Guerilla Dining 2011

Last year I hosted my very first Guerilla Dining experience at Pocket Square Farm.

It wasn't really something I intended to do. Until I read Barbara Kingsolver's book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle, that is. I have always loved Kingsolver's literary prowess. But now I love her contributions to the farm to table movement. She inspired me to start Pocket Square Farm.

My experimentation as a Guerilla Dining chef last year went reasonably well. My guests (the lovely ladies of my book club) seemed to enjoy their evening; I decided to do it again this year. In the spirit of self-improvement, I tried to plan a meal almost entirely from PSF produce that also fit my theme of Cucina Povera. I admit that I may have bitten off more than I could chew, but I was still reasonably happy with most of the Italian Country courses I served that night.

Actually, I have so much I want to tell you about Cucina Povera; I will have to save that discussion for another blog. The concept of Cucina Povera is centuries old, yet it is more pertinent than ever in today's environmental and economic times.

In the meantime, let me tell you about one of my other greatest inspirations (aside from Barbara Kingsolver). Her name is Greta. Greta is a member of my book club. She is truly amazing. I want to be her when I grow up. Wait... is it too late for that? Greta is the one who encouraged me to start a blog. If you visit her blog, you might begin to understand the depths of my adulation.

Anyway, Greta was once again a guest at my PSF Guerilla Dining Event this year. Despite the fact that she is incredibly busy with four beautiful children (including a new baby), her home, and her blog, she managed to post about it before I did.

Please, if you have a moment, click here to view her very generous commentary and gorgeous photography about that night. (Someday, I'm going to have her teach me how to really take pictures.)

I, in turn, will start posting the recipes.

"Famley" Breakfast, Part 2

If you've recently read about Mother's Day Brunch at PSF, you might remember that I mentioned blueberries.

No, there were no blueberries in the strata.

And the underwear fairy didn't serve them, either.

I did, however, happen to have a lot of blueberries in my garden that week.

I also happen to know that they were just itching to be turned into muffins. Blueberry muffins are my favorite muffins. I realize that they are the most common and mundane muffins you can find, but I love them nonetheless. Particularly with a steaming cup of coffee. But only when they are done right. They have to be light and fluffy. They definitely cannot be heavy or oily. And if they don't have streusel... well, if they don't have streusel they aren't really blueberry muffins at all.

Okay, I may be a blueberry muffin snob. Sorry. I hope you won't think less of me.

Anyways, I needed to find a muffin recipe that was worthy of my organically grown, hand-picked, worth-their-weight-in-gold blueberries. (If you've grown blueberries yourself you know what I mean!) I think this one from allrecipes.com fit the bill. It was pure blueberry bliss!

Yum.

Yum!

YUM!

I think the vanilla, lemon zest, fresh blueberries, and PSF eggs gave it a little something special. And the streusel was just right.

I give this recipe two green thumbs up!

"Famley" Breakfast, Part 1

This year I wanted to do something special for my mom for Mother's Day.

I mean, I try to do something special for her every year. She does deserve it for putting up with me. And I'm not just talking about when I was a child.

But she already has so much stuff: a beautiful house, a closet full of clothes, vacations galore, and time on her hands. She's getting to be hard to shop for these days, and besides, I'm trying to get away from shopping and stuff in general. As I get older (and my kids get bigger and my house gets smaller) I find myself striving to become a minimalist. Do you ever feel like that, too?

Quality time together and good food shared amongst friends, however, always make great gifts in my book. So for Mother's Day, I gave my mom a gift certificate for brunch at Pocket Square Farm. Because May and June were busy months for us, she redeemed her coupon later in the summer.

When I give the gift of a Pocket Square Farm meal, I always try to grow a lot of the ingredients myself. I can't say that I produced all of the ingredients, but I did center the menu around what I had growing seasonally right outside my door: eggs, zucchini, strawberries, and blueberries.

Mason did the decorating while I did the cooking while Camille rummaged around in the dress-up basket while my husband set up the backyard. This production was truly a "famley" affair.

Mason decorated our chalkboard to welcome guests.

My husband set the table with fresh strawberries from the garden.

I got busy in the kitchen whipping up a brunch strata.

I found a recipe online for this Brunch Strata at allrecipes.com. It was perfect for me because it called for 3 cups of zucchini and 12 eggs, which I happened to have on hand. I love to serve stratas for brunch when I know I will have a busy morning; stratas are so easy to make ahead (even the night before) so you can just pop it into the oven and appear to be casually sipping a mimosa when guests arrive. It gives the illusion that you weren't just running around the house ten minutes prior like a crazy person, shouting out orders and stuffing errant toys into every available nook and cranny of your tiny house. Ah, the art of harried hostess pretense.

The Brunch Strata recipe requires that you saute, drain, and pat dry the veggies...

...before adding the eggs and wet ingredients.

The finished strata comes out golden brown.

This recipe makes two full 11 x 7 x 2 inch casserole dishes, so you can serve a big crowd with little effort. We were eating strata for days afterward, and no one was complaining about having leftovers again... and again... and again!

While we dined in the backyard beneath the towering Mercurial Milkweeds, we suddenly [and unexpectedly] were visited by none other than... the underwear fairy!

None of us expected live entertainment during this Belated Mother's Day Brunch!

My mother may have enjoyed her time with the underwear fairy as much as she liked the strata. Regardless, as I'm not one to suggest flitting around with panties on your head, I will say that this strata is one worth trying!

Carrot Contraband

When I planted my urban farm in my front yard, neighbors looked at me skeptically. People stopped by and inquired on many occasions whether I was worried about intruders getting into my garden and stealing veggies ripe for the picking.

I replied that I didn't really think it would be a problem, but I was willing to take the risk, and to this day I still hold that to be true. Aside from a pesky raccoon who dug up some of my first plantings and a few tell-tale bite marks in melons from another hungry critter, Pocket Square Farm's curbside produce has been pretty much been left alone.

Although, in full disclosure, I must admit that I do have one suspect who has been accused of repeated acts of produce pilfering.

Wanted: Veggie-lovin' vagabond cited for harvesting produce without permission, spoiling her appetite just before the dinner hour, and leaving conspicuous vegetal evidence lying around the house.

There she is! Caught orange-handed!

Well, I guess we'll pardon this one in the name of good nutrition.

Shelling Simplicity

"What did you do this summer?" This time of year, that seems to be the first question to roll off everyone's tongue. Just this afternoon, I spent a lovely day at the bay where I hosted a beach party reunion for my students from last year's class. And while I was there, visiting with students and parents alike, this question was asked and answered probably a hundred times.

In response, I rattled off the laundry list of activities my family did over the past few months. Vacations. Day trips. Projects around the house. Beach time. The usual, wonderful summer pastimes.

If someone had asked me what was my single favorite moment of summer, though, my reply would have been very different.

This was my single favorite moment of summer vacation:

The children and I sit on the driveway shelling beans.

I realize this may look like work. You may consider this kind of thing boring. But actually, it was very, very sweet. Shelling dried beans is one of my kids' very favorite garden tasks. They look forward to it every year. They sift through the dried plants hunting for the crackling pods, pluck them off the plants, and pinch them open. Shelling dried beans is like discovering buried treasure: perfectly smooth, round, beautiful garden doubloons. This year I planted both black and white beans for shelling.

Mason holds his breath as he opens a pod, waiting to see what color beans will be revealed inside.

Many different types of beans can be grown for drying and shelling. I happened to plant mostly black beans this year because I had a packet of seeds left over from last summer. The trick to a good harvest is patience. The beans will grow and develop as a typical bush or pole bean might. Then you have to just leave it alone for several more weeks. The bean pods will start to turn brown. The casings will grow dry, brittle, and thin. This area of your garden will start to look very, very ugly, and you may be tempted to pick them too soon. But after a short while longer, the individual beans inside each pod swell and then harden. You know it's time to harvest your beans when the casings are crackly between your fingers and you can feel the beans separated and wiggling around inside.

To shell the beans, I recommend pulling the entire bean plants, laying them out on a flat surface (like our driveway), and then picking apart individual pods. It's much easier this way than trying to pull individual pods, and then shelling, and then going back to pull the remaining plants. This method also makes it easier to be sure you don't leave any beans behind.

As we sit in a circle shelling beans, my children take turns hopping on my lap to cuddle, squealing in delight as they pop open their pods, giggling when a slippery bean gets away from them, and admiring their harvest. In this quiet moment, they discuss the fun we've had so far this summer, what's growing in our garden, and hopes for the coming week. There is a certain peace and simplicity in this tiny gathering, where our hands are busy and our hearts and minds are open.

Time seems to stop for a short while, and in that breath I can appreciate my children for who they are and for the people they are becoming. I make a conscious effort to burn this memory into my mind, so that when they are older, and when I am older, I can remember the way they were... once upon a time.

My family works together to complete an earthy task, and I recognize that this kind of social interaction (whether it be sitting in a circle shelling beans, or peas, or peeling potatoes) has almost been completely lost in modern societies. I can see why. After all, it took us months to grow and a half hour to shell as many beans as you could purchase for $2.00 at your local market. But that really wasn't the point to begin with, so I don't mind the time/effort discrepancy. Neither do my children, who were positive that these were the most beautiful beans they ever beheld.

Even the parched and empty pods emit a certain beauty... before they get dumped into the compost pile along with the rest of the spent bean plants.

Finished bean plants are excellent brown additions to your compost pile.

If you happen to have some beans in your garden you plan to shell, I just want to leave you with one other tidbit of advice that I learned the hard way last season. Even if your shelled beans seem tough and dry, it's important to leave them out in a warm place to allow them to finish curing before you store them in a sealed container. If the bean seeds have any moisture left in them before they go into storage, they can get moldy, which would truly be a tragedy!

There are so many beautiful varieties of dry beans you can grow these days. Seed catalogues abound with brown, pink, black, red, and even multi-colored beans. For online seed catalogues, click here or here. Plant some in your garden next spring and you, too, might just find yourself splayed on your driveway with loved ones near, shelling simplicity.

Mercurial Milkweed

Elementary school teachers everywhere, take heart. You know those little plastic cups you have your students plant seeds in a few weeks before Open House? The beans and flowers and shrubs you sprout to teach life science standards? The tiny plants you figure probably die a few short days after the kids walk out the door with them in hand?

SOMETIMES THOSE SEEDLINGS DO SURVIVE!

Take this science experiment, for example. Last year my mom (also an elementary school teacher) brought home an extra milkweed seedling left over from another class' science project at her school. Knowing my interest in butterfly gardening, she passed it along to me. I promptly planted it... and then it grew... and grew... and grew.

The tiny milkweed sprout that came home in a red plastic cup at three inches tall now towers over me, standing more than 13 feet high. I was completely in awe of this plant for its sheer vertical growth habit.

And then these appeared.

These mercurial orbs encapsulate the seeds of the milkweed plant. They float in and among the leaves, gracefully, in alien patterns.

They seem to have an almost architectural quality to them. Their shape and texture are both modern and organic.

Gazing at these planet-like plant structures dreamily, I almost expect them to float off into space. Don't you think they are mesmerizing?

This would be an interesting shape for a pendant lamp. In white. Above my dining room table.

Ikea lighting designers, take note! Inspiration, after all, comes in many forms.

Mom's Night In: Homegrown Pizza

I am my mother's daughter.

There, I said it.

If you've been reading my blog from the get-go (and if you have an insanely good memory), you might recall that my love of gardening began at home, where my mother grew [and served] ridiculous quantities of zucchini.

Apparently, the zucchini doesn't fall far from the bush, because this summer I have found myself trying to "hide" zucchini in numerous meals--breakfasts, lunches, and dinners included. You see, my kids do like zucchini... but not enough to eat it three times a day.

Cue culinary creativity!

The other night my husband went out with the guys. That left me home alone with two hungry kids, a dozen zucchini, and a couple of hours to kill until bedtime. What's a girl to do? Make homegrown pizza, of course!

Do these pepperoni look a little strange to you? Pay no attention to the circular squash imposters on top of your pizza, kids!

We started by making a pizza crust from scratch using organic flour and olive oil, of course! There are recipes for homemade pizza dough all over the internet. Just google "pizza crust recipe" and you will find more than 1,670,000 recipes to choose from. Take your pick!

Yes, the sauce was made from our very own Pocket Square Farm tomatoes... about six large ones. I have to admit that I am a total cheater when it comes to homemade pizza sauce. Lots of recipes say you need to remove the skins and seeds before making a sauce. I say, rinse off your tomatoes, remove the stems, and throw the entire batch of unpeeled, unseeded tomatoes into your blender. Then, pulverize those babies until they form a uniform sauce with no visible large particles. Pour the pureed tomatoes into a pan, add lots of salt and pepper, and simmer over low for about 30 minutes to thicken and develop a richer flavor and texture. That's it!

Spread the sauce over your rolled-out dough, add fresh veggies from the garden, and top with grated mozzarella cheese. Bake according to crust directions on a pizza pan or stone.

Allow to cool.

Slice and serve.

Try not to laugh when your kids ask how the pepperoni turned green.

Udderly Urbane

Some people dream of being rich. Or traveling around the world. Or meeting someone famous.

I dream of someday owning a cow. Or two. Don't laugh.

I said stop laughing!

It may be a strange little dream, but it is true. I fantasize about someday having two dairy cows, a Guernsey and a Holstein. The Guernsey will be named Ophelia, and the Holstein will be called Desdemona. [Once upon a time--before kids, that is--I read a lot of Shakespeare.] Can you see them in the distance, grazing on my organic someday pasture, just beyond my future crimson barn, lowing sweetly? I can.

Until I someday make my dream a reality, this will have to do.

This is the dairy cow at the La Habra Children's Museum. I went there with my best friends and my children this summer; it was worth the drive and the price of tickets, if for no other reason than... my children got to milk a cow.

How now, brown cow? Wither wander you?

Okay. It wasn't a real cow. And it wasn't wandering anywhere. But it sure was cute. I almost got down on that stool and yanked on the udders myself!

Mason practices to prepare for Mommy's future cow(s).

Is this pathetic that my child is "milking" a fleece cow staple-gunned to a plywood wall? Does anybody out there have a real live cow for this boy (or his silly mom) to milk? This picture is udderly urbane!

Nevermind about "Get[ting] thee to a nunnery," Hamlet. I need to get me to a dairy farm!

Kooky Cukes

Usually I grow vegetables... and sometimes we have fresh fruit in season at PSF.

This year, however, I grew weapons of self-defense. At least, that's what my neighbor exclaimed the other evening as she passed by and spied me harvesting a basketful of cucumbers.

I happened to have a Japanese cucumber slung over my shoulder like a baseball bat--and to say that the Japanese cucumber was the size of a bat was not much of an exaggeration. This year I harvested some that were almost 24 inches long! Japanese cukes are massive and the vines are prolific producers; I would only recommend growing them if you [and your family and your neighbors] are serious cucumber lovers. My family is getting tired of them. My neighbors have had their fill. And they're still coming strong. We've even starting feeding cukes to the chickens, who seem to be getting bored with them as well!

Can you guess which one is the Japanese cucumber?

I probably could thwart an attacker with this thing if provoked!

The next type of cuke I grew this year was the lemon cucumber. I'm sure you can guess which one that is! These were definitely a novelty. Every time I took some to a dinner party to share, people picked them up thinking they actually were lemons. Despite being eye-popping on the vine (and a conversation starter), I have to admit that they were a little disappointing when it came time to eat them. They are harder to peel because of their sphere-like shape, they have lots of seeds unless you pick them very small (which makes them even harder to peel), and once peeled, you can't tell the difference between them and any other cuke. I was hoping for at least a hint of a tangy flavor!

Lemon cucumbers are cute, but maybe not worth the effort.

The last cukes I grew this year were of a pickling variety. I have yet to make any pickles this summer, but it is still on my to-do list. For more on making homemade pickles, click here. I truly believe they are worth the effort, and an easy way to start canning!

Pickling cucumbers look like regular slicing cucumbers but have a thicker skin that stays crisp during the pickling process (pictured bottom right).

It's a little late in the season to start planting out cucumbers this year, but come next spring, remember that there are so many different varieties you can grow at home! They are super easy to grow, even for a beginning gardener. Stick them in a pot or a raised bed. Plant them next to a trellis and watch them soar sky high, or let them trail along the ground if you prefer. You can't really go wrong with these kooky cukes!

Urban Homestead Hint #2: Farm-Friendly Identity Theft Prevention

I sure love to garden.

Conversely, I sure hate to pay bills.

Even more than that, I vehemently abhor junk mail.

I've signed up online to stop the ads from hitting my mailbox.

I've returned items to sender. And still they come.

I don't get as much junk mail as I used to, but even one piece of junk mail is one too much for me. I pity the poor once-living tree that was felled in the forest only to become a flyer, credit card offer, or fast food take out coupon. Alas, if that same tree had been used to build a house instead, it might have enjoyed some longevity and, with any luck, earned some subconscious love and appreciation from its inhabitants. Take Shel Silverstein's The Giving Tree, for example. Yes, the tree was sawed off at the branches and base (and, yes, I may have cried while I read this part to my children once or twice), but at least that tree was going places... and I don't mean it was going to my mailbox. Or yours.

Anyway, every year I end up with a giant bag of junk mail and paid bills that I need to "deal with." This usually occurs over the summer months when I have time to tackle such business. September through June are lost causes when it comes to paperwork, unless it involves papers that need to be graded. Math tests. Reading tests. Essays. The never-ending pile. I could go off on another bird-walk here about the amount of paper used in our school systems, but for your sake (and the sake of this post) I will refrain.

So without further ado, let's get to it.

Urban Homestead Hint #2: Farm-Friendly Identity Theft Prevention

Do you have piles of junk mail lying around your home? Perhaps, like me, you have paper bags and cardboard boxes full of paperwork containing personal information that needs to be destroyed. You could just recycle it and hope for the best. Or, you could shred and recycle it. That's even more secure. But wouldn't you rather put that junk mail and those paid bills to better use on your very own urban [or suburban] farm?

Look no further than your compost pile! Shredded paper is a great "brown material" addition to your bin. Be sure to water the pile after adding shredded paper; if the paper remains dry it will not decompose.

A few tips about what types of paper to add to the compost pile:

• DO shred and compost any traditionally flat-toned white or colored paper, such as newsprint, regular printer paper, or construction-type paper or card stock.
• DO NOT compost glossy papers or magazine covers or pages; they have been coated with plastics to give them that "special" sheen. Plastics have no place in your bin.
• DO NOT shred or compost any documents you may need for tax purposes (try explaining that one to Mr. Auditor)! "I promise I wasn't trying to commit fraud or tax evasion... I was just making sure my microorganisms didn't go hungry!" That one might not fly.

That's it! Whether you add shredded paper to your compost pile once a year or a little bit each month, the material will eventually decompose completely, become nutrient-rich soil, and help your farm flourish. And I'm certain the earthworms will never attempt to steal your identity.

Birds of a Feather Molt Together

So it's been awhile since my last post about Esther.

The good news is that she seems perfectly fine.

However, she hasn't laid a single egg since that, um... unpleasant examination. She's also not so eager to jump into my lap as she used to be.

Esther, in motion, seems happy and healthy as a lark...

though she does keep a safe distance from me these days,

especially when I'm donning rubber gloves.

I would feel the same way, so I won't hold it against her.

The fact that she had suddenly and completely stopped laying did leave me a little worried, though. I mean, not worried enough to do a repeat procedure... but I was definitely concerned.

Until this happened.

My children woke up one morning to find feathers scattered all over the yard. Now, don't think the worst here. None of our girls were harmed. They were... molting!

After pulling on their boots, my kids skipped through the garden, squealing with delight, collecting masses of downy feathers in bowls and baskets and bags. They were even more excited about collecting feathers than eggs. The chickens watched from a safe distance with a healthy mix of curiosity and contempt in their eyes.

"What IS going on here?" wondered Lillian.

The truth is, I was as perplexed as she was, until, serendipitiously, my newest issue of Urban Farm Magazine showed up on my dining room table that very same day. And one of its features was entitled "Molting Matters."

In basic terms, the article explained how chickens molt annually, shedding their old layer of feathers, much like other animals. The process usually begins in early fall, though the author mentions that it can begin in the end of summer, as well. During the molting process, the chickens' bodies require extra proteins to develop new feathers... the same types of proteins they use to develop eggs. So, as chickens molt, they often stop laying.

Apparently, I can expect a lot more feather shed at Pocket Square Farm over the coming months. That's fine by Mason, however, who never misses an artistic opportunity! He used some of his collected feathers, construction paper, scissors, and white glue to make a replica of his favorite feathered friend.

Our girls didn't know what to think as the newest member of their "flock" scampered around the yard!

Good thing curiosity never killed the chicken! We may be down a few eggs in coming months, but on the flip side, I won't have to buy packaged feathers at the craft store EVER AGAIN!

Today I Violated My Chicken...

...and I'm much more distraught about it than she is.

When I woke up this morning, it wasn't something I planned to do.

What with loads of laundry and dishes piling up, my desperate attempt to go through our entire house and garage to prepare for a yard sale this weekend, and little ones running circles around me, I didn't really have time in my busy schedule for this to happen.

Because, you know, my daily to-do list doesn't usually look like this:

1. Breakfast

2. Dishes

3. Laundry

4. Lunch

5. Stick my finger up a chicken's butt while trying not to vomit

But then, being a mom and an urban farmer often results in doing things that you'd really rather not.

The unrelishing conundrum began when I realized that Esther, our Araucana, hadn't laid an egg in three days. When I checked the nesting box this morning, it became four days in a row with no blue eggs. You see, she has been laying almost every day for months, so this was a little unusual. I searched the yard looking for a secret place where, perhaps, she had been hiding them. After all, one of our Buffs prefers to lay beneath my white rose bush on occasion.

When I didn't discover a secret stash, I did what any urban farm girl would do: I hit the computer. Internet searches turned up lots of advice on this apparently common poultry problem. I read about chickens becoming egg-bound which can, if untreated, be fatal. I began observing Esther's behavior with overzealous scrutiny. She wasn't really demonstrating any of the symptoms, which include straining to lay an egg, standing or sitting with her bum pointed down toward the ground, or panting.

That is to say, she wasn't panting until I chased her around the yard at full speed, like a complete idiot, for more than 30 minutes. Let's just call that my cardio for the day. She finally tired; I won! Good to know that at 30-something I'm apparently in better shape than my 1-year-old hen. So I had caught her, and I was holding her beneath my arm like a rugby ball. Now what?

Most web posts I reviewed recommended putting your afflicted hen in a warm bath to relax the muscles around the vent (rear), and then lubricating her "nether-regions" with olive oil to help dislodge any egg that might be stuck... up there. Avian veterinary sites also recommended using your finger to feel around for any eggs. With a rubber glove on, of course. But still. Yuuuuuck.

If Esther the Easter Egger was not such a beloved pet to my son, I may have just waited another day or so to see what developed. However, I read online that this could quickly lead to the untimely death of the bird, which is the last thing I want to have on my conscience. I could live with having felt up the hen; allowing her to possibly become ill and die without at least a thorough examination I couldn't fathom.

So I did what any dedicated urban farm girl would do: I followed the internet directions.

Warm bath. Latex glove. Olive oil. I'm going to stop right there to keep you (and me) from reliving the moment. For I think that, often, city-dwellers like myself romanticize down-on-the farm rural living. Let me assure you there was nothing romantic about this all-too-intimate encounter.

Long story short, Esther seemed to enjoy her warm bath. She also didn't seem to mind being, um, examined at length. I wasn't able to feel any egg that was stuck (whole or otherwise). If she was having trouble laying, sites claimed, often a warm bath and the olive oil lube job would do the trick. I released her into the backyard, where she went about her chicken business as usual, preening and resting, no worse for wear.

I can't say the same for myself.

Let's just say that, when the ordeal was over, I used at least a half a can of Comet in the bathroom tub. And the floor. And maybe my arms and hands. And under my fingernails. And I threw the scrub brushes away.

I'm hopeful our hen will be fine, but I don't think I'll ever be the same.

Let's just call this my true initiation into the life of a farm girl. I declare, I have at last earned my self-selected nom de plume!

Garden in a Jar

I will admit right off the bat that this quick post is none-other than a shameless plug for one of my least favorite mega-stores: Target.

Okay, I don't actually despise Target, but I am still incredibly irked that the Target nearest to my home recently closed their garden center so that they could use it as "storage space" for their new in-house grocery department.

I mean, I do see the convenience of having groceries available at Target. And they do carry quite a few organic products, to their credit. And, to be honest, I have purchased a gallon of milk there. And maybe some peanut butter. And wine... on sale of course.

But what does it say about us, as a society, when we [more often than not] buy our "fresh" produce from the same store as our DVDs, nail polish, and socks? I have mixed emotions about the whole conglomerated concept.

Regardless, I did recently find a new product at Target that I love, love, love... so I wanted to share.

This is Target's newest soy candle line. I adore candles, but especially soy candles.

I love candles in glass jars, because they never get messy or drippy, and the jars can be reused.

I love the name of this candle, "Garden Blossom," and the cute red and white vintage yet modern-looking graphic on the label. It matches my kitchen exactly.

More than anything, though, I LOVE the scent. You know how most candles smell too sweet, or too strong, or too perfumey, or nice but totally artificial? In my humble opinion, this one doesn't.

It smells just like my garden.

Like the freshly-turned earth.

Like rays of sunshine filtering through the grape leaves.

Like buttery yellow tomato blossoms unfurling before me.

It just smells clean and real.

If you happen to be shopping at Target anytime soon (and I promise that if you do buy your broccoli there I won't hold it against you), and if you happen to peruse the candle aisle and find this one sitting there, beckoning you, you might just want to give it a chance.

I, myself, am going to stock up before it's tragically discontinued... just like my beloved [former] Target garden center!

Orchard Expansion!

About this time last year, I took some time to evaluate my progress at Pocket Square Farm. By the end of the summer season, it was clear to me which produce I had too much of (zucchini and cucumbers), and not enough of (fresh fruit, onions, potatoes, and garlic). Last year, we reached our sustainability goals with regards to veggies: we rarely had to purchase vegetables at the market during the winter, and never in the summer.

Fruit, however, was a different story.

My weekly grocery list always included fruit. Despite that we had already planted a lemon tree, a lime tree, boysenberries, blackberries, and four blueberry bushes, none of them had started really producing dependably. And my kids eat a lot of fruit... as they should.

My husband planted two apple and two orange trees for me for Mother's Day last year. It was the perfect gift for me, but I knew that, as far as feeding a hungry family went, it just wouldn't be enough fruit.

When we chopped down and hauled away a monstrous bougainvillea bush in our backyard this past spring, I finally saw my chance. The wall it had overtaken was a perfectly sunny yet sheltered space for a pocket-sized orchard expansion.

I sent my husband off to my favorite local nursery, where he brought home not one apple tree, but four semi-dwarf plants.

Each is a different variety, so that [hopefully] we will have different apples ripening throughout the year. The four species he purchased were Pink Lady, Dorsett, Fuji, and Gala. After creating a slightly raised bed with left-over wood from our fence addition, my husband moved the sprinkler heads forward so that the apple trees would not get wet when the sprinklers went off. (I've read that apple trees prefer to live sprinkler-free and without grass directly touching their trunks.) Before planting, we amended the soil with lots of steer manure, since the soil we were planting in was not all that great to begin with.

After the trees were planted, I pruned them according to the principles of horizontal espalier. The art form of espalier requires sacrifice and patience. I had to begin by lopping off several beautiful branches and shoots that were not positioned correctly. Based on what I've read, I can expect to wait approximately three years for the framework to be complete and the trees to really begin fruiting heavily. If you are looking to add some fruit trees to your yard, but you don't want to take up a lot of space, you can read about the art of espalier here.

Three years is a long time for my orchard expansion to come to fruition, and I hope the bounty will be worth the wait. At least we can expect a few ripe apples from Pocket Square Farm to taste-test this fall!

Easy Veggie Orzo

Do you have a bunch of random veggies in your summer garden, and you're not quite sure what to make with them?

Here's a super duper easy way to put them altogether and call it a meal. It's kind of an "everything but the kitchen sink" catch-all that is also a crowd pleaser. Serve it warm, straight off the stove, or chill it to serve the next day, and the next, and the next. It works equally well as a vegetarian main course or summery side.

Start with whatever veggies you have on hand. On this particular day, I had carrots, green beans, and zucchini that needed to be used.

Wash and coarsely chop your veggies. Remember to feed any discards [like carrot tops] to your compost bin... or hungry hens! Our ladies simply adore carrot tops. I adore that nothing goes to waste.

Saute chopped veggies in a few tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil until tender (not mushy). Season generously with kosher salt and freshly ground pepper.

In the meantime, cook a package of orzo pasta according to directions. Drain and rinse with cold water to stop the cooking. Pour into a large bowl, toss with a drizzle of olive oil, and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Combine finished orzo with sauteed veggies; serve in a pretty glass bowl to show off your home-grown goodness! I love to use a trifle bowl to serve all of my layered and pasta salads... it just gives them a little something special!

The Corn is as High as an Elephant's Eye...

... An' it looks like its climbin' clear up to the sky.

That is to say, if you read my post about corn last year, I'm happy to report that this year's plantings did considerably better! In case you've struggled with corn, yourself, I wanted to share some tips I've learned along the way.

Tip #1: Plant your corn seeds very closely together. This year I planted them about 6 inches apart, in blocks, to ensure better pollination. It seemed to work, as I had many more developed kernels in each ear. The silks, down here...

... need to be pollinated by the tassels, up here.

Tip #2: Plant your corn blocks in an area that gets a gentle breeze. This also helps the corn silks to be pollinated.

Tip #3: Corn is a heavy feeder of nitrogen. Make sure your corn stalks get the nutrition they need by inter-planting with beans, which produce nitrogen in their roots and, in turn, feed your corn. This year I planted one bean seed in the same hole as each corn seed at the same time. Next year, I think I'll plant the corn seed a couple of weeks ahead of the bean seed, in order to give the corn a leg up on vertical growth. After all, the beans feed the corn, but the corn needs to be tall enough to support the beans (if you choose a pole variety).

The result of interplanting beans and corn looks something like this: a jungle of beans scrambling to the top of your corn stalks. I will admit that it made harvesting the corn and beans just a mite trickier... but the end product (at least with regards to the corn) was better quality.

Yes, in case you were wondering, corn and beans are part of Three-Sisters gardening, which I also blogged about in Corn 101. It turns out the indigenous people really were onto something!

No need to use stakes or bamboo teepees to support these pole beans... the corn stalks did all the heavy lifting for me! As an added bonus, the beanstalks [in their messy tangle of vines] actually did me another huge favor: they helped hold the heavy corn stalks upright. (Last year I had to pull a lot of immature stalks because they fell over onto my neighbor's brand-new Cadillac SUV. This year, I'm happy to report, the corn and the Caddy did not make contact!)

Tip #4: As the ears start to fill out, pull back the silks gently, occasionally, to make sure they aren't infested by corn worms. If you do find worms, they can be picked out and squashed by hand before they do any real damage. After you've sleuthed around, pull the silks back up around the tip of the cob and secure in place with a twist tie. Really! This method of pest evasion didn't seem to hinder the corn's development at all... and worms did not ruin my harvest.

Tip #5: When do you know to harvest? Wait until the silks become brown and dry... but not much longer than that. I found that the sweetest, juiciest corn was underdeveloped, rather than overdeveloped. Kernels left in the garden too long get tough and starchy rather than tender and sugary.

And my last tip: Don't overcook your corn! Once you've harvested those gorgeous ears, bring a pot of water to a rolling boil, shuck your corn, and then toss the ears in for exactly three minutes... no more! Remove from the pot and serve immediately. Don't let the corn remain in the pot, as it will continue cooking and become soggy and tasteless. Eeww.

If you live in sunny So Cal and you've been wanting to grow corn and beans, I really don't think it's too late! If we have a warm autumn, as we usually do, you may very well be able to pump out a round of short-season corn and beans. Look for varieties that mature in less than 60 days, and you might just find yourself quoting Rodgers & Hammerstein by the beginning of October, too!