I planted, I harvested, I cooked, I learned. Plus recipes!
For most of us gardeners, no matter how devoted we are, there comes a point in the season when we’ve just had enough. For me, it usually happens literally overnight: One day, I’m out there weeding and planning new, fast-growing, cool-weather crops like lettuce and cilantro, and the next morning, I wake up and think “I’m done.” This year, garden fatigue hit me on Saturday, October 7th, and I never did get in those lettuce seeds. A gardening friend in Nyack, New York, scolded me about this. “What’s the big deal?” he asked. “I literally just go out and fling a handful of seeds on a bare patch of ground, and the next thing I know: salad.” Well, that’s nice for him. Even that slim level of forward-looking commitment seemed beyond me this year.
That being said, as I write this at the outset of November, I’m still picking string beans, lima beans, sorrel (a perennial), and peppers. My Brussels sprouts look ready to harvest, though they’re disappointingly small; maybe I should have fertilized them. I have some very healthy volunteer tatsoi, a second crop of beets nearly ready to pull, celery root ready for harvest, about fifteen enormous butternut squashes that I’ll bring in once the vines have fully died, and a few dozen leeks that, I’ve learned, I can just leave in the ground and pick when I need them. (Unless there’s a serious cold snap like the day of sub-zero temperatures we had last winter, it’s been my experience that leeks will overwinter in the ground.)
This was my second year of attempting to gear my garden toward feeding me and my husband as much as possible year-round, and I’ve learned a few things about what works, and what doesn’t. The principal lesson, which I really should have already known, is never assume. Just because you didn’t have squash beetles last year doesn’t mean you won’t have them this year. (This year, they destroyed my cucumber crop after I’d pickled just four jars’ worth.) Just because your butternut squashes didn’t grow well in the spent asparagus patch two years ago doesn’t mean they won’t thrive there now.
Besides my mammoth butternuts, my biggest successes this year were these:
Onions
Last year, I planted only red onions. This year, I planted reputedly long-keeping varieties of both red and yellow. I have about twenty onion braids hanging in my basement, and if last year’s experience holds true, I won’t have to buy onions until May. But in the “never assume” department, it should be noted that while most of my red onions last year were nearly softball-sized, this year they were all disappointingly shallot-sized. The yellow onions did far better.
Garlic
I had a very nice crop, now stored in a big bowl in the basement. It should hold us until next year’s crop comes in.
String Beans
I’ve had beans for months — first, some bush beans planted early, and now, growing on the trellis formerly occupied by my sugar snap peas, a crop of climbing rattlesnake beans and a mysterious, long purple bean that I don’t recall ordering, no less planting, but it’s delicious. Last year, I waited too long to get the climbers into the ground, planting seeds only after the pea vines were fully dead, and I’d removed them. Consequently, while my bean vines were vigorous, they flowered late, after many of the pollinators had disappeared, resulting in very few actual beans. Not so now. Because I made sure to pull out my pea vines the moment they’d stopped making peas, I planted my climbing beans nearly two weeks earlier than I did last year. Now I’m picking baskets of beans every couple of days, and I’ve got several freezer bags of them in storage for the winter.
Some disappointments from this season, besides the cukes done in early by beetles:
Cabbages
You know how you can forget about a cabbage in the back of your fridge, and three months later, you find it, and it’s still fine? I assumed that I’d be able to store my own cabbages nearly indefinitely in my basement fridge. Sadly, no. They’ve rotted. I am dismayed, but not daunted. I researched cabbage storage and learned that I made some mistakes that I won’t repeat. First, cabbage evidently likes moisture, so it should be stored in the crisper drawer (which I didn’t do), in a plastic bag that’s left open so moisture can get in (I sealed my bags). Most importantly, one expert informed me that early-season cabbages (which mine were) can store for about two months, whereas late-season cabbages can store for up to six months. Note to self: Plant cabbages later next summer.
Sugar Snaps
Mine grew perfectly well this year, but I didn’t like the variety I planted. They were tough, and not very sweet. I chose this variety because it was advertised as growing only about four or five feet tall. The previous year, my plants had climbed all the way up my six-foot high trellis, and then flopped over, creating a huge mass of tangled vines at the trellis’ top, full of peas I had trouble reaching. But what’s the good in being able to easily pick a lot of peas that don’t taste so great? Next year, I’m going to hunt for varieties that boast of their sweetness. And invest in a stepladder.
Carrots
A month ago, when I went to harvest my carrots, all the stems came off in my hands, because the carrots themselves had rotted in the ground. My best guess as to the cause of this disaster is overwatering. It was a fairly wet summer to begin with, but also, my garden sprinkling system (which is set to run for a half an hour every night at 2:00 am), soaks some sections of my garden more thoroughly than others. Next year, I’ll plant my carrots in drier terrain.
Fruit
It’s painful to even talk about this. I have some dozen fruit trees, including apples, pears, peaches, plums, and cherries. While the birds always beat us to the cherries and plums, we often get generous harvests of pears, apples, and peaches. This year started well, with lots of small fruits forming on all the trees. And then, over the course of a couple of days, while the fruits were still small, hard, and green, squirrels ate every last one of them. We know because we saw them at it. Chasing them away just stalled them temporarily. This has never happened before. My theory is that, because there were very few acorns last fall, the squirrels had nothing else to eat in the spring. I’m sorry they were hungry, but I hope my green fruit gave them stomachaches.
Thank goodness for friends and neighbors. One neighbor with a bumper crop of apples gave us a couple of full bags of Empires and Galas, and we … um … took advantage of a different, seasonal neighbor’s departure in the fall to relieve his lawn of another couple of bags’ worth (we call these our “poached apples”), and now we have several tubs of homemade applesauce in our freezer.
In terms of preservation for the winter, I did best this year with freezing. Besides some mediocre sugar snaps and a lot of delicious string beans, I experimented with freezing grated zucchini. Several people online swear that frozen shredded zucchini works wonderfully in zucchini breads and tossed into soups. Here’s hoping.
And now for a confession: I’m terrified of canning. It has to be done absolutely properly, or you run the risk of offing yourself and others at your table by serving a platter of botulism. Having learned, to my disappointment, that canning can’t be done in an Instant Pot, I went so far as to buy a pressure cooker last winter that I thought would work (it popped up on my screen when I searched for “pressure canners”), only to learn later that it won’t suffice. I now know that fool-proof(ish) pressure canners generally run over $300 a pop and are covered in intimidating valves, gauges, and hefty screw mechanisms that presumably prevent their tops from exploding through the kitchen ceiling. I considered asking my husband to get me one for Christmas, and then I found myself thinking, “Do I really want my big present to be something that will cause me a lot of anxiety only to result in some jars of canned beets?” In a word, no. I’m going to stick with freezing, cellar-storing, and pickling.
Just as I was done with gardening (or at least planting) on October 7th, now it’s November 1st, and I’m done with my gardening musings for 2023. Thanks for reading.
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RECIPE: Addictive Brussels Sprouts Salad
- Yield: Serves 6 to 8 1x
Ingredients
For the salad:
- 24 large Brussels sprouts
- 1 cup walnut pieces
- 4 ounces Parmesan cheese, finely grated (about 3/4 cup)
For the dressing:
- 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar
- 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
- Salt and pepper to taste
- 9 tablespoons olive oil
Instructions
- Using a box grater, a mandoline, or a food processor with its shredder blade, shred the Brussels sprouts. Place in a serving bowl.
- In a skillet over medium heat, or in the oven or a toaster oven set at 375 degrees, cook the walnut pieces until they darken in color, but be careful not to burn them. When they’ve cooled, add them to the shredded Brussels sprouts, along with the grated Parmesan cheese. Mix thoroughly.
- Make the dressing: In a medium bowl or a large measuring cup, mix the apple cider vinegar, Dijon mustard, and salt and pepper. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil, whisking constantly, until the dressing comes together.
- Pour the dressing over the salad, toss, and serve.
RECIPE: Green Bean and Celery Root Soup
- Yield: 7 cups 1x
Ingredients
- 6 scallions, sliced
- 6 shallots, chopped
- 2 garlic cloves, minced
- 3 tablespoons butter
- 1/2 of a large celery root, peeled and diced (about 2 cups)
- 4 cups chicken or vegetable broth
- 2 lbs. green beans, cut in 1 1/2-inch pieces
- 1/2 to 1 cup yogurt, cream, or half-and-half (to taste)
- 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
- 1/2 teaspoon dried tarragon, or 1 tablespoon fresh tarragon, minced
- 1/4 teaspoon pepper
- Salt to taste
- Yogurt and chopped chives for serving
Instructions
- Melt the butter in a skillet on medium heat. Add the scallions, shallots, and garlic, and cook, stirring, until tender. Set aside.
- Cook the diced celery root in boiling water for 15 minutes, until tender. Drain.
- In a soup pot, bring the broth to a boil. Add the beans and simmer for 20 to 30 minutes, until soft. Stir in the scallion mixture and the celery root, along with the yogurt, cream, or half-and-half. Stir to mix.
- Using an immersion blender, puree the soup thoroughly. (Alternatively, the soup can be pureed in batches in a blender or food processor, then returned to the pot.)
- Bring the soup to a boil. Add the lemon juice and tarragon. Let the soup simmer for 1 or 2 minutes, then serve with a dollop of yogurt and a sprinkling of chives.
