I needed about 10 of my homegrown, late-season pak choi plants to come anywhere close to the amount I’d have gotten from a single commercially-grown plant. Still, it made a great stir-fry.
Honestly, I thought I’d harvested my last of the season. Two or three weeks ago I brought in all the peppers and winter squash. Last week I dug the remaining sweet potatoes. I even buried most of the main planting bed under 18 inches of autumn leaves. And then there was a dinner pinch.
The full breadth of my meal-planning this month has been, “shop from the freezer.” With Christmas nigh, my wife will want freezer space to stockpile home baked cookies so I’ll try to use something from our freezer in every dinner I prepare until Christmas.
Finding a pack of round steaks sparked thoughts of stir fry. A simple beef and vegetable dish would take little time to prepare and it wouldn’t be a problem to zip to a market for some broccoli or cauliflower. But wait! What about the pak choi?
After I’d pulled the onions in late August or early September, I had planted pak choi seeds in their place. Sprouts appeared quickly, but cloudy, cold weather has kept growth slow. Supposedly, pak choi (also known as bok choy, pak choy, and bok choi) matures in about 30 days. This Post Produce is at least 45 days past sowing and it took about ten of my plants to equal what you’d get from one commercially-grown plant.
Not a big deal. It’s very satisfying to have harvested anything edible this late in November. My pak choi has thrived through the season-killing frost and at least half a dozen below-freezing nights. The coldest night bottomed out at about 24F degrees but the plants look great (except for some holes chewed through the leaves).
The Stir Fry
There’s nothing amazing about the stir fry—except that it tasted great. When I prepared marinade for the beef, I discovered we had no soy sauce (I was dumbfounded); I used oyster sauce to season the dish.
1 lb beef cut into bite-sized pieces
2 t grated fresh ginger (divided)
1 t onion powder
¼ cup oyster sauce
¼ cup white cooking (or other) wine
½ to 1 t Siracha Hot Chili Sauce
1 large fresh sweet pepper cored, de-seeded, and cut into bite-sized pieces (I used a sweet Italian pepper because I’m still working through what I harvested, but a bell pepper would work nicely)
1 medium onion peeled and cut into bite-sized pieces
1 mature head of pak choi or equivalent cleaned and cut into bite-sized pieces (seriously: peel apart the stalks of the plants and rinse them thoroughly.)
cooking oil for frying
1½ cups chicken stock
~1 T corn starch
Combine the first six ingredients in a bowl or zipper-topped plastic bag. Mix thoroughly and make sure all the meat is submerged in the liquid. Set this in the refrigerator for at least 2 hours, but overnight is better.
Heat about 2 tablespoons of oil in a wok or frying pan and tilt the pan to coat its bottom and sides. When the oil is very hot, fish the beef out of the marinade (save the marinade) and put the beef into the hot pan. Stir the beef to keep it from sticking or burning and cook it through—this could take 7 to 10 minutes, depending on how well your stove heats the pan.
Pour the beef and pan juices into a bowl and set them aside. Scrape the pan relatively clean, add 2 more tablespoons of oil, and return the pan to the stove. Tilt the pan to coat it, let it become very hot, and then add the onion pieces. Stir to keep the onion from burning and, when the pieces become translucent, reduce the heat to medium.
Add the ginger, stir it through, and immediately add the cut up sweet pepper. Stir for 3 to 5 minutes, add the pak choi, and stir to coat everything with the hot oil.
Pour the reserved marinade into the wok and stir to coat all the vegetable pieces with the marinade. Cook until the liquid starts to boil and add 1 cup of the chicken stock; bring it back to a boil.
Return the beef to the pan and stir it together with the vegetables until the liquid boils. In the meantime, stir a tablespoon of cornstarch into the remaining chicken stock and stir that mixture into the cooking vegetables and beef. The liquid should thicken rather quickly at which point the stir fry is ready to serve. I served mine with rice.
If we get a few more warm days, I may get another decent harvest of pak choi this year. Seems more likely this was my actual final harve
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I’ve had a terrific harvest of purple jalapeno peppers, though I let most of the peppers ripen to bright red rather than picking them purple. Serious cold in the next two days will quite likely end the pepper season.
October 22, 2013 is nearly done and I’m only now writing my Post Produce post. Life continues to be crazy with periodic travels to Ithaca, but it’s crazier still as the end of gardening season approaches.
Sadly, my tomato plants succumbed to late blight and I lost at least a bushel of tomatoes. While that happened, I harvested and froze beans from my garden, bought grapes from the farmers’ market to make jelly, froze locally-grown sweet corn, canned “bread & butter pickle” pears, put up a few jars of tomato sauce (from tomatoes that hadn’t yet developed blight blemishes), bought tomatoes from a local farmer to make salsa, and seriously enjoyed my pepper harvest.
Peppers Going Strong
My pepper plants have struggled through a rather cool growing season. Still, they’ve managed to grow a reasonable amount of ripe fruit.
I harvested seeds from sweet Italian peppers I’d bought last year at a farmers’ market. I gave away most of the seeds, but started several for myself and grew three plants. Those plants have been prolific, and the peppers are perfect.
To assure I’d have a full batch of red pepper relish to give my mother-in-law, I bought a dozen red bell peppers at a farm market. At the same time, I harvested eight perfectly orange bell peppers from my garden. My mother-in-law gets nine 4oz jars of red pepper relish, and I’ve put away six jars of orange pepper relish. I also made bean salad dressing from the same peppers.
I harvested about a dozen sweet Italian peppers and used most of them in salsa: canned 34 8oz jars of the stuff. I also used about eight red-ripe jalapeno peppers in the salsa.
There are quite a few more peppers to harvest, and nighttime temperatures are pushing into the low 30s this week. I’ll probably harvest the remaining peppers, and there are lots of lima beans I’ll need to pick, ready-or-not.
Now You Post Produce!
What are you harvesting from your kitchen garden? Post about it on your own blog. Then find the linky widget at the end of this post and create a link to your Post Produce post.
Success with orange bell peppers this year has me thinking of growing a bell pepper rainbow next season. I’ll have to do some research: how many colors of bell peppers are available?
One of more than a dozen cucumbers I’ve harvested this year. At least two dozen more are maturing on the plants, so I may be giving some away by the middle of next week.
I hope this month’s Post Produce finds you with an abundance of goodies fresh from your gardens! My tomatoes are slow-going due to very cool nights and little rain, but we’ve had two tomato salads and I’ve worked fresh tomatoes into a couple of cooked dishes as well.
Zucchini hasn’t broken away as it does traditionally. This, I think, is because I wasn’t here to harvest the first squash, and it grew very large. If zucchini is like other fruiting plants, successful reproduction slows further reproduction… if you don’t pick beans as they ripen, bean plants produce fewer beans—that seems to be how my zukes are performing.
On the other hand, cucumbers have come on very strong and I’ll be making spicy bread-and-butter pickles in the next day or two. It’s reassuring to see swarms of pollinators working the cucumber blossoms each day, though I’ve seen no honey bees on any of my vegetable flowers this season.
Carrots and onions are ready, but I haven’t started harvesting them. I have grabbed whatever tomatoes I could, and I’ve harvested a decent amount of wax beans from plants that seeded themselves last fall and have reached maturity weeks ahead of the beans I planted this season.
That’s the story! I love to be eating so much food from the garden, and there promises to be a whole lot more by next month’s Post Produce. What are you harvesting? Post about your own veggies and fruit, and use the linky widget after the last photo in this post to link back to it. I look forward to seeing what you have going on.
This zucchini became 2 loaves of zucchini bread, and two large skillets of sautéed zucchini, onions, and tomatoes. I never much cared for zucchini but last year my kids insisted that zucchini bread is the best sweet quick bread. Of course, you can’t grow just enough zucchini for bread-making, so I’ve made peace with zuke as a side dish — sautéed, slawed, and even stuffed.
These wax beans came from seeds that sowed themselves last fall. They are Kentucky Wonder Yellow beans, which I didn’t know existed until last season. This year I’m growing a different variety of climbing wax beans which are a bit more delicate. Purple bush beans are in bloom, and I look forward to harvesting my first near the end of next week.
Couldn’t resist trying Indigo Rose tomatoes billed as the darkest of the black tomatoes. They’re gorgeous in the garden. Even as they emerge from flowers, the tomatoes have deep purple tops extending about ¾ of the way to the bottoms. They take forever to ripen, but when they do, you notice a delightful red glow extending down from the purple. Sadly, the purple peels away with the skin, so they’re most attractive in applications where you wouldn’t peel them.
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Sour cherries from my dad’s front yard have gone into pies and jelly and will end up in syrup as well.
When I woke up this morning I realized that today is Post Produce and I hadn’t posted last night! Emptying my dad’s house in Ithaca has me scattered, so my post and linky widget are up quite late this month. Please don’t panic. The linky is live for nearly two weeks (scroll to the end of this post to find it), so if you want to participate, you’ve plenty of time to report on what you’re eating from your garden.
Dad’s Cherry Orchard
My father doesn’t have a vegetable garden, but he’s still intent on keeping his land productive. Ten or more years ago, he planted a sour cherry tree in his front yard, and the tree has been with fruit for three weeks. After our first harvest, I baked a cherry pie, grabbed a slice for myself, and left the rest in the kitchen so he could stop by and pick it up while I visited my family in Lewisburg.
That’s my 93-year-old dad picking raspberries from the brambles he planted two years ago. The harvest has been modest, but for all the fresh canes growing this season, there’s great promise for next year’s harvest.
I’ve since harvested twice more. I made jelly that included cherry juice in the mix, and I stored some cherry juice that I’ll soon make into syrup and can. I use such syrup on pancakes, waffles, and ice cream; in marinades for meats; and in drink mixes. My dad, I think, will use it on ice cream.
There’s one more harvest of cherries on the tree but they’ll have to wait because an afternoon thunderstorm diminished my enthusiasm for picking.
Dad’s Raspberry Farm
My brother, who now owns the family farm, cleared some land a few years back and planted chestnut trees. My dad bought a whole bunch of raspberry plants—both red and black raspberries—and established a modest bramble patch along one edge of the chestnut plantation.
While my dad picked his domesticated raspberries, I pounded underbrush around the chestnut trees and found plenty of wild black raspberry plants producing terrific fruits.
I’ve been out to the farm with my dad twice in the past few weeks to harvest berries with my dad. Considering the number of plants out there, the harvests have been modest. I’ve found more wild black raspberries among the chestnut trees than my dad and I have harvested from the cultivated plants.
So far, I’ve made and canned three cups of black raspberry syrup, and a batch of jelly that included raspberry juice in the mix. Yes. I’m talking about the same batch of jelly that included cherry juice. My brother, also, made a small batch of raspberry jelly.
While picking berries with Dad, I noticed two raccoons amble up a half-fallen tree, spy on us for a bit, and then curl up for a nap. This has nothing to do with celebrating homegrown produce, but it was kind of fun.
My dad’s apartment isn’t well appointed for preserving large batches of fruit, it makes sense that my brother and I take on these tasks. For me, the best part of the story is that my 93-year-old dad continues to plant trees and brambles. He’s really into growing Black Locust and Redbud trees from seed, and has set several young trees out near my brother’s chestnut starts. I hope I’m still around when my dad harvests his trees for the lumber.
Now You Post Produce!
Write a blog post about your homegrown produce. What are you harvesting? How are you preparing it to eat? What’s about to ripen? Return here and use the linky widget below to link to your post.
Early Frosty pea plants are not a variety that boasts “poor producer” on the packaging. In fact, the vines are merely two feet tall, but I harvested a gallon of pods from half of a 14-foot double row today.
For me, the first great moment of every gardening season is when I roll a handful of peas out of a fresh-picked pod and pop them into my mouth. Today was that first moment!
My peas have been producing for about two weeks, but I haven’t been home to enjoy them. This evening, I finally had time to harvest, and I worked down one side of one trellis. I got a gallon of plump pods. Thing is, there are two trellises supporting pod-laden plants… plants on the third trellis are younger and not yet producing. If today’s harvest is any measure, there are three gallons of pods out there yet to harvest.
My one-gallon colander is going to get a workout in the next few days as there are still at least three gallons of pea pods on the vines.
New Peas for Me
For the past 17 years, I’ve planted Wando peas exclusively. That’s because I often get started late in my garden and Wandos do pretty well even in the intense heat of early summer. This year, I changed my stripes.
I planted a double row of Early Frosty peas, and a second double row of Bolero peas. A week or two later, I planted a double row of Wandos. Both Early Frosty and Bolero claim to be “great producers.” It occurs to me I’ve never seen a pea package claiming that the variety within is a “poor producer.”
In any case, while Wando peas grow as tall as 60 inches, Early Frosty and Bolero plants reach about 24 inches; they aren’t challenging the trellises that I designed for the Wandos all those 17 years ago.
What will I do with this marvelous harvest? As you might guess, I ate several handfuls of raw peas before I finished in the garden. Bu the big event will be a pleasure I anticipate from late July until June the next year: I’ll make New Potatoes and Peas. This simple dish consists of a mild cream sauce coating young potatoes and garden-fresh peas. It is rich but the potatoes and cream sauce are mild enough that they let the flavor of the peas come through.
If you’ve never had new potatoes and peas, please try them. This should be on every foodie’s list of the top 100 finest dishes in American history. My post titled Home Kitchen Garden New Potatoes explains how I prepare New Potatoes and Peas. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.
I quickly lose count of how many pea pods I open and empty into my mouth while I’m harvesting. This wasn’t the first of the season, but the peas were awesome.
Your turn! Post on your blog about what you’re eating from your garden. Then come back here and use the linky widget to link back to your post. If the linky lists other Post Produce articles, visit those articles, leave comments, and post about them on Facebook, tweet about them, and pin photos from them on Pinterest.
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Rhubarb produces huge elephant-ear leaves on the ends of slender stalks. The plants naturally shade out undergrowth, so a rhubarb patch can do well with little more than occasional feeding. I try to rely on mulch to keep the soil rich, but rhubarb is happy to receive a generous helping of fertilizer in mid-spring.
Rhubarb is in season! In most of my gardening years, this would be the earliest proclamation I’d make about harvest. Last year, instead, I wrote a sad story about three failures of my rhubarb crop.
This year has been spectacularly “normal” climate-wise and the meager rhubarb roots I started last spring have come on so strong that I’m tempted to harvest heavily—a supposed no-no in a rhubarb garden’s second year.
Rhubarb Sauce for Dad
I’ve neglected my garden a tad because I’m spending a lot of time in Ithaca, making repairs in the family house and emptying it to make way for renters. My dad decided to move into a progressive care facility, and there are 52 years’ accumulation in the house with which to deal.
Rhubarb sauce may look a bit slimy, but it doesn’t feel slimy in your mouth (compared, for example, to soup thickened with okra). I like rhubarb sauce on its own, but it makes a great topping as well for cottage cheese, yogurt, and ice cream.
Dad doesn’t complain about his new accommodations, but it was clear right away some things are lacking. Most obviously, the food service at the progressive care facility is mediocre; the food isn’t terrible, but it’s not particularly interesting.
My dad had rhubarb available most of his life. His dad grew it, and descendents from those plants made it to several places my dad lived through the years. We ate rhubarb sauce all spring when I was a kid, and Dad was always excited to serve up the first batch. Dad’s rhubarb patch has died off years ago. So, on my last trip home (to Lewisburg), I harvested my first rhubarb stalks from my new patch. I cooked them into sauce and packed it with me when I drove back to Ithaca. My dad seems pleased to have it.
I explained how to make rhubarb sauce in an earlier post. If you’ve never tried it, I recommend that you buy stalks or get some from a gardening friend and cook it up for yourself before you plant any. Even people who don’t care for rhubarb sauce can be enthusiastic for strawberry-rhubarb jam or pie. I posted how to make strawberry-rhubarb pie—both written instructions and a video tutorial.
I hope you’ll try rhubarb if you haven’t. I love that on this Post Produce, I can celebrate such a fine harvest.
Now You Post
Use the linky widget at the end of this post to link to your Post Produce blog entry. Then visit other participants’ blogs to see what your fellow gardeners are eating from their own gardens. Thanks for visiting!
These lettuce seedlings aren’t doing well under lights. My guess: the seed starting soil I used wasn’t very good. I bought a brick of starting soil at a nursery four years ago, and seeds I started in that have thrived. These lettuce seedlings are in soil I bought in Ithaca when I was desperate to get the growing season started. The seedlings will be far happier when I set them in the garden today or Tuesday.
This month’s Post Produce isn’t about produce I’m eating from my garden. Rather, it’s about produce I WILL eat! We’re having a most “normal” spring in central Pennsylvania, meaning spring crops are just barely underway.
My peach trees are in bloom, but the apples look barely awake. Pear blossoms are about to burst. Rhubarb is far enough along that were I desperate enough I could harvest some, but I think I’ll hold out a week or two and let the stalks grow to full-length. Raspberry plants I set out last fall are putting out growth despite having been severely pruned by wild animals during the winter. Blueberry plants are also showing signs of life. Oh, and oregano, thyme, sage, lavender, and tarragon have all sprouted new leaves. If the weather is good when I wake up today, I’ll photograph the perennials for a follow-up blog post. Until then, I’m talking vegetables.
I posted about Walla-Walla onions on April 5th, and promised I was about to start a second tray of seeds. Here’s the second tray, and the seedlings look great—though there’s plenty of algae growing on the soil. Algae doesn’t usually cause problems but it may indicate the seedlings have gotten too much water.
When I Plant Vegetables
Despite the lift my perennials provide, annual vegetables hold much more of my attention in early spring. Two weeks ago, I planted 28 foot-rows of pea seeds directly in the garden. Many of those seeds have sprouted, but there are gaps I’ll fill by pressing fresh seeds into the soil. Also, I expect to plant another 14 foot-rows of peas TODAY!
I wish I already had lettuce, spinach, and mustard seeds in the garden, but I’ve been distracted (see the box, Missing Spring if you want to know why.)
Seeds I planted indoors under lights have had enough time to prove themselves. Many have failed, but far more are growing strong. Tomorrow I’ll start seeds to replace the failures, and a few more I wanted to start two weeks ago before I ran out of time. Photos show where things stand.
Now You Post!
I get very excited as my seedlings emerge; there will be fresh vegetables in less than a month! What about you? Are you already harvesting pounds and pounds of delicious produce, or are you merely anticipating? Post about your homegrown produce and use the Linky Widget at the end of this post to link to yours.
I planted 46 tomato seeds two weeks ago. Here’s what sprouted: Glory of Mechelon—3 of 3. Moonglow—5 of 5. Chili-pepper-shaped paste tomato—9 of 15 (from 2-year-old seeds). Indigo Rose—5 of 5. Mortgage Lifter—7 of 7. Dutchman—6 of 8 (But they’re tiny! The short ones in the photo are Dutchman at about one-quarter the height of the other varieties.) White Queen—2 of 3. I’ll start 23 more seeds later today to fill in for ones that didn’t sprout. Also: my earliest-planted tomatoes—Stupice—look about to die. They’re in the same inferior soil that holds my lettuce seedlings, so I’m thinking to start eight more though it’s kind of late for them to demonstrate cold-hardiness. (Stupice are a short-season variety and I was hoping to get an early harvest.)
My pepper starts have been finicky as they always are. These seem to have been over-watered in my absence which has never helped in past years. Still, some are strugging along: Orange King Bell—6 of 8. Purple Jalapeno—1 of 5. Sweet Italian—5 of 5. Poblano—0 of 5. I intended to start two trays of peppers in the first place, but it looks as though I’ll add two more. As the soil in this first tray dries, the poblanos might just wake up and I’ll end up with too many seedlings.
Use the Linky here and add a link to your Post Produce post. Share what you’re eating or what you plan to eat from your own garden:
It seems every season I leave some onions unharvested, and 2012 was no exception. On a shopping trip in mid-March I failed to buy onions, and this caused some anxiety when I started cooking a meal that demanded them. Happily, the 2012 leftovers were juicy, sweet, and tender, and they made the dish.
Apparently, Punxsutawney Phil was messing with us back on February 2nd so, for the first Post Produce of spring, 2013, my small kitchen garden is locked into winter. I’ve started plenty of vegetable seeds indoors, and they’ll probably remain there until mid April.
Despite spring’s reluctance to arrive, I’ve already harvested and prepared food from one of my planting beds. What’s more, the low hoop tunnels I installed last fall have wintered over several lettuce plants, and I anticipate being able to make salad by the time I set seedlings outdoors – using several varieties of lettuce.
My last lettuce harvest of 2012 was at Christmas but it didn’t decimate the lettuce crop. Many plants left in the hoop tunnels survived winter. They didn’t do any growing and there’s frost damage around the edges of some leaves, but the plants will spring into action when the weather warms and I’ll harvest a homegrown lettuce salad about when I’m normally planting for a mid-spring crop.
Until this year, I’d never harvested from my garden in March. The experience further motivates me to think about winter as a fourth growing season. If I can find time through all the other craziness in my life, I’ll expand my winter gardening activities this fall. Maybe I won’t wait for atmospheric carbon to pull hardiness zone 10 north to Pennsylvania. If I can afford to, perhaps I’ll grow pineapples in central Pennsylvania despite cold winters.
Now You Post!
That’s all I have this month. I’m thrilled to be able to celebrate Post Produce with actual, fresh, homegrown vegetables at the very end of winter. Please share yours. Use the widget below to link to your post about what you’re eating from your garden. Thanks for visiting!
One of four 12-pound or larger neck pumpkins I harvested last autumn, this winter squash dwarfs my largest chef’s knife and hangs off both sides of a very large cutting board.
This month’s Post Produce is only barely about winter squash. You see, my dad moved out of our family home. He decided to take an apartment in a progressive care facility, and I’ve been spending a whole lot of time in Ithaca helping him get settled, making repairs in the house, and staging removal of everything. We hope to have the house ready to rent by June.
During my last stint in Lewisburg (where I live), I made a small vat of curried squash soup. To do that, I cut up a 12 pound neck pumpkin and cooked some of it, leaving a big chunk in the refrigerator. When I packed up to return to Ithaca this week, I brought the leftover (uncooked) neck pumpkin along. Tonight, I cooked it.
When I Cook Alone
I tend not to be super-motivated when I cook for myself. I usually cook a meal for six, expecting to eat it over the course of three or four days. I’ll have it for dinner one day, lunch and dinner the next, and so on until it’s gone. The neck pumpkin plays into this scheme for my current stint in Ithaca: I’ll have it and mashed potatoes with the boneless pork ribs I cooked tonight. That ought to get me through the weekend and partway through next week.
The photos show what I did with the squash. This is a super-de-duper-de basic preparation that results in a classic side dish. What makes it special is that the neck pumpkin I used came from my garden in October, and it’s still in great shape in February! Two more neck pumpkins sit in a rocking chair in my dining room and will likely become curried soup, gilled squash, or more mashed squash… it’s hard to predict.
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The neck of a neck pumpkin is solid squash meat. I used about two-thirds of the neck for one batch of soup, one-third of the neck and some slices of the bulb for a second batch of soup, and what was left of the bulb became mashed squash that I’ll eat over the next four or five days.
These are the pieces of neck pumpkin I brought with me to Ithaca: they still need to be peeled and scraped before going into the cook pot. I work on my mom’s in-counter cutting board after clearing off such things as hose washers, giant tweezers, and tungsten microelectrodes. Since my mom died, my dad has reinterpreted the use of the kitchen.
The old vegetable peeler I remember from my earliest days is incredibly dull but still able to cut the skin off a winter squash. My mom left a new, sharper peeler, but that has moved with my dad to his apartment. In case you’re preparing winter squash for your first time, please pare deeply. The flesh directly beneath the skin is firm and bitter, and your squash will taste better if you remove the skin and one or two more layers of flesh.
After peeling the sections, and scraping the stringy stuff from the insides, I cut the squash into fairly large chunks and add them to a pot of water.
The Pyrex pitcher on the right dates back to, perhaps, the 1970s. I heat water in it daily for hot chocolate mixed with instant coffee—that’s my main source of caffeine. Note that I haven’t covered the squash chunks with water; I’ll add a lid to the pot and anything above water will cook in steam. I start the burner on high, but turn it down to medium when the water boils. It takes 20 to 30 minutes for the squash to soften.
When the tip of a knife easily slips through the skin side of the squash chunks, I pour off the water. Then I add two tablespoons of butter and three tablespoons of brown sugar – please add more or less of either to suite your own tastes. I stir with a spoon, superficially mashing individual chunks of squash as I go. I prefer a chunky mixture over a smooth one, but were I cooking this for others I’d use a potato masher.
Here’s the Linky widget. Go ahead: add a link to your Post Produce post. I look forward to seeing what you’re eating from your own garden:
A loaded peanut butter and jelly sandwich will ooze jam when I bite into it. The sweet fruitiness calls back flavors from last year’s growing season.
It’s the first 22nd of 2013; the first Post Produce of the year. Finally, winter has found my small kitchen garden in Lewisburg, Pennsylvania. A fresh inch and a half of heavy, dry snow covers an earlier, well-hardened snow that was on the verge of melting away just a few days ago. The thermometer reads eight degrees Fahrenheit as I type, and it’s heading lower as morning approaches.
To celebrate Post Produce in the dead of winter, I’ve only preserves from my garden. We’ve been eating carrots, beans, squash (both summer and winter varieties), pepper relish, and herbs from last year’s garden. While I try to create new combinations and flavors with my own preserves and farmers’ market purchases, a classic, unoriginal, all-American standard has recently exploded back into my repertoire: Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches!
Lunch for a Bedtime Snack
We don’t do dessert so much at the Cityslipper ranch, but lately I’ve developed late-night urges for sweet snacks. Having to assemble something to get me through to bedtime, I slapped together a peanut butter and jelly sandwich using one piece of bread cut in half, and it satisfied. I guess when you go without dessert long enough, that quasi-nutritional lunch-time standard tastes pretty sweet.
The bread and peanut butter I use for these snacks come from a grocery store, but the jams and jellies come from my larder. In 2012, I made strawberry jam, sour cherry jam, black raspberry jelly, fruit punch jam (sour cherry, black raspberry, and blueberry), peach jelly, grape jelly, and quince jelly.
In the interest of full disclosure, only a few strawberries and fewer blueberries came from my garden, though peaches could have. Black raspberries grow wild across the street from my house, so harvesting and preparing them makes it feel as though I grew them myself.
But wherever the produce comes from, it’s always a joy to make a sandwich using jam or jelly I made from the fruit. I’ve produced videos and written posts about making jam and jelly. I hope you’ll try making some in the coming season; it’s easy to do and a terrific first project when you’re learning to can.
How to make strawberry jam – written instructions
How to make sour cherry jam – written instructions
Now You Post Produce!
Please participate. Write a post on your blog about how you’re using produce from your garden—fresh or preserved… or write about produce that you’re harvesting or planning to harvest. Then return here and use the Linky widget to link to your blog post. Follow other bloggers’ links to see what your fellow gardeners produce.