I shouldn’t say it was late in the season…there is no growing going on right now. You’ve probably noticed that it’s been, what, a month and a half since I last posted? That’s because, long growing season or not, when it gets to a certain point in the year, you simply can’t put anything new in the ground. This posting is because our temperatures here in Portland have nose-dived into the teens and it’s cold! I still have leeks, escarole, endive, onion, horseradish, beets, mustard greens, romaine lettuce, and rutabaga in the ground outside and I’m pretty sure that if the weather doesn’t improve soon, I won’t have anything but vegetables puree when they thaw. I’m hopeful that they come through this cold snap unscathed, but only time will tell.
Potatoes and Sweet Potatoes are what most people think of when they think of edible tubers. Actually, in this day and age, most people probably think of them as roots, but they’re not, they’re tubers. Although there are many types of roots, normally, a root is just the part of the plant that resides underground or bears no leaves. Its main purposes are to anchor and support the plant and to gather nutrients for the plant. Tubers, on the other hand, while they may reside underground like most roots, are specialized plant structures for storing nutrients. Tubers are used by the plant to help them survive dormant periods and to reproduce the following year through asexual reproduction. Both the sweet potato and the potato come from South America, where they have been cultivated for over 3,000 and over 10,000 years respectively!
There’s another type of tuber that comes from the western hemisphere, but this one originated in the Eastern U.S. rather than the tropical regions of South America. I’m referring to the tubers that are produced by the Jerusalem Artichoke and I harvested mine yesterday, which is why I mention them here.
The name “Jerusalem artichoke ” serves only one purpose to the plant and that’s to make those who grow it use a capital ‘J’ while they are typing. I’m trying to break my habit of calling them Jerusalem artichokes since Jerusalem has nothing to do with this plant whatsoever. I’m trying to use one of the alternate names of the plant, “sunchoke,” when I refer to the plant since it serves to eliminate the confusion about where this plant comes from.
Native peoples in America have used the tubers of the sunchoke for thousands of years as a food source, but the sunchoke is more than just a food producing plant, it’s also a sunflower, and I love sunflowers! Mine did not flower this year before the cold got to them and I think that’s because I moved them to a different part of the yard and they just don’t get enough sunlight. They did give me a large supply of tubers, though, and in the next couple of weeks, I’m going to nom on them like it’s nobody’s business.
I’ve included some pictures below of me cleaning the produce to serve as a guide for you if you grow your own. Sunchokes are notoriously hard to clean because the tubers will grow around things that are already underground (which is why it’s essential that you plant them in rock-free and well tilled soil). However hard to clean they may be, they are totally worth it because their nutty, earthy taste is so delicious. Sunchokes are also a good choice for diabetics and dieters because they store their nutrients as the carbohydrate inulin, which has a low glycemic index.
By the way, I’ll use a later post to describe how to grow this sunflower, but today’s all about making them ready to cook, which is how I think I’ll spend my day!
- The tubers will be extremely dirty unless your lucky. You’ll need a sink full of water and a scrub brush. Try to break as much dirt off of them while you’re still outside since soil is a valuable commodity that otherwise gets rinsed down the drain.
- Scrub the sunchokes, alternating scrubbing with dipping your brush in the water to bring a little more water to the scrubbing process. This method works great for really getting out tough dirt that’s stuck under the flakes of skin on the tubers.
- Snap off the fibrous root-end stem of the tuber if present. You won’t eat this anyway.
- Cut out any dark areas or areas that bugs have gotten too, just as you would a potato.
- Store temporarily in water (no more than a day) and in the fridge. Otherwise, they can store in the refrigerator for up to a week or two. After that they will start to shrivel and dry out. (You can also just leave them in the ground until you’re absolutely ready to use them. They were designed by nature to survive winter weather in the Midwest, so they’ll be just fine out there. You can cut the tops off of the plants and leave the tubers underground. Just remember where they are and make sure you go back to them, otherwise, next year, you’ll have scrawny tubers EVERYWHERE in your garden!
- Cook (or eat raw) and enjoy!
Filed under: Talking
I and many of my friends drove up to Hood River County today to pick apples. We didn’t actually pick the apples so much as we picked them from a selection in several large bins. This is about the fourth or fifth time that I’ve visited the Kiyokawa Orchards in Parkdale and I’ve yet to be disappointed. Even if it’s gloomy, rainy, and damp, the apples bring you cheer. If it’s sunny, all the better, because then you can see both Mt. Hood to the south and Mt. Adams to the north! It’s simply stunning to be in this county to pick up produce, moreso this time of year when the trees are putting on their fiery shows. The apples, etc. are cheap, too (at least before you factor in the cost of gas for driving 160 miles round trip). We got about a bushel of apples, pears, prunes, and quinces for only $21!
Today was a great day and with the load I got, I will have apples for weeks!
Still, these many months later, I have no idea what it is that I planted. Well, that’s not accurate. I planted a kale seed back in February. I transplanted what I thought was a purple kale variant when I moved the plant in April. What I got when I harvested was not kale and it was not kohlrabi either. I still don’t know what it is that this plant represents.
I decided that since we have no chance of going back to warmer weather at this point in the year, I would take the plant out. I see no chance that it will put forth seeds this late in the year. I had, as they say, “grown accustomed to its face” in my garden, so I don’t take it out easily. In fact, it put up quite a fight to come out. It had grown so woody in its stem that the snippers wouldn’t go through. I tried to cut it with a knife, too, but that was feudal. I ended up shaving the stem down with a knife and then snapping the plant off.
The leaves, which I will use like kale, had grown to 24″ at their largest. The stalk on this, which I hope to use like kohlrabi, is about 6″ in diameter. As the pictures below, show, this was one major plant, topping out at about 36″ total! I’m not sure how it will taste, but I’m going to eat it, gosh darnit!
Before I took the plant in the house, I needed to spray as much detritus (and bugs) off of it that I could. It still had quite an infestation of gray aphids, so I blew as many off as I could with the sprayer. Next, I filled a sink with lukewarm, salted water to clean the leaves and kill any remaining bugs. I took all the leaves off the plant and immersed them in the water, removing the stems as needed to make them fit in the sink. I’ll toss the stemless leaves in a plastic bag in the fridge until I’m ready to use them. Same goes for the stem– into the sink and straightaway into the fridge. Eventually, the parts will be slowly digested over a thousand years in the belly of the sarlacc I’ll eat it.
Goodbye, my dear old planty friend.
Update: the stem tastes like a really strong (think hot mustard) broccoli and the leaves taste like kale.
Goliath- This is the second year that I’ve purchased this variety of tomato and I think I’ll be retiring it this year. The plant grows a big sturdy trunk on it and gets real bushy, just like you would expect something named Goliath to do. In the two years I’ve had this type of tomato, though, it has gotten diseased both years. It seems that this mighty tomato just isn’t that hardy, as twice now, it’s been plagued by some type of wilt that causes its leaves to die and its trunk to shrivel. I won’t be buying you anymore, Goliath.
Sugar Lump- These are prolific produces of cherry tomatoes, which I appreciate, but contrary to their name, they were not sweet. I found the sugar lump toms to be kind of sour to bland, rather than sweet. I have a ton of these unripe on the vine still, which proves how prolific they truly are. The plant grew incredibly tall and spindly and took over areas that I could have used for other purposes, but couldn’t. That was my fault, but I can’t take the blame for how these taste, so they’re out for next year too.
Roma- Like the aforementioned yellow pear tomatoes, I don’t think these fruits every really had much of a chance this year because of how and where they were planted. From my experience, I should have known that Romas like to spread out and get big and bushy. I tried to cram it into one little area following the strictest of planting guidelines. I should have planted this one in my main garden and made other plants get out of its way. I think I’ll give it another try next year to see if it does better.
Sweet Million- This plant has been the standout surprise of the season. Sweet Million has been a consistent producer of large, plump, juicy and sweet cherry tomatoes. True to its name, I have gotten a tremendous amount of sweet tomatoes. My one complaint with this one is that it grows to towering heights and can crowd other plants; notably my yellow pear tomatoes and my purple cardinal pole beans. Other than those minor complaints, though, I have been thoroughly satisfied with this plant and will grow it again next year.
Tomato season is nearly ended. One swift frost and the vines will be shrivel and die, leaving me with copious amounts of green fruit. We’ve had good weather all week, let’s hope some good will come of it. I’ll admit that I don’t want to see it all end, but with the change of seasons, the scenery changes as things are pulled up and the soil is tilled under. It’s not all bad. Gardens are all about change and bare soil is part of the plan. Next year, I’ll have new plots to grow tomatoes in because of the work I do on the garden this year.
So far, I haven’t ripped all of my tomatoes out of the garden. There are far too many green ones on the vine still and the news says sunny weather is headed our way all next week. Fingers crossed? Check!
Here’s a round up of how I think my tomatoes did this past year and also my opinion of whether or not they will be replanted next year.
Early Girl- 90% of being a tomato is just showing up in the garden every day. The point? Early Girl is reliable. I can always count on my early girl plant to give me lots of large tasty tomatoes and this year was no different. The biggest producer of sandwich sized tomatoes this year was my Early Girl and this is not the first year that’s happened. I will plant at least one, if not two or more of this plant next year.
Bloody Butcher- I’ll admit it. I fell for the name. This tomato was advertised as an early producing, high yielding, deep red, flavorful tomato. What I got instead was a plant that limped along all season long and gave me maybe nine or so puny (I’m talking the size of golfballs) tomatoes that didn’t get past orange and took the better part of July to give me that much. These toms didn’t arrive early, that’s for sure. The taste was not bad, but it was nothing special. The foliage was pretty, but you can’t eat foliage on a tomato plant, so that gets me a big pile of nothing. I will not buy this variety next year.
Stupice- I should stop reading the little plastic marking tags when I am buying tomatoes. They lie. They give you pretty pictures of what could be and that picture never develops when you take your film in to the Walgreens. Stupice’s tag said this was an “extremely early, producer of juicy red fruit with a fantastic flavor” with “heavy yields”. I bought this plant on the advice of an employee of a gardening store. It and its brother plant were purchased when I made my heliotropic planter this spring. I put one in the heliotropic planter and the other went in a large conventional planter. The fruit off of these plants was awful. They developed a lovely red color when they were ripe, but each plant gave me maybe four tomatoes and didn’t get very big (which I guess is a good thing for container plants– so it has that going for it). The size of the tomatoes matched what the tag said I would get. I will not be planting this variety next year.
Yellow Pear- About this and another tomato, I’m up in the air. I feel like maybe this one didn’t get a good shake down due to space constraints. I planted all of my tomatoes according to the package instructions regarding depth and width between plants, but the tomatoes (all the plants) grew larger than I expected. This growth of surrounding plants crowded the yellow pear and the Roma and I think they probably would have done better if they had the space to thrive. That being said, the yellow pear, while it did produce copious amounts of fruits, didn’t have the best taste. The yellow fruits were mealy and bland. Maybe that should be the guide I use. I’m on the fence about this one for next year.
That’s where I’ll stop for this update. If you’re still reading this, you’re probably exhausted by now. I’ll review the remaining varieties with a summary in my next post.
Filed under: Enemies of the State
The fungus Erysiphales causes an unsightly problem for many gardeners, especially those of us in the northwest, where it’s commonly rainy and wet. Erysiphales is one type of fungi that causes the disease “powdery mildew”. Powdery mildew is a disease that can affect a lot of garden plants, and right now, I’ve got it bad. My peas and my zucchini are both covered with the little toadstools. OK, so they don’t produce toadstools, but they do coat a plant in a white pallor that will eventually kill a plant.
According to GardenGuides.com, there are many ways to control the spread of powdery mildew. Their list is below.
In most cases, good cultural practices will adequately control powdery mildew:
- Select powdery mildew resistant varieties. This is particularly true of roses. For lawns, shade tolerant grasses such as creeping red fescue can be planted.
- Plant in full sunlight in a well-drained area.
- Do not crowd plants. Air flow and ventilation will discourage mildew growth.
- Powdery mildew thrives where high rates of nitrogen have been used. High nitrogen promotes tender leaf formation, causing dense stands that are more susceptible to infections. Adequately fertilize but avoid stimulating succulent growth. Organic fertilizers or slow-release formulations of lawn fertilizers are good choices.
- Prune infected plants to get rid of infected parts and increase airflow. If the infestations are severe, remove and destroy the plants that are infected.
- Disinfect your pruning tool in a bleach solution of one part household bleach to four parts water after each cut.
- Watering plants in the morning gives the plants the rest of the day to dry off, discouraging establishment of diseases, including powdery mildew.
Unfortunately, with my little space, I am breaking several of these commandments, notably, the ones related to space and airflow. I also tend to water my plants when I’m able, rather than in the morning. There are some good tips, here, though, and I’m thinking I’ll put some of them to practice. I have been chopping the affected leaves into the soil, and that seems to just encourage future growth, rather than stopping it. I’ll start sending those to the curb when I clip them off. The city compost should be hot enough to kill off the stuff. If anyone disagrees, please tell me.
Below, a picture of what powdery mildew can do to a plant.
I’m tearing down the beanstalks today. It’s just simply getting too cold for them. Although the beans are not fully matured (well, technically, you never harvest green beans when they’re fully mature) I’m picking them anyway, because it’s just not going to be warm enough for them from here on out. I can use the available sunlight for other plants.
Conventional wisdom says that you should harvest beans when they are the size (thickness) of a pencil. This is a good guidepost, but I use that and my own method for knowing when to pluck the little suckers. Bear in mind, that under normal circumstances, you want to harvest your beans often in order to encourage the plants to put out new flowers and thus, new beans. If you do this, you should get 2-3 harvests per plant, rather than just one.
Beans have a hairy, somewhat sticky coating on their pods. This coating tends to disappate as the beans mature. When the beans are approaching the right size for picking, (based on the pencil method I mentioned above) I feel the pods. If the pods are still sticky/hairy, I leave them be for a few days. If they are more glabrous, I pull them off the vine.
But today, alas, the time has come to pull my pole beans down. I tore up my bush beans a week ago and have resolved that from here on out, I’m only going to grow purple cardinal beans. Although the plants tend to grow out of control, and even though I’m not thrilled that they are grown in China, the plants produce copiously and I’ve had more success with them than with other varieties of beans.
Below are pictures of what a bean looks like when it’s ready to come off the vine and what one looks like when it’s not ready. I picked them both.
P.S. Before I get any hate mail on the subject, the only reason I bring up the country of origin for these beans, is because China has had and continues to have serious food safety issues. Because I’m eating what grows on these plants, I want my food supply to be safe, which is all that matters to me.
The weather report this week shows it getting cloudier as the week goes on, with rain expected after Tuesday. I’m very concerned for my tomatoes. As you can see below, I have lots of tomatoes on the vine, but I have no red tomatoes. If the weather goes to cold and rainy, I’m going to have bushels of green tomatoes.
Make fried green tomatoes, you say? Well, yes, I can do that (and more– like sauteeing them with a bit of onion– yum!) but nothing beats a bright red, ripe tomato, fresh off the vine. 
I realized the other day that I haven’t really taught much about how to recognize produce when it’s ripe. I talk a lot about likes and dislikes, bugs, plants, etc, but not much on here is about picking the very thing you’re growing a plant for. To remedy that, I’ll start with the humble pea.
I planted a fall crop of peas this year and they’ve started producing their little pods full of goodness. The peas I planted in the springtime could also have been planted, but I wanted to try to grow peas that require shelling. The springtime peas that I grew were edible, shell and all. These for the fall harvest are must be shelled as the pods are quite tough and a little bitter. Incidentally, peas are best grown in the early spring, late summer, or fall as they are very susceptible to damage from sun exposure.
Shelling peas are best picked when they have expanded the pod like a balloon. Some people like early young peas that are small in size and presumably sweeter, but not me. I put a lot of hard work into my garden and want the biggest bang for my buck, so I only pick the peas when the pods look like they’re about to burst! By contrast, sugar snap peas (those that are eaten pod and all) can be picked as soon as the pod is the size you want for your salad.
Below are the pictures which demonstrate what I’m talking about for size. I’ll have a post soon about harvesting green beans as my fall crop of those is coming in fast and furious!
