Jenmenke

Road Warrior

Garden

Asparagus

The Honeymoon.

Yes, we are one week into the Honeymoon Stage of our asparagus harvest. That is the time where it is still a joy and a wonder to walk into the garden and find 20-30 spears that grew six inches overnight. I snap them off at the base, bring them in the house, briefly cook them and eat them. Pause over each sweet tender bite. Exclaim their virtues.

Asparagus.

It is the best!

Well, it is the best for about two weeks. After that, the walk into the garden is replaced by shock and dismay: Oh my GOSH. That damn ASPARAGUS! WHO am I going to GIVE it to? WHAT am I going to DO with it? Look at all the asparagus beetles!

But not yet. Now we just eat it and love it.

Soon I will be giving it away by the armload to friends. To each of these people I give a stern warning not to overcook it. The thing with my asparagus (and I assume all fresh-from-the-garden asparagus) is that it cooks in one quarter the time of supermarket asparagus.

Two nights ago, I took the unusual step of timing it so that I could give concrete directions instead of vague advice. So if I die, my husband will be able to feed my children from lessons learned on my website.

See? I’m a good mother after all.

Here you go, Dave (and anyone else who’s interested):

Use a big saute or fry pan, wide enough for your longest spear, add about an inch of water, sprinkle in about 2 teaspoons of salt and bring to a boil. After the water is boiling, add the asparagus, making sure all spears are submerged.

For fresh picked spears, cook no more than 2 minutes and drain. If you aren’t going to eat right away, cool them under cold water or in an ice bath to prevent them from getting mushy.

If you are cooking spears you bought somewhere and you aren’t sure how long to cook them, use a knife to pierce the stem end. It should go in easily, but not be soft or mushy. The tips should still look the same as they did when the were uncooked. The tips are the first part to show overcooking. The triangles will start to get fuzzy looking and may even start to slough off in the water. With fresh asparagus, that happens in a heartbeat! With store bought, you’ve got a little more grace time. If still in doubt, just cut a small piece off the end and taste it. It is my firm believe the stem end should retain some bite. Like an al dente noodle. (That’s the foolproof method to see if it is done.)

Dry the pan out, put on medium heat, and add about 1 tablespoon of either butter or olive oil (for 16-20 spears). Or, if you are decadent, add both. Add the spears back in and roll around in the butter/oil long just enough for the asparagus to get nice and hot — you don’t want to cook them more. Sprinkle with kosher salt, fresh pepper. Squeeze with lemon.  For what it’s worth, I like the combo of lemon juice with butter during the Honeymoon stage, then moving to olive oil with balsamic vinegar for Stage 2.

Garnish with parmesan or pecorino or manchego or whatever you happen to have on hand.

The nice thing about boiling/blanching and then reheating is that you can do it ahead of time. Then, right before serving, heat back up in the oil or butter and garnish. Of course for Caveman Dave, we have to keep some separate. He likes it plain.

We also roast asparagus in the oven and grill it. But that happens after long after the Honeymoon is over.

Watch Out For This Garden Nuisance

And Harden Your Hearts.

Yes, I am talking about a flower: Violets. Johnny Jump-Ups. Small pansies. Whatever.

Do not be deterred. Do not be swayed by their innocent demeanor. These plants will ruin your garden.

Oh yes, they will charm you in the process, but be charmed and you have already lost the battle.

Trust me. This much, I know.

Here’s how it happens:

1) You walk into your garden on an early spring afternoon, shortly after the snow has melted and notice a single purple flower in a corner of a bed. It is breath-taking. Its tenacity stunning.

2) Each day that you are in your stark spring garden, poking around and getting the sterile gray dirt ready, or spreading the brown compost, you smile at the purple flower. It gives you hope. It is a look into the future of your garden. It makes you happy.

3) Weeks later, it is still blooming. It is sort of in the way as you plant seeds, but you have come to love this flower. Pulling it out would be wrong. It would feel like ripping your own heart out. So, you plant around it.

4) You eventually forget about your purple flower. It gets taken over by the lettuce, or the swiss chard or the beans. It disappears.

5) Or does it?

6) Fast forward 10 months. It is another first of many strolls through the garden on a warm-ish March morning: a purple flower! Where did it come from? So pretty!

7) They are more! Oh so fun! In the paths, in the dirt, in the grass!

8 ) Wait a minute… They. Are. Everywhere.

9) And you realize that something must be done. You need to take them out.

10) They are so pretty, so you dig them out and give them as gifts for birthdays of friends…

11) For your coffee table…

12) For your screen porch…

13) And maybe…. maybe…. you can leave just one to make you smile in the garden…

My Favorite Spring Garden Tool

The Broadfork.

Holy cats. I couldn’t remember the name of my favorite tool, or where I got it, so as I sat in bed killing time before church and sipping my coffee — with Pippi-dog burrowed under the sheets next to me, panting from the heat — I researched it.

As usual, the internet eventually coughed up an answer. But not before creating a serious time-suck and giving me way more information than I needed. Not surprisingly, one of my first stops was the gardenweb.com forums. I don’t think I have ever mentioned Gardenweb before, but I use that site all the time when I am researching an important purchase or need help with something house related. Ironically, though the name is ‘gardenweb’, I find their home appliance forums invaluable and use that part of the site more than the gardening part. Trying to decide between a Bosch or an LG Washer? Go to the Gardenweb home appliance forums! Amazing amounts of information and real users.

But I digress.

So it was today, trying to figure out the name of my favorite tool and googling “deep spade” and “deep fork” and “cultivate”, etc., I landed back on Gardenweb. That’s where the “holy cats” I wrote earlier comes from. Not for the first time, I sit at my computer and wonder who these freaks are that live on forums answering questions? Of course, since I also possess Psychic Powers, I will tell you what you are thinking right now: You are thinking that I am a freak for writing this blog and that I am not so different from those forum-stalkers that I speak of, right?

Not true, not true. For starters, have you ever been on some of those forums? Really read them? If so, you’ll know the type to which I am referring. Basically, they are assholes. Mean. Opinionated. Always right. But to give credit where credit is due, they often lend a compelling argument and viewpoint to the discussion. Less trustworthy though. Maybe it’s because of their unbending vehemence. And since I can’t check their credentials, how do I know they are any different from my quack neighbor, who would argue that you can compost old car parts?

This post wasn’t supposed to be about forums, but those angry forum writers will come back into the discussion shortly and I will tidy up the loose ends nicely — unlike the last novel I just read.

Anyway, I did find out what the name of my tool is. It’s called a Broadfork. Tools like it are also known as U-Bar Diggers or Deep Spaders. After researching, I think I made a wise purchase seven years ago. The others on the market don’t look nearly as tough as mine which is made by Johnny’s Selected Seeds and was designed by Elliot Coleman, über gardener. And if this chic girl can’t sell the fork, who can:

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Please note: that is not me.

I think I have the 5 tined fork, and it sells for $179. It’s not cheap. In fact, I’m stunned that I paid that much. I would have a hard time shelling out that kind of cash now, what with the austerity program in place. I have come to love the austerity program, though… It comes in awfully handy with a 15-year old consumerist daughter…

Here’s how it works: Lift it up, jam it into the hard pack, jump on it, pull it back and repeat.

I used to own… oh for Pete’s Sake, I can’t remember the name of it either… a tiny little rototiller. I think it was advertised years ago on — I hate to admit this — infomercials. I remember now! (and I didn’t even have to Google it.) The Mantis! The Mantis could do it ALL! Edge paths, dethatch a lawn, till a garden. And more! Since my garden was to be made up of small raised beds, I thought the Mantis would be perfect. And since money was no object back then, I bought it. I did use it. I still have it in fact. [A note on the dethatching aspect: it worked great if you had 3 days to devote. At about 24″ wide, going backwards very slowly and raking up the dead grass when you were done, you pretty much have to drop out of society for a few days.] But messing with a finicky gas motor, which always gives me trouble, I spent more time checking the spark plug and cleaning the carburetor than I did tilling.

OK, so I never actually cleaned the carburetor.

Around the time of my disillusionment with the Mantis, I read that tilling the soil was actually bad for it. I had started to suspect as much after several years of gardening with the tiller. Why did it seem to me that farmers could rough plow a field, plunk the seeds in and get good results, while I would lovingly tend my small patch, tilling and raking the soil fine and my seeds couldn’t sprout through the crust? Why did I have crust? So frustrating!

Research, research, research…

Answer: Stop tilling the soil. For all kinds of reasons, which I truly do believe — go do your own research, this post is already ridiculously long — tilling the soil is counterproductive.

Instead, simply loosen hard-packed soil with a garden fork. Or, in my case, a broadfork. The reason being that a tiller pulverizes the soil so fine that if there is any clay content, it forms an impenetrable crust after it gets wet. By just loosening the soil, you leave the soil structure intact, don’t kill the worms, don’t disrupt the fungal hyphae…

Yes. Fungal hyphae. I have no idea what that is. But I gather that you don’t want to disrupt it… Basically, forking with a broadfork goes deeper than a regular garden fork, is faster and it’s fun. It leaves the soil relatively smooth for planting, but not pulverized.

I felt like a champ about my process. Until today…

Apparently there is a new game in town, its brethren lurking in the dark corners of the forums, its banner reading “Soil Food Web.” These beasties claim that you shouldn’t even loosen the soil with a fork. In fact, you shouldn’t disturb the soil at all. Instead, you simply layer organic matter on top, year after year, and leave it at that.

I love the idea, for I am a Lazy Gardener. But seriously? Have these people never encountered real clay? I don’t know. I’m no expert, but it sounds like craziness to me. Sure, I can see it working on my established beds. Every year they get better and better. Compared to what the soil was like when I started, it’s nothing short of miraculous. But if I had started that way? I’m not so sure. These forum junkies are spreading their cause though, and I will pay attention and see where it goes. I would suggest to them that they practice their “what I learned in Kindergarten” rules and play a little nicer though.

I can’t even remember what I was writing about…

Oh who cares. I like my broadfork. I don’t believe in tilling and you’re an idiot if you don’t agree with me. How’s that for a nice, tidy ending?

Compost 2010

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

Even though I dealt with my annual compost task a couple weeks ago, I thought it might bear sharing, since I wrote one of my first blog posts about it and thought a picture of the same pile a year later would be cool.

Unfortunately, the photos aren’t the best. That’s because the GSP has perfected her craft of breaking into the pile and feasting on its putrified contents, and I had to find a way to stop her. Not because she’d puke it up or have accidents — that dog could handily digest a bucket of bolts with nary a fart. But rather, the compost needs those green fuzzy cantaloupe peels, not her! So now I have wire on the top, wire on the front, all hammered in with U-nails. … And I was too lazy to take them off for the photo. So use your squinting skills.

The left is the pile this time last year, the right is the same side 12 months later (now).

Again, I do nothing to this pile, aside from adding everything except blooming weeds (and car parts). No aerating, no turning. No paying attention to the ratio of green versus brown contents. Nothing.

Therefore, there are always things that don’t completely rot: avocado pits, cantaloupe peels, big sticks and branches, some egg shells, clam shells… Maybe I shouldn’t be adding clam shells…

As I dig the compost out, I pull any large item out and set it aside.

I also pull out the garbage that has made its way in to the pile.

And rescue any kitchen utensils that were inadvertently thrown away. (Just found my missing vegetable peeler, thank-you-very-much.)

Then I spread it in the garden.

After I have completely emptied the finished compost…

…which I guess I was not quite done with when I took this picture…

I use those large sticks, peels and shells that I had set aside as the base for the new pile, layering it directly on top of the dirt. On top of that, I put any leftover dried brown plant material, like asparagus tops or dead kale plants, leaves or raked brown grass

Then I cover up the other side and label with a skull and crossbones to warn the kids not to add to that pile. Well, not really. I just yell at them a lot when the inevitably screw up. So, in the photo above, the left side is now the “active” side and the other will be left alone until this time next year.

The only downside is that I never have enough. There was a point last year that I actually started catching grass clipping so that I’d have more stuff to add to the compost pile. Then I realized that was, well, insane. And I stopped.

Macro Garden Delights

I screwed my Canon 52mm Close-Up Lens on to my camera (Canon T1i) today and went out to the garden. I’m too lazy to ever think about a tripod, so I don’t really go about macro photography the correct way. But then, I don’t really go about anything the ‘correct way.’ This is as close to a macro lens as I am likely to get for a long while. And I’m a total spaz with the auto-focus. I’ve still got a lot to learn, I know that.

But it was fun to lay on the ground and take these close up shots of my itty-bitty goings on in the garden. Nights have still been dipping into the 20’s here in my neck of Minnesota, so only the hardiest things are in yet.

YES, the shriveled red potatoes sprouted! Almost each little divot where the bulb planter did its work shows a little green tuft like this:

The next thing I planted were the peas. Not the sugar snaps (those are in now, too, but were planted about a week after the shelling peas). I neglected to soak the pea seeds (because I’m both lazy and impatient), so they took their sweet time sprouting. I think the snap peas are going to catch up to them. Aren’t they pretty?

This is that tenacious Johnny Jump-Up (violet) that was blooming the first time I did a garden walk through at the end of winter. I can’t help but wonder if it survived all the -30 nights and sub-zero days and was blooming under the snow? So cute, even if a little blurry.

The Black Seeded Simpson lettuce seeds have just sprouted. The red lettuce variety, not at all. And now, my very faded memory is remembering that none of my red lettuce sprouted last year. Why do I never throw away bad seeds? Only to continue to plant the damn things and waste my time?!

And these are the shallots that should have gone into the ground last fall. A few are up. Many are not. I suspect I will have many holes to fill and that this bed will irritate me all year…

And this… This is a… Maybe I should have contest and see if you can guess! Should I give away an iPad? No, that is so unoriginal. Everyone is giving away iPads. I will give away my love. — for that is a much rarer and precious gift. Just ask my family.

The Lazy Way to Cut Back Asparagus Plants

Burn ’em right in place…

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not actually endorsing this method. I’m simply stating that it is a very good way to rid yourself of a very massive amount of dead asparagus tops in short order.

No cutting.

No grunting

No hauling.

Perfect for me. You might want to read last year’s post on this garden chore. [Which I pretty much hate.] Why didn’t I think of this sooner? It’s like cutting out the middle man!

Also very dangerous and unpredictable.

But very effective. Provided I haven’t killed the plants. Guess I’ll have to wait and see on that one…

Assuming they turn out fine, I think I will add it to my annual repertoire. Just don’t tell Dave. He was quite upset with me.

Notes for next year’s burning:
  1. Have hose hooked up and water ready.
  2. Burn in the still air of morning. (*bonus is that neighbors and husband are also absent at this time.)
  3. Stomp down combustible tops more thoroughly so that burning is more even and reaches the fat, soggy, hard-to-cut bottoms.
  4. Have a wider angle lens on camera to allow for larger field of view in case grass starts on fire again.
  5. Bring marshmallows.