Who Can Resist an Heirloom Tomato?

A few years ago, I broke up with my first love.  Although he will always hold a special place in my heart, his spotty skin, seedy character and lack of purpose made Csikos Botermo unwelcome in my life, er, garden.  You see, Csikos is a tomato, an heirloom from Hungary, and even though he was first to ripen in my rainbow colorful tomato garden, thus winning my love and admiration, others proved superior to his size, appearance and flavor, so he had to go.

When it comes to heirloom tomatoes, I have a problem.  After decades of eating uniformly shaped, red tomatoes, I discovered the Wonderful World of Heirloom Tomatoes.  Sort of like the old tv show, Wonderful World of Disney, but with much more flavor and without animated singing characters.  

Enjoy several tomato varieties in a pie

It began with seed catalogs.  With countless options and a rainbow of colorful fruit choices, I was powerless to resist the charms of Green Zebra, Cream Sausage and any plant with a name I found hard to pronounce.  Perhaps my fascination with heirloom tomatoes stems from my grandmother's garden.  As I child, I helped Granny harvest hundreds of tomatoes and I was intrigued by the variety of shapes, sizes, colors and flavors.  Together, we loaded baskets and buckets and carried them to her patio, where we filled huge galvanized steel tubs with water and washed the fruit, carefully inspecting each tomato for blemishes, before sorting and carrying clean fruit to her kitchen for processing.  When I opened a seed catalog to find beautifully photographed heirloom tomatoes, I remembered those huge pinks, tiny yellow and red pears, deep purples, red pastes and, my personal favorite, smooth-skinned meaty yellows.  

Great Whites often weigh over two pounds

Heart & Sole's first big (50 plants) hybrid tomato garden became part of what is now known as "The 2009 Late Blight Pandemic of Eastern USA," and Richard and I read everything we could find about how to prevent such a devastating loss for future crops.  Research led us to heirloom tomatoes and when I saw photographs of childhood memories, I was a goner.   

After last year's bumper crop of thousands of pounds of tomatoes, I promised Richard we would scale back this year.  When he asked how many plants we would grow, I replied, with fingers crossed, "Oh, about 25."  So far, there are more than 35 tomato plants growing at Heart & Sole and several more are container plants at our home.  Don't tell Richard, but I have about twenty more young seedlings in the "birthing chamber" that I hope will produce a late crop.  When it comes to heirloom tomatoes, I just can't resist the impulse to grow a colorful rainbow of favorite varieties.  Already, I am bemoaning the fact that there is only a single plant of some popular types; what will I do if something should happen to that plant?  Will I survive a summer without Great White's garlicky flavor?  What if Japanese Plum fails to produce those huge, meaty deep pink paste tomatoes?  And, worst of all, if Cream Sausage dies, it will be at least another year before we can enjoy white tomato soup. . .  These are anguishes that keep me awake when I should be sleeping.

Some of last year's beauties

If you, too, find yourself falling under the spell of heirloom tomatoes, try to sneak as many varieties as possible into your garden.  The season is brief, so celebrate each ripe fruit with a wide smile and dripping chin.

Tangy and juicy, ripe green tomatoes make the ultimate sandwich

Don't forget to save seeds from your favorites and look forward to next year's garden.  For growing notes from my farm, visit www.seedtales.com and click on the "Heirloom Tomato Notes" page.  Meanwhile, enjoy the fruits of the season, whether from your own backyard or from a local farmer's market.  No wonder the French call them "love apples."  

Amish Paste even looks like a Valentine

Staying Sane with Gardening Friends

Readers who recall last spring's blog about my attempts to grow artichokes will remember my efforts seemed to be the definition of insanity: repeating the same tasks, in exactly the same way, and expecting different results.  Today, I happily report that, with help from the fine folks at Renfrow Hardware, located in Matthews, NC, my sanity may be intact, at least when it comes to growing successful artichoke plants. 

I chose 2 varieties of artichokes

Healthy plants from Renfrow Hardware

NC gardeners who have yet to visit Renfrow Hardware, (http://www.renfrowhardware.com/) at 188 North Trade Street, in Matthews, should make haste to get there soon.  David Blackley, his daughter, Pressley, and other family members and knowledgeable staff offer the best selection of heirloom seeds I have seen under one NC roof and many of them are locally grown.  Greenhouses are stocked with healthy fruit, vegetable, herb and flower varieties and earlier in the season, several types of seed potatoes filled bins.  Allow time to wander throughout the store and marvel at the inventory.  From canning supplies to nuts and bolts, and, if you visit in the near future, even baby chicks are among the offerings.  It's the kind of homey place where customers linger, chatting with the staff and each other.

When I saw beautiful, healthy artichoke plants at Renfrow, I could not resist trying each of the two available varieties and I planted them at my home, rather than the farm, so I could keep a close eye on them.  If, by chance, they prove to be perennial plants, they are growing in an ideal location.  Before placing them in the ground, I added lots of compost, some creek sand, ground eggshells, blood and bone meal and a pinch of Epsom salts.  Heavy feeders, artichokes will probably enjoy the same "cocktail" I prepare for my tomatoes, peppers and eggplants.
 

Artichoke, North Carolina

Since artichokes grow best when the soil is damp, our recent dry, breezy days mean the plants require daily watering.  A few days ago, I noticed a small bud-like growth in the center of one of the plants and I assumed it was the base of what would grow into a stalk that would, hopefully, produce artichokes.  When I realized the bud was, indeed, just that, and I harvested my first baby artichoke, I carefully sliced it from the plant base and tenderly held it in my hand, admiring its miniature perfection.  
 

My first artichoke, courtesy of Renfrow Hardware plants

Now, safely stored in the refrigerator, that small, tender bud calls to me.  Will it be sauteed and sliced, dipped into a lemon butter caper sauce?  Will it be quartered and added to a salad of fresh baby lettuce from the farm?  Whatever its preparation, this first artichoke will be memorable, both for its presence and for proof positive that with enough faith and work, and help from friends like those at Renfrow Hardware, an insanity cycle can be broken.

Gardeners, Know Your Enemies

One of my strongest scent memories from childhood is the almost sickly sweet odor of Sevin dust, an insecticide my father applied to his beautiful bean plants to kill attacking Mexican bean beetles, voracious pests that riddled plant leaves and hatched thousands of small, bright yellow larvae that fed on both leaves and bean pods.
If only we had known that ladybugs, bright red beetles with black spots, love to eat Mexican bean beetle eggs and larvae, perhaps bean plants would have thrived in a naturally balanced garden, free of chemicals that kill both pests and beneficial bugs.  

Ladybugs are beneficial to gardeners

Gardeners who grow genetically modified organism seed (GMOs) and use an arsenal of chemical warfare weapons to protect crops from insects may enjoy an easier workload, but I believe growing heirloom seeds and employing hand-to-hand combat methods to eradicate hungry pests is a better way to connect humans to soil, food and spirit.

Helpful pollinators increase crop yield

Before you write me off as a dinosaur who ignores the latest, greatest technologies designed to make our lives easier, consider this story a friend told me several years ago.  I believe it captures the essence of "food disconnect" for many U.S. consumers. . . 

The woman walks into her backyard, selects a chicken from her flock and quickly ends its life.  She carries the bird to her kitchen, where she cleans and roasts it for her family's dinner.
Her daughter drives to the supermarket, selects a refrigerated package of chicken parts, returns home to her kitchen and prepares the meal for her family's dinner.
Her daughter selects chicken nuggets from the fast food drive-in menu, passes them to her children and drives to the soccer field while her children eat their dinner.

I often remember that story as I protect my crops from hungry pests; when I squash a bug with my fingers, (using gloves!) there is a visceral connection to my food source. 

Potato bug eggs under a leaf

Although I end the life of a creature, I know my efforts target only a pest, not a beneficial insect.  Before reaching for a chemical weapon, consider getting to know your enemies and your friends.  Rather than harvesting fruits and vegetables with a chemical odor and taste, your garden will produce beautiful delicious foods, an integral component of a balanced habitat.  

A hardworking honeybee pollinates a squash blossom

 

Last year, just before I visited a friend's home, she sprayed her container garden with a broad spectrum insecticide.  We observed piles of dying Japanese beetles as we chatted and I inwardly groaned when she said, "I don't understand why I never see ladybugs on my plants."  Hmmmmm. . . .

Tomato worms are hard to spot

Broad spectrum insecticides kill non-target pests, along with bugs that destroy our crops.  Although I will admit to plant envy when I see eggplants without flea beetle-riddled leaves and huge potatoes growing bug-free, my efforts produce unblemished fruits and vegetables that boast superior flavor and I never miss that sickly sweet Sevin dust odor I remember from childhood gardens. 

Colorado potato beetles multiply quickly, but squashing adults means fewer pests

Make plans this year to identify your garden enemies and deter them without chemicals.  Although plants may suffer some ill effects, you will enjoy watching a butterfly's delicate dance from blossom to blossom, the curious peering of a praying mantis or a honeybee's flight back to a hive, pollen sacks heavy with harvest.  Fresh, homegrown flavor is a delicious bonus!
  

Chemical-free heirloom tomatoes: No bugs, beautiful and delicious!

Asparagus, A Perennial Favorite

When those first purple-headed shoots emerge from what looks like barren soil, gratitude pours through my veins.  Asparagus, that delicious spring harbinger, announces the end of another winter.

The first asparagus spears of 2015

Temporary insanity is the only defense I can offer when asked why, several years ago, Richard and I planted 650 asparagus crowns at Heart & Sole Gardens.  A perennial vegetable, asparagus plants must grow for three years before harvest and, even though we purchased three-year-old plants, they grew for two years before we had our first bumper crop.  After spending countless hours crawling on hands and knees while removing weeds from the tender crown base, last fall, I conceded defeat.  This year, the weeds win.

This tool helps ease weeds from asparagus crowns

Because asparagus spears emerge before most weeds, there will be plenty for our dinner plates and when weed cover conceals asparagus, there will, hopefully, be another, less labor-intensive spring crop to enjoy.  

For a real treat, lightly grill fresh asparagus over charcoal

Meanwhile, celebrate springtime and savor the unique flavor of fresh asparagus.  Although it is hard to beat the taste of just-harvested spears, munching on tender shoots as you stroll through a garden, if you have access to fresh eggs laid by happy chickens, this frittata makes a terrific breakfast or simple, yet elegant, supper.  

Fresh eggs taste best!

Oh, and if you should decide to grow your own asparagus, I recommend no more than two to three plants per person, unless you just really enjoy pulling weeds!

Asparagus Frittata

2 tablespoons (1/4 stick) butter
*1 bulb green garlic with about 2 inches green stem, finely chopped
2 1/2 cups thin asparagus, trimmed and cut on diagonal into 1-inch pieces
8 fresh eggs
1 cup diced Fontina cheese, divided
1/2 teaspoon French grey sea salt (or kosher)
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 cup grated Parmesan cheese
*If green garlic is not available, spring onions are a good substitute.

Preheat oven broiler.  Over medium heat, melt butter on stovetop in a 10-inch seasoned cast iron skillet, or heavy ovenproof skillet.  Add garlic and briefly saute until translucent.  Add asparagus and lightly sprinkle with salt.  Saute until tender, about 2-3 minutes.  Whisk eggs, 3/4 cup Fontina cheese, salt and pepper, in a large bowl.  Pour egg mixture into skillet, fold gently to combine.  Cook until mixture is almost set, but still jiggly.  Remove from heat, top with remaining cheeses and place under broiler until frittata puffs and is lightly golden.  Remove skillet from oven and ease frittata onto serving plate.  Cut into wedges to serve.