Where does food come from? It comes from the ground, of course. And prior to that, it arrives on earth in the form of sunshine. Thanks to photosynthesis, we have food to eat, because plants have the unique ability to turn sunshine into carbohydrates, providing calories for us and for other animals (some of which we eat as well). But plants wouldn't be much without soil. And with the arrival of Spring (last frost around here is April 10), I'm on my knees, getting my hands dirty. And because we would not eat were it not for soil, I feel perfectly justified writing about it in a food blog.
Today I planted 15 different varieties of lettuce along with some parsley, cilantro, radishes and a new variety of kale for me, Lacinato. All this in just one corner of our yard here in the District of Columbia, about a mile from the White House. Here you see my stirrup hoe, which I use to dig up weeds and turn the soil a bit, and a bucket for collecting all the waste. The weeds all get dumped in the compost pile, where they can do some good later as fertilizer and soil conditioner.
I started planting in our front yard three years ago. This was under threat of eviction from my more far-thinking spouse, who has great plans to turn the yard into a magnificent garden, compatible with our Victorian-era house. But the big plans so far have given way to the smaller plans. The actual plans, I might add, have still to be drawn up, although my wife has a general idea where she wants things. (This translates as, "Don't you dare put a vegetable bed there! That's where the walkway is going!") She has wavered, for instance, on just what kind of dust-inhibiting shrub to plant around the perimiter as a hedge. And now I think we share the same view that our new garden, as far as possible, should be edible.
While the master plan inches along, and while my wife continues to threaten that a crew will be here any day to install a retaining wall, I continue digging and planting. A quick survey shows that a few lettuces along with some arugula, kale and collards survived a bitterly cold February. And the garlic I planted last fall is doing fine. I am gradually improving my knowledge of what to plant where, based on past successes. So this year I am starting with plenty of lettuces. I won't be over-fertilizing (with compost) the radishes and carrots: the extra nitrogen results in too much foliage and funny-shaped carrots. I am finding some shadier spots for the parsley and especially the cilantro. And I will work my way across the yard, preparing the beds, making more compost. This will space out my planting so that everything doesn't come up at once. You don't want a crop of lettuce so big you can't eat it. But I also will be serving it to my catering clients, and selling it at the small produce market we operate in front of my daughter's charter school on Saturday mornings. We use money from vegetables to buy more seeds for the school garden.
I will continue to update you on our urban garden. Chefs should be gardeners. Because gardens provide our food. I don't know how you can separate cooking from growing. And now that we know how much our food supply contributes to our environmental problems, we should all be gardeners/cooks/environmentalists.
Here's the garlic. Hard tomake out. It looks much better in person.
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