Planting Garlic = Instant Gratification

I have never grown garlic, but after tasting some of the scapes in my friend Dave's garden this summer and realizing just how much garlic I go through in a year, I decided to add it to my own home garden this fall.

I try to always purchase my plant material locally... but after seeing the limited choices this spring for things like seed potatoes ("red" or "white") and onion sets ("red," "white" or "yellow") I decided to mail order my garlic. This turned out to be a good idea because the only choice my local garden center offered was: "garlic" They didn't even offer a selection of softneck vs. hardneck, and most disappointing of all was that the people working there weren't even sure which type they were offering.

When I was a newbie gardener--before I became conscious of the importance of buying things locally-- I ordered two blueberry bushes and a handful of seed packets from Territorial Seed Company. I haven't ordered from them in a few years because they're on the west coast, but I had been happy with their service and products so I checked out their website to see if they had any good garlic offerings. It didn't take too long for me to be seduced. After some time, I narrowed my choices down to 4 types for this year.

'Chesnok Red' is a hardneck garlic said to be great for baking with a creamy consistency, and as you can see here its cloves are very pretty. 'Purple Glazer' is another streaked hardneck garlic, with "a strong flavor that holds up well to baking" but without heat or aftertaste.

'Siberian' is the last type of hardneck garlic that I purchased from Territorial. It wasn't offered as organic, like those mentioned above, but it intrigued me because it is supposed to have a very high allicin content. Allicin is the chemical in garlic that is credited for maintaining normal cholesterol levels, boosting the immune system, and enhancing circulation.

Hardneck garlics are said to have more flavor than softnecks, but hardnecks only keep for several months where softnecks can be stored in a cool, dry place for 6-8 months. Softnecks are good garlics for braiding, too. I ended up adding the organic 'Polish Softneck' to my order so that I could extend my garlic usage through much of next winter. Many softnecks do better in the south than in the north, but this one is supposed to be relatively cold-hardy as well as flavorful. We'll see.

I planted my garlics yesterday, and found another benefit to growing your own garlic. Since you're supposed to only plant the best and biggest cloves, you end up with instant gratification because the rest are immediately available for eating! Some 'Siberian' cloves ended up minced into my potato and leek soup yesterday, and I also tasted a couple of cloves out of hand.

I am going to do a garlic tasting (raw, and baked) of the cloves I have left, and take notes. Then I will do the same after harvesting the grown garlic next summer. It will be interesting to see how growing through the year in my garden affects the flavor of these garlics... I promise to post reviews, a la Hanna's Tomato Tastings, next summer!

Grass Inflorescences

I mostly grow ornamental grasses for two reasons:
1) The movement they add through the summer, fall and winter as Lake Erie winds dash through my yard
2) The upright, vertical element that they provide, helping to make my small garden "feel" larger

I have never picked any grass specifically for its "flowers," but I love the subtle beauty of grass inflorescences in the fall. Most people are familiar with the huge plumes of pampas grass, the little rabbit's-foot tufts of pennisetum, and the feathery branches of miscanthus grass. Here are two of my favorites, which are a little less common but no less beautiful: sorghastrum nutans 'Sioux Blue' and hakonechloa macra 'aureola'

I haven't had much time recently to appreciate the little things in the garden. I have been very busy at work, regularly pulling 10+ hour days--even through the weekend--and getting home well after sunset. So in addition to sharing some interesting "inflorescences" (and having an excuse to use the word, which is fun to say) I'm also posting these pictures in order to remind myself that there is fall beauty left in my yard to appreciate. I plan to make time to enjoy some of it this weekend.

Bitter Melon (Momordica charantia)

Last year, I worked part time at a small local garden center. It was a fun place, with some interesting shrubs, native perennials and unique veggies amongst the more usual garden center suspects. People who wanted to know only where the black-eyed susans were--as well as those who sniffed their noses at those requesting such plebeian fare--were equally comfortable there.

One late spring day an older Asian woman came in and started asking questions of a young high schooler who had been hired mostly just to water plants. The poor girl looked thoroughly confused, and the older woman seemed to be getting agitated, so I casually walked by to see if I could help.

It took me a while to figure out what she wanted... but eventually I caught the words "bitter melon" and understood that she was looking for a vegetable she had purchased there the year before. I took her in to look at our supplier lists, as we frequently would add specialty plants to our orders at a customer's request... but unfortunately they were not available from the grower.

In spite of a few language barriers, she and I had a wonderful conversation about the bitter melon. It seemed to be an heirloom type vegetable and she assured me that it was commonly used in Asian cuisines. My curiosity was aroused enough that I decided to look into it sometime... but I admit that by the time I left, the words "bitter melon" had left my head entirely.

This spring, my friend Pete called me to ask about spring bulbs and the best time to plant annuals. Pete's family owns a wonderful restaurant that serves both Chinese and Vietnamese dishes (and a whole steamed fish that's to die for) and we ended up talking about food and growing our own vegetables.

Suddenly, my conversation with the older woman popped back into my head. "Hey Pete, last year there was this woman who came into the garden center looking for a certain Asian vegetable... I can't remember what it was called, but she said it was really bitter..."

Turns out that Pete's Mom grows it every year, but they call it bitter gourd. He promised me seeds but did one better by bringing over tiny seedlings in the early summer. Unfortunately the seeds had been started a little late because of our cool spring--and I didn't get them into the ground early enough, either. I ended up with just one bitter melon on my vines, but I did get to enjoy the gorgeous leaves and fairly neat growing habit of the plant itself.

Pete offered me seeds again next year, but I decided to just let this one go to seed and try it myself. The seeds are a gorgeous red, and almost dry. When the fruit first split open they looked like huge, sticky pomegranate seeds. Pete says to leave them for a bit yet, but that they're almost ready to harvest.

When Pete figured out that I wasn't going to get any fruit from mine this year, he brought me over a quart of his Mom's homemade soup with bitter melon and pork. It's hard to describe how the bitter melon tasted... kind of bitter in the way that uncooked overgrown zucchini can be. The soup would have been kind of meaty and maybe even too greasy for my taste without the bitter melon to cut through it, but as it was it was really delicious. I can't wait to try this stuff in recipes--I'm thinking that it would be good with asiago cheese for some reason. (Yeah, okay, probably because I'm addicted to asiago cheese in general.)

If you go online and google bitter melon, you'll find a bunch of references to its supposedly "miraculous" medicinal properties. One site says that eating raw bitter melon every day can cure you of diabetes. Another touts it in pill form. Maybe they operate on the assumption that something so bitter and difficult to eat MUST be good for you?!

According to the National Bitter Melon Council, it has twice the potassium of a banana, twice the calcium of spinach, twice the beta-carotene of broccoli, is rich in iron, and offers a host of other vitamins as well. I'm not looking to live to be 150 or use it to cure an illness, though. I'll admit it: I just like to grow quirky produce every now and again. :)

A Gardener's Generosity... and Beauty

My friend Dave is a great guy... and he and his wife Wendy have a beautiful garden. Dave doesn't mind when I pick his brain about how to grow something new to me, or when I lecture him about growing roses organically. (Outside of rose spraying, he's an organic gardener.) When I think of Dave, I think of a beautiful, generous spirit. He's the kind of person that you can't help but smile at, even on a bad day.

I'm a gardening infant in comparison to Dave, and I fear that our relationship hasn't been much of an even exchange. Because of that, I was excited when he seemed so delighted at my offer of a hydrangea a few weeks ago. He had killed one off early in his long gardening career and never got around to putting another one in... and I had one that just wasn't happy in my sandy, dry soil and wasn't about to be coddled by me. It needed a better home.

I dropped it off after work on Monday, and couldn't help turning a little green with envy at all of the color Dave and Wendy still have in their garden. They grow marigolds, zinnias and dahlias throughout their veggie garden so that these annuals can take over once the produce is done. All that color is so dazzling in the fall that you don't even notice the bare ground where tomatoes once sprawled.

True to form, Dave wouldn't let me leave without filling my giant container in turn. When I protested that I didn't want to raid his flower garden, he observed that they would all die in the temperatures predicted for the end of this week anyway and kept cutting. When I commented that I didn't have enough vases for all of them, he said that water glasses would do just fine and kept cutting. When I asked if he and Wendy had enough flowers for bouquets of their own he said that their house was full, they had sent loads of flowers home with their kids and grandkids over the weekend, and there were still plenty more in the garden. And he kept cutting.

I wanted to be both grateful and gracious, so I decided to stop protesting and enjoy what he was so happy to share. I ended up getting 4 arrangements out of the cuttings: a crystal bowl full of marigolds cut short and packed tightly, a milkglass pitcher with yellow dahlias and red marigolds (my favorite of the 4, which you see above), a huge white dahlia in its own antique bottle, and a plain glass vase full of bright zinnias and lavender dahlias.

The flowers will probably last for a week or so in their vases, but the beauty and generosity of the gardener will stay with me for a lot longer. As I arranged, I had visions of surprising coworkers, friends, and favorite neighbors with bouquets next summer. I want to be as abundant and generous in my gardening as my friend Dave. I think that I can get there someday--it just may take me a little bit of work. Dave, on the other hand, makes it look so effortless.

Do I Have Baby Salvias?

I was dismantling my large containers today when I came upon a few surprises. Six surprises, to be exact.

In two of the three pots where I had temporarily tucked some 'Caradonna' salvia, I found these tiny seedlings that looked like baby sages. One of them was large enough that I was comfortable breaking off a leaf and sure enough it smells a bit like meadow sage, too--just a lighter scent than my larger plants give off.

I'm kind of confused about all of this... how does this happen? The 'Caradonna' salvias were just babies (tiny little plants from Bluestone) and to my knowledge they haven't flowered for me yet.

Could these things have sprouted from some of the roots that were left in the pot when I unceremoniously yanked the plants out to put them in the ground? Or am I being fooled by a clever weed that just happens to look like baby sage and was growing in the right place?

I planted all of the tiny seedlings in my garden beds, but I have no idea if these little guys will overwinter since they're so tiny. Anyone have advice on how to give them a good chance--or do you think I should bring them inside for the winter instead of leaving them out? I would appreciate any thoughts on this... I would love to have more salvias, whether they are true 'Caradonna' babies or some unnamed hybrid between my 'Caradonna' and my 'May Night'!