Archives for posts with tag: cheese

Almost all of the Sugar Snap pea seeds germinated and today we thinned the sprouts.

This one round of thinning should be sufficient; the remaining seedlings have about three inches of space between them. The vines will be dense by the time they start producing pea pods but they will get plenty of sun (and we will get plenty of peas).

We got to the peas a little later than I had intended—the sprouts are about a foot tall—but it is not too late. The leaves are still tender even if the stems are starting to toughen.

Roughly chopped and sautéed with butter, the shoots were delicious on top of crostini spread with a dollop of ricotta.

Warning:  Insect photo below.

We have reached—and moved beyond—the point of diminishing returns on the basil.  It has grown much faster than we can use it and now, the leaves are starting to deflate and turn yellow.  The plants still smell divine—this has been by far the most aromatic basil I have ever grown—and their flavor remains bold and clear.  But the basil won’t be getting any better and could easily start to degrade.

Therefore, we decided to end the season for the original planting (at the southeast corner of the east planter) and clear-cut the lot.  Doing so produced a huge pile of leaves, enough for several batches of pesto.  In addition to the usual recipe—with pine nuts and parmesan—we will vary the nut and cheese options.  One batch will use walnuts or pistachio nuts and another will include Pecorino Romano.  We’ll also make what might more aptly be called basil paste, with neither nuts nor cheese.

The basil’s corner of the planter now looks a bit ravaged, like a miniature tornado tore through it.  Eventually, I will pull out the stubs and roots as part of my fall clean-up.  Meanwhile, the more recently planted basil in the southwest corner of the planter will provide enough green leaves to add to salads, etc., until the first frost.  If we get enough warning (the National Weather Service is not always timely), we will clear-cut this basil as well.

Because I already had the clippers out (and I had to use the big ones; the basil stems were large and tough), I took yet another pass at pruning the tomato vines.  My periodic cutting and trimming has been keeping them partially in control although the branches are still more tightly entwined than I would like.  It is reassuring that the plants remain healthy and robust.

I had been holding my breath, hoping that we might make it through the year without seeing a tomato hornworm.  But, really, what was I thinking?  Sure enough, as I was untangling a couple of Brandywine branches, I uncovered a large hornworm, calmly munching away.  It hadn’t done much damage but I shudder to think of how many leaves it could have eaten if it had been left undiscovered.

This is the latest in the season we have made it without finding any of them.  Last year, the first hornworm appeared in mid-August; in 2011, we had two broods, one in mid-July (which seems very early) and another in late-September.  After three seasons of vegetable gardening, I have concluded that the presence of this particular pest falls into the “inevitable” category.  If you grow them (tomatoes), they (hornworms) will come.

At the other end of the garden, the Purple Amethyst and Roma II string beans have been quietly producing an abundance of beans.  Perhaps stealthily would be a better description.  A casual glance at the plants—a wall of leafy vines clinging to the trellis—might mislead one into thinking that no beans were present.  But after reaching into the vines and pushing the leaves aside, a multitude of ripening beans is revealed.  They dangle vertically, parallel to the vines and protected from the sun by the leaves.

We are growing purple beans, which aside from their color look quite typical, and Italian-style beans, which are wider and flatter with larger lumps (the actual beans).  Rachel grew up with the latter but they are relatively new to me.  They have a distinctly vegetal flavor—their taste might be the definition of green—and are delicious steamed and/or sautéed with lots of butter.

We’re not the only ones who like them.  Several of the beans had been tunneled through by creatures unknown.  They are some type of worm, judging by the entry and exit holes, and left the beans looking like Swiss cheese.

We ended up with a few pounds of green tomatoes this year, fruit that started to develop in the early days of September but which languished on the vine as the daylight dwindled.  They are beautiful in their varied—and variegated—shades of green and still good to eat.

We contemplated breading and frying them in the classic southern style or perhaps pickling them (I prefer pickled tomatoes to pickled cucumbers and consider them a delectable deli treat).  But then Rachel found a recipe for Cherry Tomato and Yellow Squash Crumble in the July/August issue of Vegetarian Times magazine.  The dish looked tasty.

Of course, we have neither cherry tomatoes nor yellow squash but I liked the idea of a savory crumble (fruit crumbles are among my favorite dessert dishes).  So we substituted our green tomatoes and upsized to a medium onion (to account for the missing squash).  And I confess that we probably used more than a half-cup of grated Swiss cheese (okay, we used at least twice as much).

Despite our modifications (or perhaps because of them), the crumble was absolutely delicious.  I highly recommend it to anyone who still has green tomatoes to dispose of (and I suspect that the original dish is good, too, for those lucky enough to have ripe cherry tomatoes and squash of any color this late in the year).