Back in time, when a yard was mine.

Le Penseur, 2008

I was recently asked by flwrjane to go back in time and show you my 6th post. I'm not usually up for these sorts of activities, but I do have a tendency toward nostalgia. So I traveled back to the beginning of my blog.

It wasn't always my blog. It used to be our blog. Chez Danisse was my husband's idea. He even came up with the funny name. He wanted to document our experience with our first kitchen garden.

I wasn't very interested in using a blog for this documentation. It seemed cold. I preferred real photographs, the type you could hold in your hand, and a gardening journal, one with pages made of paper. Then I changed my mind. It was a good decision. It turns out I really enjoy this space.

Thank you, Chris.

In the beginning, we both posted. Chris had more time back then. We were living in Point Reyes Station, CA. Life was very different.

I've decided to deviate from the original request and show you our first written posts (two prior posts were simply photographs).

Chris:
Pt. Reyes Test Kitchen: Radishes and Beets

Denise:
but i thought you loved my dirty roots...

I won't tag anyone, but feel free to place a link to your first post in the comments section.

berry

Breakfast on Mesa Road, Point Reyes Station, June 2008

berry, oh berry
simple, honest, and sweet

juicy and black
not at all like a beet

you bathe in the sun
and you never burn

you fall from your stem
nothing asked in return

sometimes the city makes you soft

I've always believed that living in the the city resulted in toughening up and living in the country softened people. Today I'm not so sure.

I started thinking back to one of our Stinson Beach Motel vacations. We spent our mornings rising early enough to jump out of bed and rush to the picnic area near the beach before anyone else would arrive and disturb our favorite gopher (there were probably several gophers, but we liked believing that we saw the same busy gopher every morning). We'd quietly sit on a picnic table with our coffees and try not to giggle too loudly as we watched him scurry about and pop his head up through various holes surrounding the picnic tables. We didn't know what sort of important work was going on underground, but we found it all very entertaining. We weren't worried about the picnic area. We were just visiting for a few days and then returning to San Francisco.

Then some big things changed and we were suddenly starting a kitchen garden behind our new home in Point Reyes. Our happy gopher days were immediately over. We were no longer entertained by gophers. It was hard work keeping them at bay to protect our fruit, veggies, and herbs. Whenever we saw a new telltale mound of dirt or a little gopher head pop up through a hole in the yard we'd growl--grrrrrrrrr.

I could tell a similar story about the deer in West Marin. They were darling and Bambi-like until they started eating my peas and the new heliotrope plant we were told was "deer resistant". I now believe what Mostly Natives Nursery states on their website "There is no such thing as a deer proof plant. Some deer somewhere has eaten everything that we know of including poisonous plants." The deer in Point Reyes are tough. They stare you down. They have no fear.


While cleaning a head of lettuce today I stumbled upon a tiny snail, it was incredibly small, the size of a grain of jasmine rice. I stopped what I was doing and became mesmerized by this miniature creature as it moved slowly along an inner lettuce leaf. Just months ago I was at war with the snails in my yard, buying little anti-snail copper fences and dreaming up new ideas for beer traps. Today, back in San Francisco and without a yard, much further from the lush landscape that surrounded me back then, I find I've warmed up to the snails, at least to this little guy. I carefully removed the leaf, snail and all, from the lettuce head and took it outside. I gently placed the snail, atop it's giant magic carpet of a lettuce leaf, on a steep weed-covered slope behind my apartment and wished it a long and happy life.

This weekend was supposed to be a computer-free weekend, but I cheated. Without my yard and garden I sometimes spend too much time on my laptop. I'm not feeling much remorse because my cheating was rewarded with this beautiful poem found on Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Sometimes breaking the rules pays off. I'll follow the rules tomorrow.

Appreciating poetry, forgiving rule breaking, giving a perfectly good lettuce leaf to a snail ...see how soft I am?

A Small Dragon
by Brian Patten

I've found a small dragon in the woodshed.
Think it must have come from deep inside a forest
because it's damp and green and leaves
are still reflecting in its eyes.

I fed it on many things, tried grass,
the roots of stars, hazel-nut and dandelion,
but it stared up at me as if to say, I need
foods you can't provide.

It made a nest among the coal,
not unlike a bird's but larger,
it is out of place here
and is quite silent.

If you believed in it I would come
hurrying to your house to let you share my wonder,
but I want instead to see
if you yourself will pass this way.

urban gardening part III - carrots (originally posted on 4/10/2009)

oops--i accidentally deleted this 4/10/2009 post...just bringing it back.

Friday, April 10, 2009

urban gardening part III - carrots

THEN
Point Reyes Station's Grandi Building as seen from one of the wooden picnic tables in the Point Reyes Community Garden
(one of my favorite writing spots)

I was recently perusing the latest issue of Organic Gardening when I got to the final page of the magazine, that space after all of the advertising, where they usually leave you with one last tidbit, often something fun. On this page Maria Rodale asks What's your garden fantasy? I thought about that for a while.

I do have a garden fantasy.

I indulged in my own homegrown produce for about a year while we rented a house in Point Reyes Station, CA., a sun filled house with free rein to do whatever we pleased in the giant backyard. It was amazing, truly an experience I will never forget. My mom tells me that gardening is now in my bones. I think she's right.

We walked on to a property already possessing a tree w/ three types of apples, a pear tree, three types of plum trees, raspberries, a variety or blackberry vines, and a beautiful lemon tree that I visited almost daily. To that we added so much more that I stopped counting after we realized we were growing 50some varieties of fruits and vegetables in our backyard.

Gardening is addictive, at least it was for us. I was constantly tempted by the beauty of new seedlings and the grand promises and lovely descriptions of what could soon be ours printed on alluring seed packets. We planted in raised beds of all sizes, terracotta pots, random containers donated by our neighbor, and beds that we created by digging into our weed ridden backyard soil - we even built giant bean tepees and began composting with worms.

We were surprisingly successful considering we were complete novices. We had a blast. We harvested pounds and pounds of fresh produce, arugula, shelling peas, scarlet runner beans, ozette potatoes, oca, black russian tomatoes, garlic, lemon cucumbers, green beans, yellow crookneck squash, green beans, sugar snap peas, bok choy, lettuce, scallions, leeks, herbs, and an array of carrots, just to name a few. Unfortunately we left Point Reyes before our parsnips, cauliflower, spinach, spigariello, or radicchio could mature. I hope the new tenants like vegetables!

I loved just about everything we grew, but I had a special fondness for our shelling peas and carrots. Fresh peas and carrots, picked right before eating them, well, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't get much better than that. The peas we grew were labeled Tall Telephone Pole Peas and they were gorgeous. The blossoms were delicate and pretty and the vines, with their swirling tendrils, grew up our back fence and toward the sky like something out of a fairytale. My carrots, St. Valery, New Kuroda, Scarlet Nantes, Purple Haze, and Oxheart (I still might be forgetting a few), were some of the easiest and most forgiving vegetables we grew. They were also delicious and we ate them in salads, pickled, steamed, sauteed, and just plain old scrubbed and out of hand. I never even knew so many varieties of carrots existed.

NOW
our kitchen table as seen from one of our kitchen chairs in our San Francisco apartment
(another one of my favorite writing spots)

It is now spring again, about one year after we began our first garden together. We are living in a small apartment atop Russian Hill in San Francisco, CA. Our outdoor space consists of a few inches of down sloping window sill per window, and some of those windows are painted shut. Nothing makes one long for their garden more than spring. Our local community gardens are jam-packed and we've been told that it could take years before they reach our names on their waiting lists. Here's where the carrots come in (literally).

I bought a large terracotta pot, soaked some New Kuroda (my favorite) carrot seeds overnight, filled my pot with a combination of potting soil and worm castings, and buried my seeds. Then I crossed my fingers and waited. Lo and behold, I didn't count the days, but the seeds seemed to sprout up much faster than the seeds I planted outside in Point Reyes. One night, much sooner than I anticipated, my husband spotted them and showed them to me. I was ecstatic!

When I am home during the time of day when our apartment catches some sun, I move the terracotta pot between my bay window and kitchen window to allow it as much sunlight as possible. The tiny sprouts all lean toward the sun and when I move the pot I rotate it so their backs are to the sun. Sure enough, the next time I take a peek, they've all repositioned themselves and are leaning toward the sun again. They are an indulgent bunch.

So, while here atop Russian Hill, I've adjusted my expectations. My fantasy is a small one. I'd like to see those 9 little sprouts become fully formed delicious carrots. That's all. Is it possible? I really don't know.

Some, my husband for instance, have much loftier ideas when it comes to garden fantasies. He's convinced we can somehow trellis pole peas in our bay window. He wants to bring those fairytale vines and tendrils indoors. I'm not so sure about this plan, but I like his high hopes. Perhaps I'll be reporting on peas next.

The herbs and succulents are also doing well and we've recently added a tillandsia (air plant) to the mix.

the aphids are coming! the aphids are coming!

oregano with tiny aphid on stem

i never used anything to remove insects from plants in our outdoor garden. i let the good and bad insects fight their own battles. obviously, i didn't plan on using anything on my indoor plants, but i'm not really sure what else to do.

bottom line--i don't want to share my apartment with aphids and little flies (i believe they are "whiteflies"). the gravel is not keeping the flies away (my herb gardener was wrong) and i fear they are multiplying, plus i've spotted aphids.

i searched around the web and did some reading and it seems Safer brand insecticidal soap is used by organic gardeners for such situations. i bought some yesterday and am giving it a try, but i'll be honest, it's making me lose my buzz for eating these home grown herbs. the product claims it is safe on fruits an vegetables, but will i be able to completely remove this stuff before i add my freshly snipped herbs to to a recipe?

i'm feeling a bit bummed and defeated. i really want to make this work. sigh.

wintertime

Jen at Modern Beet recently wrote about a wintertime tomato sauce. Her post prompted me to think about the meals we have been preparing during these winter months. We have recently given up our garden and are once again living the urban life. The photograph above is of a bowl filled with my last trip to our garden. Although I am feeling a bit melancholy about leaving our garden behind, we really don't have it so bad. First of all, we are in California! Second of all, we live close to the San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers Market and we've been taking advantage of Mariquita Farm's fantastic Thursday night mystery boxes. Below you will find a laundry list of ingredients we've been combining to keep us healthy and happy during this winter season.

Greens
We tried chickweed & miner's lettuce from Marin Roots Farm for the first time this year and love both - love their greens in general!
Mariquita Farms has supplied us with all sorts of goodies! They have a great photo section on their website where you can look up a photograph and a description for almost any vegetable. Our last mystery box included items such as spigariello (leaf broccoli), smallage (soup celery), green garlic (it's partially green...), swiss chard, escarole, a variety of radicchio (i never really liked radicchio, but after trying Mariquita's, i'm a big fan), savoy cabbage (first time we tasted it - yum!), and dandelion greens.

Roots
More from Mariquita: french fingerling potatoes, carrots (a nice variety), gold turnips, parsnips, and parsley root (still need to try and cook these up).

Fruit
Our meyer lemons, cara cara oranges, blood oranges, and sun dried cherries have been from Hamada Farms. I have also purchased blood oranges in other markets. I'll try them wherever I can find them!

Preserved
Anchovies have become my secret ingredient. I buy anchovies from Italy that come in a little glass jar. I have no idea what's available locally, but I'm open to suggestions and willing to try a new type of anchovy. I use anchovies in salads, sauteed greens, pasta dishes, etc. Muir Glen makes a great canned fire roasted tomato and I use them on pasta, in chili, in soups, etc. We use Niman Ranch bacon as a condiment, a few crumbles here and a few crumbles there, and yes, it is true, bacon makes everything better!

Prep
We use all sorts of greens in simple salads (often adding toasted nuts and fruit). Sauteing greens with olive oil, garlic & s&p and combining them with polenta, pasta, Israeli couscous, or quinoa is a staple in our winter diet. I also saute greens with peanut oil, soy, and a little sesame oil. Breakfast might involve greens with scrambled eggs or the wonderful crustless quiche that Chris makes with goat cheese and vegetables (most recently green garlic and spigariello). Soups! Roasted vegetables are always good. Recently I simmered parsnips and turnips in stock and then prepared them mashed potatoes style - quite good!

When I'm really lazy I make jalepeno refried bean and whole wheat tortilla burritos.

I'm sure there's more, but that's it for now. Time to celebrate a birthday.

Happy Birthday, Chris!

charlotte and her web(s)

I’m not sure when I began to fear spiders. My early spider memories are of Charlotte and her web and the itsy bitsy spider crawling up the water spout, so when my fear originated is a mystery to me.

I knew before I moved to Point Reyes that if I wanted to live in such a place I’d have to learn to coexist with these eight legged creatures. This photograph was taken on a hike about a month before we started looking for a place in West Marin to call our own. It was during an early morning stroll and we were amazed by the amount of webs. They were everywhere we turned, covered with dew, and glistening in the sunshine. How could something I’d come to find so awful and creepy create such beautiful and functional sculptural work?

Since then we have moved into the house and I have slowly gotten used to these little silk producers. There are so many and such a wide variety that I really didn’t have a choice. They weren’t leaving and I wasn’t leaving. If I attempted to get rid of them, in a county like West Marin, I’d be stoned to death. Best of all, they do control evil-doers in the garden such as aphids and cucumber beetles.

When I found this little tidbit I realized I had more in common with the female spider than I knew. You know how it is, sometimes when I've skipped a meal and waited just a bit too long, well...it's hard to even see straight. As poor Chris knows all to well, life isn’t fun for anyone when I’m hungry…

Males are sometimes killed by females. In at least some of these cases it is likely that the males are simply mistaken as prey. The risk of this happening is greater if the female is hungry. To counter this, some male spiders offer a "bribe" to the female, in form of a fly or other prey, prior to the mating.

So the fear subsides and we share the property, but my curiosity stops there. There is no real future for us and we’ll never be pest pals. I adore the intelligence and artistic abilities of many of these spiders inhabiting the premises, but I can’t imagine I’ll ever be happy about sharing my shower with one, even if she happens to be a cousin of my good friend the scorpion. We’ll just tolerate each other as indifferent neighbors sometimes do.

but i thought you loved my dirty roots...

As I looked at my meticulously groomed carrots resting in their sterilized pint Ball jar, anticipating the day they'd become pickles, I paused to consider what I'd been up to all afternoon. If my favorite root vegetables are those freshly pulled from their beds and covered with dirt, why was I spending my entire afternoon scrubbing, peeling, and trimming one bunch of Peter Martinelli's carrots to create a single jar of pickled carrots? Why didn't I just skip the prep work and drizzle the carrots with olive oil and roast them or simply rinse them off and eat them fresh and unadorned?

Instead I found the preparation of this sole jar of pickled carrots profoundly fulfilling. Now this wasn't my first foray into pickling, just my first jar of pickles using produce from the recently-back-in-action Point Reyes Farmers Market. I'd experimented with cucumbers, green beans, and other carrot varieties. I'd searched for and tried using an assortment of sizes and types of jars: Ball, Kerr, and a even a French wire-clamp jar with a rubber ring (these canning vessels are classic examples of the type of nostalgic domestic objects to which I'm forever attracted). Lastly, I read recipes from a diverse array of cultures before writing and then attempting a few of my own.

Once I decided what this particular pickling project would entail, the carrot preparation mentioned earlier began. Next, I selected whole spices from my Morton & Bassett collection, chosen specifically for my pickling experiments, and crushed most of the spices with my thumb to release their flavor, some required the strength of the bottom of a stainless steel measuring cup, and one spice, star anise, was too pretty to crush and was added fully intact. The smell of the apple cider vinegar, water, sugar, and crushed spices simmering on the stove was fantastic (Chris disagreed, but I loved it!). The photograph above is of the full jar as it cooled to room temperature.

My choice of attempting to make yet another labor intensive jar of pickled carrots versus biting into a fresh carrot much closer to its original and well-loved dirty root stage isn't much of a stretch when I consider other aspects of my life. How did a hyper-driven corporate recruiter with her favorite phrase "make dust or eat dust" posted prominently on the front of her computer abandon that world completely and pursue a Master of Fine Arts degree? The same way a proud urbanite committed to the contemporary art world and public transportation moved to a small rural town (pop. 350), bought a car, and became dedicated to growing fruit, vegetables, and caring for two boxes of composting worms.

These are just a few of the disparate experiences that have somehow become stitched together to create the person I am today. There is some part of me, sometimes a very small part, that has a soft spot for just about everything in my past.

Sometimes I miss the clear and quantifiable way I was rewarded in the corporate world. Calculating my value is much more complicated now and often leaves me feeling a bit unsettled. I was spoiled by my city apartment's proximity to delicious Indian, Japanese, and Vietnamese restaurants (just to name a few of my wide array of gastronomic choices). Guilty trips to H&M for $3 earrings or $5 sunglasses and those fabulous evenings having drinks in swanky bars with my girlfriends...sigh. Oh city life...

But now I make homemade lemonade with the lemons and mint that grow right outside my front door. I walk 5 steps out my back door and savor what seems like an endless supply of raspberries and blackberries. And then there is the gratification of digging my hands into the dirt with my neighbor to uncover a family of little potatoes and watching my peas' tiny tendrils hold on tightly as they climb higher and higher up my fence. The peaceful nights, quiet with the only exception being the sound of a lonely owl softly hooting every now and then...glorious. Oh the country life...

I love it all, but for now I focus on the moment and patiently await my first bite into one of my crisp pickled carrots.