All is well here.
Just before leaving home a few days ago for my Vermont vacation, I picked my first mortgage lifter tomato, and carefully packed it away for the trip north. Not having a scale handy, I’m guessing the weight at least a pound and a half, maybe two. It was easily the biggest tomato I’ve ever held in my hands; I’ve never grown one even half this size.
Mortgage lifters were named in the 1930s, reportedly by a radiator repairman who crossbred tomatoes in hopes of developing the biggest tomatoes in town. When he succeeded, he began selling his plants for one dollar each and paid off his mortgage in six years. One dollar each! That one dollar would be equivalent to $16.12 in 2010 dollars!
I love my heirloom tomatoes, but would I pay $16.12 for a single plant? (With my tomato growing track record, not likely.)
Mortgage Lifters are easy to grow, indeterminate plants that just grow, and grow and grow. The tomatoes are sweet, not acidic, with very few seeds and are perfect for slicing. I used six-foot wood stakes to support my heirlooms, requiring use of a step ladder to pound into the ground. Mortgage lifter vines must be well-tied to support the large fruit. This plant, along with the three other heirlooms that share a raised bed filled with compost and cow manure, are the full height of the stakes now. The mortgage lifter plant is laden with fruit and I’m hoping for a great crop.
Although strangely shaped, my first mortgage lifter was a beautiful tomato, deserving of a special, but simple recipe.
This is a beautiful summer salad, utilizing heirloom tomatoes from the garden or farmers market, fresh basil, sweet corn and an aged sheep cheese.
The cheese I used was Bonnieview Farm’s Coomersdale, a semi-hard sheep cheese, similar in flavor to a pecorino. It’s made from a recipe originally from the Pyrennes. Bonnieview Farm is a 400-acre sheep dairy here in Craftsbury, Vermont, right down the road from where I’m staying for a couple of weeks.
More on Bonnieview Farm, its cheeses and sheep later—for now, here’s a simple and delicious summer salad to enjoy.
Mortgage Lifter Tomato, Corn and Sheep Cheese Salad
- 1 or 2 large heirloom tomatoes (mortgage lifter was perfect, but I’ve had this salad made with three or four different heirlooms on one plate)
- fresh basil
- 1 ear steamed sweet corn
- olive oil
- white wine vinegar
- salt and pepper
Slice tomatoes about a half inch in thickness and arrange on a platter. Cut the corn from the cob and sprinkle on top of the tomatoes. Chop the basil and layer on the tomatoes and corn. Grate or shave the cheese on top and drizzle with olive oil and vinegar. Season with salt and pepper and enjoy.
It’s best served with all ingredients at room temperature.
What’s your favorite heirloom tomato recipe?
I am settled into my temporary home in Vermont’s Northeast Kingdom for the next couple of weeks. As quiet and tranquil as it is, choices abound.
Today was the Vermont Cheese Festival in Burlington, Vermont, a tempting destination for a vacationing foodie. I didn’t go. I opted to spend the first day of my vacation staying local, getting to know the lay of the land, rather than taking a long road trip to a crowded, expensive event.
Besides, I have a few visits with local cheesemakers lined up, including an opportunity to make cheese at the local sheep dairy. I intend to visit goat, sheep and cheese dairies right around Craftsbury, and get to know my cheeses (and cheesemakers) up close and personal.
So, today, I read for a long time, then roamed the back roads for a bit, taking it all in.
I ended up at Bread and Puppet Theater, just in time to catch the circus.
I’m so excited.
Just a week ago, several of my prized squash plants were dying before my eyes. Wilting. Their life juices being sucked away by squash vine borers chewing and tunneling their way through the vines.
No more dreams of giant squashes for me. Only worries and regrets.
Today, although sustaining some damage, the vines have largely recovered. No more wilting and no more evidence of recent tunneling (as in, piles of chewed vine material). The vines continue to produce flowers, and some have set fruit.
Even a baby pink banana squash.
With the help of a reader and twitter follower, and my trusty Rodale’s Garden Problem Solver, it just may be possible that the affected varieties (blue hubbard and pink banana) survived, and several other varieties of squashes, pumpkins and cucumbers escaped infection completely.
Here’s what I did:
- buried affected vines a few feet from the core of each plant and watered the buried portions well, to encourage the vine to set new roots
- sliced open the affected vines with a sharp knife (lengthwise, about 1/3 of the way into the vine), looking for live caterpillars (I did not find any, although this step may have made the next step more effective)
- sprayed all squash vines (all varieties, affected and not) with spinosad (the brand I used was Captain Jack’s Deadbug Brew), especially saturating the open wounds created during my search for live caterpillars
- checked for eggs on vines and leaves (haven’t any yet)
- continued to water well all week, generally babying the ailing plants
- reapplied spinosad one more time
I’m new to growing squashes. I’m a self-confessed dreamer, when it comes to gardening; I may be celebrating too soon.
Counting my pumpkins before they’re ripe.
But I’m encouraged by the sheer will to live that I’m witnessing right now in the squash patch.
I’m sure those once-dying vines did, in fact, set new roots where I buried them. I’m hopeful that the very hungry caterpillars have had their fill and exited to the soil to hide out until next year. The plants, including the vines that are now partially dead, are looking healthier than ever.
The real celebration will be when I haul in one or two beautiful squashes, bending at the knees to be sure I don’t strain my back.
Just how do you cut a thirty-five pound squash, anyway?
I couldn’t escape the heat by running off to Minneapolis, Minnesota for a few days (it was in the nineties there as well), and there’s no escaping it here in New Hampshire. It’s July 18 and, by my memory, it’s been seriously hot since the Fourth of July weekend. An unusually long stretch, with very little rain to refresh either people or gardens.
With a few simple strategies, it’s not impossible to stay comfortable. Chilling out with a good read in the backyard was an excellent start today. Sipping an iced basil watermelon cooler took the afternoon heat down a few degrees, cooling my core while I relaxed.
Watermelon means summer to me. I crave it, more than any other summer food. In fact, I crave it several weeks before local watermelons are ripe on the vine. This summer, I tried to wait, but I just couldn’t.
I was inspired by a cooling drink of iced springwater with watermelon and basil that I enjoyed at the Mill City Farmers Market yesterday morning, before leaving Minneapolis to head home. Light, barely sweet with the flavor of fresh watermelon and basil, and incredibly refreshing, it was the perfect drink after a long walk to the market. Although it was just after 8 a.m., the temperature was rising well into the eighties already.
Watermelon may actually be one of the healthiest foods a body could choose to crave. It’s loaded with B vitamins and is a powerful source of the antioxidants beta-carotene, vitamins A and vitamin C. Antioxidant molecules are capable of preventing other molecules from oxidizing and producing free radicals that can damage cells, setting off a disease process in the body. Eating an antioxidant-rich diet is key to preventing cancer, heart disease and maintaining good health in general.
Watermelon is also rich in magnesium and potassium, making it a great natural alternative to energy drinks. And, of course, it’s hydrating as well.
And, delicious.
I froze one-inch chunks of watermelon, three inches deep, in the bottom of a quart-sized mason jar to give my cooler an extra chill. When the chunks were frozen and the jar frosty-cold, I added a chopped sprig of fresh basil from the garden and filled the jar to the brim with ice and cold water.
Delicious, cool and refreshing to the core.
Here’s to another week of hot, sunny, beautiful summer days.
Now, where did I put that book?
Minneapolis, Minnesota has been my home for a few days, while here for a conference. It’s been difficult to get a good feeling for the city, since most of my time has been spent shivering in air-conditioned, windowless hotel conference rooms.
Today, I carved out a little time for an early evening stroll through the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden.
Tomorrow morning, an early walk to the Mill City Farmers Market before the last conference session of the week. It promises to be a nice way to round out this trip, and get a sense of the city’s local food scene before heading back to New Hampshire.
The soil has been close to bone dry here in New Hampshire, with daily temperatures in the high eighties and, sometimes, high nineties. Tending the garden has taken on new meaning.
Life and death, specifically.
I normally keep a close eye on the weather and only water if it’s clearly necessary. City water is expensive, and conserving water is important to me, no matter what the price. As a gardener, I embrace the challenges of building rich, organic soil and mulching as much as possible to retain moisture. During a dry spell, like this one, I focus my efforts on my vegetable garden and perennials and herbs that I’ve planted this year. Everything else was on its own.
I’ve lost a few perennials—well-established astilbes that I wasn’t paying attention to at all—and about half of my blueberries are seriously scorched, with shriveled up berries. I have never babied my blueberries, other than tossing a little mulch their way. I suppose last week’s intense heat sapped my energy just enough that I wasn’t noticing the death and destruction underway in other parts of the yard. (Just like I managed to not notice the work of the squash vine borers…)
Today, as I leave town for a few days in Minneapolis, it’s raining in New Hampshire. It’s cooler as well. It’s a gentle, refreshing rain—the kind that is pleasant to work outside in.
Television and radio announcers are making sweeping statements about thirsty lawns and gardens welcoming the rain.
Of, course, that’s true. They may be overstating the situation, at least in my part of the state. But, I’m not fooled.
A half-inch below the soil’s surface, it’s dusty still, and bone dry.
I’m greedy for water.
Perhaps it’s because I’ll be away for a few days and will worry about my garden, even though a friend will look in on it at least once for me. Perhaps it’s because I read with sadness Ozark Homesteader’s account of devastating garden losses during her recent three-week rafting adventure through the Grand Canyon. Maybe it’s because my two-week vacation is coming up soon.
How much can a gardener lean on friends?
Does worrying do any good?
I’ve prepared as best I can, and I’ll do the same before my vacation. I moved all containers to the cooler, north side of the house, where they’ll be slower to dry out. Let them be without sun for a few days; they’ll live. Most wouldn’t survive overnight after a sunny day, without a drink. Mulch is piled high in the vegetable garden, and I’ve set up the hose with my best sprayer (not the one that sprays backwards while it sprays the garden). I watered deeply this morning, even during the light rain that was falling.
How easy other summers seem now, from this vantage point. A few hot days, followed by a few soaking thunderstorms or a day or two of steady rain. Sunny days; rainy nights.
But, wait. Didn’t we complain last year of too much rain?
Were we greedy for sun last year?
Greens abound at this time of year, in the garden, the CSA share and at local farmers markets. Here’s cool and easy way to take advantage of local veggies and herbs, while taking a break from summer salads. These crispy green, nutrition-packed spring rolls will keep for a day or so and make an easy picnic or brown bag work lunch.
Keep a package of rice paper wraps in the cupboard and experiment a little. Meat and fish lovers could easily add shrimp or a little chopped, roasted pork or beef. A more protein-rich vegetarian option might be to include finely chopped, marinated tofu. Anything that can be chopped and piled together is fair game. Rice paper wraps are easy to work with, requiring only a bowl of hot water and a clean dish towel as a surface.
I made my spring rolls outside in the fresh air.
No Cook Veggie and Herb Spring Rolls
- 1 package rice paper wraps (from the Asian section of the grocery store or health food store)
- 3 cups chopped lettuce
- 3-4 tablespoons chopped basil
- 3-4 tablespoons chopped cilantro
- 6-8 small radishes
- 1/2 mild chili pepper (I used poblano)
- 3 cloves chopped garlic (I used fresh garlic from my CSA)
- 4 tablespoons chopped roasted peanuts
After washing and chopping the ingredients, prepare a bowl of hot water, approximately 120 degrees F. (I used hot tap water, giving it a one minute boost in the microwave.) The bowl should be large enough to accommodate the diameter of the rice paper wraps.
Immerse a rice paper wrap in the hot water for about 10 seconds, until it falls limp in your hand.
Place it on a clean dish towel, and pile lettuce, herbs, garlic and peanuts in the center. Fold up from the bottom, in from the left and right, and then roll up to close. The rice paper wrap will stick to itself.
Rice paper wraps are very durable to work with. Although they look delicate, it’s not easy to tear them and the work goes fairly quickly. The most challenging part is keeping the little pile of ingredients in one place during the rolling process.
Place finished wraps on a plate as you work, and chill for a few minutes while you make the sauce.
Dipping Sauce
- 2 teaspoons roasted sesame oil
- 2 tablespoons rice vinegar
- 3 tablespoons soy sauce
- 1/4 lime, squeezed
- 3 cloves crushed garlic
- 1 tablespoon finely chopped roasted peanuts
- 1 tablespoon toasted sesame seeds
Combine all ingredients in a small dipping bowl and let sit for 20 minutes or so to combine flavors.
Next time I make these, I think I’ll add some grilled, marinated tofu to make them a little more substantial. They’re light, fresh and crispy—a nice summer appetizer or light lunch.
It’s not all bad news in my garden. In spite of pests, drought and scorching heat, most vegetables are thriving and many flowers are in bloom. I offer a few photos from a stroll through Sunday’s garden, as evidence that not all is lost.
I’m afraid I stopped too often to smell the flowers.
I enjoyed a few too many dreamy strolls, imagining those huge squashes and other amazing vegetables that I’d be enjoying in just a few months. In an effort to balance the daily stresses of life with periods of intentional peace and quiet in the garden, I missed some important clues of trouble in the squash patch.
Then came the searing heat that New Hampshire has experienced during this last week. Though I worked diligently to keep my gardens watered and mulched, many plants wilted in the heat of the day anyway.
Herein lies the problem. I naively attributed the wilting blue hubbard and pink banana squash vines to the heat.
In fact, for a few days, they seemed to perk back up with a good evening soak. Then, most vines were unable to recover, remaining permanently wilted. I wondered about squash vine borer but, not until today did I take a minute to consult a reference to confirm the diagnosis.
I reexamined the vines and clearly saw the sawdust-like debris left by the squash vine borer’s caterpillars as they tunneled into the vines.
I carefully sliced open the vines, but did not find any caterpillars inside, leaving me to believe they’ve, perhaps, already exited and burrowed into the soil. My reference, Rodale’s Garden Problem Solver, suggested injecting the vines with BT (Bacillus thuringiensis), but that seemed likely to be effective only if caterpillars might still be at work in the vines (or not yet at work).
What I now know, is that two early actions on my part might have prevented this problem:
- One would have been to use row cover to prevent the squash vine borer moth from laying its eggs on the vines in the first place.
- The second would have been to watch for little reddish-brown eggs on the main stem of the plant, near the base.
Just a little less dreaming, and a little more attention to the business of gardening.
I sometimes wonder about the danger of boasting and whether it can lead to failure. Is there such a thing as karma, or some sort of in-this-lifetime version of it? It’s true, I boasted that I might need a larger oven to accommodate my stuffed squashes. Maybe even a small pickup truck to deliver them to friends, who would surely be clamoring for a pink banana squash of their own. One little moth has taught me—once again—the importance of remaining humble.
Learning is a process. Hard things happen along the way.
There may be hope. I buried each of the remaining, healthy vines in soil and watered them in well, in hopes that the vines will set new roots and live on.
The good news is that other squash varieties in my garden are, I’m pretty sure, unaffected.
Balance is everything, in gardening as in other aspects of life. An evening routine of watering and dreaming to unwind from the workday is a fine idea. A morning inspection, plant by plant, might be an equally good idea.
Winter squashes are new to my garden and I realize now that it would have behooved me to do a little research in advance. I had enough general knowledge to see the recurring wilting as a warning sign; had I known to be on the alert in late June for flying moth activity and eggs on the vines, I could have averted disaster.
Or, near disaster. Time will tell.
