(Photo from last year’s garden)
By the end of August, overwhelmed by heat, weeds and the reality that there could have been a much greater harvest had there been more knowledge, more time spent in the dirt, and more valiant effort in fending off the morning glories, I promised myself that I would spend the dark months reading gardening books. I’d join the ranks of the gardeners eagerly mapping out where the onions will take root in relation to the green beans. Perhaps I’d order seeds through a catalog and not last minute at my local nursery as I’ve done in all the years past. This year I pleaded with myself to read the books so that by spring not every action I take in the garden would be a guess.
It’s April now, I have a few seeds started, from packages I bought hastily at my local nursery, the garden is full of weeds and empty tomato cages and I’m pouring through gardening books wishing I had started this back in January. It seems once again, I’m starting the growing season feeling behind before I’ve even begun. Using the knowledge from all the years past as my guide. It seems, however, that no matter how many years I’ve been at this I still feel as if I’m just beginning.
This sort of hasty, frantic gardening is not how I want to spend my spring. When I first began sticking seeds in the dirt and hoping someday fresh food would emerge my intentions were so very simple: Teach my young children that food doesn’t just magically appear in our kitchens or in front of their faces. I wanted them to see the process, to be a part of it. To get dirt stuck under their tiny fingernails and delight in the first set of leaves formed from the seed we tucked into the dirt. To taste the unmatched flavor of a snap pea plucked from the tender vines and wrap their fingers around the curlicue arms that reach for stability to grow taller and stronger. With great hope and the blissful naivety of early parenthood I thought perhaps involving them in the story would make cherry tomatoes more desirable than skittles. Years later I’ve resigned myself and them to the great knowing that both are desirable and that’s okay.
While my days have seemingly lengthened due to the fact that I’m no longer chasing toddlers, scraping cemented cereal off the hardwood floor or bandaging skinned knees, I still have spring aspirations outside of my garden. Like nettle and morel foraging, and watching the lilacs swell to their symphonic crescendo of bloom. And then of course there are baseball games, and play practice, and book edits, and laundry, and dinner, and figuring out how to raise three teenagers (one is still technically a pre-teen but she’s advanced and has seemed to skip right to the teen years) in a world that can feel like it’s falling apart right in front of our eyes.
So what if my intention for the garden is not about maximizing the production but a space for mediation? To dig into the dirt for both the purpose of substance through food and for the reminder that I am a part of the process that can bear fruit. It is both not fully on me and not just left to the work of the earth. In the garden our partnership is on full display. I create a nourishing bed to lay the seed. I’ll step in to provide a drink if the skies are clear and the sun is hot. I’ll do my best to protect the tender plants from those that threaten to invade the surrounding dirt and beyond that I’ll sit back and witness.
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Yesterday I drove an hour outside of Seattle to visit a new friend, Lindsay, who spends her days tending to plants at the Duvall Herb Farm. I’ve been feeling the urge to want to learn more about medicinal plants and herbs and perhaps devote a large portion of the garden to this new curiosity so I asked Lindsay if I could come visit and see what she is growing.
Our growing season is already off to a slow start as we’ve been experiencing much cooler temps for this time of year then normal. Lindsay and I took cover from the rain and hail in the warmth of the greenhouse to see all the plant babies growing with the help of heat pads. I really should have written down the name of the plants because even now as I want to tell you about some of them I met yesterday I can barely remember one name. Lindsay plans to send me a list of the plants she’ll have ready to sell at the Seattle Tilth plant sale and at that point I’ll pay more attention to names. I’m eager to get to know new plants and work with them to create teas, tinctures, and tonics to fuel our mind, body, and souls. That’s a hefty task but I trust the plants are up to it.
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Even in the midst of the cooler temperatures spring is arriving. On the way home from errands the other day I pulled the car over near a dandelion patch I noticed in full bloom. I drank all the water from my water bottle so I had a place to put the dandelions in, then quickly harvested about two cups worth of dandelion heads. Sometimes I wonder what others driving by think of me as I’m collecting weeds but my hope is that this is the sort of practice that will catch on. Also, the older I get the more comfortable, no scratch that, I am downright delighted by the idea of me being seen as a bit of a crazy lady who pulls over the car for plants and talks to them before bringing them home with me.
Not sure how this all came to be but earlier in the day I got an idea for tempura dandelion flowers and once those ideas hit I can not easily let them go. The lightly battered and fried flowers are tender with a bitterness that I tamed by drizzling honey over the top. The batter here uses rice flour but all purpose would work as well. The batter should be quite thin, almost like crepe batter.
Tempura Dandelion with Honey
4 cups dandelion flowers
1 cup rice flour (or all purpose)
1 egg yolk
1 cup cold water
Salt
Neutral oil, for frying (you’ll need about 3 cups - depending on the size of your pan)
Honey, for drizzling
Soak the dandelion heads in water with a bit of salt to thoroughly clean them. Rinse and drain them and let dry.
In a medium bowl whisk together the flour, egg yolk, and water. Add a hefty pinch of salt.
Add enough oil to a small saucepan to cover at least 3 inches from the bottom. Heat the oil to 350*F (or if you don’t have a thermometer, heat the oil on medium high for about 7 to 10 minutes then drop in a bit of the batter. If it bubbles up and starts to turn golden after about 30 seconds to 1 minute you’re ready to fry.
Add the dandelion heads to the batter then stir to coat. Carefully drop the heads, one by one, into the pan, frying in batches so as not to overcrowd the pan and drop the heat of the oil.
Fry until golden, about 1 to 2 minutes then use a slotted spoon or strainer to remove to a paper towel lined plate. Sprinkle them with salt while warm.
While warm, place the tempura on a plate and drizzle with honey.
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In the wild
Outside of the garden spring flourishes in wild foods that are so fun to find and forage. With these ingredients I’m about to share you’ll likely not have to look very hard to find them, unlike morels that delight and disappoint me every year with their elusiveness. Since spring is the season of new growth and an abundance of wild edibles I want to alert your attention to a couple of ingredients that are probably growing near you right now that are quite delicious.
Maple Blossoms
Maple blossoms are a versatile ingredient that can be used in a variety of culinary applications. These delicate blooms have a subtle sweetness and a floral flavor that pairs perfectly with a range of dishes, from salads to desserts. While there aren’t many recipes using maple blossoms the ones that are out there generally tend to play up their sweetness. Battered and fried blossoms with powdered sugar is the most popular recipe I’ve seen but I also like them lightly sautéed and added to rice bowls or salads.
Maple blossoms are a rich source of antioxidants, vitamins, and minerals. They are particularly high in potassium, which can help to regulate blood pressure and support healthy heart function. They are completely safe to consume, as long as they are sourced from healthy, pesticide-free trees. It is important to note, however, that over-harvesting maple blossoms can harm the tree and reduce its ability to produce sap for maple syrup. As such, it is important to practice ethical foraging habits and only gather blossoms from a small number of trees, leaving plenty of blooms for pollination and future growth.
Spruce Tips
Spruce tips are a favorite spring ingredient. Most fir and pine varieties are also edible and each have a unique flavor profile. Spruce tips are bright green and have a fresh, citrusy flavor that pairs well with both sweet and savory dishes. They are great in salads and soups, and can be used as a seasoning for roasted meats or fish.
Spruce tips are a rich source of vitamin C, which can help to boost your immune system and promote healthy skin and hair. They also contain antioxidants and anti-inflammatory compounds, which can help to reduce the risk of chronic diseases and support overall health and wellbeing.
They are safe to consume as long as they are harvested from healthy, pesticide-free trees. It is important to note that spruce tips are only available for a short period of time each year, usually in the spring, so it is important to plan your harvesting accordingly. Do not over harvest as this will impede the healthy growth of the tree and be sure to harvest from different parts of multiple trees so as not to stress the tree.
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What I’m reading, watching, eating….
Forgive me if I’ve already shared this. I’ve been telling everyone about this episode for months and I always forget who I’ve told and who I’ve not. If I’ve already mentioned it here and you haven’t listened, well then it’s a good thing I’m telling you again.
It’s the conversation with Krista Tippett and Janine Benyus, author of Biomimicry. This book was written in the 90’s and yet her work is still just as relevant and needed today. She and her organization work with companies to create systems, products, tools, resources that look to nature as their guide. It’s such an important lesson in putting ourselves in the midst of the natural world, not outside of it in a place of dominance or that of a conductor. There is so much that we need to learn from observing the way the natural world cares for itself and all of us.
I’m currently reading, Returning the Self to Nature by Jeanine M. Canty. In it she takes a ecopsychological perspective on our collective narcissism as a culture and how that has negatively impacted our relationship to the natural world and the health of the planet. I’m halfway through and it’s challenging but important.
Something I don’t talk much about here but it’s a constant thought, worry, delight, etc. in my mind, is parenting. Cliches are indeed true for a reason but I still try to avoid them but there is no denying right now that parenting teenagers is tough. Guys, I’m really not cool. I’ve never experienced so many eye rolls, glares, and emotions in my life and yet I know this is all part of the process. This, however, does not make the job any easier. My editor pointed me to a new book my Mary Louise Kelley called, It. Goes. So. Fast. There is comfort in those validating your experience and those who have gone before you and can say, it gets better. When this book was written Mary’s boys are the exact same ages as mine are now, so I feel like we are walking this road together and that is bringing me comfort.
I also recently picked up this unusual yet stunning book of mushrooms by composer John Cage. It’s actually kind of not a book on mushrooms but a stunning collection of words, art, and diary entries of a man who loves mushrooms.
John Cage: A Mycological Foray
Have you all watched Jury Duty yet? I’ve not finished it so no spoilers but oh my word I don’t know why I’m finding it so delightful. Everyone is acting except for one, endearing soul, Ronald.
That’s plenty of me for now but stay tuned for next week when the lilacs are bursting and that is ALL I will want to talk about.
A wonderful read, Ashley.
I will make these next spring. Yum....