As is becoming the norm, chaotic precipitation swings have tossed us from “parched distress” to “favorable for fungi.”
After three long, soaking rains — just like we’d been dreaming about — we spied a lone mushroom yesterday growing under the weeping cherry.
At least we have great drainage almost everywhere on our property, so plants of all sizes are happy, without being flooded. Even the lettuce that was munched down to the stalks by the neighborhood woodchuck has rebounded.
We’ve enjoyed lettuce and tomato on sandwiches already, and are looking forward to a full salad to accompany a light fresh-tomato-and-basil sauce over pasta.
We’ve picked several quarts of tomatoes so far — tasty, round Riesentraube and meaty San Marzano. They pair surprisingly well chopped up with steamed beans drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with fresh, chopped basil.
Of course, we can’t resist popping them into our mouths as we pass by, either.
We’ve managed to stay on top of the summer squash, plucking them when they’re still small and tender — except for three that got away toward club-land. The last had curled down under the main stem that had grown out over the edge of the raised bed. (Now how was I supposed to see it nestled down there buried in shade?)
The biggest treat of the summer so far has been fresh edamame. The tall bushy soybeans are loaded with fuzzy pods. I planted three varieties with staggered maturity, and the first was ready this week.
I found they’re a bit tricky to snap off without tearing the stem, but I soon had picked more than comes in a typical frozen bag. After a quick rinse, we steamed them for 5 minutes or so, then drained and dusted them with fresh cracked salt.
We sat, with the bowl between us, and made short work scraping the fresh soybeans out of their pods and into our mouths. Yum!
I can’t wait until the other varieties are mature, just so we can compare the flavor nuances. I’m also looking forward to freezing them (now that we have Kevin’s grandmother’s blanching tricks up our sleeves) so we can savor them by a winter fire, too.
Who knew a vegetable we’d never tried until our thirties could be so delicious? We’re so grateful that a now-defunct restaurant downtown served them during its long-ago grand opening.
I don’t want a growing season to go by again without them in the garden.
Next up? Grapes!
We’ve caught the tantalizing orbs turning varying shades of red and purple, peeking out from behind dense foliage.
Let’s face it: The recent rains were favorable for the entire garden, not just fungi.
After three long, soaking rains — just like we’d been dreaming about — we spied a lone mushroom yesterday growing under the weeping cherry.
At least we have great drainage almost everywhere on our property, so plants of all sizes are happy, without being flooded. Even the lettuce that was munched down to the stalks by the neighborhood woodchuck has rebounded.
We’ve enjoyed lettuce and tomato on sandwiches already, and are looking forward to a full salad to accompany a light fresh-tomato-and-basil sauce over pasta.
We’ve picked several quarts of tomatoes so far — tasty, round Riesentraube and meaty San Marzano. They pair surprisingly well chopped up with steamed beans drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with fresh, chopped basil.
Of course, we can’t resist popping them into our mouths as we pass by, either.
We’ve managed to stay on top of the summer squash, plucking them when they’re still small and tender — except for three that got away toward club-land. The last had curled down under the main stem that had grown out over the edge of the raised bed. (Now how was I supposed to see it nestled down there buried in shade?)
The biggest treat of the summer so far has been fresh edamame. The tall bushy soybeans are loaded with fuzzy pods. I planted three varieties with staggered maturity, and the first was ready this week.
I found they’re a bit tricky to snap off without tearing the stem, but I soon had picked more than comes in a typical frozen bag. After a quick rinse, we steamed them for 5 minutes or so, then drained and dusted them with fresh cracked salt.
We sat, with the bowl between us, and made short work scraping the fresh soybeans out of their pods and into our mouths. Yum!
I can’t wait until the other varieties are mature, just so we can compare the flavor nuances. I’m also looking forward to freezing them (now that we have Kevin’s grandmother’s blanching tricks up our sleeves) so we can savor them by a winter fire, too.
Who knew a vegetable we’d never tried until our thirties could be so delicious? We’re so grateful that a now-defunct restaurant downtown served them during its long-ago grand opening.
I don’t want a growing season to go by again without them in the garden.
Next up? Grapes!
We’ve caught the tantalizing orbs turning varying shades of red and purple, peeking out from behind dense foliage.
Let’s face it: The recent rains were favorable for the entire garden, not just fungi.
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