Winter's Revenge

Leigh Hauter said he never saw it coming.

"I didn't realize it was getting that cold," he said of the afternoon the Big Freeze descended. "We went for a walk and the water in the boiler was already frozen."

The wood-fired boiler in question is the one that heats farmer Hauter's greenhouse and his thousands of new seedlings. They represent nothing less than his spring crops for the coming CSA season. If he couldn't somehow get his frozen boiler working again in the face of a near-record March cold snap, he was looking at thousands of dollars in damage.

Leigh rose early the next morning and got to work trying to feed fresh water to the boiler. That meant hauling many hundreds of feet of fresh plastic pipe up Bull Run Mountain to the artesian well that supplies his water. The old 1 1/4"-inch water pipe was not only frozen solid after a night of temperatures dipping into single digits, it had burst open in several places.

Soon Leigh's water-soaked gloves were frozen as well, then his hands as he struggled into the second day to replace the pipes. A blast of wind ripped off his hat and made his work seem all the more desperate. Meanwhile, thousands of trays of seedlings inside the greenhouse were beginning to feel the effects. The potting soil was freezing. The seedlings were wilting.

After two days of this, the return of winter--in the form of a nasty cold front that had dumped snow from Birmingham in the deep south all the way to Boston--finally moved out to sea and Leigh surveyed the damage. He called a nursery in Indiana and placed an order for replacement seedlings that set him back at least $2,000.

But look here. As the greenhouse thawed again, there were signs of life where none could rightly be expected. Tiny seedlings, barely an inch tall, had managed to survive even when the soil they were rooted it had frozen stiff. "It's amazing, isn't it?" said Leigh as he reached down to inspect his little broccoli plants. "The sorrel wasn't affected at all," he says, pointing to plastic trays where hundreds of sprouts are growing.

So it is back to getting ready for a new year at Bull Run Farm outside The Plains, Virginia. Leigh continues to plant and water his seed trays. Meanwhile, his CSA subscribers are ready for a new season as well. Sunday was an open house wherein subscribers were invited out to the farm for tours and to collect their own eggs. Leigh has two busy chicken tractors in the fields. At one, the chicks that arrived last October just a day old are now full-grown and have started laying eggs.

Around the other tractor, the chickens mingle with geese strutting and honking around the enclosure, as well as several heritage turkeys that have formed a gobbling chorus. Leigh uses the geese to perform weeding chores on the farm. But apparently they also like to eat chicken eggs, so Leigh has the nesting area covered with a tarp. He pulls back the tarp and we collect a dozen eggs, all laid within the last couple of hours and still warm.

Leigh had expected a few visitors but instead several dozen subscribers showed up. He'd been giving tours all morning. I wondered if our current economic hard times had not discouraged CSA subscriptions and Leigh calculated that out of about 500 subscribers, a dozen or so had recently "come up with excuses to back out." But wife Wenonah said others are joining, and not because they are fanatic about local food but because "they just don't trust the food at the supermarket anymore and they heard about us."

The Hauters were a bit aggravated when the visitors drove their vehicles over newly planted rye crops. The rye is a cover to provide fertility for fields where Leigh plans to plant vegetables in June. It looks just like grass, which it is. On a sloping area outside the greenhouse Leigh's field of garlic is several inches tall, the little plants raising their heads above a thick mulch of hay.

Bull Run Farm is set back in a narrow, thickly forested valley. It's hard to imagine how Leigh and Wenonah grow crops on the mountainside. But as you walk about, you see clearings here and there where a plastic-covered hoop house abuts a field, indicating an area that soon will be planted with broccoli and Chinese cabbage and sorrel.

This day temperatures would climb over 70 degrees. The last blast of winter was already fading into memory.

Too Soon for Potatoes?

Just a few days ago it was starting to look like spring around our kitchen garden here in the District of Columbia, about a mile from the White House. I was able to get out and sow spinach and fava bean seeds. And today my seed potatoes are scheduled to be shipped from Maine. But somehow I think planting them may yet be a while off. (It's supposed to hit 60 degrees later in the week.)

Overwintered Carrot Cake

My wife, the baker in the family, took one look at our recent harvest of overwintered carrots and knew what she had to make: carrot cake.

I know what you are thinking: There could hardly be anything more mundane than carrot cake. But trust me: once you've made it with carrots you've grown in your own garden, carrots that have been storing themselves in the ground and getting sweeter all winter long just waiting for you to think of something to do with them--once you have some of those carrots to work with your carrot cake will rise to something special indeed.

Plus, my wife does not make ordinary things. Her baked goods invariably are extraordinary. This particular carrot cake is infused with the flavor of ginger and topped with an orange-cream cheese frosting. We liked the first one so much (meaning it lasted until maybe the next day) that she made it again and cut it into these cheery little morsels to serve at our recent chilaquiles brunch. It wasn't long before the only thing left on the buffet were a few crumbs.

Here's the recipe as found in The New Best Recipe, from the editors of Cook's Illustrated:

For the cake:

2 1/2 cups (12 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour

1 1/4 teaspoons baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground cloves

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 pound carrots, peeled

1/2 cup finely chopped crystallized ginger

1 1/2 cups granulated sugar

1/2 cup packed light brown sugar

4 large eggs

1 tablespoon grated orange zest

1 1/2 cups canola oil

Place an oven rack in the middle position and preheat oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 13 by 9-inch baking pan with nonstick cooking spray. Line the bottom of the pan with parchment paper and spray the paper as well.

Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, spices and salt in a medium bowl and set aside.

Shred the carrots using the shredding attachment in a food processor(there should be about 3 cups). Add carrots and crystallized ginger to bowl with dry ingredients and set aside. Wipe out food processor and fit with metal blade. Process granulated and brown sugars with eggs and orange zest until frothy and thoroughly combined, about 20 seconds. With machine running, add oil through feed tube in a steady stream. Process until the mixture is light in color and well emulsified, about 20 seconds longer. (Note: these steps could also be done using an ordinary box grater, a mixing bowl with a whisk and some elbow grease.) Scrape the mixture into a large bowl. Stir in the carrots and dry ingredients and mix until everything is fully incorporated. Pour mix into prepared baking pan and bake until a toothpick or skewer inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean, 35 to 40 minutes, rotating the pan from front to back halfway through the baking time. Cool the cake to room temperature in the pan on a wire rack, at least 2 hours.

For the frosting:

8 ounces cream cheese, softened but still cool

5 tabelspoons unsalted butter, softened but still cool

1 tablespoon orange juice

1 tablespoon grated orange zest

1 1/2 cups (5 ounces) confectioners' sugar

When the cake is cool, process the cream cheese, butter, orange juice and orange zest in a clean food procewssor until combined, about 5 seconds, scraping down the workbowl with a rubber spatula as needed. Add the confections' sugar and process until smooth, about 10 seconds.

Run a paring knife around the edge of the cake to loosen it from the pan. Invert the cake onto a wire rack, peel off the parchment and invert the cake onto a serving platter or cake stand. Using an offset spatula, spread the frosting evenly over the surface of the cake. Cut into squares and serve.

February Harvest

Carrots have stored very nicely in the ground. And since we've been experiencing a bit of a thaw the last week I went out and started preparing beds for planting. While I was digging around, I pulled up this lovely bunch, about five pounds worth.

We've been pulling occasional parsnips through the winter. These were planted last spring and were starting to show new growth on top. Time to pull them before they get too tough to eat.

Lots of beets as well. Some will go into our favorite beet salad with red onion and red wine vinegar. The rest we'll try to store. But not to worry. No chance they'll go bad. We love beets too much.

Winter Roots

It's true what they say: root vegetables only get sweeter when they've been frosted over.

For our cholent dinner over the weekend I foraged carrots and parsnips from the garden. They were planted last spring and have fully grown. I left them in the ground to make their own storage. The soil here in the District of Columbia is only modestly frozen, mostly near the top as a result of below average temperatures, down into the single digits at one point. For the second year in a row, I broke the handle on my forked spade prying the vegetables out of their beds. Last year I broke it trying to bury some kitchen scraps in my frozen compost pile. I have ordered a steel-handled spade.

Cleaning up my carrots and parsnips was somewhat more involved than usual, since the garden hose has been turned off pending a thaw. I have to fill a basin of water in the sink and scrub by hand. They clean up pretty nicely. Then they are peeled, cut on an angle, tossed with extra-virgin olive oil, salt, pepper and thyme and roasted in a 325-degree oven.

I swear, you will not find better root vegetable on any menu.

Sunday in the Nation's Capitol

Hard as it may be to imagine, real people do live in what the rest of the country refers to as Washington, D.C., and what we longtime residents more affectionately know as the District of Columbia. One benefit of living in the capitol city is our proximity to all the attractions on the National Mall. It's a great place to visit on a winter's Sunday afternoon. One of the little gems nestled among the museums is the skating rink in the Smithsonian Institution's "Sculpture Garden."





From here you get dramatic views of the capital building. Now imagine this same space on January 20, filled with a million or more people come to hear the new president's inaugural address.




We were surprised to see the famous carousel outside the Smithsonian's castle-like headquarters building open for business on such a cold winter day. No waiting in line today. We couldn't resist taking a turn.





Just across The Mall is the Natural History museum, famous for the huge, stuffed elephant in its rotunda, as well as the gem collection containing the Hope Diamond. We found a new mammal exhibit with ferocious lions attacking a wildebeast.





Daughter is always anxious to visit the Insect Zoo at the Natural History museum. And this year we found another new attraction: A butterfly exhibit swarming with real butterflies. The enclosure is the size of a small house that from the outside looks like a space capsule. It's filled with bright lights and flowers and hundreds of butterflies flying around freely. It's a toasty-warm place to linger and be amazed.

Rhubarb, a Winter Warrior

The leaves and stems of our rhubarb plants dropped to the ground some time ago, marking the end of another year. But look what's happening. The rhubarb are pushing up new leaves and stems in the middle of December. Rhubarb truly is a cold-loving plant. The District of Columbia, with its horribly hot and humid summers, is about the southern limit for rhubarb. Many varieties will not thrive here. We are growing the green-stemmed Victoria variety from some spare root stock give to us by the Washington Youth Garden.

We are eagerly awaiting the spring, which will mark the third season since we planted our rhubarb. You should wait about three years after planting before harvesting rhubarb very heavily. This gives the plants plenty of time to establish healthy roots. So this year are efforts will finally pay off--rhubarbs sauce, rhubarb pie, rhubarb jam. Just the thought of it will keep us warm through the winter.

Germination!

Things are starting to happen under our winter tunnel. The seeds I planted back on Nov. 26 are starting to turn into little plants. Here are the tiny mizuna seedlings, looking much larger than real life once enlarged in the photo editing process.


And here is the arugula, always a pretty reliable germinator. I checked the length of the bed and also found mustards, spinach, collards, kale and lettuce sprouting. Now the question is whether these little plants can survive the deepest part of winter. The days will soon be getting longer, but the temperatures will probably get colder. Lately we've been seeing a range from the mid-20s into the 50s. We really should have planted these seeds in September. Had we done so, we could be harvesting by now.

I'm impressed by the job our Canon Elph camera does with such small subjects. The sharpness of image is there even when blown up several times. Tiny pebbles look like massive boulders.

My New Tunnel

I probably neglected to mention that when I came home from a week's vacation in August I found that something had eaten all the seedlings I had started for the fall. Romaine lettuces, cabbages, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, collards. Everything chewed down to the nub. I assume it was birds. I had left the seed trays out front where my wife had been watering them.

Anyway, the sudden demise of my fall seedlings put me in a funk that lasted for at least two months. I didn't do much in the garden. Didn't plant anything. Just recently I started the usual fall cleanup (late) and the new compost pile. I just assumed we wouldn't be planting anything till spring. But then I started a re-read of Eliot Coleman's Four-Season Harvest and experienced a jolt of inspiration when he described a plastic tunnel design he'd come across while traveling in France.


The genius of this French tunnel is the edges aren't buried under the soil in the usual manner, which makes getting into the tunnel very awkward if you need to plant or harvest things. Instead, the plastic is cut at the soil line and held down with a criss-crossing pattern of string over the hoops. Getting inside to plant or harvest is a breeze. You just lift up the plastic and tuck it under the string.

I had the plastic in the garage. I bought some 1/2-inch PVC tubing at the hardware store and planted the hoops. Then I drilled holes and installed these eyelets for the string. Following the illustration in Coleman's book, it still took me a while to figure out the pattern of the string. It's like lacing your shoes--a little.

Here's a detail of the string, crossing over one hoop, then attaching at the bottom of the next hoop. I'm sure I got it wrong, because my pattern ended before I got to the end of the tunnel. Maybe I didn't have enough hoops. I used cinder block to hold the ends down. I'm sure that's not right either.

In any case, according to Coleman the end of November is way too late to be planting anything. "Don't even bother," he admonishes. There's not enough sun to get the seedlings going. But I'm noticing volunteer mustard greens coming up in the other garden beds. Something down there is germinating.

So today I lifted the plastic and planted a whole array of mustards, kales, collards, spinach, arugula, lettuce, tenderleaf greens and other stuff. We'll see what happens. If they don't grow now, I'm betting we'll see them in the spring. As Coleman says, if they can grow these greens in France in winter--actually much farther north than we are--there's plenty of sunlight here for them to grow as well. It's just a matter of protecting them. Not so much from the cold as from the wind.

Minimum soil temperature for brassica germination is said to be 40 degrees, 35 for lettuce and spinach. Stay tuned....

Overwintered Salad

Something inspirational is happening in the garden. The many greens I like to put in my salads have shaken off their winter stupor and our bounding back into a new season. As they revive, we begin picking again, putting a healthy assortment of greens on the dinner table.

Mustard greens are great for cooking. But if the leaves are picked while still young and tender, they make a great addition to a salad. I particularly like this red mustard for the rich color it adds to the salad bowl.

You may be getting the idea that I like sharp flavors in my salad. In fact, I love sharp peppery greens even as just an accent in an otherwise mild salad. Mizuna is one of my favorites. Its frilly foliage looks great in the garden as well.

I never seem to have enough arugula seed on hand. I don't ever want to be without arugula. It has a robust, spicy flavor and a great chew. Sometimes I just dress it with a little lemon and extra-virgin olive oil and eat it all on its own.

We even have some lettuces making a comeback. This "Red Summer Crisp," one of about 15 different lettuce varieties I planted last year, seems to be particularly determined to carry on. Before long, though, it's bound to go to seed.

Sorrel is a perennial. It loves these cool, early spring days. Its citrusy flavor is great in a sauce for fish, blended into a pesto or just torn up for a salad. Kids love to pick it right out of the garden.

Cilantro doesn't last long in the heat here in the District of Columbia. This plant came through the winter in grand shape. The flavor is the best I've ever tasted. I'm beginning to think overwintering cilantro should be a permanent part of our garden plan.

Parsley is a biennial, meaning it goes to seed in the second year. Already it is taking on a woolly appearance. It won't matter how furiously you harvest it--this parsley is determined to replicate. It's almost better just to dig it up and plant some new seed.

Sunday Farmers Market -- It's 36 Degrees

If it's Sunday, it must be time for crab cakes at the Dupont Circle Farmers Market here in the District of Columbia.

Farmers markets aren't just for produce anymore. You can walk around nibbling to your heart's content. Cookie, anyone?

In years past, I would brave the cold to find a handful of vendors at the Dupont Circle market and even fewer customers. Something has definitely happened. These days, no matter the temperature, no matter if a viscious wind is trying to take a nip out of your ears, the market is packed. Here's the line in front of one of the vegetable vendors.

The problem isn't a lack of vendors any more. It's waiting in line to buy your groceries. And some of the vendors are especially popular. Here's the line of people waiting to buy fresh yogurt.

And here's the line of people waiting to purchase bread and pastries.

There are also more "value-added" products than ever, it seems. Here's a whole variety of apple sauces and preserves. Five dollars buys you a quart jar.

One farmer was even selling canned peaches. Come to think of it, canned peaches are really good, if memory serves. What a genius idea, like a blast from the past.

One of the weekly displays is the goat cheese lineup offered for tasting. Here's one slathered with peach-jalapeno jam.

Another farmer fancies himself an expert on hot sauce.

This vodka sauce at another stand was awfully good. Big plates of bread were set out for dipping.

You can always count on the mushroom lady to put out a great display. This reminds me that I must arrange a visit. I'd like to see how she grows all these beautiful fungi.

Over the summer I paid $5 for a head of broccoli. How does $3.50 for a quart compare?

It is very nice looking broccoli, but a little rich for me.

Winter Garden Miracle

It's the middle of February and we've experienced some of the coldest temperatures of the season. The garden should be dead, or at least dormant, right?

Not so.

As I walk around our kitchen garden here in the District of Columbia, the signs of life are everywhere. Some of that is new: the rhubarb we planted last year has begun to send up new leaves. They are bright green, nearly flourescent, and crinkly fresh like a newborn these rhubarb leaves. One wonders what on earth the rhubarb plants are trying to prove, sprouting in the middle of winter. Obviously, this is what makes rhubarb a dish we look forward to in the spring.

But much of the greenery I see in the garden now was planted last fall. It has not gone away. Turnips, rutabaga, beets, Swiss chard: all are holding on, even thriving. There are mustard greens as well, and arugula, sorrel and parsley. I would have given them all up as a lost cost months ago, except this morning with the temperature just above freezing I plucked a mustard leaf and it exploded in my mouth with fresh, peppery flavor and a wonderful, icy juiciness. How can this be?

Certain plants not only tolerate cold temperatures but have an incredibly strong will to live. I've noticed these plants actively respond to the weather with their own coping mechanisms. When the temperature drops below freezing, the turnips and rutabagas and beets go supine. Their stems droop and the leaves fall to the ground. They will remain that way as long as the freeze continues. But then, as the temperatures climb, the plants reach for the sun and become erect again. The leaves regain their structure and glossiness. They look good as new.

I notice that the turnips are swelling. The rutabagas, too, but more slowly. Even the lettuces that I thought had expired some time ago appear to have some life in them yet. And the chard are absolute champs. They keep coming back and coming back, although more slowly. I have already harvested them more than once.

I am not alone observing this phenomenon. Each week I look forward to a detailed e-mail from our farmer friend Brett who also provides our winter CSA box. Brett was a pioneer, one of the first in our area, I think, to grow and provide fresh produce throughout the winter. He has spent years breeding winter-hardy arugula and other greens. He seems to love nothing better than suiting up in his Carhartt overalls to pick greens in the depths of winter.

Every once in a while we receive a notice like this in one of Brett's e-mails: As indicated in last week’s email, there will be NO farm delivery this week. The crops need time to recover from the bitter cold of 8 days ago, so I am using this as an off week.

Notice Brett's use of the term "recover," for when the temperatures have been dropping to 14 degrees overnight, the plants do eventually recover and are harvested--even in January and February--for our CSA box. Brett recently wrote that he is beginning to plant fava beans and peas and carrots for harvest in June. In other words, life for the produce farmer continues straight through the winter. This is no time to turn out the lights.

So I am keeping a close eye on our own garden greens. The turnips appear to be ready for another Dark Days meal. Likewise much of the chard has grown large enough for one of our favorite braises. There is plenty of mustard and arugula to add to the salad bowl.

Even in February, the garden soldiers on, and life is good.

January Farmers Market

I try to visit a farmers market at least once a week to see what's being offered here in the District of Columbia in the depth of winter. The tone of the market changes when the temperatures rise above freezing. There is more bustle, more chatter--the food seems to come alive. This display of salad greens--no doubt greenhouse grown--would almost have you believe spring is near.

Maybe I'm imagining things, but it seems there are more vendors every week offering finished products. Besides the breads and breakfast croissants, there are pies and cookies.

We are near the Chesapeake Bay and that means crabs. They aren't really in season this time of year. But on Sunday mornings at the Dupont Circle farmers market--probably the trendiest market in the area--you can order a fried crab cake for breakfast.

There are several cheese vendors from Virginia and Maryland. Customers line up to taste the product. Here's a cream cheese dressed with hot pepper jelly.

The meat vendors were particularly busy yesterday. There was a line in front of Eco-Friendly Meats, where the coolers were jammed with roasting chickens, pork chops and a jumble of other cuts from locally raised livestock.

The mushroom vendor always seems to draw a small crowd of admirers.

The display yesterday was particularly yellow and gay.

The market is full of boutique goods at boutique prices. I'm always happy to see staple items for sale at more down-to-earth prices--onions, potatoes and these cabbages. I love braised red cabbage. These were $3 a head.

But I wonder who bought the carrots at $5 a bunch. Too precious for me.