So, Kathy and I are in the second full year here at the Oakley ranch, and we’re trying to learn from last year’s gardening mishaps. The sun can be intensely unrelenting during prime growing season, and temps routinely top 90 degrees.
Last year, Kathy constructed several raised beds and we placed them on our south-facing front lawn. I couldn’t wait to pop the produce and the citrus trees into the amended soil, and then let Cali show us the bounty.
Mutiny on that bounty, dude.
By August, the Meyer lemon branches looked like they came from a nursery in Hiroshima; likewise, the fig tree was scorched like something from a Cormac McCarthy novel.
We did place two beds in the backyard, and had a bit of success with some select varieties of tomato and a few herbs, so when we took the plunge to put the crowbar into the wallet for a front- and backyard landscape design makeover in November, Kath opted, presciently, to move all the raised beds to the back, and go for a drought-friendly design out front.
After 2011 rains that cut U-Pick cherry season short, and unseasonably chilly temperatures that had one roll down sleeves to the forearm, the Oakley ‘hood finally has its Fahren-chutzpah back: The thermometer is routinely bumping the high 80s and 90s these days.
Like last year, our raised-bed gardening in a new locale was an experiment. Unlike last year, the consolidation of all the beds to one location in the more-temperate backyard seems to be relatively successful, knock on untreated lumber.
We posted earlier about Kath’s adherence to the bed allotment suggested by author Lolo Houbein in her tome “One Magic Square.” After 2010’s dismal heat failures out front, we’re actually overwhelmed at how lush all the beds out back are looking this year. Kathy’s combo of starts from seeds and from small pots has created a jungle out there. Famine in 2010; feast in 2011. While last year we had to hope that the eggplant would form out front, today Kath worries that she should have culled more healthy growth weeks ago!
And then, natch, there’s Earwig and the Angry Inch. Same backyard critter that vexed Kathy last year; it’s driving her, literally, bugs, today. Last year, we’d had a small, albeit healthy, crop of greens one day; next day, decimated. Actually, check that: “decimated’ literally means “reduced by 10%.” This mofo bug licked the plate clean and asked for 200% seconds.
Now, you have to understand that I have what is called a “black thumb.” I move a plant from the crappy clay “soil” that makes up our front yard into a rich potting mix? It’s dead in 12 hours, maximum. Dude, I can kill mint.
A swarm of earwigs in our backyard beat me to it.
But here’s the deal: Earwig and the Angry Inch are back for an encore this summer — Kath goes out in her jammas with a flashlight; she doesn’t want to spray, but feels that she has to — and yet the garden, even with some earwig chomps, is displaying the green.
Don’t know whether it’s the concentration of raised beds in one location; maybe it’s the overfilling of said beds with a local potting mix, overseeding, or finally getting the planting right for the region? This garden gig will always escape me; everyone writes about how citrus in California is foolproof. I wish; see above: “mint,” re: “thumb, black.” I fear that I will never be able to tell Lemon Lady down the street that the only bag with I ever went haywire was, “You, lady.”
Or maybe the relative lushness of the garden conforms to the theory of “one for the earwig, two for the gardener”? But, you know, I don’t think that that gives Kathy nearly enough credit. She planned the relo of the beds, planned a schematic of what goes in ‘em, planned a watering sked.
And then, days ago, pulled up her first harvest. Her crazy China Rose Radishes, a funky varietal that look like carrots. They weren’t stunted like stuff out front last year; they aren’t some freaky root that underperformed. These suckers actually resemble the glam photo on the seed packet!
Thursday morning, after researching a few recipes the night before, Kathy got up early before work to prepare these China Roses for a quick refrigerator pickling treatment. While she was in her jammas.
And then, a couple of days later, part of her bok choy plot was ready for harvest. Check out the photo, above, of our wares for sale at our stand at the Brentwood Farmers Market (kidding; it’s just the “fruits” of Kath’s labors posing for a digital photo op on one of our backyard cocktail tables).
Last night, Kathy prepared a delicious Asian Beef Noodle Soup featuring star anise, ginger, udon noodles, and the bok choy from the garden. The soup was finished with cilantro, sriracha (that hot, red, chili sauce in the plastic squeeze bottle with the rooster on the label), and a side ramekin of her pickled mixture of China Rose radish, carrot, red onion and jalapeno (which jumped from the side right into the soup bowl). Chopsticks worked for me awhile, but only a big spoon could do the rich broth justice.
And what to drink with such aromatics? Well, K and I just happened, yesterday, to take an adventure to visit a small wine shop about 45 minutes west of us, wherein Kath stumbled upon an old fave from our old ‘hood of Washington state, specifically Woodinville, just north of Seattle. Chateau Ste. Michelle, in partnership with Germany’s Riesling guru, Dr. Ernst Loosen, has produced “Eroica,” one of WA’s consistently nuanced and elegant manifestations of said varietal. Fresh and minerally, with nose passes of lemon and a bit of apricot, the 2008 Columbia Valley “Eroica” Riesling was an exotic complement to a soup comprising its very own exotics.
