the witch apples

pick-os

I got the recipe.  B's killer pickles.  My favorites.  Each year I hoard them away from everyone else and each year they are perfect.  But not this year, because this year B didn't make them; I did.

I don't know why they sucked in on themselves, pruning like a bunch of old cocks in their brine.  B's don't do that.  I could take a jar to Persephone and show them what their cucumbers have done to me, and to my delicious garlic, and jalapeños, and to my dreams, eighteen quarts over, but I'm not sure they're to blame.  Maybe next year when I once again have a whole row of pickling cukes I'll try again, in just a few jars to start, and prove to myself that I can do it.  I can make the good pickles!  On the other hand, there are still jars of oversized, nearly inedible (whew, especially a year later) cornichons in the basement from the Pickling Chronicles of 2011.  I think it's time for a city compost sacrifice.

The day that I pruned my pickles, Julia and Eric came over for dinner crowing over their first really-truly-just-right fermented pickles.  They were embarrassed to be bragging, and they didn't even know of the rows of sorry jars squatting in the basement, but I was thrilled to hear of such success.  If you don't miss the mark a few times, what is winning?  I only hope I get to taste them.

summer bumps along

Little by little, summer rolls through the door.  Little by little, it rolls away to spend some time on the bottom half of the ball.  We are used to it now, to yellow grass and blue skies, skipping out the screen door without our shoes.  Tomatoes at every meal, plenty of plenty.  It never feels, on the food front, anything less than bountiful here, to me.  But the generosity of the weather, of being able to do what you like when you want - waking to sun and breakfast on the deck, making dinner in minutes, taking the bike to the park only to do the slide and come home in time for dessert... It feels as luxurious as the white peaches we've been plowing through, four and five a day, as the candy bowl of sungolds, always on the table, as the pink evening sky behind the fat, dry sunflowers, which the birds pick at before bed.  

more greens!

I cleaned out about half the first bed yesterday - making way for the growing kale plants by yanking all the crazy, smothering mustards.  I had to keep packing down the pile in my basket, to get them to fit.

It took two rounds in both pans to braise them all, and in between I decanted the braising liquid from the first batch (I just shake them and toss them into the hot, lightly oiled pans from the sink, but they sweat like mad) into a mason jar and then absentmindedly drank the whole pint of hot murky green broth while braising the second batch.

It must be the pregnancy, right?  Like a vegetal vampire.  It was just so delicious!

bless the farmers

I didn't grow it.  I didn't even pick it.  But look at what I can buy.
(and the plums are from Julia's tree!)

small (sufficient) summer harvests

The sungolds taste good again, after an extended period of mushy thick-skinned strain after the 100 degree pickathon drought.  [sungold soup, turned sungold sauce for pizza, sungolds in salad, sungolds balanced on strips of bacon as Zelda ate them today]

The summer squash plants crawl and wilt, but they can't help but make fruit.  [garden bread, zucchini fritters, zucchini rice gratin] The north beds, which are the summer garden this year, are a thousand times (or maybe ten) healthier than last year, after their long sleep under a layered mulch, but still, I have my doubts.  Still, I have to water every day.

The lettuces in the back are bolting (grrr), so the whole crisper drawer is full of them.  [best salad yet=holly's dressing, chevre, cucumbers, tomato, beets, copious lettuce]  I never buy lettuce any more.  Either there's too much, or I'm relieved there's no more.

The romanos are just coming on [currently in the japanese curry with pork and noodles I made for Jeff's post-surgery meal], with some other pole beans behind them, and then some other ones.  I'm going to need a plan.

The cucumbers and Zelda are dead even.  They grow, she eats.  I love cucumber plants.  I love Zelda.

The mustard crop that I threw into bed #1 has predictably taken over and I am ripping it out and dumping it into the sink, and into the pan, and into everything I eat.  [eggs, black beans and chorizo, lentil soup, pasta, my mouth]  Along with the occasional tomato, a month of blue skies, half a melon a day, and a couple of cloves of garlic, young mustards are all it really takes, it turns out, to make a summer.  

fruit trees

 Considering that this is wrong with them, the apple trees are doing rather well.  

Last year, with the ants and all, and that bad thing I did with the string, I just removed all the blossoms.

This year, Jeff cluster pruned back to a single apple per.  And there are still a lot!  And, actually, lots of them are looking pretty clean.  But the apples, and leaves, near the ground especially, have this.

No, I don't know what it is.  APPLE SCAB!

Or what to do about it.  WE HAVE TO TIDY UP!

But I have the internet on my side.

Ta da.