POD loves me. POD loves me not.

To thin or not to thin? File this under “not complaining,” but all five (that’s five apiece) General Lee, Speedy Green, and Supremo cucumbers and Honey Bun cantaloupe seeds germinated. They’ve already been brutally culled to two per pot, but is further thinning called for?

Yes.

In part, this post is serving as a self-imposed “do it right” mandate. You see, it kills this gardener to off perfectly good plants. But history (and horticultural extension after extension) suggests limiting tomatoes, cantaloupe and cucumbers to one per 5-gallon bucket.

And, um, POD’s 2014 cucumbers aren’t tame, container-friendly bush varieties; they’re everything-resistant hybrids with fun names.

The General Lee pictured here is housed in a 5- or 6-gallon pot. Cousins Coy, Vance, and Daisy have already bit it and when 3-5 true leaves are in evidence (one can be seen budding here), Luke will join them. Leaving Bo behind the wheel, where he belongs.

Thinning tip: never pull a cucurbit from the ground — its fragile root systems may be damaged — but instead, use your fingernails to snip the stem just below the soil line.

(The Honey Bun gets a little pass: two seeds will remain in the 20-gallon Rubbermaid bin.)

May 2014

Really, there’s a lot more on the little blue deck than was hoped for.

Watering plants out front is a considerably more enjoyable undertaking (especially with the Hurricane’s “help” — she likes to get watered, too, and the basement hose provides a pretty fantastic impromptu sprayground.)

On the other hand, hauling gallons of water up the sladder isn’t a recipe for fun or for safety, but somehow that gorgeous baby maple became a gigantic maple tree. Which is nice and all, really nice, but the hours of midday shade probably aren’t so great for tomatoes and cucumbers. (Although come late July and August, Tree’s shade may provide said tomatoes and cucumbers a welcome respite from the heat.) So instead of a crazy, low-maintenance, street-side Pennsport garden jungle, as this gardener had imagined, containers have been steadily migrating back to the deck.

Everything has germinated, though, and once a few pollinator-attracting flowers have been added, we wait, water, and see.

Lean Out

Last weekend the Michigan set of parents (the Endurer’s in-laws, the Hurricane’s Nana and Bappa) arrived for a long weekend. Which was great, because the kid loves her grandparents and doesn’t see them nearly enough. But tough, because the crew had only just returned from a trip to Kentucky the weekend before to visit the North Carolina set of parents (POD’s in-laws, the Hurricane’s Nana and Gramps) and the cupboards were bare and the season’s first share was scant.

After a lovely dinner at Industry and a less lovely dinner at Tun Tavern (because what does this family do after driving 12 hours? Get in the car and drive another hour — or two and a half if taking the scenic route through New Jersey in a monsoon — to the shore) everyone was hungry for some home-cookin’.

But as noted, the cupboards were bare. However, the pots out front were blissfully brimming with herbs. And ample herbs equal a couple of saffron noodle cakes and a nice pot of tomato gravy and a radish-heavy salad for the following night.

Saffron Noodle Cake
from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison

2 tbs olive oil
2 pinches saffron threads
1 roasted red pepper [POD’s must-do addition]
8 ounces saffron pasta, linguine, or spaghettini [or Korean noodles, if your pantry looks like POD’s]
2 eggs, beaten
1/2 c. freshly grated Parmesan or Asiago [or Romano]
1 bunch scallions, including an inch of the greens, finely sliced
1/2 c. chopped parsley
1/3 c finely chopped basil [which is where POD came in handy] or marjoram
2 tbs butter, olive oil, or a mixture of butter and oil

Herbed Saffron Noodle Cake
from POD, with thanks to Deborah Madison

2 tbs olive oil
2 pinches saffron threads
8 ounces saffron pasta, linguine, or spaghettini [or Korean noodles, if your pantry looks like POD’s]
2 eggs, beaten
1 c. tarragon, thyme, rosemary, and parsley [thanks, POD!]
2 tablespoons butter

Warm the oil in a small metal measuring cup, add the saffron, and set aside. [If making two cakes, use 1/2 of the infused oil for the first and 1/2 for the second.] Cook the pasta in plenty of boiling salted water until al dente, then drain. Rinse under cold water and shake dry. Combine it with the saffron oil, eggs, and herbs [add scallions, cheese and the roasted red peppers for the original version] and mix well — your hands will be the best tool. Season with salt and plenty of pepper.

Heat 1 tbs butter in an 8- 10-inch nonstick skillet. Add the pasta, pat it down and even the edges. Cook over medium[high] heat until golden on the bottom, about 5 minutes. Turn the cake out onto a plate, add 1 tbs butter to the pan, slide the cake back in, and cook until the second side is crisp and golden. Cut into wedges and serve.

POD’s Popping!

The On Deck corn emerged a few days ago, the Honey Bun muskmelon peeked yesterday, and as of today the Speedy Green and Supremo cucumbers are starting to shift a little soil. Still waiting on that General Lee, but that’s it.

Thanks to aggressive squirrels, sparrows, and cats with full bladders (the only wildlife we see in South Philly, really) tender seedlings have been protected with yards and yards of deer netting. Handy stuff for urban container gardeners…

Plants On Deck 2014 has arrived!

Corn on Deck

Could. Not. Resist.

Watching field corn grow is one of summer’s true. pleasures.

Eating garden-fresh sweet corn is another.

But Plants On Deck is a container garden and even we’re not that crazy. Until now. Thanks to the mad scientists at Burpee, there’s reason to hope. Supposedly these little seeds will produce 4-5′ stalks — on which one can expect “two to three delicious 7-8″ long ears per stalk.” Pop nine seeds in a 24″ container, wait two months and see.

The On Deck hybrid from Burpee seems too good to be true (and the one review posted on the site is not terribly encouraging), but that’s not going to stop your trusty POD gardeners. Stay tuned.

First Harvest & Easy Weeknight Eats

Leave it to mint to withstand one of the hardest winters this gardener has experienced since moving from Michigan to Philly nearly 20 years ago. A winter so miserable, in fact, that it killed off the very thyme first featured in one of POD’s very first posts.

Moment of silence, please.

Thank you — moving on to dinner. Once again, the marvelous Moro comes to the rescue with this quick, easy, bright, meat-light, almost-pantry (in a pinch, the prosciutto could be optional — or you could use bacon or ham, I suppose.)

(More than less) From Moro: The Cookbook, by Sam and Sam Clark

Sopa de guisantes
Pea Soup with Jamon and Mint

4 tbs olive oil [POD used 2 tbs]
1/2 medium onion, finely chopped
1 medium carrot, finely chopped
2 bay leaves, preferably fresh [plant a bay plant, easy indoor mascot, so worth it]
2 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
150g [5 oz] jamon serrano (cured ham), finely chopped [see photo for POD’s version]
1 small bunch fresh mint, roughly chopped
500 g [just over a pound] podded peas, fresh or frozen [who can find a pound of fresh, in-season peas, ever? Frozen are fine, fresh would surely be divine.]
1 litre chicken stock [appx. 4 c.]
sea salt and black pepper

In a large saucepan, heat the oil over a medium heat, add the onion, and when it has turned golden add the carrot and bay leaves. Continue to fry for about 5 minutes, stirring occasionally, then add the garlic, two-thirds of the jamon and half the mint. Give everything a good stir, fry for another minute or so, then add the peas. Cook for a couple of minutes before adding the stock. Simmer gently until the peas are tender, about 2-3 minutes. Remove from the heat. Ladle the peas and stock into a food processor or liquidiser [immersion blender, thank you] and process until smooth. Return to the pan, season with salt and pepper and add the remaining mint. Serve with the rest of the jamon on top and an extra drizzle of olive oil.

So…This is Embarassing

Here at Plants On Deck, there’s often a lag between garden-related activity and garden-related post. That lag is usually a day or two (or a week or so), at most. In this case, um, exactly a month has passed.

Apologies.

But hey, it’s been cold. And life happens. But you haven’t missed much, honest. The Peas ‘n a Pot, Rhubarb Swiss chard (POD decided to go with red as an accent color this year and tends to have better luck with red chard over white, anyway), and lettuce that are shown here have only just sprung and the radishes will be ready for plucking any day.

041714_withinlimit — supervising farmhard

Plants On Deck

tales of an urban garden

Month: May 2014