The Dishes are Done!

It has been exactly a week since I hosted (and posted) dinner at Pocket Square Farm. I admit I am much better and growing vegetables--and preparing them--than I am at washing the dishes. Clean up is definitely not my thing.

Of course, my lack of motivation to deal with the guerilla dining aftermath has been compounded by the fact that the lazy days of summer are rapidly coming to a sad and inevitable end. School starts Wednesday, September 8th. So although I'd like to spend my days in the garden planting garlic, pulling the last of the green beans, and shearing the strawberries, there are other, more pressing tasks at hand: rearranging the classroom furniture, refreshing my bulletin boards, purchasing and preparing student materials, and planning, copying, and planning some more. Teaching 4th grade may sound like a walk in the park, but trust me... it's not. I love my job, and my students, but this career is time consuming--life consuming.

I guess my gardening activities will have to be relegated to the weekends.

So it took me a while to get everything put away, but it's done now. The china is settled in the hutch, napkins and linens are folded and tucked away for another special occasion, and the crystal stemware was dried with care and placed far out of reach of little hands.

With all of the transitional chaos in my life right now, I have not made time to post any recipes... though I promise I will and soon. My very good friend Greta, however, has blogged on my behalf. Her praise is very sweet and way too generous, but it was fun for me to see the evening through her eyes (and camera lens).

Please visit her blog entry, A Home Grown Dinner (posted August 30th), by clicking here.

Guerilla Dining @ Pocket Square Farm

I recently read about a "hot new trend" in seasonal, local cuisine: guerilla dining.

Okay, apparently I don't have my finger exactly on the pulse of foodie culture, because "guerilla dining" is referenced in articles as early as 2006, and it was nominated for the Macquarie Dictionary’s [people's choice] new word of the year in 2008.

So that means I'm just a little late to the party. Seeing as how I'm now in my thirties, I guess I'm okay with that. It's hard to be hip when you're past twenty-something... or so I'm told.

Anyhow, if guerilla dining is new to you, as it was to me, here's the definition.

guerilla dining: noun dining at a restaurant that has been set up temporarily in an unused space such as a car park, beach, rooftop or a private home, etc., customers being alerted by word of mouth to the location. Also, guerrilla dining.

It just so happened that stumbling upon this new craze coincided with my turn to host our book club's monthly meeting. The text I selected was Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver. She is one of my favorite authors, and in this [highly recommended] read she chronicles her family's attempt to eat exclusively locally, and grow most of their own food, for an entire year. Besides my obvious interest in the topic, I also love that the book is a family affair, co-authored in segments by her husband and college-age daughter, Camille. Don't you just love that name? Camille. So poetic.

My book club historically meant young, recently married women, dessert, coffee, and lots of discussion about the book. As the group has grown [and aged], we have evolved into an amazing and diverse group of moms of children ages 8 years down to 4 months. In fact, between the nine women in book club we now have 22 children (and another one due next month)! In light of this, book club has become more about the dessert and coffee, and less about the book. And we've added wine to the menu, a development I'm very happy about.

Shhhh. Don't tell our husbands.

It's not that we don't read the book. In fact, a few of us read the monthly book religiously. And then there are members like me. The slackers. Truthfully, I'm the worst. I even suggested that we change the name of our gatherings to "dessert club," in leiu of "book club," but the ladies didn't bite. I know, I'm so uncivilized!

Back to guerilla dining... I decided that to honor and exemplify the ideals set forth in Kingsolver's book, I would host an impromptu backyard meal made mostly from vegetables grown at Pocket Square Farm. That was the basic idea, anyway... and then I got a little crazy.

If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right! Growing and serving my own veggies morphed into baking the bread, making the cheese, and churning the butter. I experimented with recipes. I pulled out the tablecloths and arranged cut roses in mason jars for centerpieces. My husband restrung white lights in the backyard for a special touch of "guerilla ambiance." I pulled out the fine china and cloth napkins and candles, and I printed menus on linen paper.

Hair twisted into an updo, I donned a grass-skimming strapless dress and cinched a pink vintage-style apron around my waist. Wait... this is all sounding so elegant, so effortless.

I forgot to mention the part where I baracaded myself in my tiny kitchen and chopped and boiled and pureed and baked and whipped and kneaded and churned and roasted and seasoned for two days straight!

"Don't ever let me do this again!" I screamed at my husband in a frenzy of last-minute details. "If I ever say I'm going to host a dinner party again, honey, please stop me!" I pleaded in agony.

"Dinner parties are like childbirth," he replied. "As memory of the pain fades, you'll want to have another one." So wise, coming from a MAN. But I guess that's how book club ended up with 22 children and counting.

In retrospect, my husband couldn't have been more right this time. I'm fairly convinced that this Guerilla Dinner at Pocket Square Farm may have been the best thing I've ever created in my entire life, except for my own two children, of course. And that's saying a lot, because I'm always my own harshest critic.

It's getting late and I'm still recovering from washing five loads of dishes after the fact. So I'll share all the delicious details (and photos) soon, but I'll leave you with a copy of the evening's menu to ponder (or salivate over), whichever may be the case.

Straddling Two Seasons

It's been a strange Southern California summer. June, July, and even the first half of August were unseasonably cloudy and cool. Wouldn't you know, yesterday marked our first day of dry, scorching heat. I'm certain it will hit 100 degrees on the first day of school, when I am standing in my markedly unairconditioned classroom with 35 sweaty, prepubescent bodies perspiring all around me. I may have to give my annual lecture on the virtues of wearing deodorant a little early this year.

Our lack of hot summer days is causing many people down here to wonder whether it will be an unusually warm autumn. After all, I can remember spending several Southern California Thanksgiving days in shorts and tank tops. Aside from my firm belief that this is just plain wrong (Thanksgiving should mean crimson leaves wafting from maples and the first dustings of powdery white snow), it's also causing confusion in my garden plan.

Having just finished, harvested, and cleaned up my summer garden, what should I plant next?

In striving for sustainability, I need to be sure that we will have enough hearty veggies to eat through the start of winter. I didn't want to put all my eggs in one climate-dependent basket, so last week I planted another summer garden... and the beginning of my winter one. I figure I'd better be prepared for whatever Mother Nature throws our way.

Here's a checklist of what's happening at Pocket Square Farm this month.

Just finishing or pulled out and composted:
Four cherry and early girl bush tomato plants
My first sowings of Kentucky blue pole beans, and a scattering of yellow, buttery bush beans
Three bell pepper and two chili pepper plants
36 stalks of corn
My spring lettuce patch (5 different varieties)
10 Strawberry plants
10 cucumber plants


Continuing to produce:
Watermelon and "Twice as Nice" cantaloupe (these have really taken off in the recent heat)
Blue lake pole beans (not nearly as nice as Kentucky blue)
One early girl and one big boy tomato plant
Four zucchini plants (these really blossomed after I pruned back withered foliage)
Pumpkins (I have two whoppers that are bright orange and almost finished)
Two neon purple eggplants
One acorn squash vine
Herbs: Lemon balm, onion and garlic chives, Italian parsley, rosemary, four varieties of basil, lemon thyme, and mint
Lots and lots of carrots (orange and rainbow)!
Jalapeños


Just planted (in case of a warm autumn):
Four different colored bell pepper plants
Two more early girl tomato plants, and two Glacier tomato plants
One Japanese eggplant
Four more cucumber seedlings
Mammoth sunflowers (to feed the birds)


Just planted (in case of a cooler fall):
Fava beans
Broccoli and cauliflower seedlings
Many more heads of lettuce
Sweet onions
Black beans
More pumpkins


We also recently added:
One artichoke plant
Two blueberry bushes
One blackberry vine
One boysenberry vine
Many more flowers to attract pollinators


Next on my list:
Finish and pull the remainder of the pole beans to make more room
Order asparagus crowns and seed potatoes
Plant two dwarf apple trees in our one remaining empty raised bed
Set out seeds of winter greens such as cabbages, leeks, spinach, etc. in seed trays to plant out whenever the weather does finally cool
Order rain collection barrels for our downspouts

Many friends have asked me lately what they should plant out now in their gardens. And the answer is, "I'm really not sure!" Not knowing what the weather holds makes garden selections difficult, but I think in mild Southern California the rule is this: if you want it, you might as well try to grow it. The worst that will happen is that a few seedlings might die and you'll have to try again. Like anything, gardening is a learning curve, and one that I enjoy.

So cross your fingers and happy planting!

In a Pickle

A year ago when I first imagined Pocket Square Farm, I decided that I wanted to grow more than our family could eat. I envisioned filling our own fridge, then sharing with friends and family, and finally, preserving the remainder of our harvest via drying, canning, or freezing. In actuality, we've had plenty to eat and share, but little left over to preserve. Aside from about five gallons of green beans stashed away in our freezer, the only other crop I have been able to "store" for any length of time is cucumbers... by way of making pickles.

It turns out that pickles are an easy and rewarding project for first-time canners! This was a good thing since I've never canned anything before in my life. Canning is a lost art that seems to be making a comeback.

Mid-April, when I planted the rest of my spring garden, I set out eight slicing cucumber seedlings and two pickling cucumber seedlings. We had way more cucumbers that we could possibly eat, which ended up being a good thing since my next-door neighbors tend to help themselves to the cucumber patch.

From our two pickling cucumber plants, we gleaned enough cucumbers to make sixteen pint-sized jars of pickles this summer. Of these, half were sweet pickles and half were dill pickles. Personally, I am partial to the sweet pickles, but many of my friends prefer the dill recipe, so I'll share them both with you.

Refrigerator Pickle-Making Basics

Equipment Needed:
Large stock pot and lid for boiling water
Canning jars, lids, and rings (pint size)
Tongs for grabbing jars out of boiling water
Another large non-metal sauce pan for cooking pickling solution (teflon coating works best)
Large ladle

Directions:
1. Select pickling cucumbers (NOT burpless or slicing cucumbers) from your home garden or farmer's market. Small, 4-5" long, firm cucumbers make crunchier pickles. It takes about 3 cucumbers to fill a pint jar.


2. Wash and cut the cucumbers. Be sure to slice off both ends and discard (this has to do with keeping the pickles crunchy and the liquid from clouding). Cut cucumbers into spears or rounds as desired. Set aside.

3. Guesstimate how many pint jars you will need. Sterilize them either in the dishwasher (use the sterilize/ heated dry setting) or boil them fully submerged in water in your stock pot for five minutes. Remove carefully with tongs and let cool on a clean towel on the kitchen counter.

4. Put your sliced cucumbers into the jars. Don't be afraid to jam them in there, as they tend to shrink a little after a few days. Leave about 1/4" of space at the top of the jar.

5. Make your pickling solution in your sauce pan on the stove. This is the step where sweet pickles will differ from dill ones.

Sweet Pickles
1/3 cup sugar
1/3 cup kosher salt
1/2 cup fresh dill
3 small white onions, peeled and chopped
3 cloves garlic, peeled and thinly sliced
1 tsp. mustard seed
2 cups white vinegar

Dill Pickles
To make dill pickles I cheated a little and used Mrs. Wages Polish Dill Refrigerator Pickle Mix, which you can find in the canning section of many grocery stores. I felt a little guilty using a pre-made mix on my homegrown, organic cucumbers, but the results were easy and really yummy! Follow the directions on the package for mix to vinegar ratios.

6. Whether you're making sweet or dill pickles, bring all ingredients to a near-boil (just barely simmering) in your teflon-coated sauce pan.

7. Using your ladle, spoon the hot liquid into your jars of cucumbers. Leave 1/4" of air space (headspace) at the top of each jar. If your jars are a little low on liquid, you can top them off with a little extra vinegar.

8. Wipe the rims of the jars with a clean, dry towel and screw on the lids. Put immediately into the refrigerator. Chill at least 24 hours before eating; store up to one month in the fridge. Remember, refrigerator pickles must stay refrigerated in order to be safe to eat!

My family has always liked pickles, but now that we're canning our own we have become pickle devotees. Whenever we're heading outdoors to concert in the park or a day at Crystal Cove State Beach, we grab a jar of pickles and add it to the picnic basket. It's an unexpected take-along snack, but when you're out in the sun on a hot day, ice-cold pickles are a light and refreshing treat. As an added bonus, when the jar is empty it makes a great container for brightly-colored bits of beach glass my family collects at the water's edge.

For more detailed information on pickling cucumbers, click here.

Easter Every Day

Midsummer is my favorite time in the garden. All of the hard work of spring planting is a distant memory, and most crops planted in April have really started pumping out the produce. Between my handy drip system and virtually weed-free raised beds (knock on wood), all I really have left to do is glean... and glean... and glean some more. It's a wonderful, lovely chore.

Most mornings I head out to the garden first thing to pick lettuce. Okay, actually I get my cup of coffee first and pick lettuce second. Lettuce leaves are best harvested early in the morning, before it gets too warm and much of their moisture has evaporated, leaving them warm and wilted [yuck]. Armed with kitchen scissors and salad spinner, I cut either just the mature outer leaves or entire heads of lettuce. Greens get a quick rinse and spin in the house, and then my salad spinner is popped into the fridge to chill for lunch... and dinner. We eat a lot of salad at Pocket Square Farm. When you're trying to eat sustainably, big salads go a long way toward filling out your meals... and hungry tummies.

A little later in the day, I grab hold of one of my very favorite farm things: my harvest basket. It is large, metal, heavy, and painted sunflower yellow. I love the smooth, spiral-bound handle and its decorative, chicken-wire-esque belly. I wish I could tell you that I found it in a flea market or long-forgotten corner of an antique store, having been owned and used by another farmgirl in another state in another era. But I have to sheepishly admit that I bought it just last year. New. At Crate&Barrel. It's not super eco-friendly, but boy do I adore that store. (Remember I was raised in the OC?)

But it's not just the cool vintage shape that speaks to me, or even the cheerful tone and texture. I love what this basket symbolizes. It represents my mission to feed my family sustainably. It is all the meals we have had or will ever eat that were grown right here at Pocket Square Farm. It embodies the number of miles our vegetables will be driven or flown from some other state or some other country to our dinner table: exactly zero. After all, it is only 26 steps from my kitchen to my raised bed "market." You can't get meals much more local than that!

Tip-toeing among my many raised beds, harvest basket resting on my arm, is like having Easter morning... every single day. If you grew up in a house that celebrated Easter, or at least participated in the annual secular egg hunt, then you might remember that giddy, youthful, innocent feeling of darting here and there, searching out the elusive, colorful prizes, and dropping them victoriously in your plastic grass-lined Easter basket. In my home, Easter morning looks something like this.

Do you remember how it felt?
The thrill of the hunt?

Found one!

This photo says it all.
That basket of treasures is his pride and joy.
This is how I feel in my summertime garden.
(But a photo of me hugging my basket wouldn't be nearly as cute.)

During the lazy summer months, my yellow harvest basket cradles different prizes on different days. But there are the usual, dependable suspects: eye-popping neon purple eggplant, prickly slicing and pickling cucumbers, tender and juicy tomatoes, furry zucchini (yes, they're hairy when picked right off the plant), handfuls of green beans, and if we're lucky, a golden "Twice as Nice" cantaloupe or two. These are my son's favorite garden treat.

I plan my meals for the day based not upon what we'd like to eat, but what I have in my harvest basket. It's definitely an alternative (and more natural) way of planning meals... one my family and friends have gradually become accustomed to. These days, when we're going to be cooking and dining with our best friends, they no longer ask "What do you want to bring?"

"What do you have in your garden today?" they begin. And we go from there.

Red Hot Chili Peppers

For some reason, I decided to grow chili peppers this year. I'm not really sure why. I never buy them in the market, and I have no recipe that calls for them. I avoid spicy foods on the rare occasion that we get to go out to eat. But one day, while strolling dreamy-eyed through one of my favorite nurseries, I saw the red hot chili peppers, and I just had to have one plant for my garden. I didn't really think it through beyond that.

Chili peppers are pretty easy plants to grow, at least in my climate. I planted my new seedling in a small pot which I placed in my side yard by the barbeque. This location usually proves to be the kiss of death for most plants. I rarely remember to water the side yard.

Regardless of their blatant neglect, my chili peppers seemed to thrive. One by one they turned fire-engine red, and the foliage of the plant dried and shriveled. It was time to pick my peppers.


Now, when I selected this pepper plant, the tag classified them as "mild." I can assure you they were not. I thought seeded and finely chopped raw chili peppers, in moderation, might make a nice addition to a corn, black bean, and cilantro salad. They were not. With one tiny bite of red hot chili pepper, our eyes watered, our noses ran, and the insides of our mouths seethed and burned. Oops. I guess I should have taste tested before serving these to guests!

So, if we weren't going to eat these things then (raw at least), what should Mommy do with them? Why, of course! I should give them to my 5 year old for a craft project. That makes perfect sense!

Since he did such a great job cutting off all the stems with the very sharp, pointy scissors, I thought to myself, "I might as well hand over a razor-sharp needle and thread! Now is as good a time as ever to learn how to sew!"

I modeled briefly how to thread the needle through the end of each chili pepper (and not through your finger or other necessary body part). With explicit instructions not to touch the flaming hot juices to his eyes or tongue, I turned my back and my attention toward another much more critical and pressing task: the sink full of dirty dishes.

At this point you should probably know that my son rarely listens to a word that I say. So choosing to step away from this little craft/experiment was a deliberate act of faith. Okay, maybe there was a little negligence involved. But what can I say? Those dishes weren't going to do themselves, and this seemed like a good [if not slightly odd] pre-assessment for following directions and working independently at your desk. After all, kindergarten is only a month away. It's important for him to be prepared!

Forty-five minutes later, the dishes were done and the kitchen was sparkling. And you know what? All of the red hot chili peppers were strung neatly--perfectly I daresay--AND they were in order from biggest to smallest. My son beamed, so proud of himself, and I did, too. Then I quickly took the scissors and needle away... far, far away. I was not about to press my luck.

We hung his crafty creation to dry (and please the eye) near our kitchen window. It even complements our living room color scheme! Do I win a parenting award for this? Ha ha.

My son turned to me with a gleam in his eye and a slightly twisted smile. "What vegetable do I get to sew next, Mommy?"

Dinner Plate Dahlias

Pocket Square Farm is mostly about growing vegetables... lots and lots of vegetables. However, I have a soft spot for growing flowers for cutting, also. I love arranging big, billowy bouquets to perch here and there around my home. Even a single stem resting in a tiny vintage glass bottle fills an entire room with cheer.

My favorite flowers for cutting are roses, plumeria, sweet peas, and dahlias. This month, while my spring roses have faded and I'm eagerly awaiting their last fall flush, my dahlias have come into their own. While I typically grow standard-sized dahlias, this year I ventured out and tried something new: dinner plate dahlias (thus named because the blooms can reach twelve inches in diameter, the size of a dinner plate). Here are some pictures of a single dinner plate dahlia from my garden.

I love the shape of each individual petal, the flower's richy, buttery center, and the million lemony shades and hues of yellow the flower reveals. I like to think that someday, when I make more time for art, I would like to try a Georgia O'Keeffe-esque oil painting featuring a single dinner plate dahlia. If nothing else, it would be an interesting study in monochromatism. But I diverge.


Dahlias are fairly easy flowers to grow if you just keep a few things in mind. First, they like loose, rich, free-draining soil. I once tried to plant dahlia tubers in a hard, clay soil, and they never even sprouted.

Second, dahlias need to be staked securely and often. Place a tall (6 ft. long) and sturdy stake into the ground BEFORE planting the dahlia tuber a few inches away from it. Tie your main dahlia shoot closely to the stake as it grows using biodegradable paper garden tape. I try to tie my dahlia stems to the stake every six inches or so to keep them secure and straight.

Third, dahlia flowers need to be cut frequently (practically every day while they are in full bloom). Dahlias are wonderful cut flowers because they have long, sturdy, thornless stems, and they keep very well in vases. I recommend you cut flowers a day before they fully open on the plant to prevent browning around the edges of the petals. Also, if too many flowers bloom at once the plant can become very top heavy and topple over, despite your staking efforts. This is a particular problem with dinner plate dahlias, whose stems can barely hold up their massive floral heads. They tend to fall over (timber!) if you let them get too big on the plant. Don't hesitate to cut flowers early, as they will continue to open indoors where you can enjoy them even more!

It's hard to get a sense of just how large the blooms of dinner plate dahlias are without some frame of reference. Here's a sweet one for you.


Despite the fact that my daughter appears to be smelling the flower, dahlias actually have no fragrance. I suppose that is their one downfall. But who needs a perfumey scent when you can have blooms bigger than your head?

Slow Roasted Tomatoes

In the month of April I planted three tomato plants: one Black Pearl cherry tomato, an Early Girl, and another bush-type tomato (which was interesting since I had never grown bush tomatoes before and, truth be told, picked it out at the nursery by mistake). I wondered whether three tomato plants would be enough to feed my family this summer. After all, some years I get bumper crops of big, red beauties, and some seasons I am very underwhelmed by their [lack of] production.


Fortunately, this year was a good one, and my family has had lots and lots and LOTS of tomatoes. It got to the point where I taught my 5 year old son how to pick the ripe ones, and I sent him out to the tomato bed with the basket everyday, because I was just plain tired of picking tomatoes. I'm not complaining. This is a good thing.

But as you may very well know, lots of tomatoes don't keep well on the counter or in the refrigerator. You have to DO something with them. And you only have a few days before they turn to mush. I refuse to put perfectly good tomatoes in the compost pile.

I've read that you can freeze fresh tomatoes whole, pulling them out of the depths of the freezer in the winter to prepare "almost-summery" sauces and soups. But handling freezing cold, rock-hard tomatoes in the month of January doesn't sound fun (or summery) to me. Perhaps in January, when fresh tomatoes are a distant memory, I will lament not going down that culinary road. But for now, I'm on a mission to use all my ripe tomatoes, and fast.

Enter Molly Wizenberg's book, A Homemade Life. I have already sung her praises once so will spare you further details about her genius. In her book, she shares a wonderful recipe for Slow Roasted Tomatoes with Coriander. Her recipe is so easy; it really only takes about 5 minutes of prep time and, if you do it right, hardly any mess at all.

This recipe is also perfect for using (or gracefully disposing of) any of your less fortunate tomatoes that happen to be misshapen, discolored, blemished, split, or slightly puckered from having sat in the fridge too long. Once they're roasted, no one will know (and neither will their taste buds). You can roast as many or as few tomatoes at a time as you desire. Eat them warm or put them in the fridge to add to salads, pastas, sandwiches... you name it! Here are the simple steps.

Slow Roasted Tomatoes with Coriander

Ingredients:
Fresh, ripe tomatoes (any variety and as many as you have on hand)
Olive oil
Kosher salt and black pepper
Ground coriander

For garnishing:
Fresh basil leaves

Directions:
Rinse tomatoes and remove stems
Cut medium and large tomatoes in half lengthwise.
(Leave cherry tomatoes whole).
Place cut tomatoes in a large mixing bowl; drizzle generously with olive oil.
Using hands, toss gently to coat tomatoes.


Dump tomatoes into an oven-safe baking dish. I prefer to use a glass pyrex casserole dish with a lid so that I can transfer the final product from oven to fridge without having to wash another pan. Turn tomatoes over so that cut sides face up; distribute evenly so tomatoes do not overlap. Sprinkle liberally with salt, pepper, and coriander.


Bake in a 250 degree oven for approximately four hours; feel free to adjust the bake time more or less depending on your personal preferences and time constraints. Your whole house will smell delicious while the tomaotes carmelize.

Remove from oven; garnish with fresh basil leaves just prior to serving. Serve warm or cold.
* I love roasted tomatoes paired with fresh mozzarella for a tangy twist on salad caprese.




Last month my book club read Molly Wizenberg's book, and we each prepared one recipe of hers to share at our meeting. This is the recipe I chose to bring. It was easy, free, delicious... and most importantly... I managed to use up about 27 tomatoes!

My good friend Greta is an amazing mother, cook, photographer, and writer. She recently blogged about our book club meeting and the recipes we prepared, including my slow roasted tomatoes. Her photos are much better than mine. Trust me. They are high art. You can (and should) visit her blog, Picnics in the Park, by clicking here.