Kasvimaalla (Finland)

By Roger Doiron

If you could choose between a golden egg and golden goose, which would you choose? Unless you live in a small apartment or have a severe case of goosaphobia, you'd be birdbrained not to choose the bird. Not only would it provide you with golden eggs, but also a little "black gold" for your compost pile.

This fairy-tale choice is so clear that you'd think it'd be easy for us to see similar real-world opportunities, but many of them literally slip right through our fingers each year in the form of seeds. When we plant seeds, most of us are thinking "eggs" when we should be thinking "geese" and I include myself in this group. I don't do nearly as much seedsaving as I could. I don't have just one excuse but a whole list of them which, conveniently for me, is the same list I use for not flossing my teeth.

While I'm still a bit birdbrained about seedsaving, I can proudly say that my garden has become the golden goose of garlic production. Not only did it produce enough to meet my family’s needs for a whole year, but we grew enough bulbs that we didn't have to buy any seed garlic. The bulbs we harvested last summer and cloves we planted last fall are now producing a bountiful harvest of garlic scapes just as our storage bulbs are running out. And the next crop of fresh bulbs won't be far behind insuring the cycle continues.

I realize that one suburban family's supply of garlic may seem like a small victory for global food security, but garlic's more of a bellwether crop than you might think. It can be successfully grown in diverse soils and climates, used in a wide variety of dishes and yet it’s a crop which curiously few home gardeners grow themselves. Why? I imagine that many take it for granted because garlic like so many other foods these days has been set "free" upon the world and is no longer bounded by the seasons and geography. It's available whenever, wherever, and however we want it, in bulbs, minced, and flaked.

When we dig deeper, though, we learn that what appears to be the free market at work is not quite what it seems. China accounts for 78% of the world's garlic production while the US ranks fifth with 1.4%, the majority of that coming from a single county (Santa Clara) in California. So, technically-speaking, garlic shoppers at large US grocery stores do have a choice, Chinese or Californian, but it’s not nearly as big or diverse as they think.

With July 4th and other independence day celebrations just around the corner, people will have other options to ponder as they plan their holiday meals. For too many in the US, the “choices” will be Bud or Miller or an industrially-produced hotdog or an industrially-produced hamburger. I don’t know about you, but I think our national holiday deserves better than barbecued mystery-meat and water-flavored beer. I am encouraging everyone I know (and 50 governors I don't know) to think outside the big box store mentality this July 4th by sourcing their holiday meals as locally, sustainably, and directly as they can. In doing so, we discover other ways of procuring good foods and eating that are better for us, our local farmers, our health and that of the planet.

Moving towards food independence doesn't mean having to do everything and grow everything on our own. It's about learning what we, our soils, climate, and local farmers can produce, effortlessly or with some coaxing, and committing to eat more of these things when nature offers them up to us. In doing so, we discover that we have more choices and freedom than we realized.

Plus, in striving for greater food independence for yourself, your family and community, you’ll be joining a revolutionary tradition that transcends time, cultures and borders. The battle for food independence is inextricably entwined with the history of political independence. Whether it’s the “Sons of Liberty” tossing crates of tea into Boston Harbor or hungry French peasants storming the Bastille armed only with farm tools and stale baguettes (a lethal weapon, if you've ever been on the business end of one), history offers inspiring examples of what small bands of people can achieve when they put their mind to something.

So, don’t just celebrate your independence this summer, savor it in all its freshness, localness, and drip-down-your-chin juiciness. We can’t know it for sure, but I suspect it’s what the “Founding Farmers” would want us to do.

This article and accompanying artwork are licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. If you choose to republish them, please include a link to http://foodindependenceday.org.

Permalink | Printer-friendly version |

As a 14-year-old, she picked up a spade and joined with the rest of wartime Britain in the Dig for Victory campaign. Seven decades later, though no longer wielding the spade herself, the Queen, 83, has again embraced the "grow your own" movement.

For the first time since the war, fruit and vegetables are to be found in an allotment-sized plot in the gardens of Buckingham Palace. Called the Yard Bed, Buckingham Palace's 4x10 metre plot is in a challenging, north-facing area to the garden's rear, tight up against the Gardeners' Yard. "Not ideal, but it is the only open space available, because everything is so landscaped," admitted deputy gardens manager Claire Midgley, 32, one of eight gardeners at the palace.

Challenging Prince Charles in the eco-stakes, chemicals have been banned. Liquid seaweed is being used to feed the plants and garlic to deter aphids. Mulch from the palace compost heap was used to bed in and the palace borehole will irrigate the crops. Any weeds will be burned by a machine using the same liquefied petroleum gas that powers Prince Philip's taxi, which he has used for decades to drive himself anonymously around the capital.

In 1918, as part of Queen Mary's war-time austerity drive, the 175-yard herbaceous border was ripped out and planted with "an abundance of royal turnips", a historic moment captured on film and preserved by the British Film Institute. During the second world war, the same border was again employed, though for a more varied crop, as food rationing gripped Britain and encouraged George VI to enforce the government's message and coax yield from every available patch of earth. Vegetables were also grown at Windsor Castle, where Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret spent the war.

Today, there are no turnips. Instead, a charitable organisation, Garden Organic, has donated six suitably named rare varieties from its Heritage Seed Library to be nurtured on the allotment. Thus climbing French bean Blue Queen and dwarf French bean Royal Red are already planted and to follow will be Northern Queen lettuce, and Golden Queen, Queen of Hearts and White Queen tomatoes. Surrounded by sage, other crops already in situ include Beefsteak and Sun Baby tomatoes, runner beans, Stuttgarter onions, Musselburgh leeks, Fly Away carrots, Red Ace beetroot, broad beans, chard and sweetcorn.

Garden Organic's chief executive, Myles Bremner, said: "The fact that this is the first time that food has been grown at the palace since the second world war will undoubtedly bring about the Dig for Victory analogies, but the challenges for self sufficiency and a need to re-skill a generation in how to feed itself resonate even now. What is important is to put people back in touch with food and how to grow, and hopefully the palace allotment will be a driver getting more people to achieve this."

Article source: The Guardian

Permalink | Printer-friendly version |

By Barbara Damrosch, published Thursday, May 28, 2009 in The Washington Post

A garlic clove is a powerful little piece of protoplasm to which few are indifferent. Some people are addicted to the pungent bulb, others flee in horror. Love affairs have been aborted by its scent, but more are launched by a cook's skill in harnessing it. A kitchen that smells of garlic says, "Make yourself at home."

Among garlic growers there are divisions as well. Some favor fall planting, for larger bulbs and an earlier harvest. Others opt for the more old-fashioned method of planting in spring, which produces longer keepers. It's possible, of course, to do both. Less easily resolved is the issue of whether or not to cut off the scapes that form before the plants mature.

A garlic scape is simply its flower stem, and in general, it is only produced by the traditional hardneck types as opposed to the modern domesticated softnecks. By the time a hardneck garlic plant's underground head of delicious cloves has matured, its stem is rather hard and topped with clusters of tiny bulbils, also called topsets. These are miniature garlics that can be sown to form new plants, but the common advice is to remove the scapes when they appear and let the plant put its energy into higher yields of garlic heads. On the other hand, research at the University of Minnesota has shown that if the soil is fertile enough, yields are little affected by leaving the scapes on, and the garlic may store better as well. I've also had good yields from this method. Besides, garlic scapes are beautiful to look at in the field, especially those rocambole types that curl round and round in clownish circles.

There is, however, one good reason to cut at least a few of your scapes early on. They make wonderful eating. Snap off a few while they are still green and succulent and try them. If I am planning to cut a scape into segments, I remove any tough part at the bottom, as well as the round bud and its long, pointed "whisker," which is tougher than the stem itself. I'll toss these tender segments into stir-fries, mixed vegetables, pasta dishes or anything to which I'd like to impart a fresh, green, mild garlicky flavor. They are transcendent with eggplant and roasted tomatoes.

You can also leave the scapes whole, just for the wonderful loopy, bulb-tipped shape. Grill or roast these eccentric coils, slathering them with olive oil and allowing them to caramelize yet still keep their bright green color and a bit of firmness. Then encircle a hearty, meat-laden platter with them, letting diners nibble, with their fingers, whatever parts they find tasty. For most, it will be a new discovery worthy of a "yes" vote, hands down.

Article copyright of Barbara Damrosch. Reprinted with permission.

Permalink | Printer-friendly version |