The Garden Buzz

The Oscar-Worthy Garden of It's Complicated: I'd Like to Thank Meryl...

It was Christmas time, not the time one's attention turns to garden blogs. On a lark, I thought to blog about the fabulous kitchen garden in the new movie, It's Complicated, starring Meryl Streep. Who would know it would become the  most popular post for my little seedling of a garden blog? 

I can't help but wonder how many readers found The Garden Buzz simply by seeking out information about the pretty potager where Meryl picked produce for her already ridiculously beautiful kitchen (did it really need remodeling?).

I find myself with mixed emotions about this phenomenon. I'm grateful to Meryl (hey, I'm a big fan) for starring in such a funny, touching, contemporary movie, but more grateful to the writers and set designers who decided she needed such a gorgeous garden. Wouldn't that be a great job; making gardens for movies?

At the same time I'm glad I had the smarts and intuition to know that if that garden interested me, it would interest other gardeners when I was in dire need of driving traffic to my fledgling blog. I just had no idea how big a chord it would strike with so many. But who could resist those tuteured-tomatoes, and the cabbages color-coordinated with spires of sky-blue delphiniums?

To think a middle-aged woman in a crumpled gardening hat could look so cool! I have that hat, the chambray shirt too. But for the aquiline nose, regal cheekbones and perfectly expressive lips, that's me.

Now if they only had a garden category at The Oscars. Until then, I'm routing for you, Meryl.

 

 

 

 

Bits and Bobs from The Garden Buzz

First...

It seems just yesterday that I nervously hit the publish button on my first post. Now after six months and the 50th post, and a few other minor statistical milestones, The Garden Buzz actually has a following, besides my immediate family (although my husband doesn't read it, there are no cars involved, you see)! I really enjoy sharing my perspective and passion for plants and nature with everyone. Thank you for visiting and all the nice compliments.

Second...

I follow another blog called The Perfect Pantry, written by a lovely lady named Lydia. She writes about food and all sorts of fun stuff. She invited her readers to submit a photo of their pantries, perfect or otherwise, for others to see. I had so much fun looking in other people's cabinets, that I offered mine up as well, but I'm afraid it's rather boring in comparison. It's the featured one for today at her site. Oh my.

After seeing the response, I'm tempted to do my own invitation this summer, and ask to see, "Other People's Compost Piles"!

Third...

I have to confess, I've been blogging somewhere else. I recently started a blog with the Star Tribune in the "Your Voices" section online. It's a little different in that I'm supposed to stay local or at least pertinent to the Twin Cities. I'm not very good at this self-promotion thing, in fact, I'm having a little hot flash and turning red just typing this news into the blog template. I promise not to neglect or give short shrift to The Garden Buzz. It is my baby.

 

 

Making Local Eating a Little Easier

Radishes (The Garden Buzz)

Just days after the announcement of Apple's iPad, it's easy to think that all the new ideas are hi-tech, complex and out of our reach. And then an idea comes along that is sweet and simple, and based on sharing. A smart lady with the appropriate last name of Farmer, has started a website called The Farmer's Garden, a place where gardeners, growers and farmers can register to sell, buy and trade surplus produce with other local growers and consumers. In addition, individuals and non-profits, like food pantries can register classified ads for wanted produce. She wants to make it easier for everyone to be a locavore. It seems a win-win for everyone.

Ms Farmer states that you can "trade your banner crop of one thing for your neighbor's bountiful crop of something else". I would think fruit tree owners might find this especially helpful when an entire crop comes at once, or even the everyday gardener with a zillion zucchini, and all kinds of good food in between. Delicious, unusual or rare varieties might be found growing not in your own backyard but mighty close. She encourages people to consider that even in winter there are still certain crops available.

It's not necessary to register to search the database. You can search with options for zip code, travel radius, transaction type and produce category. Always use common sense when using any online source.

This community resource can connect consumers and growers, create community, support better nutrition, and reduce waste. I bet you can think of more. Check it out at The Farmer's Garden. 

Alpine Strawberries: Perfect Fruit for Small Garden Spaces

The other day I was singing the praises of Alpine strawberries across the table at the Master Gardener luncheon, when I thought I might as well shout across the blog about them too. I think they are about as near perfect a plant as you can get. For gardeners expanding their edible landscapes or new kitchen gardeners, this red berry should be on your radar.

Alpine Strawberries (The Garden Buzz) 

Alpine strawberries have a taste that's hard to pin down. It has been described as perfumed, yet I think that gives a bad connotation. It's not the soapy type of perfume taste. It's complex without the tartness of a cultivated berry but with a certain 'je ne sais quoi'. No sugar needed.

You can't even use my "can I grow it better than the grocery store" rule. You'll never see an alpine strawberry in the store; they are simply too delicate to make the trip. They go from green to ripe to too ripe, too quickly for the marvels of modern food marketing. Yet the berries are in a perpetual state of production, so the supply never runs out until frost.

These delicious little gems rarely make it to the kitchen, I eat them in hand every time I pass the plant. So prolific, there always seems to be more as I rifle through the foliage. They can give your Cheerios a sense of European sophistication if you gather them early in the morning. A few times I have combined them with other berries, like regular strawberries, blueberries and  even mulberries on lemon cheese tarts. They combine well with other berries for more depth in taste.

I did have one problem last year; my new puppy watched me picking them and before I knew it he was nipping them off the plant to eat as well. As far as I know there are no ill effect besides the unwanted competition. 

Alpine strawberries, or Fraises des Bois, come from the wild woodland strawberry, Fragaria vesca, in fact you can can grow the wild version, or any number of cultivated versions. Compared to when I started my first ones from seed, there are many varieties available. They differ from domesticated strawberries in that they produce small, pointed, almost conical berries on clumping plants. Without runners, the benefit is that these plants can be used in the perennial landscape and put in permanent positions without the need to constantly rejuvenate the patch.

The bright green leaves are attractive in their own right with deep serrated texture. The rounded shape is great for edging or spotting throughout the border. The dainty little flowers are adorable. The plant is easy to grow with good soil and adequate moisture, mine have seldom been bothered by pests. They'll even tolerate a little shade. These little jewels make it possible to grow fruit in small spaces.

Do be warned, there are impostors. In my haste one year I ordered plants from one of those iffy mail order places; the berries were rounder and bland, and then the runners started running and ruined my bed. Pay attention to the fruit shape and description if possible when buying seeds or plants.

Alpine strawberry plants are now available from a number of sources, and sometimes appear in nurseries. That can only improve as everyone learns about the flavor and versatility of this fruit. I've listed some sources for seeds and plants with the different varieties noted.

Seeds

Thomas Jefferson Center for Historic Plants  Fragaria vesca

Renee's Garden Seeds  "Mignonette"

Thompson and Morgan "Mignonette"

Kitchen Garden Seeds "Red Wonder" and "Yellow Wonder" (The yellow not preferred by birds? The berries hide in the foliage so I don't know if this is truly an  issue)

Richter's Herbs "Ruegens"

Select Seeds "Alexandria"

Plants

Bluestone Perennials "Ruegens Improved"

White Flower Farm "Fraises des Bois"

And if you don't believe me when I tell you how great Alpine strawberries are in the garden and your tummy, take it from Henry-dog. Would he lead you astray?

National Pie Day - January 23 (Pear Tree Pie Recipe)

Let me be the first to wish you a Happy National Pie Day! Who knew? The American Pie Council (nothing to do silly song lyrics or naughty boy movies) designates January 23 for this auspicious occasion to help in "preserving America's pie heritage and promoting American's love affair with pies". Their aim is to "raise awareness, enjoyment and consumption of pies". Heck, I'm there.

 
Pumpkin Pie     The Garden Buzz

What, you say? Is The Garden Buzz going all foodie? Occasionally. In this case, I don't think it's that far from the pie pan to the garden, or vice versa. Name a pie that doesn't need produce to produce its filling. Cherry, berry, or kumquats, it all starts in the dirt. Chocolate cream? Little cocoa groves in West Africa. Rum raisin? Vineyards and cane fields. Chess pie? Maybe you got me there, but I like mine with a little lemon zest.

And lest we forget. Bees make pies. Every bite is just buzzing with bee-power. Without pollination, what could we look forward to; wheat pie, corn pie?

I love pie. I love how it is all contained in a crust, sort of like the perfect packaging of an egg. I love making pies; the fluting of the crust, paring apples, peeling peaches, or whisking the filling in a big bowl, and finally the finished piece. I love how it looks in the kitchen, the ultimate symbol of domesticity. I love slicing it in eight perfect portions and feeding it to people to watch them swoon. If I had one of those wide windowsills like in the cartoons, I would make pies just to see them sit there.

I remember some pies better than people; that purple raspberry/rhubarb/custard from last year that still elicits sighs and haunts us with its elusive qualities, the sweet-tart gooseberry pie at Kansas family reunions, the sweet potato pie when I grew my own, the dainty lemon meringue my mother-in-law makes. Yet my mom never made proper pies, but rather these messy, misshapen fried apricot pies, greasy and good, eaten with your hands, and even better cold.

Any day with pie would be a little bit happier. But here's a pie to honor the spirit of the American Pie Council's special day. It was inspired by the pear tree that grew by our old limestone house in Kansas. It provided shade, honey-scented blossoms and voluminous quantities of lumpy little green pears every other year. I miss it, now, every year.

Pear Tree Pie  

Use your favorite crust recipe or buy a ready-made frozen one, I wont' tell, it's only for the bottom.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

6-8 Bartlett Pears (or whatever kind is available) peeled and sliced

3 T. Lemon juice

1/2 C. Sugar

2 T. Flour

1-2 T. Chopped crystallized ginger (this is what makes it good, I think more is better)

Combine fruit and other ingredients in a bowl, then spoon into pie crust. Sprinkle with crumble topping.

Crumble Topping

1/2 C. Flour

1/2 C. Sugar

1/2 t. ginger and 1/2 t. cinnamon and 1/4 t. nutmeg

You can add oats or chopped nuts for more flavor

Combine and then cut in 1/4 C. Butter

Bake in oven for about 45 minutes.

Serve  with vanilla ice cream if desired.

PS: You can double this recipe in a 9X13 baking dish without a crust for a delicious fruit crumble, but then that wouldn't be pie. SHHH..Don't tell the pie council.

 

 

 

 

 

"It's Complicated": A Movie Garden Review

The six of us sat around the table eating post-Christmas pasta discussing the movie we had just seen; who we wanted to end up with Meryl's character, what we thought she should do with her life, and then my husband reminded us back to reality, "it's a movie". Yeah, it was a movie, but when you plop down in that plush seat, there's an agreement; you will suspend disbelief for two hours or so, long enough at least to be told a story. And if it's good, the disbelief doesn't end at the door.

But nobody's fooling me with that kitchen garden where Meryl bantered with Alec Baldwin while picking uniformly round, red, robust tomatoes. I'm a kitchen gardener from way back when and mine never looked that good on its best day. You see, everything was at its peak, standing at attention in perfect rows; chard, delphinium, cabbage and corn. A working kitchen garden is in continual progress, a hole in the line where a lettuce was harvested, a pepper plant just emerging as the season warms, the pea vines falling over themselves, wilted from their own weight; all at different stages of growth. And still I sighed aloud and let out an audible whimper of envy.

Having once helped to design and assemble a home and garden show display, I found it hard to do the disbelief thing. I knew each pretty vegetable had been grown in a greenhouse, coaxed in containers to impeccability, then transplanted, transported and tucked into a deep, dark crumbly mulch. Voila, instant garden.

When I started my kitchen garden, the neighbors thought it was a pet cemetery perhaps, a formal rose garden at most. When they saw it was a garden that produced food in the front yard, the opinions were mixed, fifty/fifty at best. Unlike the movie version, where everyone admires Meryl; so earthy, so romantic, I was just "the nutty woman on the corner".

My Kansas Kitchen Garden    The Garden Buzz

Cabbages and garlic    The Garden Buzz

Kitchen garden spring time The Garden Buzz  

I guess I was just ahead of my time.

Pumpkin Panic Soup

Duh, I know Halloween is past and it's almost Christmas, but we're talking about a crisis. In case you haven't heard, there's a pumpkin shortage. And if everyone keeps buying 2 cans of Libby's every time they go grocery shopping, like me, it's only bound to get worse. Is this how hoarding starts?

Perfectly good pumpkins are rotting on the vine, due to heavy rains that kept the farmers from their muddy fields. If we didn't appreciate this humble, husky-shouldered vegetable before, we will soon. Gone are the days when pumpkins were just for pie; nowadays they feature in risotto and salads, curry and souffles. As for me, I have to confess I haven't done anything so creative. Inheriting my mother's southern sweet tooth, if a vegetable can be made into pie, I'll opt for it every time.

But this scarcity has me thinking twice. I brought in the cute little pie pumpkin that has been sitting obediently decorative at my back door. I got out my little hack saw and had at it. First, I am probably the only person on the planet who hadn't toasted pumpkin seeds. Now I can tick that off my list.

Roasted pumpkin seeds   The Garden Buzz 

Taking a pumpkin soup recipe from www.epicurious.com, one of my favorite cooking sites, I did something a bit unusual for me; I eliminated the recommended bacon, butter and sour cream and tweeked it. What happened is more a medley of pure veggie essence featuring the pumpkin. And in spite of the absence of cream, it was so creamy. As usual, this is more suggestion than recipe. I take no responsibility. However I have to say that soup is very forgiving, if we could all aspire to the same, the world would be a better place. But I digress.

Roasted Pumpkin    The Garden Buzz

Before the soup, roast the pie pumpkin. Easy, two halves face down on an oiled baking sheet, covered with foil and baked at 350-400, your choice, for around 20 minutes. Poke with a fork occasionally, when very soft, it's done. Let cool and then scoop the flesh out. You can do this the day before and rest up, if that was too arduous.

In a big, heavyish pot, saute in light olive oil, a cup of chopped leek (it's a lengthy, much milder version of an onion), a minced garlic clove and a bay leaf. When softened, add about 3 cups of the roasted pumpkin, 2 peeled, chopped apples and 2 cups of chicken broth and 1/2 to 11/2 cups water, depending on the thickness preferred. Simmer until all is soft. Remove the bay leaf. Whiz it in batches in the blender (watch out, it's hot) and return to the pot. Sprinkle with a bit of allspice, yes, allspice, trust me. Salt and pepper to taste. Or do like my husband and douse it with Tapatio sauce. Heat gently and serve with some earthy type of bread. Bon appetit!

Pumpkin Soup The Garden Buzz

If you enjoyed this post, you might like, National Pie Day for a great recipe for Pear Tree Pie!

Big Hips

With Thanksgiving dinner just behind us it seems like the perfect time to talk about big hips. But I'm not talking about the turkey, potatoes and pie kind of hips. I love roses with big hips. I once grew a white rose named after Princess Diana; so small, pale and demure. Unlike the royal namesake the rose was unremarkable, yet the hips, whoa, the hips. Incredibly round, red and robust, these hips were the main attraction that overwhelmed the shrub in late summer. What would Diana have thought?

 
Rose hips (Pavement roses) The Garden Buzz 

 Not every rose has big hips. Rugosas are the most reliable for producing the large, pronounced seed pods. That's what hips are, just big seed pods that offer one more season of interest, as well as adding habitat value to your garden, because the birds adore them. Up north growing Pavement series roses I find consolation in their luscious hips; the blooms while highly fragrant are short-lived and shatter easily.

In shades of scarlet to burnt orange hips rival berries for winter decoration. However my Rosa glauca, an understated, still interesting native rose with small pink star-shaped flowers, blue-green foliage and red stems  puts out prolific quantitites of olive-green hips, pretty in their own way. 

While deadheading roses can prolong flowering, once the season wanes, blooms left to mature will produce hips of various shapes and sizes. They range from small bead-like pips to plump little apple-like productions. These larger hips like that of the rugosa, are the best for human consumption. As with all wild edibles, avoid those where pesticide was used and approach with caution should you suffer from allergies.

Rose hips (William Baffin)    The Garden Buzz

Touched by frost they start to shrivel then sweeten. You can harvest the hips to make tea, jelly or syrup. When making tea, use them fresh or dry them for a winter pick-me-up. Snip the hips and cut in half, scrape out the seeds and infuse with boiling water. Technically that process names the finished product; an infusion, but for simplicity's sake we'll call it tea.The resulting rosy-golden liquid has a delicious mildly tart taste that provides more vitamin C than citrus. And once again, it is so satisfying to find food in your front-yard.

Last Herb Standing

I know, I've already talked about micro-climates. But I can't say enough about them. When they work, they really work. By now the herbs should have packed it up with the rest of the plants. At least here in Minnesota. All you Texans and Californians with your rosemary hedges and lavender-lined walkways will just have to sit on your hands while I prattle on.

With the right micro-climate you can grow a very happy plant, push the zones or just eke out an extra week of edibles. Once again, it's all about the right plant for the right place. I'm taken back to my grandmother's yard; the thirsty horsetails grew by the leaky faucet and the yuccas grew where the hose wouldn't reach. It's that simple.

The hostas have gone to mush, the black-eyed Susan's are stiff, and the trees are bare. But nestled in a south-facing stone terrace, beneath the dark-colored deck stairs, the herbs are only bothered by the oak leaves that keep catching in their stems. It's usually a contest to see who outlasts, out plays, oops, that's Survivor. But you get the idea.

 
Golden sage   The Garden Buzz 

 In my previous zone 6 garden, I could count on some frost-singed, purple-tinged thyme in December for the herb/wine sauce for the Christmas tenderloin. Here before it's been all over by October. Not this year. Freakishly good November weather hasn't hurt. So I'm left with your parsley, sage, rosemary and two types of thyme, not to mention tarragon, chives, oregano and marjoram. And what's up with the fennel finding it's second wind?

 
Now the only question left, is why am I sitting on my butt blogging? I should be down there snipping one last bouquet of beautiful herbs. I'm on it. Later...

Apple Scrumping Midwestern Style

According to my Oxford Concise English dictionary, to scrump, is "to steal fruit from an orchard or garden."

I was lucky enough to live in the lush green hills of Herefordshire England for a while. It is an idyllic patchwork of sheep pasture and apple orchard, dotted with crooked storybook cottages and tumble-down barns. The ancient, gnarled trees make hard little apples that make hard strong cider, popular in the pubs over there.  Tales of autumn apple scrumping are common like those of outhouse-tipping in the States, in fact there's a brand of cider called Scrumpy Jack. Real hardcore scrumping goes on in groups under the cover of darkness, fueled by the very brew.

In the spirit of the new blogging disclosure laws I will go on record as having gathered a few windfall apples in my time. And I truly scrumped some pears from a neighbor's tree once when mine was having a bad year. I knew they didn't use theirs and they were out of town and I did confess later and send them my delicious Gingered Pear Pie recipe.

But there's a different kind of scrumping going on in the Upper Midwest. Over there in Wisconsin and down there in Iowa, people are trying to take credit for the heavenly Honeycrisp apple!  Some say it's from the U at Madison, others claim an obscure town in Iowa. Make no mistake, Minnesota breeds and grows the greatest apples. In winter when I am so cold I want to cry, I think about Minnesota apples. Even my mother-in-law, sweet little lady who wouldn't speak out of turn, has been single-handedly and staunchly having to defend the Honeycrisp heritage at bridge group way down in Illinois.

For definitive proof of the Honeycrisp origin...try this link from the University of Minnesota...

http://www.extension.umn.edu/distribution/horticulture/components/5877_01.html

With all the tasty varieties available, I love to experiment with different combinations in pies and desserts. So far, Haralson and Honey Gold together make for a fabulous pie. Ginger Gold makes an awesome applesauce. And Sweet Chestnut Crabs are just incredibly cute.Tell me about your favorite apple, even if it's from another state. I promise to be open-minded.

(Pie by Rose and Rhonda)