Winter Break (Recipe: Brussels Sprouts "Carbonara")

Perhaps my biggest gardening challenge is that I want to grow more vegetables than I have room for in my tiny little patch. The upshot is that I crowd my plants, trying to squeeze as much in as possible, and my vegetables tend to be smaller since they don’t have as much room to spread out and grow.

So my plants are smaller than the “supermarket size” benchmark. As I harvest throughout the season, I try to thin the plants so that the survivors will have more room to grow. And I try to hold out and wait until the vegetables get bigger. With Brussels sprouts, I have an additional challenge: the weather. I want them to get decent sized, but also survive a few day frost to help sweeten these petite cabbages.

This year, winter arrived with a vengeance, and I didn’t have a chance to harvest all the Brussels sprouts before they were buried in a layer of snow. And while the snow melted off the plants, they never fully defrosted so that I could cut them off the stock… until this weekend.

I had about a 5 hour window on Saturday, after the temperatures had been above freezing for 2 days and the plants had thawed, and before the next cold front passed through. I harvested enough for a delightful meal. The rest will wait until the next thaw.

Brussels Sprouts “Carbonara”
I had intended to make a carbonara style pasta dish, substituting Brussels Sprouts for the spring peas. But as I rummaged through the refrigerator, I discovered I had run out of bacon. I did have smoked chicken in the freezer, so I added that instead – giving the dish a meaty, smoky, rich flavor. And in an attempt to keep my diet healthy, I added just a few tablespoons of cream to keep the pasta moist, but didn’t make it rich and gooey as is more traditional.

½ pound pasta
2 chicken thighs, smoked, or two slices of bacon, diced
Brussel sprouts
2 tbs. olive oil
2 garlic cloves, ch
Pinch chili flakes
3 tbs. cream
Freshly grated Parmesan cheese – at least 1/4 cup, but use more if you’d like.
Salt and pepper to taste.

1. Preheat the oven to 425F. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Season generously with salt.
2. Meanwhile, cut Brussels in half. Toss them with olive oil (or bacon if using), salt and pepper. But them in the oven to roast for 15 minutes.
3. Boil pasta for 1 minute less than the package instructions.
4. After the Brussels have roasted 15 minutes, toss them with garlic and chili flakes. Return to oven for an additional 5 minutes to toast the garlic.
5. Drain pasta. Toss with cream, Parmesan. Add chicken and Brussels. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper (and lemon juice)

I'm submitting this to January's "Grow Your Own" round-up.  Originally, started by Andrea of Andrea's Recipes, Nate and Annie have picked up hosting responsibilities.  

Know Thyself (Recipe: Potato Crusted Black Bass with Leeks and Red Wine)

In the past few years, since started my urban garden, I’ve learned so much by trial-and-error. I’ve learned about micro-climates and properly spacing vegetables. I discovered how to spur Brussels sprouts to grow larger, and that my raspberry bush has two fruiting cycles a year – once in the early summer and again in the autumn. And I’ve learned that I can’t start seeds indoors.

When I began gardening, I tried starting tomatoes, basil and peppers indoors in early March with hopes of transplanting them outside as soon as the soil warmed up. I know that starting plants from seeds is far more economical than buying seedlings. I get more options in what varieties I want to grow. And I have less concern about an unsuspecting blight. Unfortunately, I’ve never succeeded in getting a single plant into the ground that was started indoors.

I’m not sure what my problem is…. Did they not get enough sun or too much? Did they get enough fertilizer? Or too much? Some years they did get enough water. I’ve given up.

So I only plant vegetables that can be direct-sowed or purchased as seedlings ready to transplant. This year, that included leeks – a surprise find at a random nursery.

I was a little suspect of the plant – dozens of threads shot out of the 2” pot. Given my propensity to sow seeds too densely, I sensed this would be a problem. When I got home, I tried to tease apart the seedlings, but the root structure was already a tangled mess. I managed to gently pull apart enough to plant 3 rows. The seedlings drooped and flopped, and were still too close together. I propped them up with mounds of soil and gave them plenty of water.

By some miracle, they survived. Still too densely planted, the leeks didn’t grow as large as they should.   As I harvest, I try to cut out the larger ones without disturbing the smaller one – hoping to give them a little more room to grow. So far, I’ve cut out over a dozen leeks, and the remaining still look strong.

Try as I might to get out of my rut of simply cooking leeks in butter, I just can’t do it. They are too delicious. I changed it up a little the other night by using them as a base for potato crusted black bass with a red wine reduction. It’s a riff on a recipe from Daniel Boulud.

Potato Crusted Black Bass with Leeks and Red Wine
2 russet potatoes
5 leeks
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
4 black bass filets
¼ cup plain oil
1 ½ cups red wine
1 cup rich chicken stock.
¼ cup heavy cream

Salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste

1. Shred potatoes. Soak in cold water for 10 minutes to remove excess starch. This will also prevent the potatoes from turning black.
2. Trim the leeks: cut off the dark green and set aside for another use. Cut the leek in half lengthwise, then into 1/2” slices. Soak in cold water to remove the dirt. Lift the leeks out of the water
3. Heat a large skillet over medium heat. Add the butter and the leeks. Cook, stirring occasionally until the leeks are soft. Set aside.
4. Drain potatoes from the water. Season with salt and pepper and toss in flour.
5. On a clean work surface, lay out some potato in a thin layer. Place the fish on top, season with salt and pepper. Wrap the potato shreds around the fish. Repeat with remaining fish and potatoes.
6. Heat a large skillet over high heat. Add the oil. Gently place the fish in the oil, and cook until potato is golden brown and crispy. Gently flip the fish over, and cook for 2 minutes more.
7. Remove fish from pan and set aside. Working quickly to hold onto the heat in the pan, drain off all the excess oil. Add a spoonful of the leeks (and a few mushrooms if you happen to have a few wilting in the fridge like I did). Add the wine and chicken stock and reduce by half over high heat.
8. Stir in the cream into the sauce. Adjust seasoning with salt, pepper and lemon juice
9. Put a mound of leeks on the bottom of each plate. Lay the fish on top. Spoon sauce around the fish.

Ms. Misinformation

I always thought that red peppers were merely ripened green peppers; true for both bell and chilies. All summer, I watched my jalapeno plant grow, and waited and waited for them to turn red. After a while, I stopped checking. The green foliage and peppers began to blend in with the border plantings.

When I was in the garden yesterday, checking in on the kale and salad greens, I spied the drooping plant, weighted down with a dozen green peppers. With evening temperatures already dipping into the 30s and 40s, any chance of a red pepper was lost. I snapped off the peppers to salvage what I could. But I wondered if the recent cool temperatures sucked out the heat from the chilies, as rumor had it? I cut one in half, nibbled gingerly on a seed, and confirmed that, in fact, they were still piquant.

To preserve the chilies for the winter, I sliced them into rings, smoked them on the charcoal grill and then packed them in oil in ice cube trays. They add a nice, smoky undertone to many recipes. Sometimes, if I’m feeling sassy, I pop popcorn in a “cube” of smoked chilies. This makes an extremely addictive and thoroughly satifying snack.
So to recap my misinformation:
- Not all peppers turn red when ripe.
- Chilies don’t lose their heat in cold temperatures.

And here’s some correct information about chilies: most of their heat is in the white membranes and seeds. To lessen the heat of peppers, cut these parts out.

Garden Burgers

I grocery shop at least 4 times a week; a pound of coffee here, a quart of milk there. Given that the Whole Foods is only 2 blocks from my house, I never plan my meals and provisions too far in advance. It’s much easier to shop one meal at a time because I know exactly what I need. Better still, I waste much less food.

By now, most of the Whole Foods staff knows me by face, if not by name. And they must think I have the most miserable diet. Aside from a bit of fruit and a random vegetable or two, my shopping cart is mostly filled with meats and starches. Why buy vegetables when I have a garden brimming with kale, lettuce, leeks, Brussels sprouts and celery?

Yesterday, I made garden burgers. No, not vegetarian patties. But meat patties topped with condiments from the garden. I purchased the ground meat at Whole Foods, and topped it with scallions (instead of onions), arugula in place of lettuce, and ketchup I made last month from the bumper crop of tomatoes. Since I don’t grow potatoes for French fries or cabbage for cole slaw, I just sautéed some kale as a side to the burger.

Total Cost: Meat: $2.25, Bun: .25, Cheese Slice: $.25
Taste: Priceless.

Homemade Ketchup
4 cups diced tomatoes or 1 (28-to 32-ounces) can whole tomatoes in juice
1 tbs. plain oil
1 medium onion, chopped
4 garlic cloves, chopped
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
Pinch cayenne
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1 tsp. salt

Purée tomatoes with juice in a blender until smooth.

Heat a stainless steel sauce pot (do not use aluminum because of the high acidity), over medium heat. Add oil, onions and garlic. Stir occassionaly, and cook for about 10 minutes, or until soft and lightly gold. Add spices and cook for one minute just to help them release their fragrance. Add the remaining ingredients. Turn heat to low and simmer for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the ketchup is very thick. Let chill.

Purée ketchup in blender until smooth. Will keep for several months in the refrigerator.

Before the First Frost (Recipe: Raspberry Vinaigrette)

The weather forecast predicts near freezing temperatures tonight. I ran into the garden and made a last ditch effort to salvage what’s left of summer.

I picked a gallon of basil leaves.
Since I can’t possibly consume all of that in one week (when it would go bad), I pureed it with a little olive oil and spooned it into ice cube trays.
It’s a little depressing… first, I only got 1 ½ trays out of what seemed like a huge harvest. Second, it turned a dingy green. I recall this happening last year and I had hoped to avoid that with the oil. No luck. On the bright side, I know that pureeing it with spinach when I need it will bring back the vivid green. And if I stir it into a tomato sauce, no one will notice anyway.

The raspberries bush started producing again after Labor Day. I always think of berries as hot weather fruit, but this plant likes the cool of June, and then doesn’t produce again until September. Today, I picked enough to fill a 6 ounce ramekin.

If I wanted an appreciable raspberry harvest, I would let the plant creep further out from its northeast corner. But I want space for other crops (and a few flowers), so I keep the plant small. As a result, I never get more than a fistful of berries at a time – just enough for a snack, a garnish for pancakes or dessert, or a cocktail. But as the lettuces are just coming into full swing, I think raspberry vinaigrette is in order. The bright red will be preserved and will contrast beautifully with the green lettuce leaves (and perhaps bright white goat cheese).

The leeks are approaching supermarket size. I harvested a few today, but still have plenty more coming in. Leeks are a variety of onion, common in French cooking. They’re used to flavor soups and stocks. The French steam them, and serve them cold with vinaigrette as a little first course.

My favorite preparation is simply sautéed in butter, perhaps with a sprinkling of fresh thyme. They make a wonderful side to roast chicken or pork.

As much as I love “melting leeks,” I’m looking for new ideas to showcase them. What’s your favorite preparation for leeks?

Raspberry Vinaigrette
½ cup fresh raspberries
½ cup extra virgin olive oil
3 tbs. raspberry, sherry or red wine vinegar
½ tsp. fresh thyme
1 tsp. sugar or honey
Salt and pepper to taste

Combine ingredients in a blender. Puree until smooth. Adjust season to taste with either more salt, sugar, oil or vinegar. Will keep up to a month in the refrigerator.

Chocolate Endorphines

My regular running route takes me past the NECCO Candy factory and the aromas of Canada Mints and Necco Wafers fill the air. A few blocks down the road, I pass the Chocolate Factory... a condo-building aptly named because it used to be… a chocolate factory. When the streets closer to my house began to waft chocolate scents, I didn’t really think much of it, other than, “mmmm, heavenly aromas…. Much…. Better… than…. Mint……” It really made sense to me.

As it turns out, the chocolate scents were coming from my neighbor’s yard – in the form of Cocoa Shell Mulch. Essentially, expired cocoa bean shells are repackaged and sold as mulch. Brilliant, if you ask me! But I wonder, if the whole neighborhood used cocoa mulch… what would happen to all the neighborhood dogs?

And thinking to next year....

Boys and Girls

Last year, I planted 20 zucchini seeds hoping for a bountiful squash blossom harvest. Any less would not yield enough blossoms for more than just a taste. Part of me was scared with this strategy because of the plants bountiful nature. I envisioned myself peddling zucchini up and down my street. It turns out, I had nothing to worry about.

I did not harvest a single zucchini.

And in case you’re wondering, it’s not because I harvested all the blossoms before they had a chance to metamorphose into zucchini. Early in the squash blossoms life, it reveals its destiny.

As the blossom grows, look at the stem. If the stem remains a stem: no zucchini.
Might as well harvest the blossom and enjoy them in one of these recipes:
Summer Vegetable Quiche
Fried Stuffed Squash Blossoms

For tips on when to pick squash blossom, read this post.

If the stem thickens to resemble a petite courgette, then you have the option to enjoy the blossom or leave it be to let the squash mature.

This year, I planted only 3 zucchini. I had my fill of blossoms last year, and now I just want squash. As these photos were taken today, I’m hopeful.

I’m curious to know what’s different this year. Already, the plants show signs of squash. Last year, there were none. I have a few theories:

1. The soil seems to be in better condition as witnessed by all the earth worms squirming around.
2. Last year, I planted a single seed every few inches, unlike the recommend 3 seeds per mound. I wonder if the seeds “mate” to produce the vegetables.

What do you think happened?

Co-Strangulation

When I began planning my garden for the season, I envisioned spring peas climbing up a little garden fence I posted in the back of the plot. I would start the cucumbers in early May, 6 inches away from the pea vines, and by the time the cucumber plants reached a substantial size, the peas would be over, and the cucumbers would begin to train up the same fence.
See how the cucumber tendrils wrap around the fencing? The pea tendrils do the same thing. The challenge, of course, is to constantly adjust the plants so that the tendrils clench on to what you want, and not onto other plants, strangling the leaves and potentially killing other plants.

In my case, the tendrils of the cucumbers and peas got into a wrangle. I don't know how else to describe it, but co-strangulation.

The peas came out of the garden today. Honestly, I think this is the last year I'll grow peas. When I decided to plant them, I thought the young leaves would be a lovely addition to my spring mesclun mix. As the vines matured, I would have the snap peas. The leaves (tendrils) were too tough and the most peas I was able to harvest in a 3 day period fit into the palm of my hand.

The Calendar Says Summer, But... (And give-away winners)

If you entered the “Random Apps of Kindness” giveaway, then you won! Lucky for you, only a few readers responded, so all will receive a random kindness. Just send me your mailing address to julia [at] growcookeat [dot] com. Don’t forget to pass it on.

For those of you keeping track, Boston broke all sorts of records this June, weather-wise. Many questioned if perhaps we had entered an alternate universe that combined the worst features of Seattle and London – only 5 days in the entire month were rain-free. Despite the dreary skies and cool temperatures, the garden is fairing pretty well.

I’m benefiting from a few changes, mainly that I planted more variety of spring crops. That meant that when the salad greens bolted from the heat (yes, there were a few hot sunny days back in May), I have other crops to sustain me until the summer vegetables ripen.


This week, I’ve harvested kohlrabi, kale and beets. All simply roasted with olive oil and garlic.

I no longer expect ripe tomatoes by July 4th as I had hoped before this strange weather pattern locked in over New England. Nonetheless, tomatoes continue to poke through the flowers, weighting the plants down. And though I’ve typically had little success growing heirloom varieties, the black krim shows fruit.

The cucumber plants flowered this morning announcing the location of the baby cukes – 7 – 10 days away from maturity.

Urban Gardening at its Best!

Outside the second story window of an apartment building on Hampshire Street in Cambridge...


The gutters have been repurposed....

Perhaps most intriguing is the upside-down tomato plant.

Death of a Sage Plant

I can't take it anymore! I'm tired of looking at the sage plant... tired of trying to give away gallons of leaves.... tired of trying to justify its existence in my yard. Yes, it makes a nice border for the patio... and yes, I like to use it in marinades a pastas. But enough's enough!

So, this afternoon, I whacked it. And lo and behold, I have more room for tomatoes, cucumbers or any other summer vegetable my heart desires.

Yay! What a relief!!!!

Garden Surprises

As I pulled out my tape measure the other morning to thin some plants to precisely 5 inches apart, an onlooker might think I’m quite anal about tending to my vegetable garden. Perhaps. But in some ways I am also quite lazy. One thing I don’t do is label the plantings. I figure the vegetables will present themselves when they’re ready. While the initial sprouts of cucumber and zucchini look similar, the flowers and vegetables dispel any similarities. And since I have not reached the level of sophistication of watering or fertilizing plants on different schedules to suit the individual needs, I really see no point in taking the extra step to label the garden.

This year, I planted several new crops, including what I thought was going to be radishes. As the shoulders of the root began to push out above the surface of the dirt, I thought, “Perfect, ready to harvest.” So I began pulling up the first few, only to discover I had in fact planted turnips. Whoops! And being turnips, they still needed to grow a bit larger.

The turnip greens, however, can be cooked now. A search of the web yields recipes mostly for a southern style preparation with some form of pork product. As much as I love pork, I’m realizing that many of my favorite people don’t eat it, so I’m making a concerted effort to post more recipes without it.

Jody Adams suggests a simple preparation: sautéing the greens in extra virgin olive oil with lots of garlic and chili flakes.

For a more substantial meal, I offer this recipe:

White Bean and Turnip Green Soup with Chicken Sausage
(a variation of Tuscan Kale Soup)

2 tbs. olive oil
1 onion, peeled and coarsely chopped
4 garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped
½ celery stalk, coarsely chopped
1 carrot, peeled and coarsely chopped
2 cups cooked white beans
5 cups chicken broth, water or combination of the two
1 piece of parmigiano reggiano rind
1 sprig fresh thyme, chopped
½ tsp. Black pepper
1/2 pound smoked chicken sausage, sliced
1 carrot
1 pound turnip greens, coarsely chopped
2 tsp. salt

1. Heat oil in a large pot over medium heat. Add onions, garlic, celery and carrots, and cook until soft, about 4 or 5 minutes. Add beans, liquid, cheese rind, and thyme. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Bring to a boil and reduce to a simmer. Cook uncovered for about 20 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, brown sausage in batches over medium heat.
3. Stir in turnip greens and sausage. Cook for 10 minutes or until greens are wilted and tender.
4. Add water, if necessary to thin soup. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper to taste.

Transition from Spring to Summer

My spring garden is just coming into full swing: I'm harvesting salad on a regular basis and cutting mint for drinks and dinner seasonings. The tarragon and scallions make regular appearances in my cooking. The radishes will be ready in less than a week. I planted cucumber seeds and jalapenos in the last few square feet of garden space.

Meanwhile, the tomato plants grow patiently on the deck, waiting to be transplanted into the yard for their final growing phase. The first flower bloomed yesterday: a predecessor to the summer fruit.

For the last few mornings, I've studied the garden trying to figure out where I can plant all the tomatoes, as well as the basil and eggplant I have waiting in pots on the deck and in windowsills. I don't want to disturb what's already in the ground.

So much to grow, and so little space. The brussels sprouts are tucked away in the back corner --and will take a full six months to mature. Kohlrabi, the nemesis of many home cooks, is a personal favorite, and occupies a few feet in the front of the yard. The kale, which I have not grown successfully before, seems to be growing nicely in a cooler patch of the garden.

I planted beets for the first time this year. Unfortunately they are not doing very well. It's all my fault, really. I know exactly what happened. When I was planting the lettuces a few months ago, I spilled a handful of seeds right over the beets. The two have been battling for space ever since, and the arugula was winning. Until I stepped in and pulled up the arugula. Hopefully the beets will recover and grow, despite the stunted start.

And then it hit me! I know where I can plant the rest of my vegetables! As I was trying to capture harvesting lettuce in pictures (but failed), I noticed a row of arugula is starting to bolt. That is, the temperatures have gotten so warm that the arugula wants to go to seed and its growth will slow down. I will pull up that row of plants and replace it with eggplant. Because this patch bolted sooner than the others, I know it’s warmer than the rest of the garden and will be a great spot for the heat-loving summer crops.

Bolting Arugula

Bolting Arugula....
See the woody stem? As the temperatures rise, the leaves get spicier and their growth rate diminishes significantly. The plant wants to go to seed.

Not Bolting Arugula....

Harvesting Lettuce

I planted lettuce seeds on March 5th (or so) and harvested my first salad less than 60 days later. The lettuce patch is now in full production, and I’m cutting about a gallon of lettuce every other day – a mix of arugula, mizuna, tatsoi and green leaf.

I grow lettuces for many reasons, but the big one is the yield I get for the square footage. Lettuce falls into the category of “cut and come again.” Meaning, after I harvest a salad, the lettuce will sprout new leaves. By contrast, plants like broccoli yield one head per plant. Better still, I can plant 6 – 12 “heads” of lettuce in the same area that a single head of broccoli would require. To harvest: cut about 1 ½ inches above the root base, leaving the smallest leaves intact. Immediately put the lettuce in water to keep it from wilting irreparably. I usually take a large bowl with some water out to the garden -- as I cut the lettuce, I toss it with the water.

A friend made an interesting commentary about growing lettuce – it’s one of the few crops that can’t be preserved for the colder months. With so much lettuce, I’ve been able to share with my neighbors – for Tommy and Paul, and for the neighbors that snow-blow my driveway in the winter.

Despite the profusion of lettuce, I’m not ready to drown out the flavors with an intense dressing. I simply season with olive oil and lemon juice, and perhaps freshly shaved Parmigiano-reggiano and prosciutto.

The Upside of Urban Gardening

I moved into my house in the dead of winter 2002. I didn’t meet my new neighbors until the spring thaw when everyone ventured out to start cleaning up their yards.

One spring afternoon as I approached my house after running errands, I noticed three grey haired men, probably in their 70’s, hunched over a shovel in my front yard. Not yet familiar with the neighbors, I was quite suspicious. What could they be digging up?

As it turns out, they weren’t digging up; they were digging “down”. As in, they were transplanting lilac bushes into my yard. Louie, who lived in the house behind me, wanted to trim back his lilacs which had spread too much along his yard. Rather than throw away perfectly good plants, he decided to give them to me – the new kid on the block. He enlisted Tommy and Paul, who live next door, to help. They planted one tree in the front and one in the back. By the time I discovered them, Tommy was replacing the last shovelful of dirt over the exposed roots and Paul had pulled out my garden hose to give them a good soaking.

I adore fragrant spring flowers. Before I lived in a house, and could grow my own, I would buy hyacinth bulbs for my apartment. In the spring, I breathe extra-deep just to inhale as much wonderful scents as possible. I had never owned a lilac before, so I didn’t know what olfactory treat was in store.

I didn’t learn until later that lilacs require a 6 year recovery period from the transplant. Every spring, I would inspect the new growth for buds hoping that it would sprout flowers.

Finally, this year – my seventh spring in this house, the long wait is over. The lilacs bloomed.

Thank you Tommy, Paul and Louie for such a wonderful gift!

Where the Wild Things Are

Nowadays, it seems you can get anything, any time of year. Asparagus in January? No problem… probably flown in from Chile. Apples in August? New Zealand. Even "wild" mushrooms aren’t wild. They’re cultivated, and perhaps generously called exotic.

I love spring for so many reasons, but especially for the seasonal spring foods that are truly seasonal. Ramps (wild leeks), for example, are only available in the May.

Ramps taste like a cross between garlic and scallions, with a white bulb and elongated, broad leaves. Like scallions, both the leaves and bulb are edible. I slice the bulbs thinly and sauté them before adding the leaves. I mix them with spring greens for dumplings or with a mix of peas and asparagus and morels for the quintessential spring vegetable mix.

Pickling ramps helps preserve their spring flavor for a few months longer.
Shad Roe is an east coast spring delicacy, also only available in the spring, when the shad leaves the ocean to mate in the fresh waters of the Delaware river. The roe is harvested in “sacs” (or ovaries if you want to be graphic about it). The thin membrane holds together millions of little roe, the size of typical caviar.

But unlike caviar or taramasalta, the roe is fresh, not salted or preserved. The flavor is sweet and earthy (like fresh-water fish) with a mild saltwater taste.

I pan-fried shad roe with the classic garnishes of capers and bacon, and the less classic pickled ramps. I made a sauce with balsamic vinegar, tomatoes (canned from last summer) and butter.
The greens in the background is from the first harvest of my own mesclun. No dressing, but enough other flavors on the plate that it really didn't need anything.

The First Salad of the Season

Less than two weeks after I started thinning the arugula, mizuna and tatsoi sprouts, I harvested my first salad. The leaves from the first cutting are softer and more mild in flavor than later cuttings. Even so, the salad is far superior to anything I could purchase in the market.

Thinning the Herb

Less is more. Especially when it comes to planting lettuces and leafy greens.

Every year, I make the same mistake, though, when planting the arugula, mizuna and tatsoi. I plant hundreds of seeds when I should be planting dozens. The tiny seeds fool me into thinking I need more, and sprinkle as many as 50 seeds per inch. To give you a little perspective, I used a 1/2 teaspoon measure for the arugula seeds in this photo:


When they begin to sprout into a bushy shag of leaves, I start trimming.
The roots crave room to grow, and when they’re crowded, the plants’ growth is stunted. Last year, I ruthlessly thinned the lettuces to one sprout per 1 or 2 inches. And I was reward with large, prolific plants. For some reason this year, I still planted the seeds too densely. So this morning I headed out to the garden to start snipping away.

This is not a particularly pleasant task. With sharp scissors, I cut the stem below all the leafy sprouts. I carefully leave the strongest sprout. With stems growing within millimeters of each other, I must be careful to not accidentally cut too much, nor to disturb the roots of the remaining plants.

The plants I thinned last week are already rewarding me for the breathing room. I should have my first garden salad within a week.

If you’re good, like Susy at Chiot’s Run, you will save all the sprouts for a small salad.

The Urban Gardener's Dilemma

By most urban standards, I have a huge back-yard – 25 feet by 20 feet. And the side yard adds considerably more gardening space at 11 feet by 15 feet. My wonderful neighbors are an eclectic mix of young families and third generation Cantabrigians. The long-timers give continuity to the neighborhood, enabling the new-comers like me (I’ve only been here 7 years) to feel like we’ve lived here all our lives. Every year in June, we close down the street for a pot-luck street party. Considering I live in the center of Cambridge, MA, I have little to complain about.

But as an urban gardener, I face many challenges because I share “the elements” with my neighbors.

My neighbor on the right is attached to my house. The large trees in their back yard don’t shade my garden, but they generate tons of weeds. The leaves sprout seeds, and in the autumn they all fall into my yard. I diligently rake my vegetable beds at the beginning of the season. And every morning, thoughout the gardening season, as I drink my coffee, I religiously pull weeds to prevent an outbreak.

My neighbor’s house (on the left) is about 15 feet away, just the width of my narrow driveway. The driveway provides the perfect break for the morning sun to peer right onto my vegetables. In his back yard, though, he also has several trees. The other neighbors gather under the canopy of shade and spend lazy summer days reminiscing about “the good ole days,” whilst I lament that it filters the midday sun onto my vegetables. And remind myself that trees are a vital element of the urban landscape.

One tree in his yard abuts my property line. In the last few years, it grew sufficiently to shade my prime gardening patch. I trimmed the leaves as best I could on my side of the fence so that I could maximize my sun without hurting his tree. Last year, he very graciously hired a professional tree service to trim the branches from the offending tree.

But then a strange thing happened last summer… all the plants I sowed along the property line died. Could this tree be emitting some sort of toxic resin? As I was preparing my vegetable beds a few weeks ago, I discovered the problem…. This tree had thick, cord-like roots that spread 20 – 30 feet from the base. These roots were strangling my plants.

So what’s an urban gardener to do? If I cut the roots out of my vegetable beds, I risk killing my neighbor’s tree. But if I don’t, I risk losing my vegetables and other plants.

I need your advice. How do I protect my garden and preserve my neighborly relations?

Garden Updates - First Day of Spring

After a seemingly endless winter, 50 degrees feels downright balmy. I spent much of the weekend in the garden... cleaning up, tilling the soil and planting seeds.

First task: raking the dead leaves off the vegetable beds. Normally, I'd say to leave them on because they mulch the soil and provide nutrients. But I've learned from experience that these particular leaves produce TONS of weeds. So I try to get rid of as much as possible.

Next: till the soil. With all the snow and rain, the soil compacted rather densely. I loosened the soil so that the new vegetable roots could easily grow.

Finally, I planted a bunch of seeds...

In the front garden...
Can you see the spring onions popping up in the front left? In the back on the left, I planted kohlrabi. And on the right, kale and icicle radishes.

In the back on the left...
The lettuces: mizuna, tatsoi and arugula. And yes, I need to paint the back fence. Along the back fence, I propped up some chicken wire. I'll plant the peas along that line and hopefully they will train easily up the fencing.

And in the back on the right...
Can you see all the sage? You just can't kill that stuff! And behind that, the lone brussels sprout plant... a bit droopy but still producing. To the left, I planted some mixed lettuces and more arugula.