Sugar Snaps

Sugar Snaps grow only during the spring and sporadically during the winter here. We get too hot to have a long growing season with delicate pea plants, lettuces, broccoli, and carrots. We have been in the 80's this week which means my precious peas won't last much longer, but this week we are enjoying this fantastically crisp and sweet treat in abundance.

We like them barely cooked, either steamed or sautéed with some sesame seeds. Last night, I was home alone and I threw a few into my pasta water at the last second, then added some Parmesan. Of course, when I was picking my supper, I popped a few into my mouth right off the vine. I have caught my children, on several occasions, standing suspiciously at the raised beds containing the pea plants and the carrots. Yet, I can't get upset because I can't think of a more healthy snack.

Sugar snaps, or at least these, claim they don't need staking, but I find that everything does better with a little support. These are growing on pieces of cattle panel braced by some triangular tomato cages and have grown to about four feet tall. Since they aren't touching the ground, the heavy rains haven't harmed the blooms or rotted the peas. If I could just control the heat, I could have wonderful peas all through the summer. I bet they wouldn't seem so special if I could have them all summer long.

The Lowly Black-Eyed Pea

I would guess that there is not a garden in this area that does not have at least one row of southern peas, lumped affectionately together as black-eyed peas. The ones I grow are technically pink eye, purple hull peas, but fill the same niche in our garden and larder. There are subtle taste and texture differences between crowders, black-eyed, purple hull, and lady finger, so you try a few and pick a pea. You don't really need to grow more than one kind in a garden unless you want a new variety. Bees just love peas and cross pollination is a sure thing.

In the garden, peas are nitrogen-fixing legumes that are also pollen rich. They love the heat of the south and are even drought tolerate. In the larder, peas are a staple of the southern table. Eaten along with greens or ham or with just cornbread, they are rich in Vitamin A, Folate, and Calcium. They also are a source of protein.

Perhaps, if Mississippians would remember their traditional foods and shun the fast food stands, they wouldn't be the fattest Americans, again.

Today, I will salute the lowly black-eyed pea. After I shell today's harvest, I will cook some, basically unadorned, to eat with some cornbread, accented with some pepper jelly - nothing better, really. Of course, having a hunk of watermelon for dessert wouldn't be bad.

Tradition. Not always bad.

Restart

Don't you just hate that blue screen of death on Windows based systems. I don't get to see them at home anymore, but I see more than my fair share at work since I get to problem solve for a few companies. Unfortunately, we have had a system failure in our garden and will be forced to restart spring, so to speak.

Through a series of unfortunate weather incidents, mild catastrophes, uncooperative weather, and oversights, we will start from almost scratch tomorrow. We had two hard, late freezes that burned the green beans, the muscadine vines, and some of the fruit on the fruit trees. When the garden was tilled using a tractor, the operator (I won't name names) broke my cold frame which housed all my seedlings. When the temperatures dipped for the second time I was feeling smug in my knowledge that my seedlings would be safe since I hadn't planted yet. They weren't since the outside temperature was also the inside temperature. Since those two freezes we haven't been dry enough to plant.

I suppose I shouldn't complain since my lettuce, herbs, sugar snap peas, asparagus, and garlic were completely unaffected. My potatoes will bounce back too, though their tops are gone. But I feel behind. Antsy. A bit nervous.

Peace Tomato

This was supposed to be my Green Zebra Tomato. It turned out to be an angry looking thing with the yellow and green fighting for surface. All those old tomatoes combined with all my bees, I honestly doubt I have had more than one or two tomatoes a year that turn out like the picture in the seed catalog. I don't mind. They all taste great and retain many of their evolved properties. Besides that, I like the surprise.

Surprise is what I got when sliced the end from this tomato - a peace sign. I know I'm aging myself since the peace sign is not as popular as it once was, and most children are more familiar with the similar, but not the same, Mercedes Benz logo. But look!! The yellow and green rage of the surface found peace in an almost neon citrus green center.

Groovy?

The Amen Section

Rain has found us and the weeds have responded by raising their hands(fronds) to the sky and shouting hallelujah! This morning I waded through a waist high congregation to get to the chosen plants who are rejoicing in their own way by giving generously. Standing tall over the whole assembly is the multi-ethnic Amen section in sunflower varieties so stunningly colorful that it is impossible not to smile.


Even their demure, slightly bowed heads cannot hide their rowdy demeanor. So as I commune with my joyful plants while passing the collection basket, I cast my eyes towards the amen section for encouragement and a BIG SMILE.

Tiny Tomatoes

I plant three varieties of tiny tomatoes - Sungold, Matt's Wild, and Yellow Pear. In a practical sense, they don't really fit into our lifestyle. They aren't really a canning candidate because their size makes them difficult to peel, though I thought I might try this year. They take more time to pick and cut because they are small so you need more of them to make whatever you are making. Sometimes, usually as I am halving or quartering the thousandth tomato of the day, I ask myself why I go to the trouble when I could take a bigger tomato and dice it with similar results. Yet, I have planted these three varieties for five years and will not be able to resist planting them in years to come. Why?

Taste. Each of these tasty morsels has a enormous burst of flavor that when combined with the other two is almost life changing - maybe not life changing, but certainly memorable. Perhaps taste should rule (and it does), but I don't just grow these jewels for their taste. I grow them for . . .

Beauty. Yes, I am a slave to appearance in the kitchen. I love the way the tomatoes look when tossed together in a bowl. The orange, yellow, and red combined make a statement visually. Add the subtle size differences and the pear shape of the Yellow Pear, throw in a little green and white, and WOW! The first picture shows just tomatoes. The second is of a tomato salad we make often. The third picture is the salsa I make nearly every day for my . . .

Husband. Honestly, I don't pamper my husband. In fact, he is a low maintenance part of our household, but in the summer he needs refueling with tons of fresh salsa. When the first of the tiny tomatoes arrives he starts asking, no begging, for salsa. The salsa is technically pico de gallo with my combination of tiny tomatoes cut into bite size pieces, chopped onion, finely chopped jalapeno peppers, fresh cilantro, a squeeze of lime, and a dash of coarse salt. The proportions are personal preference and I don't measure. I eye it, then taste it. If you are proportionally challenged, email and I will measure for you tonight.