seems closer every day.
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From The Yard

Gathered from around the yard a bedroom bouquet of lavender, oak leaf hydrangea, catmint, and a couple favorite roses, New Dawn, a lovely pink tinged yellow we found in the yard when we moved into this house, and beautiful bright white September Mourn, a 2005 introduction named to honor the 911 victims.

Summer Squash Harvest

Summer is finally in full swing. The garden is overflowing with bright green leaves and yellow flowers promising vegetables to soon come. The squash as always is first.
Tromboncino and yellow sunburst, both flavorful heirlooms, ready to be sautéed for dinner. I'll melt a knob of butter and a splash of olive oil in a pan. Toss in 1/2 an onion sliced. When the onion starts to soften I'll add in slices of fresh squash give them a couple turns around the skillet and cover the pan. With the heat on low the squash will steam in it's own delicious juices and caramelize just a bit on the bottom. 20 minutes later a delicious garden fresh side thats good warm or cold for dinner as a side or scrambled into eggs for breakfast. A summer favorite.

The First of Their Kind

A couple years ago, thinking back onto a perfect vacation week James and I enjoyed on Orcas Island in Washington state I ordered a barefoot Orcas pear tree. A whim that this year has finally started to pay off with our first little crop of beautiful blushed yellow Orcas pears.
Discovered by a local horticulturist in his island yard, Orcas pears are one of the few summer pears that will ripen in just a couple days on the counter instead of weeks in cold storage. Prized for sweet buttery flesh Orcas pears are homegrown favorites for canning, drying, and eating fresh. For me the tree is a living memento, better than a postcard of happy, lazy summer days together.

Fruits of Summer

A new garden and a few grapes not yet eaten by the passing deer.

Cherries for Pie and Color

Well no, we don't have enough for pie just yet but the first semi-credible fruit set on our young cherry tree still seems worth announcing.
When I was very young my father grew cherries on a massive tree we shared with every bird in the neighborhood. I never knew what kind they were but I remember hoping they'd be sweet, enticed in spring by the vibrant red color and being reminded with one bite that some cherries are just for pie.  I remember my mother, though it was clearly not her thing, pitting and freezing bags of those cherries. I remember my dad trying to make cherry wine. I don't remember a single pie. I'm not sure where those cherries went or if there were near as many as I remember.
My sweet little tree is my own backyard homage to those dare I call them halcyon days. Looking for a small tree for a partially shady spot I came across the Morello Cherry, a self-fertile English tart variety (sometimes sweet enough to eat fresh when fully ripe) known since the 1500's. From her bare-root start I've watched and watered and this year I am rewarded with bright red hanging fruit shining like a beacon through the garden.
Just seeing them makes me happy.
I haven't tried one yet . . . this year.

Remnants of the Fall Garden

Days are growing short. The last tomatoes hang on scraggly vines.

It's been dry and the garden is a melancholy shadow of years past.

And yet, I love the fall. I love the cool nights and afternoon breezes.

Battling away the pessimism of drought I plant a couple late season seeds and look forward to spinach and lettuce and even carrots when the rains come. 

Golden Carrots

About two months ago in a rush before leaving town I tossed out some seeds. Carelessly. Recklessly. Added a little top soil, watered and walked away.
Now, several trips later I am seeing the rewards of slap dash gardening. Beautiful long golden carrots much nicer than I ever grew carefully.
Tonight I'll roast them with harissa and olive oil and top them -- just as they are in the garden -- with carrot top pesto.

Pineapple Guava

Not a lot of flowers.  Back behind a couple beds I've tucked away Feijoa sellowiana (officially called Acca sellowiana now but none uses it), pineapple guava, a tropical tasting fruit for colder winters.
Native to Brazil, Argentina, Paraguay and Uruguay where it is common in the mountains Feijoa is a slow growing evergreen that can be trained to a massive hedge or wind break in sun or partial shade. Mine are small and though I imagined mixing up guava jellies and pastries when I planted them, so far just two lonely flowers.

Visitor In The Garden

The garden was overgrown. Embarassingly overgrown.
I finally got after it. I have to get tomatoes in or there will be no sauce in jars this summer.
Pulling down a giant mustard green plant -- more than a foot over my head -- I found this sweet little nest built from the dried stalks of last summer's beans )there's a reason not to clean up) and little bits of garden twine.
At least someone enjoyed the garden while I was away.

Meyer Lemons

Delicious nearly sweet Meyer lemons.
Native to China a sample of the tree was first brought to the US in 1908 by -- you guessed it, Frank Meyer, a USDA employee. Largely thought of as ornamental as in their native land, Meyers flourished in the states until the trees (mostly reproduced by cloning) were found to carry a virus dangerous to other citrus. In the 1940's most of the Meyer lemon trees in the US were destroyed. It took until 1975 for a new disease free "improved" Meyer lemon tree to be released. Still seen mostly for their beauty Meyers didn't become a popular culinary ingredient here until the 1990's when chef's like Alice Waters promoted the fragrant delicacy.
Thought to be a cross between a lemon and an orange (or a mandarin), their thin skins make shipping difficult so Meyers are rarely commercially grown (though I am seeing them more and more in stores like Whole Foods). If you're lucky enough to have a tree or a farmers market nearby try substituting this winter fruit for regular lemons in sauces, vinaigrettes, and cakes. Make a jar of preserved lemons. You won't be disappointed.
Or better yet -- plant your own. I harvested this healthy crop from a potted tree that lives year round on our sunny south facing porch. A winter treat with more to come.

Another Summer Comes To An End

I suppose everyone has a sign when they know summer is over. Clocks gain an hour, kids go back to school, leaves start to turn. No matter what the calendar says, even if it's November (as it usually is) I say my final good-bye to summer when I pull the last tomato plants from the garden. It doesn't make any sense. The season is long past and nights have turned cold but for me as long as there are tomatoes on the vine a bit of the summer lives on.

Looking towards Thanksgiving I'll contemplate this year's green tomato jam while I whisper a fond farewell to another summer.

Hurry Up Harvest

With just a couple days at home and a long list of chores James and I took a little time to change over the garden -- or at least part -- from summer to fall. Out went the beans, peppers, cucumbers, squash and in went broccoli, chard, kale and cauliflower surrounded by arugula, lettuce, spinach and James' new favorite salad green, pepper cress.
Next stop at home I have to man handle the rangy tomatoes and get in a good crop of favas, carrots and garlic.

Getting Ready to Go . . . Again

 Our pepper plants have finally kicked into high gear and we are regularly getting armfuls of beautiful green Padrón peppers. Traditionally a specialty of Northwest Spain these thin skinned peppers are most often served blistered (pan fried whole in olive oil) and sprinkled with coarse salt. Delicious tapas. While our plants are producing I'll serve the heirloom peppers as an appetizer and then scramble the leftovers into our morning eggs.
Like any vegetable Padrón's are best fresh -- and even more delicious right from the garden. I just couldn't abandon today's haul to our fridge drawers and walk away without a thought. So I decided to pickle a few jars to save for the sad pepperless months to come.
I hate to lose that bit of char quick frying adds so I decided -- very untraditionally -- to give my peppers a brief sauté before loading them into sterilized pint jars along with a peeled clove of garlic, one bay leaf, and a pinch of red chile flakes. Padrón peppers are mostly mild but every now and then -- with no warning a hot one pops up (Spanish roulette I've heard it called). I like the extra punch the chiles offer.
For my brine I used 3 cups of vinegar, 1 cup of water, 3 TB of sugar and 1 TB of salt boiled together until the sugar dissolved. I poured the hot brine over the waiting peppers (leaving about 1/4 inch headroom), wiped the jar's rims clean, screwed on the two-piece lids and processed in a hot water bath for 5 minutes to complete the seal. This winter I'll add these beauties to stews and sandwiches and count on their tangy brine to add zest to pan sauces and salads.

The Hybrid Everyone Loves

I'm kind of a plant snob. I'm always looking for heirloom seeds and little known varieties. But I, along with hoarded of other snobbish gardeners can't resist the allure of a tiny tangerine colored hybrid tomato called sun gold.
Hybrids tomatoes are intentionally (though it happens accidentally in nature) cross bred varieties that offer characteristics of the parent plants in a new hopefully improved variety. Not all hybrids are GMOs. GMOs not only cross plants but often bring in traits of other species. I am against GMOs. but sometimes a particularly delicious hybrid will find a way into my garden.
With super sweet, almost floral flavor and nearly continuous fruit through the season sun gold is a stand out that's rarely seen in markets because no matter how delicious the bright orange fruit doesn't ship well. Or at least that's what I've read. I can't even get from the garden to the house without eating most of what I've picked so shipping is way out of the question.

Plums! (and a couple pears)

Covering the tree, falling from the branches -- beautiful Santa Rosa Plums.
Bred by revered plantsman Luther Burbank in 1906, for a time the Santa Rosa was a favorite of commercial growers but these days is mostly found in backyards and farmer's markets having been replaced by larger, firmer varieties, less flavorful and easier to handle. The Santa Rosa, named for the city where Burbank did much of his work, is known for sweet flesh with a hint of tartness from the vibrant red skin. A hallmark of true plum flavor.
If I can keep from eating them right off the tree I'd like to try a batch of jam maybe flavored with a hint of cardamom. After all I have next year's fairs to think about.

Garden Potatoes

I'm a little late digging them up but our first potatoes of 2014 still look pretty good. I'm baking them up for dinner so James can taste their pure potato goodness super fresh and simply prepared.

Garden Fresh

A side dish straight from the side yard. Steamed carrots, yellow and green beans and snap peas with zesty carrot top pesto. Nasturtium flowers and leaves as a flavorful garnish for the peppery taste James loves.