Blog: What’s Up in the Gardens

The Uninvited

Mon, 2 May 2011 18:03:34 -0400

Had you walked along McNab Township's fourth line last night, you would have heard a purring sound and seen a few soft lights glowing in the windows of houses along the road. A hurricane on Thursday, April 28th knocked out power lines: ours had been draped over our page wire fence, and we ended up without power for four days. Before the ice storm of '98, most of us just put up with the inconvenience of an occasional power outage, but being without electricity for a week or more back then, prompted most of us to buy generators. Now we just flip a switch.

Lack of electricity was not our greatest concern. Shortly after the power went out just after noon on Thursday, I heard a strange noise. When I looked in the direction of the sound, I saw that an old Manitoba maple had come, uninvited, into our greenhouse and was sitting on the foundation wall. The end frame and four sections had been folded by the force and the glass had shattered and scattered in all directions. This is the tree that had dropped one of its four trunks on the garden last year. It was leaning in that direction and we had discussed taking it down, but as it seemed to pose no immediate threat, we had gone ahead with other projects.

I was shocked at the destruction but not devastated. About fifty tomato plants were under the wreckage, some cabbage plants, two rosemary bushes and a holly bush. Some of the tomato plants were crushed or cut by the glass. Once the dust settled, or in this case broken glass, I rescued what I could, mindful that the precariously balanced tree could shift at any moment. Because our nights are still cool, sometimes with threat of frost, I moved six or seven hundred plants into our back porch. In all I lost perhaps thirty or forty plants which in the total picture is nothing.

Tonight a friend gave me some seeds for four new tomato varieties. I can hardly wait to plant them. We move on.

Selecting More Seeds

Mon, 31 Jan 2011 15:54:33 -0500

Thinking ahead to spring and the gardens is a good way to keep the winter blahs at bay. The restaurant chefs have given us a tentative outline of their plans for spring and early summer. As a result we have spent hours with the seed catalogues checking new varieties, characteristics, matching varieties to soil types and temperatures, choosing some for immediate use and others for winter storage. So many things to consider.

Many of the seeds left over from last year are still viable, parsnips being an exception. Beans and tomato seeds that are ten years old can still be used; they just take a little longer to wake up. We also collected seeds from different salads, arugula, mustard, and varieties of beans. The scallion seeds, collected last fall and planted a week ago, are up in the greenhouse and showing excellent germination. The large quantity of seed collected should ensure a steady crop all season. All those, along with the seeds I bought in the U.K. last fall, mean that I already have a head start.

Photo: Romaine, ready to eat, growing the greenhouse from seeds collected last year.

Winter Greens

Mon, 17 Jan 2011 11:03:42 -0500

Diners at the restaurant on the weekend had a special treat. Matthew served our first baby pak choy of the year. Last summer I grew three crops of pak choy in the covered garden, planting the seeds in flats and then setting them in place. We had great success, using them at the baby stage and larger. Both were tender, crisp and tasty.

Around the first of November I planted pak choy, arugula, and mixed greens in the greenhouse. The arugula was ready for New Year’s Eve. The leaves were sheared off for salads and garnishes and the flat came back to the greenhouse. With lots of moisture, sunshine and grow lights to extend the day a few hours, Matthew had more fresh arugula less than two weeks later.

The mixed greens (Thompson and Morgan “Winter Blend”) are a mix of brassicas including a beautiful Red Frills mustard. These are a slow growing variety for a climate where you can grow them in the winter under cover. Not in this part of the country; however, they thrived in my greenhouse with a night temperature of 8-10°C. These were ready as baby greens at about nine weeks. They were sheared off and provided a lovely tangy nip in the salad plates. Back in the greenhouse they are quickly regenerating and may be ready for cutting again in about a week.

The pak choy grew well. Some were transplanted into large cubes and some into individual pots. We left them for ten weeks which gave them time to reach 15 cm. The seed catalogues announce that pak choy is ready in 50-52 days. You get excited by the prospect and then you read the fine print which says “from transplant” which adds about another three weeks so we were more or less on schedule.

Overall, the return is small for the amount of effort, but it is such a treat to taste fresh organic greens in January when last night’s temperature here was -27°C. Diners can look forward to more of these on the menu and we hope to supply the shop this summer.

Photo: A red variety of Pak Choy

Selecting Seeds

Tue, 4 Jan 2011 21:16:44 -0500

"What kinds of seeds are you importing?" asked the customs official at Ottawa airport when we returned from the U.K. in November. "Garden seeds, " I replied, “such as lettuce.”
"Why don't you just buy them here?"

That is a good question. I told him the truth that I like to try different varieties that are not available here. More questions revealed that he knew very little about gardening and seeds and so I did not add the other reason: the seed displays at the Royal Horticultural Society shop are so beautiful and inspiring that I just cannot resist.

We buy hundreds of dollars worth of seeds every year, most of them from small family owned seed companies in Ontario. I try to avoid buying from companies controlled by the multi-national chemical companies (which I will call the Bullies) who want to own and control world food production and promote genetically modified crops with no concern for long term consequences. Most seed companies do not produce all their own seeds, so where do they come from? Sometimes the country of origin is stated on the package, often not. Last year I by chance discovered that one small company I had bought from does indeed get some of its seeds from the Bullies and another imports its tomato seeds from the U.S. So I do my research and try to support the small companies that produce their own.

Franchi Seeds (display above) is anything but small and local. So why do I make an exception with this company? Franchi, the Italian family who started the business in 1783, still own it and control over 90% of their seed production. Many of their seeds are regional and they commission farmers in those regions to produce the seeds for them. Because of this many of the seeds are not available globally. Many of their seeds are produced in the colder regions of Italy which means that they are suitable for growing in climates like our own.

The vegetables portrayed on their seed packages are beautiful, and we all hope to produce exactly what we see. Franchi, however, is realistic and acknowledges terroir: "the tomato will vary in shape, size and flavour depending on the region." I tried their Costoluto Fiorentino tomato last year with interesting results. The plants grown in the clay loam soil of the kitchen garden produced flavourful bright red fruit. The plants grown in the peat soil in the covered garden were larger, lighter in colour and and absolutely perfect in appearance but had almost no flavour.

To find out more about this company that serves its employees Salade Niçoise and a glass of wine for lunch, go to www.seedsofitaly.com/

Photo: Part of the Franchi seed display at the Royal Horticultural Society shop at Harlow Carr in Yorkshire, U.K.
www.rhs.org.uk/Gardens/Harlow-Carr/

More Turkey Talk

Tue, 14 Dec 2010 11:08:50 -0500

After my story of Arthur the turkey, people started asking the restaurant shop if they sold organic turkeys. The answer is unfortunately not this year, although Matthew and Jennifer do have beautiful ten pound organic chickens. They have been looking for growers and have some possibilities for next year.

There are good reasons for choosing organic birds. Organic turkeys get more space and must have access to fresh air and pasture. This means less stress and generally results in a healthier bird. They eat an organic vegetarian diet, with no genetically modified feed, antibiotics or animal by-products. Many organic turkey farmers raise old fashioned and rare breeds which are hardier and have more flavour. They grow at a slower pace and do not become crippled by their weight.

The Turkey Farmers of Ontario have been pressing for regulations requiring all turkeys to be grown indoors in a controlled environment in an attempt to control disease. The problem with that system is that the birds are often crowded, and by the time they approach market weight they are walking and sleeping on a thick layer of their own manure. Growth hormones ensure rapid weight gain which almost cripples some birds, and regular doses of antibiotics are needed keep them healthy.

During our recent trip to the UK we discovered a different attitude to producing turkeys. Roy Porter, village butcher in Chatburn, Lancashire, gets his turkeys from small local pastured flocks. There are two varieties, the standard white and the bronze. They are killed on the site to reduce stress and delivered to his shop where they are hung for about 14 days. They are then eviscerated and the heads and feet removed. Most people in this country cringe at the thought, but game birds have been aged this way for hundreds of years. It is a safe way to handle meat and results in a tender tasty bird.

Roy's birds are available to relatively few; however, Sainsbury's, one of Britain's largest supermarket chains, is working to produce large supplies. They are advertising the "Woodland Turkey", a Norfolk Black raised in "a habitat of woodlands and fields where they can behave as they would in the wild. When indoors they are stimulated with plenty of space, perches and straw bales where they can play and improve muscle strength." With a large ready market, more turkey growers will be encouraged to follow suit and the noble turkey will get the life it deserves.

Sadly, this country is lagging behind, but supermarkets listen to consumers, and if we pressure them, they too will demand better turkey production.

Photo: White and Bronze Turkeys hung at the shop of Roy Porter Traditional and Organic Butcher in Chatburn, Lancs.
More info: www.ribblevalleyfoodtrail.com/roy-porter-butchers.htm

Steps in the Right Direction

Fri, 10 Dec 2010 12:26:04 -0500

For many years now, one of the pleasures of our annual holiday in the U.K. is visiting a local butcher named Roy Porter in the village of Chatburn, Lancashire. Some might see this as an odd holiday pursuit, but his shop is a carnivore's heaven. It is one of only about sixty registered shops in the whole country that sell local organic meat. The meat comes mainly from British breeds and is aged there: beef for twenty one days, pork and lamb for ten days. Staff cure their bacon and make a dozen or more kinds of sausage. While you are trying to make up your mind about which to buy, you are surrounded by the aroma of freshly baked meat pies. There is a good selection of cheeses including seven Lancashire varieties. He sells the best Lancashire Creamy cheese that we have ever eaten, not to mention Stilton which you buy by the slab and which tastes nothing like the imported versions here. Although his shop is in a small village, there is always a line-up of customers, often stretching out of the shop into the street.

I am happy to say that the new shop at Castlegarth Restaurant is offering some of the same features on a smaller scale: local organic meats (the beef aged for twenty one days), fine Ontario artisanal cheeses, homemade sausage (not quite a dozen varieties yet), and yummy meat pies. Matthew and his staff are also offering many prepared meals, such as braised lamb shanks, butter chicken, duck confit and lasagna, to name a few. Since this is not just a butcher shop, you can buy soups and sauces, wonderful breads made locally by Rob Jennings, and sweets such as walnut drop cookies and sticky toffee pudding.

What a treat to be able to get away from factory processed foods and back to farm fresh flavours enhanced by the chefs at Castlegarth. Stop by and see for yourself.

Photo: Roy Porter at his butcher shop in Chatburn, Lancashire
More Photos Here

The Best Laid Schemes

Wed, 1 Dec 2010 00:00:00 -0500

Today reminded me of a day in Scotland in November 1785. Robert Burns, the poet after whom our neighbouring village of Burnstown was named, was working on the land when his plough turned up a "wee, sleekit, cowerin tim'rous beastie" a.k.a. a mouse in her nest. The incident inspired his famous "Ode to a Mouse" in which he reflects on the relationship between man and mouse, as well as their similarities.

I too was working on the land, cleaning up the covered garden. A thermal blanket had been protecting the remaining salads, carrots and beets; however, the temperature had dropped to -12°C one night and I realized it was time to complete the harvest. As I was removing the blanket, our black lab Moddey dived under the far end, grabbed two fat meadow voles, killing them each with one crunch. She was very pleased with herself and so was I because rodents do considerable damage to certain crops. This year I had installed a solar powered rodent repeller which seemed to be working as there had been no detectable damage. When I removed the rest of the blanket, my feelings changed. The voles had been working to prepare themselves for winter. They had dug two little pits in the ground (see above) and filled them with tiny carrots, all neatly trimmed. A nest was in the remaining roll of blanket. These two instinctively knew they had shelter and food for the approaching winter.

In that moment, like Rabbie Burns, I saw a link between man and mouse, both harvesting food to store for the winter, thinking they were safe. Also like him I did not begrudge a fellow creature a bit of the fruits of my labour. Most of the tiny carrots they harvested, too small by human standards, would have ended up in the compost heap anyway. Had the blanket been rolled up and stored at the end of the polytunnel, as it will be soon, they would have no doubt survived the winter, unknown to me, safe from cold and predators. In one swoop, Moddey and I ended it all and I felt "truly sorry Man's dominion/
[Had] broken Nature's social union."

In the bigger picture, I cannot say I am disappointed that Moddey had followed her instincts, and that the electronic rodent repeller had worked long enough to ensure a good harvest of late vegetables. Had the voles survived, who knows how many of their descendants would have feasted on my spring salads and pea shoots. Last year my "best laid schemes" had "gang agley" when they completely destroyed a four metre row of late beets. Last August they were also good at finding the luscious ripe cantaloupes under the vines before I did. The reality is a constant battle between humans and nature, but for that moment I saw that in some ways we are all the same.

Talking Turkey

Sat, 13 Nov 2010 16:24:07 -0500

As Christmas approaches your supermarkets will be featuring the Christmas turkey. Before you make a choice, take a few minutes to find out a little more about the once noble bird. It’s not just a turkey.

Modern turkeys have been bred for meat, of course, but if you think this selective breeding has made them mindless meat and less than “real birds” read on. About twenty five years ago we decided to raise six turkeys for our own use. They were raised in a movable pen until they were big enough to be let out during the day. During the summer, the neighbour’s sneaky dog took one. Another died. We ate two. Two remained for Thanksgiving and Christmas, but both holidays came and went and the remaining turkeys spent the winter in the barn. Both turned out to be hens and in the spring started laying large beige eggs with red speckles. One lady did not live long but the other became a member of our livestock family. We named her Arthur.

True to her genes, she put on a lot of weight which made her waddle. I was told not to let her free range because she would chase a grasshopper across the field and then not know how to get home. The only truth in that was her love of grasshoppers, not to mention other insects. Furthermore Arthur was smart. She learned her name and came when she was called. She hung out with Matthew and the dogs. The minute she heard my car coming up the driveway she would run in her awkward way, wings spread slightly for balance, to greet me with clucking and a little dance. She also liked to to roost on the hood of my car, right in the middle, facing forward. A rather large but noble hood ornament.

For five years she was our friend, producing several eggs a week and keeping us amused with her antics. Her eggs were tasty, excellent for baking, and the thick whites made the best meringue. One sunny summer day, we found her on the edge of the field, eyes closed, and wings slightly spread. She was buried nearby and memorialized with her sister in a stained glass window in our kitchen.

Arthur was nothing more than a “meat bird” and she did not have the intelligence of her wild ancestors, but given a chance she showed us that even these humble turkeys have brains and can form relationships. Probably many of those millions of factory farmed birds are similar which which makes their living conditions even more inhumane.

I am not saying never to eat turkey. If we are to be responsible for the welfare of this planet, we have to show respect for all food animals as well as cute pandas. Start now by going to a reputable butcher and asking about his birds. Find a smaller producer who does not debeak and declaw his birds, who gives them adequate space, both indoors and out, so they do not have to fight each other for food. If you have a strong stomach, I suggest you visit Youtube for some very “interesting” videos on factory farmed turkeys. Don’t say, “I don’t want to know.”

Photo: Arthur the Turkey