Creative Use of Farmshare

Tonight, I made a massive, insanely ambitious dinner, given that my kitchen faucet is broken and I have no running water in the kitchen. But we were being overrun with vegetables, and something had to be done. Our farmshare buddy is exceedingly pregnant and not at all in the mood to be cooking veggies. My plan was to cook as much of the farmshare as possible in one meal, invite my pregnant friend and her family over for dinner, and then freeze the remains for use after the baby is born.

First, I thawed a frozen lamb shoulder from my meatshare. I'd been saving it months for a special occasion, but I just threw up my hands and decided that the lamb was a special occasion in itself. I rubbed it with olive oil, shallot salt, Spanish thyme (three of only five non-local ingredients in the entire meal), and homegrown rosemary and roasted it at 425 degrees F.

While that roasted, I chopped up a variety of root vegetables: Yukon Gold new potatoes and shallots from the farmers' market, carrots and yellow onions from the farmshare, red and golden beets from my own garden (I saved the greens). I sliced these very thin, going for roughly quarter-sized pieces about an eighth of an inch thick. This I drizzled with Kate's Homemade Butter, olive oil, maple syrup from North Hadley, and table salt (non-local ingredient number four). Using both olive oil and butter is key - trust me. I laid this out in a very shallow layer on a large baking sheet and popped it in with the lamb.

Next, I looked at what was bursting out of the veggie drawer of my fridge: eggplant, zucchini, onions. Aha! Ratatouille! I ran out in the rain and picked two tomatoes. Into the skillet: olive oil, homegrown garlic, farmshare yellow onion. Once they were translucent, I added the tomatoes, chopped. And once that had broken down into a nice stew, I chopped up and tossed in three japanese eggplants, one fat zucchini, and basil from the farmshare, seasoned with salt.

I left the ratatouille on the backburner and turned back to the beet greens. I pulled out my All-Clad everyday pan (something between a skillet and a paellero, indispensible), and tossed in some chopped Applewood Farms bacon (non-local ingredient number five, but at least it's all natural and uncured). I added to this some chopped red onion from the farmer's market and sauteed until translucent, then tossed in the beet greens and swiss chard from the farmshare, seasoned lightly with salt.

While this was cooking down, I pulled out the farmshare spaghetti squash I'd roasted earlier in the day because my husband, mistaking it for a cantalope, had cut it open. I scooped out the flesh into a glass baking pan, topped with more Kate's Homemade Butter, and popped it into the oven beside the lamb to reheat.

By then, the lamb had reached 120 degrees F, the root veggies were starting to crisp up, the ratatouille was done, and the greens had wilted nicely. Time to set the table. By the time I got everything else out, the lamb was up to 140, but smelled done. I suspected the meat thermometer, so I pulled it out and made a couple of experimental slices. Turned out that the top of the roast was quite nicely done, but the muscle beneath was not. So I carved what was ready and brought it out.

Caveat: two out of three of the children refused to eat any of this except the spaghetti squash and had to be supplemented with Barilla Plus penne and melted cheese, so technically, the meal had two more nonlocal ingredients. (My two-year-old eats anything and loves vegetables, just as my picky five-year-old did, when she was two.) Otherwise, by volume, I'd guess that over 90% of the meal came from within 100 miles of our table.

The dinner was marvelous. The lamb was probably the best I've ever cooked (hurray for Chestnut Farms!), the root veggies delicious, just slightly crispy and sweet, the ratatouille perfectly cooked, neither underdone nor soggy and infused with the marvelous flavor of the basil, and the greens nicely counterpointed by the bacon. The one problem: we had almost no leftovers! I still have a bit of the lamb, and I froze about 3/4 quart of the squash and 1/2 quart of the ratatouille. But it did nicely solve the problem of my overfull refrigerator. Now, if I can just get rid of that red cabbage...

Afterwards, our dinner guests commented on how good the meal was, and I asserted that it was the ingredients, which they pshawed. But it's true. These are all dishes I make all the time, and they were just so much better with high quality, fresh, local ingredients. Hmm... now I need more lamb. Thank goodness the meatshare is coming on Tuesday.

Backyard Local: Fight Tomato Blight

Warning to all backyard gardeners: there is a serious epidemic of late blight this year affecting tomato and potato plants. This is the same fungus that caused the Irish Potato Famine, and a combination of conditions this year (wet weather and contaminated tomato plants sold at places like Home Depot) have made this the worst outbreak of late blight in decades. Our CSA, Brookfield Farm, just mowed down all their potatoes in the hopes of saving the tubers and preventing the spread of the fungus to their tomatoes.

What makes this fungus particularly pernicious is that its spores are airborne, passing from plant to plant on the breeze. If you have tomatoes in your garden, regardless of where you got them, please go out and check them for blight. See www.longislandhort.cornell.edu/vegpath/photos/lateblight_tomato.htm for pictures of late blight. Look for brown patches on the stem and wilting leaflets around it. If you find blight, remove ALL affected foliage immediately. If it's in the stem, you will likely have to remove the entire plant.

Do NOT put infected foliage in your municipal yard waste, where the fungus can infect their mulch and compost. Bag it and throw it away. In New Mexico, we'd burn it, but I doubt that's allowed around here.

If you have other tomatoes or parts of tomato plants that show no blight yet, spray it with fungicide immediately and after every rainfall (yes, this is a pain, but, o! the horror of a summer with no tomatoes). There are many recipes for homemade fungicide, including:

• http://site.cleanairgardening.com/info/recipe-for-home-made-fungicide.html
• http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20090619125802AABbIUf (you can substitute dishsoap)
  

Or you can buy this organic fungicide: http://www.cleanairgardening.com/greencure.html. Brookfield Farm is using copper as a fungicide.

Here's a good FAQ on late blight and how to deal with it: http://www.longislandhort.cornell.edu/vegpath/lbfaq.pdf

Also, keep in mind that there are plenty of other fungi around to prey on your tomatoes. The tomatoes in my community garden have early blight, and I'll be directing our gardeners in foliage removal and fungicide spraying this afternoon. Early blight is much less deadly than late blight, but it can transfer to other species like eggplants. It's treated in the same way as late blight, although treated plants are much more likely to survive. Tomatoes are going to be precious and rare at farmers' markets this year, so it will be well worth it to maintain your own love apples. And squash plants of all kinds are likely to be affected by fungus as well, so it's worth checking your squash for a white dusting on the leaves and treating it with fungicide or at least soapy water.

On the plus side, all the rain has had other benefits. Our greens, carrots, cucumbers, beans, and squash are going crazy, and despite the cool temperatures, I've got a lot of peppers and eggplant (hurray for black row covers). And for the first time this year, we had a noticeable blueberry harvest (we suffer from alkaline soil, but we seem to have finally brought up the acidity enough - sulfur helps, too) and will harvest our first lingonberries ever!

Side note: if you have midsummer-bearing raspberries, they should be running out of fruit right now. Once the fruit is gone off the canes, you should prune away the fruitbearing canes, leaving the new canes (those with no little stubs from the fruit) to grow as much as possible before winter. These non-fruiting canes will bear fruit next year. Removing the old canes means the roots only have to support the new canes, and they will be healthier and more prolific next summer.

Cocoa Mulch from Taza Chocolate

I send email to Taza Chocolate asking how to buy their cocoa mulch. Laura Cere responded, saying that you can "call and order for pick up at our factory. The cost is $25.00 for 40lbs."

This a great, highly sustainable product. Cocoa mulch is made from the shells of the cacao beans. Since this is a natural byproduct of the chocolate-making process, it's sustainable. The beans are shelled locally, so you're not buying mulch that has consumed extra fuel to travel here. And the price is quite competitive. Best of all, it makes your yard or garden smell like chocolate.

Two warnings:

1. Cocoa mulch contains high levels of theobromide, which is toxic to cats and dogs. While cats generally aren't all that interested in chocolate, dogs will happily eat the mulch, which can cause serious illness and even death. So do not use cocoa mulch in spaces frequented by dogs, probably not even in a front yard without a fence.
2. Cocoa mulch is fairly alkaline. If your soil is alkaline, as, alas, mine is, you may not want to use this mulch. However, if your soil is rather acidic, for example, in a yard with lots of pine trees, this could be a very useful amendment.
   

Summer in April

It's 11:30am and 82 degrees F. Summer has arrived in the midst of April. I washed all our winter coats and went out to hang them on the clothesline, passing the vegetable garden as I went.

The garden is a field of blooming dandelions. My goodness.

I checked on the peas, a little concerned that the snap peas had not yet sprouted, even though the snow peas have been up for nearly two weeks. If they don't come up in this weather, they never will. To my relief, I spotted one solitary pea shoot amid the straw. Snap peas in June. I can hardly wait. Last weekend, I planted lettuce and radishes, now quietly germinating under row covers to protect them from flea beetles and neighborhood cats, and scattered parsley seed in the herb bed.

The overwintered kale has shot up into a purplish-green bush of leaves, and an overwintered mustard actually had the temerity to bolt into bright yellow bloom. The garlic is perking up, sending out new shoots. Soon we'll have garlic scapes for salads and stir fry. The sage is greening up and needs pruning, now that it's obvious which stems survived the winter. Chives are poking green fingers at the sky. The rhubarb has exploded into a rippling mass of leaves, and the stalks might be ready in as little as a couple of weeks. The strawberries are blooming, the blueberries are sending out their first new green leaves, and the peach trees have burst into blossom. And, strange but wonderful, the fennel planted last year has come back from its roots in a little olive green hedgerow. Does anyone know whether such fennel will set good heads for harvest? I had no idea that fennel could be grown as a perennial.

Growing your own food has more compensations that convenience and environmentalism. Gardens in spring are surprisingly, stunningly gorgeous. I can't wait to see what comes up next.

Ultimate Local: Planting Peas

Nothing could possibly be more local than food you grow yourself. I'm an avid gardener, and I coordinate the vegetable garden for my community, Cambridge Cohousing. I'm not going to explain cohousing here, but I should explain that this is not your typical community garden. While only a few people work in the garden, everyone in our community is encouraged to come and partake of the harvest. If you think that's unfair, realize that I never, ever have to mow the lawn. Someone else who enjoys mowing does that, and someone else manages cleaning the common spaces, and someone else makes up the trash rotation, etc. We all help out as best we can, and right now, what I can best contribute is gardening.

This year, I have a nearly full time job, so I called a meeting of the usual gardening suspects and a few eager newcomers and got everyone to take on a plot or two. For myself, I reserved peas, lettuce, and strawberries. Traditionally in the Boston area, peas are planted on St. Patrick's Day, but I was working Tuesday, so I didn't get around to planting until yesterday. At least three of my neighbors stopped and asked, "Planting already?" Yes, indeed. They're called snow peas for a reason. Peas are a cold weather crop. They're the first crop planted in the spring and among the first harvested. Peas can handle an occasional frost or even snowfall.

I picked out a bed that has hosted eggplants and tomatoes for far too long and needs a good nitrogen boost. I would have liked to add compost, but our compost isn't quite ready yet, and I'm not getting any delivered until April 5th. Instead, I lightly amended with Cockadoodle-doo, which is to say, composted chicken poop. It's organic and safe even for my almost-two-year-old to handle. We raked the straw off the bed and sprinkled our doo all over. Then I set up the fences, and my elder daughter and I got to work planting peas.

I suddenly remembered that the squirrels had eaten all the sugar snap peas last spring before they had a chance to sprout. We took a break for lunch, and when I came out later, I brought onion skins with me. I don't know if they mask the scent of the pea or if the squirrels just don't like them, but it keeps them away from my tulip bulbs, so I'm hoping the skins will also protect my peas. One of the community kids came out to help me plant, and we finished up and covered the newly planted peas with straw.

Along the way, I notice a couple of little green spears poking up, and I actually dug up a small onion bulb at the end of one pea fence. Oh, no! Did I forget where I had a neighbor plant the Egyptian walking onions last fall? A quick web search when I got home confirms that they look just like those spears when they sprout. Well, this shouldn't be a problem. The onions shouldn't be ready until June or July, when the peas are already gone. And perhaps the onions will ensure that the squirrels leave the peas alone. We shall see... and this means I have a spare plot for the parsnips after all!

Next weekend: lettuce.