Always on the lookout for cold-hardy, richly-flavored greens, and a sucker for anything billed as "popular in southern Italy", I tried a new one this year.
Spigariello liscia in early October. The plants have set a few buds that quickly opened to flowers, but it's the leaves I'm after!
The dusky blue leaves are soft like a puppy's ear. Ready for steaming, braising, soups or stir fries.
Remove the leaf's center rib — it's as easy as removing the string from a sugar snap pea. The rib's toughness detracts from the delicate texture of the leaves.
I'm a big kale fan. Though I'll eat almost any kind, cooked almost any way, I grow only one variety, the beautiful (and delicious) lacinato which is also called black kale, toscano and cavolo nero.
Always on the lookout for cold-hardy, richly-flavored greens, and a sucker for anything billed as "popular in southern Italy", I tried a new one this year: spigariello liscia. Johnny's Seeds described it as a leaf broccoli, similar to broccoli raab.
I spent most of the summer waiting for it to make little heads like broccoli raab. All the while it was growing and growing and growing. By mid-August most of the plants were well over 4 feet tall and still hadn't thought about putting out any buds.
It was on Bronwyn Weaver and Bob Archibald's amazing farm, Heritage Prairie that I finally learned what this plant is all about. The farm is located about 40 miles west of Chicago in Elburn, IL. Its market garden provides vegetables for many Chicago-area restaurants and several farmers markets, including Chicago's Green City Market and the Geneva Green Market. For 2010 they're also adding a CSA. There's a market on-site where you can buy the farm's in-season vegetables, as well as pre-made dinners and all sorts of locally-produced foods including cheeses and eggs, beef, chicken, pork, and honey from Bronwyn's bees. The farm hosts weddings and other special events, too.
While on a tour of the greenhouses and fields with farm manager Ted Richter, we passed a of row greens that I immediately recognized as spigariello liscia. Ted said that like me, he'd tried it on a lark and it had proven to be extremely popular with some of Chicago's best chefs. He said it's all about the leaves, not the buds (ah!) and showed me how they harvest it by stripping the leaves off the stalks. Though the leaves have a flavor similar to kale, they are much more tender than kale, with a felt-like texture.
So I came home and began using my own spigariello liscia. Move over, kale.
After harvesting potatoes from my new bin, I started to think that setup — made from a three-bay compost bin — looked a lot like a coldframe. And the soil inside is better than any of the soil in my regular garden. So once the potatoes had been harvested, I seeded the area with a bunch of different cold-weather crops.
Front to back:
Bed 1. Spinach, romaine lettuce, cilantro, kale and radicchio
Bed 2. An Italian green called Spigariello Liscia (which I'll write about soon) and more spinach
Bed 3. All spinach
I put some of the seedlings from the coldframe into the bed inside my greenhouse. In early December, this bed will get covered with Garden Quilt, too.
Once those potatoes came out, I started to think that bin looked a lot like a coldframe. And the soil inside is better than any of the soil in my regular garden. So once the potatoes had been harvested, I seeded the area with a bunch of different cold-weather crops. The seeds went in in August while it was still quite warm, so I was diligent about watering every day and also kept the entire area covered with shade netting (which we will be selling in spring — yeah!).
The lift-up cold frame covers have been framed in, but the panels themselves are still "on the drawing board". There's some poly in front of the frame, which was an initial attempt to arrive at a "fast and cheap" solution. We have decided that snow load and wind is going to make that problematic. I think we will wind up with some sort of semi-rigid hinged panels.
For now, and through most of November, I'll simply have a single length of Garden Quilt right on top of the foliage. (That photo with the Garden Quilt is of a much younger me!) If you garden where it gets cold and you haven't used Garden Quilt, you're missing out on at least two more months of growing season.
At the end of November, we'll add the panels, leaving the Garden Quilt in place. I've learned from Eliot Coleman's book The Winter Harvest Handbook, that with two layers of insulation, one very close to the foliage and one overhead, plants grow as if they're in a climate that's two zones warmer.
Looking at the photo of this compost bin/potato bin/cold frame, you may be wondering…
1. How does she get to the back of it? Well that is a bit of a problem. If you're making a cold frame from scratch, don't make it this deep. You can see a couple bare areas where I've stepped. Now I have some flat rocks in there to stand on, and with one foot outside and one foot inside I can reach everything just fine.
2. Why did she plant everything so close together? It's always hard to know whether you'll get good germination or not — especially in the summer. This year, every one of these seeds germinated. So I have dug out lots and moved them into my greenhouse beds. My neighbor has also taken lots for transplanting into her own greenhouse and garden. So right now it's not as crowded as it is in the photo.
3. Doesn't she realize the north wind will come whistling right in between those wooden slats? Well, yes. So this year we'll wrap the back and sides with some of that poly. I want to be able to remove it in the spring and preserve the air circulation for potatoes next summer (and in case this ever goes back to a compost bin at some point).
If all this looks intriguing, but a little more involved than you're up for, we do offer a ready-made cold frame that's very popular and we have some other pretty interesting cold frame ideas in the works for 2010.
Do you use a cold frame? We'd love to hear how you're using it. And if you wouldn't mind taking a photo of it, we'd love to see it, too!
I was 50 before I discovered dahlias. Part of it was about being a flower snob. Dahlias (like glads) were "out" for many years. But I'm sorry to say that it's also about climate change.
This variety is called Who Dun It.
I was 50 before I discovered dahlias. Part of it was about being a flower snob. Dahlias (like glads) were "out" for many years.
But I'm sorry to say that it's also about climate change. Though my garden hasn't moved, our hard frosts now come about four weeks later than they did 20 years ago. For dahlias this makes all the difference, because they really hit their stride in late August and continue right through into early October.
A week or two ago, with a hard frost in the forecast, I asked my nephew to come over and help me dig out the dahlia tubers and get them into the basement. You can get by doing this after a frost or two, but I dislike handling that mushy, post-frost foliage.
Storing the tubers in a cool basement is easy. Here's how you dig them out:
Here in Vermont it's easy to tell when the garlic should be planted. Look up at the hillsides. If they're a blaze of red, orange and yellow, it's time.
In most parts of the country, late fall is the best time of year to plant garlic. The cloves establish roots before the ground freezes and when spring comes the plants are ready to charge out of the ground. Bulbs usually mature by late July.
This year, garlic sold so fast on our website that we ran out in early October, but we've ordered more of the Garlic Collection. You might be lucky enough to find it locally — but hurry!
Here in Vermont it's easy to tell when the garlic should be planted. Look up at the hillsides. If they're a blaze of red, orange and yellow, it's time. I'm always saying how easy it is to plant garlic. Now I have some photos to prove it (see slideshow, below). Planting enough garlic to last 12 months took me an hour. I might put in a few minutes weeding in early June, and I usually spend about 10 minutes cutting off the flower heads when they appear in early July. But, other than that, there's nothing to do until the heads are ready to harvest.
I found one of my favorite potatoes while on a garden tour in England about 10 years ago. On our way through the Yorkshire countryside on a soggy spring day, our small group stopped at a pub for dinner.
Potatoes produce lots of food in a small space, with little effort.
My grandmother, a Maine native, grew Kennebecs and Katahdins. My stepdad, a Vermonter from the cold Northeast Kingdom, swears by Green Mountain, Red Norland, and "whatever is sprouting under the sink."
There's much to be said for growing locally developed vegetable varieties, and I've grown those potatoes, too. But, I'm adventurous by nature, especially in the realm of plants. When I travel I'm always on the lookout for something new to try in my garden back home. Discovering a new ornamental plant while visiting a garden or shop is relatively easy, but finding new vegetable varieties often takes a bit more risk.
I found one of my favorite potatoes while on a garden tour in England about 10 years ago. On our way through the Yorkshire countryside on a soggy spring day, our small group stopped at a pub for dinner. As usual, my meal was outstanding and I inquired about the source of the delicious baked potatoes. They smelled earthy and tasted sweet and buttery, even without condiments. The server didn't know what kind of potatoes they were, but thought they came from Germany. He mentioned that the shipping carton was probably out behind the pub.
After dinner, much to the nervous amusement of my less-inclined traveling companions, I engaged in a bit of dumpster diving. From the bottom of the pile of flattened boxes in the rubbish bin, I uncovered a waxed potato carton with the name 'Desiree' checked on its side. Bingo!
When I got home to Vermont, I did a little research and discovered that it's the most popular red-skinned potato in Europe. It wasn't hard to find a supplier in Maine and order my own Desiree seed potatoes to grow that summer. My family has enjoyed this lovely yellow-fleshed potato ever since. It's perfect for roasting, boiling, mashing, and rich winter stews.
Potatoes are among the most rewarding crops because they produce so much food in a small space with little effort. In years past, I grew them in long rows in our big vegetable garden. But as I age and the number of people at our dinner table shrinks, so has our garden. Growing food in a smaller, more efficient garden is a new priority for us. Last year I grew enough potatoes in a 3' x 3' Grow Bed to last our family of three until the new year. I've heard good reports about growing potatoes in fabric Potato Bins this summer, too. The bags allowed my condo and apartment-dwelling friends to grow food on balconies and patios without any yard at all. Who knows? I may be growing my gourmet Desiree potatoes in a bag on the porch next summer.
How did you discover your favorite vegetables? Are they family heirlooms and hand-me-downs or selections you found by chance? Drop us a line and share your story.
-Ann Whitman
Green Goods Supervisor, Gardener's Supply
The fact that wild asters grow abundantly and in so many climates makes them a good choice for low-maintenance borders and butterfly gardens.
A wild aster, thriving in a New England meadow.
A reliable, low-growing aster called Woods Pink.
An old-fashioned pink aster, paired with a late-blooming allium called Ozawa.
Quick! What's the first plant you think of when I say, " roadside fall flowers?"
Here's a hint: I'm thinking of a native plant that blooms from August through October, from the Canadian Maritimes to California and Ontario to New Mexico.
Did you guess aster*?
It's easy to take this plant for granted. After all, wild asters grow nearly everywhere in North America. In my neck of the woods, New England aster, New York aster, white wood aster and many others dot the landscape with their starry, golden-centered flowers at this time of year. Some tend toward the purple, blue and pink range. Others, such as the lovely and prolific heath aster (Aster ericoides), bear clouds of white blooms. Regardless of color, butterflies adore aster flowers and depend on them for food and nectar.
The fact that wild asters grow abundantly and in so many climates makes them a good choice for low-maintenance, native plant, and butterfly gardens. Luckily for gardeners everywhere, European plant breeders took asters across the Atlantic about 100 years ago and developed scads of cultivars and hybrids with tidier habits and improved flower characteristics. They gave us old favorites like lavender-blue Professor Kippenburg and Monch, and bright-rose Alma Potschke. American breeders added many more to the selection, including some of my favorites, Purple Dome and October Skies.
The cut-flower trade grows many acres of asters, too, such as the heath aster Monte Cassino, because they're especially useful as "fillers" in bouquets and have a long vase life.
Whether you cut them for bouquets or simply enjoy them in the garden, asters mix well with other autumn plants. Their purple-blue-pink flowers are stunning with yellow goldenrod, coneflowers, and sunflowers. Or try them with tall phlox, grasses and sedums.
Plant asters in full to half-day sun and give them loamy, well-drained soil. To keep the tall asters more compact, snip off the top one-third of the plant in early June. This trick causes the plant to grow more branches and flowers. Some asters are prone to powdery mildew, a fungal leaf disease. Planting in a breezy, sunny spot and avoiding water on the foliage helps prevent it.
Look for potted asters at garden centers and grocery stores throughout the fall. In early September, I added a few deep purple and pink ones to my window boxes for late-season color. I'll plant them into the front garden this weekend where the traveling Monarch butterflies can enjoy them.
*If you didn't guess aster, what favorite fall-blooming plant came to mind?
-Ann Whitman,
Green Goods Supervisor, Gardener's Supply
Our new Orchard Rack seems to be something customers have been looking for, though some folks are using it in unexpected ways.
Our new Orchard Rack is not just for things that come from the garden.
We love it when customers get excited about a new product. This season's star is the Orchard Rack. It seems to be something customers have been looking for, though some folks are using it in unexpected ways.
The wooden rack with slide-out shelves is meant to store "keeper" crops, such as apples, winter squash, onions and potatoes. The design ensures good air circulation in a cool, dark cellar or shed.
Although most customers are using the rack to store their harvest, we've also heard a few stories about people who are using it in other ways. Last week, our customer contact center did some brainstorming and came up with all kinds of clever uses for th Orchard Rack. Here are a few of their ideas:
Organize craft supplies, such as paint, paper, brushes and canvas
Dry hand-washed laundry, such as sweaters
Store and organize board games and puzzles
Organize periodicals (newspapers, magazines). Put a different week on each shelf.
Categorize architectural plans, garden layouts or drawings
Separate swatches of quilting fabric into categories
Do critters prevent you from planting bulbs? Try some of Ann's techniques for keeping deer and rodents at bay.
Foil bulb-eating critters by planting daffodils, grape hyacinths (muscari) and other bulbs that deer, chipmunks and rabbits tend to avoid.
Spray tulips, such as Stresa and Scarlet Baby, with Liquid Fence repellent to keep deer and bunnies from eating them.
“I’ve tried bulbs, but the squirrels dig them up.”
“I planted tulips last year, but nothing came up in the spring. I think something ate the bulbs.”
“The deer and bunnies get my tulips every spring. I love them, but it’s just not worth it.”
Sound familiar? If you’re ready to try again, I’ve got some tried-and-true tips to beat the bulb-eating critters in your yard.
Tactic #1. Know your adversary. Squirrels are fearless and curious, but have a relatively short attention span. They dig up bulbs right after you plant them.
Deer eat what’s convenient and are creatures of habit. They tend to remember the location of the salad bar, but they’re wary of new scents and sounds or anything out of the ordinary. They nip the flower buds in the spring.
Chipmunks and voles dig tunnels, especially through soft soil. They eat bulbs after you plant them, usually in the fall or early spring.
Rabbits are nervous and constantly on the lookout for potential predators. They eat the leaves and flowers in the spring.
Tactic #2. Use your adversary’s weakness to your advantage. Squirrels notice newly disturbed soil and love to dig in it. Disguise your planting spots by covering them with rocks, buckets, boards, chicken wire or anything else you have lying around. Pick up the camouflage after the ground freezes.
Deer don’t bother with bulbs until they come up in the spring. As soon as the tulips push through the ground, cover them with an arch or circle of wire mesh to prevent deer from getting a taste. Alternatively, spray the plants and surrounding ground with Liquid Fence or a similar product that deer find repugnant.
Chipmunks and voles don’t like to tunnel into rocky soil or through hard, sharp terrain. Surround tasty crocus and tulip bulbs with sharp gravel or oyster shell or plant them inside a wire cage. Apply a foul-smelling deterrent in the planting hole to trick the varmints.
Rabbits are spooked by the threat of predators and tend to avoid areas where they sense danger. In the spring, as soon as the bulbs come up, spray repellents, such as Liquid Fence or predator urine. In areas with lots of bunnies, surround your tasty tulips with a circle of wire mesh.
Plant unappealing bulbs. Animals won’t eat daffodils, alliums, fritillaries, grape hyacinths, and many other spring-flowering bulbs. As an added bonus, most of these bulbs increase and naturalize, becoming more beautiful each year.
Don’t give up! You can beat the critters and have lovely tulips and crocus next spring.
Last year I turned whatever onions I thought wouldn’t store well into caramelized onions. I froze about 12 bags of them and by Christmas they were gone.
Part of this year's plentiful onion harvest.
This year’s onions were bigger than usual. Like most vegetables, onions are about 85% water, so in a wet summer like the one we just had, onions get huge. But cool, wet weather is also ideal for growing fungus and this year the vegetables in our gardens struggled against them all: alternaria, phytophthora, fusarium, pythium, botrytis and more.
I’m not sure which fungus attacked my onions. Some plants were already looking strange by midsummer, with their leaves contorting at odd angles. In late August, I noticed that many of the other onions looked like they’d been frosted: the top 6-10" of foliage was limp and darkened. I figured it was best to harvest the entire crop early and get it into a dry place as soon as possible.
Though the onions have been drying on the floor of my barn for more than three weeks now, it will still be awhile until they are completely “cured.” I'll consider them done when the foliage is brittle and the necks are completely dry and tight against the bulb.
This weekend I checked for bulbs that weren’t curing properly. As I suspected, there are more of them than usual. Instead of drying, the necks are softening. This means that the onions won’t keep and it may mean that some of the rot is extending down into the bulb.
Nothing to do but use up those onions fast. So I collected the troubled ones in a basket and headed to the kitchen. On the way, I threw in a couple Ailsa Craig onions, which, like other Spanish onions, are impressively huge but don’t keep well.
Last year I turned whatever onions I thought wouldn’t store well into caramelized onions. I froze about 12 bags of them and by Christmas they were gone. So I'm making more this year. My sons and I sometimes have pizza cook-offs to see who can put together the best combination of toppings. My caramelized onion/pine nut/feta is the reigning champion.
The Garden Crusader Awards were created by Gardener's Supply to honor individuals who are improving the world through gardening. These enthusiastic men and women are planting trees and flowers, growing food, creating new green spaces, and teaching their friends and neighbors about the rewards of gardening.
To learn more about the people and programs that have received Garden Crusader Awards, see our Garden Crusader page.
Grow What You Eat
Do you grow what you eat? Check out our slideshow of gardeners who've taken the Grow What You Eat pledge. To see captions and full-size images, go to Flickr.
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