The little garden that (almost) could

A garden's journey, some delights, and how to use baseball bat zucchini in fermentation *video demo*

After nearly 6 weeks I am home transitioning from a comfortable (in my mind perfect maritime climate) at 48.75° N latitude to the Mediterranean interior summer air of 42° N. It’s only fair, I did feel if I had been cheating somehow.

Blackberries are one indicator. They were just coming on—dark, full, and juicy sweet—on the US side of the Canadian border. Somewhere along the way south as we sped past brambles we drove right through their peak season, every road small and large is lined with Himalayan blackberry thickets in the Pacific Northwest. Here, at home, the peak has passed. They are shriveled wrinkly half-raisin versions of themselves—making the flavor concentrated but also the seeds more apparent (crunchy) in one’s mouth—too late for pies and jams. But the peaches! There might have been a welcome home pie made by my sweetie for me.

Had to buy it—yes it is as big as it looks (just shy of 10 pounds and 2 + feet long).

Here we are the time of year that gardens, produce stands, and markets are overflowing with opulent vegetables—deep purple aubergines, succulent (somewhat misshapen) sweet heirloom tomatoes, peppers (oh the peppers), and cabbage so fresh it has water between its tightly wrapped leaves. This year’s garden isn’t nothing but I wouldn’t use the word thriving, or abundant, or even productive. It is lush green and alive despite my five-week absence during the hottest and driest days thanks to Christopher.  Charlie Brown was drawn to a scrawny twig of a tree in the 1965 A Charlie Brown Christmas because he thought it needed a home. I have always been able to relate and I believe Charlie Brown would understand what happened with our garden.

Two days after I got our healthy plant starts tucked into the soil, late by local planting dates, we got an even later hard frost near the end of June. Imagine my discouragement when I found all 38 pepper plants fried! The 18 tomato plants didn’t look much better and the squash plants were flat. Here is what I should have done, then and there, mulched over the whole thing, closed the gate, and said to self “better luck next year.” But that isn’t me, call it weakness or superpower (I’d pick the former) but I decided to keep tending to it. After about a week tiny green leaves poked out from the base of those once-beautiful-now-fried plants. I knew they would never grow back enough to become a plant that could produce a pepper before the season was over and yet I couldn’t turn my back on life that was trying so hard. So I kept watering.

When it was time for me to leave (for a month or so), I took Christopher on the (overly complicated) watering tour which covers quite a few acres of dispersed tree plantings and this garden. There is a newly planted raspberry patch in the same area. I told him to try to keep the raspberries alive but please don’t spend the time and energy on the rest. (He works at a summer music festival and is gone long hours deep into the night—watering is difficult to fit in.) I came home to a zucchini in the fridge, a ripe Brandywine tomato (and many green tomatoes), and some pepper plants that are living their best life without peppers. He couldn’t turn away from them either.

On the left the little garden that could the day I came home, on the right the little garden that couldn't anymore.

I thought this sweet, albeit meager, garden was the end of the story. The day after I wrote the above chronicle of our 2024 garden I merrily went down the hill and across the road to water it. I opened the 8 foot gate attached to the 8 foot fence and was speechless. Then I started to laugh (out loud to myself), but of course, that was what was missing—deer. Early that morning, I know because the plants were still weeping with the fresh cuts, some deer had broken a bit of the fence and feasted. All those big green Brandywines—gone. There is no coming back this time. But, we will have tomatillos. Turns out deer don’t care for them.

Left to Right: Frost killed peppers in the end of June, heroic effort on the pepper's part to come back from the root, and final scene left only with a flower after the deer munch leaves.

Some delights

Cabbage Baby

(Is this how those funny little dolls (IYKYK) that took 1983 by storm were thought up?)

Last week, when I was still at my son’s home, I bought two Filderkraut cabbages, the conehead-shaped heirloom cabbage from Germany that has been increasingly available in the US. They sat on the counter with a chunky squat daikon radish. I’d planned to make a ferment with them when my two-year-old granddaughter spotted the vegetables on the counter and reached on her tippy toes to retrieve them. First, the radish, which she took to her play area. Then she asked for one of the cabbages which she cradled in her arms and started to coo and speak to it in her high-pitched talking-to-a-baby voice. Her mom and I looked on as it became a baby. She took it to her play area where I was instructed to check it with a stethoscope—this is her favorite game of late. The cabbage was declared “helfy” and we smiled and shrugged our shoulders, there would be no cabbage shredding that morning. After a few days and some outer leaf wilting she moved on to other babies to doctor. We made sauerkraut while she napped.

Left The cabbage "baby" and to the right is what that baby became when no one was looking.

Camp out

The drive from the southernmost part of Oregon to the near top of Washington is nearly 9 hours of straight driving on a good day with no traffic. There is never no traffic because this drive goes through Portland and Seattle. There is never no traffic because of the watery western part of Washington I-5 is the only north-south route through the state past Olympia. Usually, we do this drive in one grueling day—records include 8.5 hours and 14.5 hours. This time we decided to camp. We were also fortunate as got the last site. We camped just south of Olympia, in a small state park, Millersylvania. It was perfect. We took a walk at dusk through a fen on a boardwalk and another in the morning through some old-growth forest.

Evening stroll and morning walk at Millersylvania State Park, WA.

Let’s save that zucchini.

As promised some tips for the big ones. The picture below might just be my favorite moment (and image) of the deer feast in our garden. I clearly saw the luxurious plants but didn’t even peek under the leaves, thinking Christopher had harvested. What a surprise, each plant had one huge zucchini which turns out is too much for even a hungry deer.

Zucchini Achar Ingredient List

• around 500 grams partially dehydrated large zucchini (deseeded), cubed or diced

• 2 jalapeño peppers, thinly sliced (optional)

• 2% salt by weight of vegetables

• 1 teaspoon ground turmeric

• 4 tablespoons mustard seed, ground in coffee grinder

• 3 dried birds eye chiles, crushed (optional)

• 4 - 5 tablespoons olive oil

Process in video.

Remember to top with the olive oil. Place lid on tight and burp as needed. This will ferment in a sunny window. It is okay if it isn’t sunny all day.

This should be ready in about 2 weeks.

I hope you enjoy and play around with using this process of partial dehydration in your own fermenting adventures. To read more about and find more recipes check out the new edition of Fermented Vegetables. This an other ways of approaching fermentation are part of what is new in this second edition.

Because it made me chuckle.

Directly from the Charlie Brown’s Christmas Wikipedia page – a useless fun fact. For some reason this made me laugh – we are a nation of influenced and have been for quite some time.

“Charlie Brown's insistence on purchasing a real tree and disparagement of the aluminum Christmas tree practically eliminated the popularity of the aluminum tree, which was a fad at the time of the special. By 1967, they were no longer being regularly manufactured, to the point that most modern viewers of the special are unfamiliar with this type of artificial tree.^{[64][65][66][67]} On the contrary, artificial models of Charlie Brown's "poor tree" are offered by various retailers and have become synonymous with minimalist Christmas decorating.^[67]”