summer at last

Sum­mer finally arrived last week. A humid mass of high pres­sure from Mex­ico hopped the bor­der fence and gave us some hot days and tropical-looking morn­ing clouds that lit up bril­liantly as the sun rose.

After almost four months with a total nat­ural rain­fall of .05 inches much of the gar­den has been head­ing into its defen­sive dor­mancy. But a few plants seem to be rev­el­ing in the arrival of some real sum­mer heat. Top of the list is this Cal­i­for­nia fuch­sia, the ‘Route 66′ cul­ti­var, which opened its flow­ers to coin­cide with the hot weather. Some Epi­lo­bium species and clones have fairly small, gray-colored leaves, but this is one of those where the leaves a smidge larger and greener, a bright con­trast to the scream­ing orange flowers.

Desert marigold, Bai­leya mul­ti­ra­di­ata, has been bloom­ing away with the help of a lit­tle addi­tional water, but not much.

In the bed that gets some irri­ga­tion the gin­gers are the cur­rent stars of the show. Coin­cid­ing with the Cal­i­for­nia fuch­sia was this kahili gin­ger, Hedy­chium gard­ne­r­i­anum, a plant that I’ve been grow­ing since my early teens, a hand-me-down plant from one of my mother’s gar­den­ing friends. Sit­ting in the back yard after sun­set is a treat with this insanely fra­grant gin­ger nearby.

Of course sum­mer isn’t all about the flow­ers. The fig tree is hit­ting its peak fruit pro­duc­tion this week. It’s the vari­ety ‘Brown Turkey,’ which is sup­posed to do well with less heat than what most other vari­eties require. This has been one its best years ever for me. I’m try­ing to fig­ure out what went right this year, and I’m think­ing the suc­cess has some­thing to do with water. This past win­ter and spring actu­ally deliv­ered a slightly-over nor­mal rain­fall that was spaced evenly through­out sev­eral months. Also, last year I applied some water-conserving wood­chip mulch over the bed that con­tains the fig. And John’ has made a point of water­ing the zone around the fig every other week or so. I hope to be able to repeat the suc­cess next year, which accord­ing to the prog­nos­ti­ca­tors could be a drier than aver­age La Niña year.

The gar­den herbs are doing well. A six­pack of pars­ley sev­eral months back is turn­ing out to be way more than two peo­ple who use pars­ley once or twice a week. At least it’s a pleas­antly tex­tured plant for the front of a border.

A six­pack of basil, how­ever, hasn’t seemed to pro­duce nearly enough. Maybe the basil will pick up with the warmer weather.

Sur­pris­ingly the trop­i­cal lemon­grass plants (both the East– and West-Indian ver­sions) haven’t been sulk­ing and are over­pro­duc­ing just like the parsley.

Adding to the pile of edi­bles, our neigh­bor Olinda stopped by with her grand­son. It was all she could do to carry this giant water­melon. John was impressed with its size and sug­gested I weigh it: 30.8 pounds.

It’s one of the with-seed vari­eties that stores these days don’t seem to stock much any­more. Stun­ning rind, don’t you think? One of the many things we’re los­ing in part because of big agra.

I was hop­ing to save the water­melon for a day or two, until we had room in the fridge, but I was a lit­tle clumsy pho­tograph­ing its cool rind in detail. Now I know what a melon dropped 3 feet off a table onto a brick patio does. It stays in one piece, but you have to deal with it right away.

High sum­mer also means the best can­taloupes of the sea­son. This is Scooter help­ing us out by fin­ish­ing a cou­ple of half-melons we had for break­fast. The melon came from the local hybrid grocery-farmer’s market.

And so our sum­mer begins: a lit­tle too much melon and a gar­den peak­ing with fruit and herbs. Life is good.

August 23 2010 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 10 Comments »

basil season

I love my drought-tolerant herbs, but I couldn’t imag­ine sum­mer with­out one that likes a lit­tle more water to do well: basil.

basil-bouquet

Last year, I shared that when I buy a bunch at the gro­cery I usu­ally cut off the ends of the stems and place them in some water on the counter. Basil hates being refrig­er­ated, and this often keeps the bunch fresh for as long as you remem­ber to refresh the water.

basil-rooted-cuttings

It’s a nice coun­ter­top bou­quet. But often the stems will begin to root in the water. After a cou­ple weeks or so, once the stems are approach­ing an inch long, you can trans­plant the lit­tle plants into the garden.

Give them a lit­tle shade the first few days to ease the tran­si­tion out into the real world. If the cut­tings are trans­planted when the nights are 55 to 60 degrees or warmer, they’ll take off and give you enough basil so you won’t have to buy any more basil for the rest of the season.

You prob­a­bly won’t know the exact vari­ety of your basil, and you won’t have access to all the vari­eties you might find in an herb specialist’s cat­a­log. (The Thyme Gar­den, for instance, lists 29 dif­fer­ent basils.) But for all-around tomato-friendly sum­mer cook­ing, the basil you’ll find in the stores works great.

Last night we had din­ner at a local Viet­namese restau­rant that served us an inter­est­ing kind of mint as part of the meal. We didn’t eat all of it and I pock­eted what was left, think­ing that what works for basil is sure to work for mint. Since mint has such an abil­ity to take over your gar­den and your life, how­ever, the new plants will have to adjust to life in pots.

May 27 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 5 Comments »

herbs for a dry garden

dryland-herbs_rosemary

Is there any­thing bet­ter than fresh herbs from the garden?

For years I had herbs in my fairly dry veg­gie gar­den. Some of the herbs herbs thrived. Oth­ers sulked. Some died.

For­tu­nately, if you’re try­ing to cut down on water­ing, you still have a huge num­ber of herbs to choose from. For instance, many of the plants that you think of imme­di­ately when you hear the word “herb” orig­i­nate in the Mediter­ranean, and many of them pre­fer less mois­ture than other gar­den plants.

Below, I’ve listed some com­mon herbs that have done well for me dry spots, along with oth­ers that I’ve seen doing well in quite dry con­di­tions. There are lots of other selec­tions, but this list can get you going with more than a summer’s worth of recipes.

  • Rose­mary (Ros­mar­i­nus offic­i­nalis): You can pick from forms that sprawl, form a shrub, or grow straight up in spires.
  • dryland-herbs_purple-sageSage (Salvia offi­cianalis): Euro­pean Gar­den sage comes in lots of ver­sions in leaf color (green, golden, tri-color or pur­ple) and fla­vor (“sage” fla­vor, pineap­ple, or grape).
  • Oregano (Ori­g­anum vul­gare)
  • Mar­jo­ram (Ori­g­anum majo­rana)
  • Thyme (Thymus spp.): Some thymes, includ­ing many of those sold for orna­men­tal ground­cover use (such as T. ser­pi­phyl­lum) are only slightly scented or not at all. The culi­nary bush forms gen­er­ally have more scent and fla­vor, and they come in a wide range, includ­ing lemon and lime. They also tend to be more tol­er­ant of dry conditions.
  • Laven­der (Lavan­dula spp.): There are sev­eral laven­der species, as well as plenty of hybrids and vari­eties. All are at least some­what drought tol­er­ant. Some extremely so.
  • dryland-herbs_rose-geranium Scented gera­ni­ums (Pelargo­nium spp.): Take your pick of rose, apple, cin­na­mon, nut­meg, pineap­ple, lemon, lime, apri­cot and others.
  • Worm­wood (Artemisia spp.)
  • Mex­i­can oregano (Lip­pia grave­olens)
  • Fen­nel (Foenicu­lum vul­gare): Beau­ti­ful and tasty plants, but they’re con­sid­ered inva­sive in many loca­tions (includ­ing the entire Cal­i­for­nia floris­tic province). Research before you plant! There’s an attrac­tive bronze ver­sion that’s reputed to be less inva­sive. Still, I wouln’t plant it if reg­u­lar fen­nel is a prob­lem in your area.
  • Nas­tur­tium (Tropae­olum majus): With edi­ble, pep­pery leaves and flow­ers, some peo­ple con­sider this an herb. As with fen­nel, above, it can be inva­sive. Don’t plant it if it could escape. (Many of the moister hill­sides here in San Diego are cov­ered with the stuff.)
  • Lemon grass, both West-Indian (Cym­bo­pogon cit­ra­tus) and East-Indian (C. flex­u­o­sus): Sources tell you these plants like water, but I’ve found that they don’t mind going dry occa­sion­ally, espe­cially if they’re given some shade.

dryland-herbs_sweet-marjoram

Good eats!

May 24 2009 | Categories: gardeningmy garden | Tags: | 5 Comments »

pretty isn’t everything

Many years back I planted a rose gera­nium plant (Pelargo­nium grave­olens) and was close to pulling it out. The leaves had that inter­est­ing rosy, grassy rose-geranium scent, true enough, but the plant was sprawl­ing, leggy, and in its under­wa­tered spot looked nice only a cou­ple months a year.

What gave it a reprieve was the recipe in the Chez Panisse Desserts cook­book for rose gera­nium pound cake, a del­i­cate, sub­tle cloud of a dessert where even a tiny slice kept you cap­ti­vated with its hard-to-guess source of fla­vor. And the lit­tle ruf­fled leaves that you baked into the top of the cake were an awe­some decoration.

The kitchen remodel a cou­ple years ago involved a bull­dozer in the garden–usually not good news for the plants under its treads. The orig­i­nal rose gera­nium got squashed and dug up, and its orig­i­nal home is now a slab of con­crete in the din­ing area. (Check out the funny descrip­tion at Las Pil­i­tas nurs­ery for Pen­ste­mon Mar­garita B.O.P., a really cool plant that suf­fered a sim­i­lar fate, though for­tu­nately not until after it had been prop­a­gated. I never knew what the “B.O.P.” stood for until I read the note.)

Last week­end I finally bought a replace­ment. The small plant looked iden­ti­cal to what I’d grown before, but this one had a dif­fer­ent species name on the label, G. cap­i­ta­tum ‘Attar of Roses.’ The Dave’s Gar­den writeup shows big­ger, almost ivy-geranium-sized flow­ers on the plant, and the descrip­tion puts it at half the size of what I had before. And the scented gera­nium list at Herbal­pe­dia says there are at least 50 gera­ni­ums that have a rose scent.

Based on what I’ve seen from the plant, how­ever, I’m skep­ti­cal that my plant is much dif­fer­ent from the pre­vi­ous one. I’m not tak­ing chances. It went into the ground where it’ll be screened by a few other herbs.

Here’s the recipe in case you get moti­vated. Also check out the Herbal­pe­dia list above where you’ll find six­teen other recipes, plus lots more ideas of what to do with scented geraniums.

15–18 small rose gera­nium leaves
1 1/4 cups unsalted but­ter, soft­ened
1 1/3 cups sugar
3/4 tea­spoon vanilla extract
3/4 tea­spoon rose water
1 table­spoon plus 1 tea­spoon Cognac
6 eggs
1/8 tea­spoon mace
1/2 tea­spoon salt
1/2 tea­spoon cream of tar­tar
2 2/3 cups unsifted cake flour

But­ter and flour a 9-inch spring­form pan or a 10-inch bundt or tube pan. Rinse and dry the rose gera­nium leaves and arrange a dozen of the in a ring around the bot­tom fo the pan, under­sides up. Arrange the rest in the center.

Cream the but­ter until very light and fluffy. Beat in the sugar and con­tinue beat­ing until the mix­ture is fluffy again. Beat in the vanilla, rose water, and Cognac. Add the eggs one by one, beat­ing to incor­po­rate each one thor­oughly before adding the next one. Beat until the mix­ture is smooth. Mix the mace, salt and cream of tar­tar into the flour and sift the flour over the but­ter mix­ture in four por­tions, beat­ing just until each one is mixed in. Care­fully spoon some of the bat­ter into the pan to anchor the leaves in place. Pour the rest of the bat­ter into the pan and smooth it. Tap the pan on the counter to force out any air bubbles.

Bake in the cen­ter of a pre­heated 325 degree oven for about an hour and a quar­ter, or until a tooth­pick inserted in the cen­ter comes out clean. Cool. Turn out of the pan and option­ally dust lightly with pow­dered sugar that’s been stored with a vanilla bean. (I like it just fine with­out this step.)

August 07 2008 | Categories: my garden | Tags: | 2 Comments »