Thursday, July 24, 2008

Summer is for Sharing



For me, one of the greatest joys of my garden successes is being able to share my surplus produce with visitors and friends. There's nothing I hate more than wasting a bountiful harvest, and nothing I love more than to take folks on a short walk around the garden and prove to them that I am accomplishing something even though I don't go off to a full-time job every day. Often, I receive something from their garden in return. My neighbor appeared at dusk one evening this week with two quarts of blackberries she had just picked (mine are still recovering from their late-winter move). Those berries, along with those my Mom gave me the week before, cooked up into a nice batch of blackberry jam.

Recently, onions have been at the top of my give-away list. I planted 75 plants each of Walla Walla (mild, sweet), Red Burgermaster (mild, red) and Copra (storage) and 25 Pikant shallot sets at the end of March. I was harvesting green onions in May and by mid-June, I had so many large onions that I began to worry how I would every use them all. Only one variety was for storage...what if they rotted before I could use them? A horrifying thought. So for the last several weeks, every visitor to my house goes home with at least one onion whether they like it or not, although the Mom of one of my son's friends is actually allergic to onions, so I had to let her off the hook. I have researched long-term storage of onions in baskets or bags on my basement steps, and am hopeful it will work. Can you image the smell emanating from a couple hundred onions decaying in your basement?

The problem with giving away vegetables--squash or tomatoes, for example--is that when you have plenty, so does everyone else. That's why it has been so much fun to share some of the summer crisp lettuce I grew for the first time this year. Whenever my Black-seeded Simpson lasted until June, I always felt grateful, but lettuce in late July is truly a miracle. Thanks to an article in Organic Gardening, I learned about this heat-tolerant variety just this year. I planted it in mid-May before the soil temperatures were too warm and by the time it was ready to begin harvesting in early June, the mesclun mix I planted three weeks earlier had bolted before I'd cut enough for three salads. My Nevada (green) and Magenta (red) summercrisp came from Johnny's Selected seeds.

I am enjoying the usual rush of cucumbers, and although I have given a few away we have had cucumbers almost every night for a couple of weeks. Earlier this week, I made a chilled cucumber soup. This was not the usual fresh puree I've made before, but a recipe which called for sauteing the cucumbers with onions in butter, then cooking them in broth for a half an hour. The mixture is then pureed and chilled. Creme fraiche was supposed to finish off the soup, but I added a cup of organic half and half that I've been trying to use up and then served it with a dollop of sour cream. Some people give me funny looks when I talk about chilled soup, but personally I crave it during the heat of the summer. See recipe below.

I derive great pleasure from making dishes for our weekend family "potluck" dinners at my sister-in-law and brother-in-law's cottage on the Bohemia River. We gather most Saturdays (and some Sundays too) for kayaking, sailing, swimming and--most importantly--eating. Not too long ago, our menu boasted grilled beef tenderloin, tuna, mahi mahi,lamb and pulled pork, all in one meal. I should probably mention that both my husband and my brother-in-law are former chefs, my sister-in-law works for a food broker and I am the self-appointed baker and produce-provider by virtue of being part of a long line of talented Eastern Shore gardeners and cooks.

Despite the extra work it takes to cook with home-grown fruits and vegetables, I have to admit it really is a selfish act. My husband's family always indulges me with compliments. "Did those ______ really come from your garden?" gives me even more pleasure than "That ______ tastes so good." So, this weekend, the family might expect some chilled cucumber soup, a blueberry buckle from the last of my berries, or some homemade fries from largest of my new potato crop, and most definitely some hand-battered onion rings...



Chilled Cucumber Soup

1 1/2 tablespoons butter
1 cup chopped onions
4 cucumbers, peeled, halved, seeded, cut crosswise into 1/2-inch-thick slices (about 5 cups)
1 8-ounce russet potato, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch dice
3 1/2 cups low-salt chicken broth
3 large fresh dill sprigs plus 6 tablespoons minced fresh dill
1 teaspoon (or more) salt
1 cup half and half
Sour cream (for serving)

Melt butter in heavy large pot over medium heat. Add onions and sauté until slightly softened, about 3 minutes. Add cucumbers and potato; stir 1 minute. Add broth, dill sprigs, and 1 teaspoon salt. Increase heat and bring to simmer. Reduce heat to low; cover and simmer until cucumbers and potato are tender, stirring occasionally, about 25 minutes. Working in batches, puree soup in processor until smooth. Return to pot. Cool 15-30 minutes. Whisk in half and half and 4 tablespoons minced dill. Cover and chill until cold, about 4 hours. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Keep chilled.) Taste soup, adding more salt if desired. Ladle soup into 6 bowls. Place dollop of sour cream in center of each bowl; sprinkle with minced dill. (Modified from recipe on Epicurious.com)


© 2008 Jenifer Dolde

Monday, July 7, 2008

When the Gardener's Away, The Weeds Will Grow

By mid-June, most gardeners on Delmarva have everything planted that they are going to grow for the year, at least the first crop. So it was for me, as I departed for a week's vacation, high on the success of the strawberry season. My tender tomato transplants were in and established, as well as the peppers. The potatoes were already knee-high. The carrots and chard had emerged in neat, narrow rows. I had already begun harvesting thick green onions from my spring sets. The summer crisp lettuce was seeded, the mesclun crop was ready for harvest, and we were still enjoying the last of the green and red leaf lettuce.

I didn't worry about my garden during our week at the beach. The newspaper and grass clippings mulch had held down the usual early summer crop of pernicious weeds in my paths, and with less area to weed, I had kept the rows relatively weed-free. We arrived home mid-afternoon, and the garden was my first stop. The growth was amazing: onions the size of tennis balls, cucumbers winding up the trellis, baby green tomatoes hanging from the vines, a carpet of succulent weeds half the size of the tomato plants.

I don't know why I was so surprised. Delmarva's hot, sticky weather is heaven for weeds. Eleven years ago this July when my son was born, I returned home from a four-day stay in the hospital after a C-section, excited to be a mother but distressed to see that the weeds had out-grown my garden plants. My mother came to stay and help, and she and my husband pulled a mountain of weeds and revealed the tomatoes and peppers hidden below. That was a rare gift--one I have never received since. Since coming home, our relaxing summer has consisted of driving from one fun event to another, so the weeds have grown even more. Today, I am planning to remove as many as I can. Besides, they're easier to pull once they're big. I'm not kidding!


© 2008 Jenifer Dolde