Pick a Peck of Peppers

Have you ever looked at those lists of the Top Ten to Buy Organic? – the things that are the most heavily sprayed with pesticides, and/or are genetically modified? Peppers are usually right near the top of that list. Now I love peppers, and use them in lots of my cooking – sauces, chili, stir-fries – and love ‘em raw in season. But the price of organic peppers in the market is often beyond my sense of “yeah, that sounds reasonable.” It’s just more than my budget can bear.

So why not grow them? Well, it’s a little tricky this far north … after multiple attempts at growing them out in the field with the rest of the veggies, it became clear that method wasn’t going to produce the nice, large, abundant peppers of my dreams. So I began growing them indoors.

By indoors I mean in the greenhouse. And no worries if you don’t have a greenhouse – you can, if you crave home-grown organic peppers, create your own little hoophouse that will provide the warmth that these puppies need to grow large and luscious. Do a quick search for “hoophouse” or “low tunnel,” and you’ll come up with an abundance of ideas and directions for low-cost ways to grow peppers, eggplant, and other crops that struggle in our northern climate. You don’t need to buy a kit; if you’re at all handy, you can put one together with low-cost PVC pipe and plastic sheeting. For a small investment of time and money, you can be rich in peppers.

So this year I grew sixteen pepper plants in large pots – five-gallon size – of six different varieties. Sixteen plants, you’re thinking – isn’t that a bit much? But here’s the coolest thing: peppers are the easiest veggie to freeze for future use. No blanching, no ice baths, just slice ‘em or chop them, pop them in freezer bags, and there you are. They’re perfect for stir-fries, pizzas, scrambled eggs, whatever; and during the harvesting season, you will have such wonderful, fresh peppers for eating raw, for stuffing, for red pepper pesto and relish, for salads, for luxurious sharing with friends. What’s not to love?

At the moment, we’re swimming in ripe peppers, and so my day started with a little pepper breakfast pizza. Being a gluten-free person, I’ve found that Food for Life’s GF brown rice tortillas are a godsend … I asked my local Hannaford to stock them a few years ago and they did (yay Hannaford!), but they can usually be found at your local natural foods store as well. This recipe can be used with most any sort of produce that you’ve got; earlier in the summer it was spinach, chives, Parmesan, & feta, then broccoli & cheddar, then it became tomato, basil, & mozzarella – you get the idea. And obviously, it’s an any-time-of-day meal.

Fresh Veggie Breakfast Pizza – Gluten-Free
Simple – fast – yummy – and you start your day with a serving of veggies!

1 brown rice flour tortilla
1 t olive oil
Garlic powder, if desired
1 small or ½ large bell pepper, sliced
1 t dried basil or sm handful fresh basil leaves, torn, or any other herb(s) you prefer
Cheese of your choice – cheddar, mozzarella, havarti, etc
(note: if you are GF, you might want to be wary of pre-shredded cheeses. Various anti-clumping agents are used and not always indicated on the label … I generally cut slices from a block of cheese just in case.)

Spread the olive oil across the top of the tortilla; sprinkle the garlic powder, then the pepper slices, then the basil. Top with cheese.

Slide under broiler until cheese melts; watch carefully! – I use a toaster oven at 10 minutes, but ovens vary.
After removing from oven, let sit for a minute or two before slicing.

Enjoy!

Report from Freezer Camp

At twelve weeks, our meat birds were ready to go … large, healthy, and full of spizzerinctum, half of them roosters learning to crow in that funny multi-tone adolescent way. And so we set a date with our farmer friend Bruce, master of dispatch, with many years behind him of raising and processing all sorts of poultry and livestock.

Although we had given some small thought to it ahead of time, we found ourselves yesterday morning trying to piece together some sort of adequate transport at the last minute. It turned out to be relatively simple – Joohn cobbled together a frame of found lumber screwed to the top edges of the back of the pickup, a length of chicken wire attached all around at the top. Austin was my hired wrangler, rounding up all 24 quite birds efficiently and loading them into the truck. He is fearless with roosters in ways I am not.

So off we went, a 20-minute drive made longer as I drove more slowly and carefully, mindful of my cargo. When we arrived, Bruce and Tom had already begun their work, with another family’s birds already in process. Ours cooled their heels in the shade until it was their turn.

Did I screw up my courage enough to help? Well, not really … I did stay for the whole thing, observed and asked questions and learned, and at the end did the bagging of the other family’s birds and our own. I had hoped I’d come away from this with the feeling yes, I can do this myself next time – but, well, no. It seemed just too gruesome and unpleasant for me. And that’s absolutely no criticism of Bruce and Tom; they handled the birds professionally and well, the end came swiftly … it’s just the nature of the procedure. I’m too squeamish.

But, unsettling as it all may be, we now have 24 home-grown chickens in the freezer, with an average weight of 5 ½ pounds (and the largest nearly 7 pounds – a “company” bird, for sure!). As best I can figure the cost, between purchasing chicks and grain and paying for processing, these carcasses come at a $3 per pound cost – not bad, I’d say, for organic free-ranged chicken that also feasted on grass, bugs, hornworms, clover, leftover tomatoes and lettuce and cabbage and turnips. (Take a look at the supermarket price of “all-natural” chicken breasts sometime!)

There are ways to lower that final cost, for sure: Bruce clued me in yesterday on a feed store that sells organic grains 20% cheaper than where I’ve been buying them. There are articles online about purchasing your own food-grade grain ingredients and mixing them yourself, for even greater savings. Some folks are growing some of their own feed grains; flint corn, for example, is as easy to grow as sweet corn. Letting the birds forage for all or most of their food lowers the feed costs considerably, but you need to have enough proper fencing and to keep moving them around your pasture, unless you are able to let them roam completely freely (Tom does this with his birds, but says they end up smaller). And, of course, you can process them yourself; that saves nearly a third of the final cost.

But as far as I’m concerned, if we should choose to raise another meat flock next year, I’ll willingly pay these guys to dispatch them for me. For now, I’ve got to go make some chicken leg broth …

A-maize-ing Corn

Did you plant sweet corn this year? Here in the Shire, weather conditions were better than usual this summer, and our corn has been the best we’ve ever seen. Long before my vegetable garden grew to such proportions, I kept hearing how difficult it was to grow corn organically; tales of corn borers, having to inject oil into the tip of each ear at particular times, the sorts of things that kept me from growing it at all. No thanks, I thought.

This is perhaps the fifth or sixth year that we’ve grown corn now, and I have to say that it’s been much easier than I previously was led to believe. The first year we were overly ambitious: four types of sweet corn and a large stand of flint corn, sown in a field that had been grass and weeds just the year before … the weeding was a challenge to keep up with. Nonetheless, we had a decent crop, enough to eventually grow tired of eating it on the cob and to put up plenty in the freezer.

This year I grew a variety called “Luscious,” from Fedco, and indeed it has been living up to its name. More realistic now in my planting, this was the smallest patch ever, easier to keep up with -- 10 rows with about 12 cornstalks in each. Lots of fresh eating and lots more for the freezer! Each of these stalks produces two large, full ears of delicious sweet corn (which, even with my primitive math skills, comes to more than 200 ears). And so far (knock on wood) we’ve not been troubled by borers.

Here’s what we’ve found works well for us:
1. Corn is a “heavy feeder,” so it needs to be sown in rich soil. Add plenty of compost first, or grow a cover crop the year before and till it in. Fertilize twice during its growing season – once when the shoots are 4-6” high, again when it’s knee-high or above – using a good organic fertilizer (this year I used North Country Organics ProGro 5-3-4, and couldn’t have been more pleased with the results).
2. Water regularly, if rainfall doesn’t oblige. We use irrigation tape, but soaker hoses or sprinklers work just fine too.
3.And weed! Having a smaller patch this year made it possible to keep up with the weeding. Fewer weeds = more nutrients and moisture available for the corn = better yields.
4. Rotate your crops – do not plant corn where it grew last year. That’s good practice in general for all vegetable growing.
5. Plant enough corn to insure proper pollination ... no fewer than 4 rows. If you end up with more than you can eat, your friends and relatives will be happy to take the surplus off your hands.
6. Plant your corn in a sunny spot! A semi-shaded garden will not serve corn well.

Up until now, all GMO corn has been the field type, grown for cattle feed, ethanol, high-fructose corn syrup, corn chips, and the like. Monsanto is now introducing GMO sweet corn, starting this fall. This is a great time to start growing your own organic corn, if you haven’t been doing it already. You’ve heard those stories about having the water boiling before you pick the ears, and getting them into the pot as fast as possible for the best flavor? It’s true! Try it!

Keep the Green While You Clean

The lates and the rebloomers are still gracing the garden, much to our delight. Storm Surf (pictured) has sent up as many new scapes lately as it did earlier in the season. But, of course, the majority of the daylilies have gone by, and the cleanup has begun.

It seems there are plenty of differing opinions as to the best way to deal with post-bloom daylilies. I’ve come across a variety of articles and blogs and posts with instructions that varying from “mow them all down” (yikes!) to “leave them alone.” Being such a resilient perennial, our favorite flower seems to be able to withstand almost anything, it seems!

That said, some practices make more sense to me than others. Throughout the season, as some of those bottom leaves turn yellow and begin to dry out, I regularly pull them; it doesn’t hurt the plant, and it keeps the garden looking fresher and neater. The overriding principle to keep in mind is this: green foliage is feeding the roots and helping the plant to grow larger and stronger next year; dried, yellow foliage is no longer performing that function.

This is why I don’t cut all the leaves down at this time of year. You do see some gardeners doing just that, and no doubt they have their reasons; but there’s still a lot of green foliage, and cutting it this early means that those plants will send up new green shoots, using up some of their stored root energy for no good reason. (Take note: cutting foliage does NOT stimulate new fan divisions!) I like to wait until later in the season, as we experience a few frosts, to trim down whatever foliage is left.

Now is the time to gather seed pods, if you wish, pull the spent brown scapes and older foliage, and discover the weeds that have flourished under cover – but none of this is necessary, really. It keeps the garden looking neater, but there will be more to do later. Personally, I think that pulling those weeds now is the best idea. Why bother?, you ask, now that the blossoms have gone by and the garden is nearly done? Well, most of the weeds are sending out their seeds, and getting rid of them now will cut way down on next year’s weeding.

Later, before winter sets in, it’s best to remove the remainder of the dead daylily foliage. This cuts down on overwintering fungi and mites, and eliminates a potential source of moist rot in the spring. If you want to mulch – and I certainly do mulch my evergreen daylilies, this far north – it should be done AFTER a good hard frost.

But truly, whatever course of action (or inaction) you take in the fall, your daylilies will likely come through just fine. Putter around and clean up if it pleases you, leave it alone if you don’t have the time … it’ll all be okay!

As the Season Winds Down ...

It’s that transitional time again, one season sliding into the next, where the usual daily routine is changing as well and leaving me feeling as if I’m in a sort of no-man’s-land. Or no-woman’s, as the case may be.

In the summer, the sun is up early and so am I, full of energy and ready to go; even sitting with a cup of coffee can leave me itchy to get up the hill to see what’s blooming. But now, it’s all different. I woke at 5:25 to darkness, feeling somewhat disoriented even though the change has been coming gradually. My day starts much more slowly. There’s nothing new in bloom; there’s very little left in bloom, in terms of daylilies, and it’s often chilly as the sun comes up over the hill. I linger over a second cup, wearing a fleece jacket in the cool kitchen, thinking of all the veggies to be harvested, the sauces and soups and blanching and freezing that lie ahead. There are still plenty of daylilies to be lifted, divided, and transplanted, but I realized at some point with dismay that I simply won’t be able to get to all of them before it becomes too late in the season. At least the old potato patch is now planted with new daylily varieties.

Weeds and tall grasses, of course, are rampant at this time of year; yellow jackets have made underground nests throughout the planted areas, painfully discovered as we pull weeds. This weekend we’ll take the brush hog to the upper field, start in on the hillside, and eventually change over to the tiller to prep areas for next year’s cover crops, garlic, and new daylily beds.

Putting the gardens to bed, taking down trellises and posts, picking up row cover and plastic mulch – these tasks are not anywhere near as exciting or inspiring as setting them all up in the spring, when the pleasure and warmth and bounty of summer still lie ahead. And the weariness that comes from a season full of work begins to take its toll; it becomes increasingly challenging to find the energy to tackle these chores.

Each season I have good intentions of starting fall crops in August; this year, the plan was to build some raised beds for the center of the greenhouse, to extend the growing season for salad greens. A terrific idea … but once again, it will not come to pass in this calendar year. There’s simply not enough time or energy. And that’s okay. We’ll patronize our friends who sell their late-season greens at farmers market, do what we can here to clean up and prepare for next year, and look forward to that long winter’s rest.

Before that first hard frost, though, there is still so much to appreciate: a bumper crop of pie pumpkins (pumpkin soup! sautéed spiced pumpkin! pumpkin pancakes!) and winter squash still ripening, kale and collards that keep on going, a lush crop of parsnips that will be left in the ground to sweeten until early spring; bunches of fresh herbs hung to dry; white phlox that decided to wait until now to blossom. Wonderful suppers, straight from the garden, and the freezer filling more and more each day. Think back to the beginnings of all of this … just a few handfuls of tiny seeds; isn’t it a miracle?

The View From Here

As someone who occasionally dips her toe into Buddhist teachings, I understand that desiring more than what you have is an endless game that cannot be won. But it’s such a common human tendency that someone long ago had to come up with a commandment about not coveting, right? Aren’t we all striving for something more/better? – whether it’s a promotion, a kitchen renovation, a new car/truck/tractor, the latest version of the i-whatever, those great boots you saw last week, or even more daylilies? How many people can truly say they’re absolutely content with what they have, and mean it for more than a day?

“View envy” is one of my bugaboos. When I was a small child in central Massachusetts, my family lived in a tiny house atop a hill. Our little living room had two picture windows. Out the front window was a vista of rooftops, trees, and chimneys, sending up plumes of white smoke on cold winter days. I used to stand on the sofa and look out that window, imagining all the people inside those houses and what they were doing. And out the large side window, way off in the hazy distance, was Mount Monadnock. It loomed in my imagination as some faraway, magical place.

Nowadays, in my fantasy world, I look out my imaginary window across fields and foothills to a magnificent up-close panorama of Mount Monadnock. Last week a friend told me that she’s thinking of selling her house, and described a view like that as hers. Of course my brain started whirring … but selling and moving, just for a view, is so ludicrous that even I can see it (no pun intended), and set those thoughts aside. For now.

And just a few days ago, a friend in Washington State posted photos of her family’s latest hiking trip … with incredibly tall, majestic, snow-capped peaks in the background. This is the kind of view that makes our Monadnock seem, well, rather less incredible. It’s that round-and-round thing … there’ll always be something better out there.

Real estate appraisers say that the most desirable views are from up high, and the more panoramic, the better. How about a hilltop with an ocean view? – and mountains on the other side? Not even close to possible for most of us!

A few years ago I read Diane Ackerman’s book, Cultivating Delight: A Natural History of My Garden. One aspect of her approach (which was a new-to-me idea but might be a “duh!” for you) is that she carefully plans and plants particular vistas that she will enjoy from different windows of her home. Now, this particularly makes sense for one whose profession is writing, who spends great stretches of time in her home office; but the more I thought about it, it seemed that creating your own view is a brilliant idea for any of us. Even if you have a small suburban lot, you can create something pleasing in your line of vision – a perfectly-placed garden, statuary, a flowering bush or tree, perhaps a flowering vine climbing up a fence or wall.

Mind you, Ms. Ackerman has a pair of gardeners to carry out her creative plans, not to mention the wherewithal to install lovely trees and bushes of good size, an astonishing variety of perennials in various gardens, and ideal habitats to attract a variety of birds and other wildlife that she enjoys. It sounds delightful, impressive, expensive, and like something that takes years to establish. But as we plan our gardens, or ponder where to install a little pond complete with waterfall, we usually make our considerations from various vantage points around our yards, outside of the house; adding the view from indoors adds a new dimension.

As I look out my kitchen and office windows, I see some of my flower gardens, one with a birdhouse that was occupied by chickadees in the spring; this summer, I’ve been able to watch hummingbirds visit the bee balm as I sit at my computer. There’s a huge old willow, more than fifty years old, that gives us much-needed summer shade. Beyond the gardens, our hillside, with tall green grasses waving in the springtime, and now with swaths of goldenrod in late summer, and needing a fall mowing. And beyond that, the Pinnacle, not really a mountain but a forested hill so large and high that we were surprised at how long it takes to climb to the top. In spite of my Monadnock desires, I’ve come to cherish this particular vista, and how it changes with the seasons. And of course I’d like to add a few things … one or two spring-flowering shrubs or trees; maybe a few maples along the edge of the hillside.

My daughter, who lives in a third-floor apartment, looks out her kitchen windows into the tops of maple trees, a lush forest of green leaves that turn various shades in autumn; it’s like being in a tree house. A friend has a beautiful Japanese red maple outside her kitchen window, and another fills her little kitchen porch with tall potted herbs and flowers, visible through the door and windows. And another looks out from her table to a rustic arbor, covered with vines. So many different ways to delight the senses!

What’s your ideal view? What do you like the best when you look out your window? What would you like to create?