A mongo-sized Vidalia onion Fed-Ex'ed all the way from Georgia

Hubby has business colleagues that are located in Georgia, and while chatting with one recently he mentioned that we get Vidalia onions all the way out here on the West Coast in California. He then added the caveat that they're the best and sweetest onions we can buy. His colleague was surprised that Georgia's produce makes it all the way out here.

A few days later, an unexpected FedEx box came to Hubby's office addressed to him with a return address from Georgia. Inside the box Hubby found a beautiful assortment of Vidalia's--one being the biggest onion he has ever seen. He was giddy with laughter when he called me mid-day to tell me about his surprise package. Only a true foodie would do that.

When he came home later that day, I found he wasn't exaggerating about the size of the onion. He doesn't exaggerate so I expected it to be big, but not that big. We put it up next to the largest onion we had from our recent trip to buy produce and it dwarfed it (see photo above).

Then I put it next to a head of elephant garlic and the Vidalia's size was even more pronounced (see photo above). It was so striking the Vidalia deserved it's own photo shoot (hence the photos in this post).


Now like every onion in our kitchen, it sits in the onion bowl waiting to be cooked up into something super yummy in the hands of my skillful and talented Hubby. He's thinking it'll become homemade onion rings. I'm thinking it might become a lovely pile of aromatic caramelized goodness to be served with chicken or beef. Regardless, I know it will be yummy and live up to the reputation the Vidalia onion has in this household.

My tomato experiment: Yesterday's harvest of our weird and whacky tomatoes

I don't do well growing tomatoes from seed so when it comes time to put some in I go to our local nursery and buy a couple of cell packs of tomato seedlings with 6 plants in each. This year I bought a cell pack of roma tomatoes and a cell pack of cherry tomatoes.

I then conducted my own not-so-scientific experiment.

I planted one each of the plants in clay pots on our deck with morning shade and full afternoon sun in super-fancy-schmancy Miracle-Gro soil that's supposed to produce outstanding veggies. Flanked by separate pots of chives, Italian parsley and basil I expected these plants to do very well with the full sun all afternoon to sunset and the influence of the herbs around them.

I planted a couple more plants down in the ground off the edge of our deck with the same exposure as the pots. I built up a funky little planter around them from scrap concrete blocks (a former mow strip) and put some of the Miracle-Gro soil on top. A week or so later I mulched with some donated rabbit droppings and alfalfa as well as chipped branches from our own yard. I anticipated the green growth might bolt because of the added nitrogen from the mulch but figured it would be a good part of the experiment anyway.

I planted two of the plants in the front garden where mostly roses grow. I have a 4x8 foot planter box in front of our living room window that gets full morning sun from dawn until around 1 or 2 pm then there's shade for the rest of the day from the house. The soil in the planter box is just cheapy top soil from WalMart that we had leftover from another project and had dumped in there and let sit for a season until we planted something in it. I also planted a couple of parsley plants in between the two tomato plants that were at opposite ends of the large planter. I anticipated these plants would do poorly but I wanted them to go into the ground anyway.

Each of the plants, regardless of location, got their own dripper on the drip mist system for watering 15 minutes every morning at a slow drip.

None of my plants were treated with pesticide or herbicide. There isn't any need with companion planting because the good bugs and birds eat the bad bugs, and the proximity to tomato-friendly companion plants takes care of the rest.

Results of my not-so-scientific experiment

The two plants in pots haven't grown larger than about 10 inches high. Their leaves are sickly looking like both plants are on the verge of kicking the bucket. Both produced fruit true to their labeling. The romas (pictured above and below) were the expected size for that variety while the cherry tomatoes were a little on the small side. I was just happy the plants produced anything considering what they've looked like.

The two plants in the ground below the edge of the deck are pretty spindly with tiny leaves but lots of blooms and are about 2 feet high. The fruit is neither a cherry tomato nor a roma. Instead the fruit is shaped like a roma but is smaller than even the smallest grape. Some fruit is smaller than my pinky fingernail with most fruit being the size of my thumbnail.

The two plants in the front planter box were the biggest shocker. The plants are 3 feet high and cover the entire 4x8 foot box. I've had to cut trunks back that were invading the front porch and beginning to block the front door. The size of the trunks are larger in circumference than my pinky finger! The leaves are big and lush as well. I would expect plants with so much energy going to greenery to not produce blooms or fruit. But these plants have been prolific bloomers and were the first ones to produce ripe fruit over a month earlier than the others in back. Like the plants in the ground in back, the fruit is oddly neither roma or cherry but a weird hybrid of the two.

I've spoken to other gardeners in our area that have said they've had some weird behavior with their tomatoes this year because of our wet spring, unseasonable June rain and cooler than normal temps. I feel better knowing I'm not alone. It was just nice to finally go out and get a harvest yesterday that consisted of more than just a handful of tiny tomato baubles. It's such a weird year for growing tomatoes.

Are you a "Food Production Facility"?

Our 2007 Roma tomato harvest

In the United States, a new piece of legislation has been introduced in the House of Representatives that probably you either haven't heard of or don't think it applies to you. It is H.R. 875: Food Safety Modernization Act of 2009. For the most part, it is an okay piece of legislation that is intended to update an antiquated set of Food and Drug Administration laws that are over 70 years old. One of the antiquated elements of our current FDA law kind of stunned me. Congress found that:

"...the Food and Drug Administration, an agency within the Department of Health and Human Services, has regulatory jurisdiction over the safety and labeling of 80 percent of the American food supply, encompassing all foods except meat, poultry, and egg products, as well as drugs, medical devices, and biologics..."

Okay... whoa... "except meat, poultry, and egg products?" Yeah, there needs to be some updating here if that stuff currently truly isn't under the FDA's regulatory jurisdiction for safety and labeling (which I thought it was).

However, there is one potentially major flaw in the current definition language of the bill that is disconcerting to me and others. When the bill defines the term "food production facility" and applies lots of regulation to it (including the requirement of many paper trails in case a health emergency needs to be tracked) this is what the definition states:

"FOOD PRODUCTION FACILITY- The term ‘food production facility’ means any farm, ranch, orchard, vineyard, aquaculture facility, or confined animal-feeding operation."

There's no further clarification than that--no acreage or headcount requirement... no income requirement... nothing more than the text above.

Our 2008 Santa Rosa plum harvest

So how many of you could possibly fall into this definition of "food production facility"?

With my 5 citrus trees, olive tree, apple tree, plum tree, vegetable garden, and future table grape vines, do I fall into that definition?

If someone sells their produce or baked goods at a local farmer's market or bake sale does the definition encompass them?

And what if I donate my overage of produce to a local food bank (as some people have done)? Does that then categorize me as a "food production facility"?

I gotta wonder if this affects urban community gardens or gardens like the Slow Food Nation garden grown outside San Francisco's City Hall?

Lots of potential implications and questions are now making me stop and think. Remember that C&C Music Factory hip hop hit from the 1990's "Things That Make You Go Hmm..."? That's the song playing in my head right now.

Any suggestions or insights?

Slow Food Nation '08 Garden
San Francisco City Hall

Winter Garden Update

Some of you may remember when I posted about putting in a new raised bed just outside our front door for our winter garden (it was back in October). Well, today I realized that I hadn't posted any updates about it and thought it was high time I did.

I have been pleasantly surprised at how well all the seeds have done. I'm usually not very good at growing stuff from seed, but this time I did something right. Tah-dah!

I do the "cut-and-come-again" method of harvesting lettuce so this 4'x8' raised planter has been providing us with WONDERFUL salad greens for about a month. And it's still going strong! It's great to have Hubby say, "I'm making chinese chicken salad. Can you go harvest some lettuce?" And I walk right out the front door with the salad spinner bowl in hand, pick the greens I want, and bring them back inside to be prepped by Hubby.

Don't let all this greenery fool you into thinking that it's warm here, because it isn't. There's a daytime chill in the air and our overnight temps often dip below freezing. Lettuce and other winter greens love this kind of weather. They produce buttery tasting leaves that simply melt in your mouth.

Intermingled among the rows of lettuce are other winter veggies such as broccoli, scallions, parsley, and snap peas. I also planted a row of bread seed poppies that are doing very well and getting big enough that they will hopefully bloom soon. Once they've gone to seed, we'll harvest the poppy seeds for garnishing bread and other things.

I think the most exciting thing about this whole endeavor (other than the fact that the seeds grew), is that I've been able to grow everything without the use of any pesticides, herbicides, or snail/slug bait. The only deterrent I've used is some metal fencing material I had. It has kept the neighborhood kitties and other critters out of the soil.

I really don't know exactly how many varieties of lettuce are growing right now. There must be at least 7-8 different ones. There were some seed packets that were mixes of winter greens, so it's hard to say. Regardless, all of them are yummy in their wholesome freshness. I wish I could share some with each of you!

The Winter Garden

The seedlings in the winter garden are sprouting and they look so cute. These little ones are one of the varieties of lettuce I planted. The wire mesh is protecting them from neighborhood critters (including kitty cats that think everything is a litter box).

I'm usually not as timely or organized with my winter garden as I am this year. I kept feeling the need to remove a brick planter box from under the front window. It was pulling away from the house and causing a crack between the mortar and the stucco of the house that was getting larger and larger. I decided that it wasn't a good idea to have it collecting water right up against the foundation and that it needed to go bye-bye.

So out came "Sledgehammer 1" and "Sledgehammer 2" with their little friend "Pick-Hammer". As I demolished the box, I found that it was very ill-conceived to begin with, and it was a very good thing that I was taking it out as it was seriously compromising our home's foundation. Although I had to sacrifice the rosemary that was growing in it, taking down the planter made room for me to move my 4x8 raised planter from the back garden to the front. The eastern exposure under the front window is perfect for growing veggies in the winter and pretty pollinator annuals in the summer.

First, I moved the planter box from the back where it's served faithfully as the tomato bed for a number of years. It looks like painted wood, but it's actually made of a composite material produced from recycled milk jugs. It's very sturdy and stands a foot high. Once I had it positioned, I filled it with lots of good compost-filled dirt from the nursery and then planted my rows of winter veggie seeds.

Although we get frosts in December and January, there are many vegetables that grow well here in the winter which won't grow in the summer heat. So I put in a number of lettuce varieties, parsley, scallions, broccoli, snow peas, spinach, and some bread seed poppies. The cute little rows are sprouting in the warm October weather we're having. Until today, it's been around 80F (27C) everyday since I put in the seeds--good sprouting weather.

It's been fun to watch the lettuce sprout because this is the first time I've attempted growing lettuce from seed like this. Both Hubby and I are enjoying this new garden area with all the wonder of two small children.

Life's Little Pleasures From the Garden

Yesterday evening, I ventured out into the garden before the sun went down to do "garden patrol". "Garden patrol" consists of watering things that aren't on the drip-mist irrigation system yet; checking on produce to see if it's ready for harvesting; check the water levels in the pond and other water feature; say hi to the garden kitties, Oreo and Mooch, and give them some canned food; and just check on the latest developments in the garden.

This time of year during my garden patrol, I often find produce that is at the peak of perfection and ready to be picked. Yesterday was no exception. I retrieved my wide and low harvest basket with a big handle to sling over my arm. I went in the back garden to harvest the luscious strawberries and plums as well as some pole beans and spinach leaves. It made for such a lovely arrangement in the basket that I had to photograph them before I dismantled it.

Once inside, the spinach and pole beans go into containers in the fridge with others that have been harvested over the past couple of days. With small harvests, this is the best way to get a good serving together.

The strawberries were rinsed and went straight into a cup to be delivered to Hubby who was working hard in his home office. I have been eating the strawberries straight off the bushes out in the garden for a month or so now. I thought it was only fair that he should get the next few batches.

The plums went into the fridge too so I could cool them off since they were quite warm after being out in the heat all day. Later in the evening I had cold juicy plums for dessert after our late dinner. Yum!

This is why I love gardening so much. These little treasures make it all worth it.

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The Intrigue of Artichokes in the Harvest Basket

With records temperatures hovering at over 100 F (38 C), there isn't much I can do in the garden. The San Francisco Bay Area is under a health advisory because of the heat that is upon us. Even if I could stand working in the heat, it would be extremely unhealthy to do so right now.

I ventured out this afternoon despite the oppressive heat, to top off the pond with water so that all the critters that use it as a water source have a plentiful supply of cool water to drink. Since I had to wait for the water to finish, I decided to fill the harvest basket with this year's harvest of artichokes.

I don't know why I think artichokes are so visually intriguing. I wrote about them last summer in my post "The Beauty of Artichokes". With this year's harvest in my basket, I had to take the time to photograph them again and try to capture all the things that make them such a fascinating form to my artistic mind.

In the past, I have photographed the artichokes while still growing on their thick silvery blue-green stalks. I haven't ever harvested the artichokes all at once. Instead, I usually ask Hubby if he feels like having artichokes for dinner (he's the only one that likes them) and then I go out and harvest the biggest and nicest one or two. Usually, the artichokes are staggered in size because the start at different times and don't grow all at the same pace. But this year, they are all coming to their peak at the same time, coincidentally, right before we are going to see friends and family tomorrow that might also appreciate some artichokes.

That's why I had a full harvest basket of artichokes to photograph. And I'm so glad I did because I'm finding their forms even more intriguing en masse. I hope you all will agree. I think the way the light highlights and shadows the petals and layers of each artichoke is captivating. As I mentioned in my previous post about artichokes, who was the first person to discover that these odd looking blossoms were edible. That person must have been extremely hungry! To me, the artichoke looks more like a succulent cactus than a vegetable. But for artichoke lovers like my Hubby, they are a delicacy not to be missed.

Now the harvest is soaking in covered bowls of cold water in the kitchen sink. Since I'm an organic gardener, there are quite a few critters that hide in all those nooks and crannies of the intriguing artichokes--mostly earwigs and ants. After a good soak out of sight of Hubby (who gets a bit squeamish), this harvest will be ready to be steamed or given away to friends and family tomorrow. In the meantime, I can enjoy them in the way I love best--photographing them.

The Beauty of Artichokes

Why do I find artichokes so fascinatingly beautiful?

Is it their prehistoric quality that seems to come from a different time and place in the world's history?

The leaves are a beautiful green with a tinge of blue and silver. The jagged edges catch the light in amazing ways and cast such interesting shadows.

The buds seem so "prickly" and untouchable. Who was the first person to figure out that they were edible? Who was brave enough to try it first? Was he the brother of a kid named Mikey? "He won't eat it... he hates everything!"

When I cut off a thick stem to harvest an artichoke, it oozes a sticky clear liquid that was probably used as the first glue in some ancient kindergarten class to glue pictures of buffalo to the classroom walls.

If I leave the thick stems to dry naturally, they are so strong that I can't break them over my knee or cut them with my garden shears. Who knew that the strongest building material in the world was the artichoke stem? I wonder if Home Depot knows this.

Then that same mysterious edible bud with its thick waxy petals if left on the stem long enough becomes an electric display of soft purple-blue so soft to the touch I can't believe it came from this plant. The petals of the bud even change from a green to a soft faded aubergine color as if to be in harmony with the center that is such an explosion of electric blue my logical mind tells me the color just couldn't occur in nature. But it does.

Yet it still looks a slight bit untouchable.

Brussels Sprouts: My Perennial Decoy

A couple of years ago I planted brussels sprout seeds in the front garden where I don't usually plant anything edible except herbs and horseradish (the produce gardens are in the back). I figured I'd give the brussels sprouts a go and if they didn't work out then it was no big deal.

I didn't have great luck with the brussels sprouts as produce. The buds didn't stay tight enough to be appetizing for my husband (who is the only brussels sprout lover in this household). But the blue-green broad shiny leaves were pretty in the winter garden so I left them there. When they withered and died, I cut them off at the base and threw the withered remains into the green can. So much for brussel sprouts... so I thought.

It was only a couple of months and the brussels sprouts were coming back! Silly me! I thought brussels sprouts were annuals. Apparently, they are perennials. They grew back from the roots just like any good little perennial should. I thought maybe we'd have better success with the buds being tighter and more appetizing. Wait, wait, wait... no such luck.

But I noticed something else going on. The roses in my front garden no longer had very many aphids on them--even on the new growth that aphids love to attack. Some roses had NO APHIDS! But the brussels sprouts were covered with them!

Then I noticed something else. Often as I looked out the front window I would see little flocks of bushtits come down and land on the brussel sprouts to dine on the aphid-feast. The over 3 foot tall brussel sprouts have very sturdy stems, so many little birds could land and dine without any trouble at all.

I left the brussels sprouts in, thinking I had a great companion planting situation going on. I was right. This year I haven't had aphids on my roses. They all went to the brussels sprouts. I've also had the wonderful little bushtits as regular visitors dining on the aphids on the brussels sprouts.

And my ladybug count is higher this year than in any of the previous years so far without me injecting the population with store-bought ladybugs EVER.

The brussels sprouts are apparently here to stay. They aren't doing what I originally intended for them to do, but they're far more valuable as an aphid decoy than as produce plants anyway (in my non-brussels-sprout-loving opinion).

A Harvest of Love

There is very little else that can give me as much satisfaction as picking a basket of tomatoes straight out of the garden and bringing it inside to surprise my husband like I did today.

He's the tomato lover in the family and can eat them and eat them and eat them. He's the chef in the family so he makes wonderful culinary creations with them. He's also the allergy-sufferer in the family so he isn't able to be outside in our garden nearly as much as he'd like. It also means that he isn't aware of how many tomatoes are actually growing out there--hence the ability for me to surprise him with a brimming basket left on the kitchen counter in his prep area. It's always fun to hear him from the other room, "Oh Honey! Look at these tomatoes!" I know that he'll usually be making up one of his tomato salads with homemade vinaigrette later that evening

This whole ritual of growing tomatoes for my husband started the first spring we lived at Rosehaven Cottage.

We were immersed in remodeling and restoration--drowning in it actually. Our goal was to simply have access to all the square footage in our home, have a decent bathroom and kitchen, and not freeze from the drafts coming in from the spaces in the subfloor.

Early spring rolled around, and I had this overwhelming need to put in a vegetable garden. I was told by many that I was nuts and should just focus on the interior of the house. "Let the garden go this spring," they'd say helpfully, "Don't try to do everything at once."

But the persistent nagging to put in a garden kept coming into my psyche. I know not to ignor these persistent nagging thoughts. So I moved the installation of a vegetable garden up on the priority list (much to the disbelief of family and friends) and put in the first vegetable plants (including tomatoes) as soon as it was safe.

Summer came quickly and the tomatoes were thriving. I had put in Sweet 100's and the vines were burgeoning with the little round red gems of tomato sweetness.

At the same time that the tomatoes were ripening, my husband was struggling with health issues that led him to the doctor's office. On a hunch, the intuitive physician tested my husband's blood sugar right there in the office. It was through the roof. My husband walked out of the doctor's office that day with the diagnosis of being a Type 2 diabetic weighing on him. It would change his life. It explained a great deal of the health struggles he had experienced over the previous 2 years but wasn't any easier to take.

His mother is also a Type 2 diabetic and, fortunately, he had educated himself when she was diagnosed. He knew his diet would have to change drastically. His sweet tooth would have to be satisfied in some other way than the chocolate he was so fond of. But there is one thing that my husband loves more than chocolate--tomatoes!

It was now so clear why I had felt so driven to plant the vegetable garden. That first crop of Sweet 100's was a ray of hope during a very difficult life transition for him. The sweet little "candies" that he could pop in his mouth without guilt or hesitation made the depressing prospect of having diabetes so much easier to cope with. I knew that I had grown them for a very special reason, and it was no fluke that I had known to plant them.

So every year since that first year at Rosehaven Cottage, the tomatoes always go in the garden as soon as it's safe. My husband anxiously awaits the first tomato that is ripe enough to harvest. He's very much like a child waiting for Christmas morning. It's wonderful to watch. And every time I harvest another basketful and leave them on the kitchen counter for him, I feel a deep sense of love for him, for the garden, and for the blessing that tomatoes represent to us.