To my table via Waltham, Massachusetts -- And where to next?

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Waltham Butternut squash was first bred in Waltham, Massachusetts in the 1960s, though the plants from which it was derived were here long before then. By some estimates, Cucurbita moschata has been cultivated in the Americas for more than 5,000 years.


The butternut squash I grew in the community garden this summer ended its epoch journey recently. From Waltham, Mass., to Washington, D.C., from just one sprawling plant that I nearly killed at the beginning of the growing season, I achieved this plentiful harvest: seven humongous butternuts in all. We've used two of them in soups already, while the third we gave away to a friend. The rest await their fate, perhaps in a comforting risotto or, if I'm feeling ambitious, homemade raviolis or empanadas. Then again, I like it just plain baked too.


One of the great qualities of butternut squash is that it stores well, so I don't have to be in mad dash to find uses for these right away. Nevertheless, I am eager to try them in new recipes -- something besides soup. What's your favorite way to eat butternut squash? Actually, let's try something new here. Tell me what you think I should cook with one of these squashes. Leave your ideas in the comments. I'll make whatever turns out to be the most popular suggestion, either by using a recipe or by just making something up. I'll post the result, with photos of course. Tell me: How should one of these butternuts meet its end?

I picked plenty o' peppers

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

How many peppers did I pick this summer? Plenty! So many that I didn't even bother to count them. These are just a few of the beauties I pulled during my last visit to the community garden. The dark ones are Purple Beauty bells, which look almost chocolate-colored to me. (Then again, I see many foods through chocolate-colored glasses.) The red one is a Buran heirloom pepper.

This was my first year growing bell peppers and the results exceeded my expectations. Compared to the peppers I usually see in the grocery stores, my peppers were only about half the size, a little thinner, and slightly less sweet, but they were beautifully shaped and infinitely fresher than the ones I usually see on Aisle One. Furthermore, I didn't have to scrub them like crazy to remove chemicals; these were grown organically (as are all my veggie crops). I think the best part about them, though, was how wonderful they smelled while they were baking in the oven. A deep and warm peppery fragrance permeated the far reaches of the house as they cooked.


I made stuffed purple peppers filled with a mixture of cooked rice, sausage, garlic, onions, and chopped red peppers, all bathed in our homemade tomato sauce. Notice how the purple pepper pulled a fast one on me and turned green during the cooking process. I read in the current issue of Organic Gardening that one can prevent this chameleon-like change from occurring in purple cauliflower by adding a little lemon juice or vinegar while it cooks. I wonder if the same is true with purple peppers?

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Pepper growing season in review:
I'll take the peppers, hold the chemicals, please
The Heat is On... the pepper seeds
Pluck, there goes the pepper blossom
First bell pepper
Pepper salsa
Sweet pepper crostini

The Grapevine is Alive

Sunday, October 21, 2007

I was on my way out the door Thursday morning when I decided to make a quick run to the backyard to see if the spinach seeds I'd planted days earlier were showing any signs of life. They weren't. And I was disappointed to realize I'd probably planted them too late. Again. Curses.

But then something caught the corner of my eye. It was not at all what I was looking for, especially since now I was accustomed to turning my glance away from the sad sight that was our shriveled-up grapevine.


Is that...? What... ? Are those... ? NEW LEAVES!? I had to reach out and touch one to convince myself it was real.

I can't believe it. It's alive. Our grapevine is still alive!

Of all the plants we moved from the District to Maryland, the grapevine suffered the most from its uprooting. (The butterfly bush is a near goner too, but more about that later.) As we dug the plant from the ground, I remember how surprised I was at how long its roots had grown; it was a mere twig when we received it from our friend last April. How awful it felt to tear its fragile veins from the earth. Within moments, its leaves wilted to a crisp. I'd never seen a plant wither so quickly, so severely.

That was three weeks ago when we did all our transplanting. Since then, I'd been diligently watering our grapevine's skeleton, even though I was convinced I would see no gasp of a lifeline until next spring. If ever.

And then there it was. A tiny new leaf. And then another. And another.

For as quickly as the plant wilted during the move, it now appears equally as quick to come back to life. I am once again amazed at how resilient plants can be. And I am beyond words to say how happy we are. Our little grapevine is still alive.

Planting Garlic and Daffodils

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

We had plenty of garlic left over from this summer's crop, so I didn't have to buy any new seed garlic this year. I selected three of our largest bulbs and planted the individual cloves about four inches deep in the cool earth of our newly made garden bed. It was enough for three short rows, all lined up next to our still-ailing grapevine.

I also spent some time this weekend finding new homes for the daffodil bulbs I brought with me from the community garden. I wanted to plant a few under the maple tree in our front yard. I thought it would be a great way to initiate the de-lawning process and stake out a few surprises for next spring. But my efforts were quickly thwarted once I tried tapping into the extremely dry, clay soil. I struggled to remove just one small shovel's worth of sod, and then I hit one of the tree's roots. Not good.


I gave up on that idea and instead tucked the bulbs into the borders along the house, where there there was, surprise, more tough soil disguised under a thin layer of mulch and sprawling azalea roots. It was no easy task to get through all that, and I surely hope the bulbs will make it. Not only are they in tough soil, but they also have to survive the dreaded squirrel, who visits daily now. Wherever I dig, the squirrel soon follows. It's so frustrating. If I see any daffodils in my spring garden, I will be pleased!

Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day

Monday, October 15, 2007

Thanks to the gardeners who lived in this house before me, I am enjoying an inheritance of potted petunias...

Bright red geraniums on the porch...

A few colorful coleus plants...

... and red roses that smell absolutely divine. There are six red rose bushes that line the perimeter of the backyard. These are my first rose bushes. I'll have to read up on them because I don't know the slightest thing about rose care. (Do I prune them in the fall or spring?)

From the community garden in the District, I brought along several of my perennial flowers. I planted them along the deck, which is where they'll hold out for the winter until I decide on permanent places for them.

One of my Black-eyed Susans waves goodbye, until next summer.

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Gardeners share their flowers on the 15th of each month for Garden Bloggers' Bloom Day. Read the comments at May Dreams Gardens to see who else is participating today.
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Related post: August Bloom Day

Building the Raised Bed - Part Two

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

With the sod stripped from the ground, it's off to Home Depot we go. We needed boards, brackets, topsoil. Lots and lots of topsoil. I was already achy and tired at this point, and halfway through the task of heaving 20 heavy, one-cubic-foot bags of soil onto the truck, I found myself quoting out loud The Inadvertent Gardener's tagline: It's amazing what we'll do for a few good tomatoes. I was feeling finished for the day, but I knew we still had to unload those 20 bags, construct the bed frame, and pour all the soil into place.

Michael christened the power tools and aligned the freshly cut boards to make the frame. Then came the topsoil, ready for an instant garden.

This is certainly not the only way to build a garden, and perhaps not even the best way, but we were up against time. Since we are no longer residents of the District of Columbia, we had to give up our membership in the community garden. I wanted to save as many of the plants from our plot as possible, for one, because we invested a lot of time in getting things established over the past four years, and, two, because many of the plants have sentimental value. With a glance at the calendar, we found ourselves with limited available weekend time to work on this project, and we know the first frost will be bearing down on us soon. We took on this task in a "now or never" frame of mind. Saturday we built the bed, Sunday we dug many of the plants from our plot and transported them here.


The plants were not at all happy about the move, and they appear to be in shock. I expected this to happen. We did the best we could under the circumstances, though, and now I'm eagerly watching to see if everything will recover. The herbs look like they're doing okay, but the grapevine appears to be toast.


Our friend Albertino gave us that grapevine, so we're really hoping it will pull through. The trellis it's clinging to for dear life also came from our plot, also for sentimental reasons. We have a grand plan to grow grapes over an arbor in our yard, all stemming from this one plant. Here's hoping it survives. Here's hoping anything survives.

Building the Raised Bed - Part One

Monday, October 01, 2007

This weekend we broke ground on our new vegetable garden and moved all the plants from our plot in the District of Columbia to our new home in Maryland. It's Monday night now and I still have the residual aches and pains to remind me of all we did to accomplish this endeavor. Ouch.

There's no question about it: the first step -- cutting up sod -- has got to be the worst part of building a garden from scratch. I would tap at the ground and the ground would just about throw the shovel back at me. Even with the rain we had on Friday, the soil was tough and dry. Michael used his muscle power (and the better of the two shovels we had) to chisel the turf from its stubborn grip. Then I came along and ripped away the loosened-but-still-heavy clumps, one dusty piece at a time.

Initially we cut an eight by three and a half foot section, but then expanded it to ten feet. The width is just right to allow me to reach comfortably to the middle of the bed from either side.

When I stood back to admire at what we accomplished, I laughed. It looked like we dug a grave in our backyard!

Michael posed for this photo to demonstrate the sheer exhaustion we felt afterwards. I was laughing so hard when I took this picture. I can only image what the neighbors must be saying about us already.