Alas, all these green tomatoes in the garden

Green tomatoes in a box

Weather rumor has it (isn’t that about all a weather forecast really is?) that tomorrow night will host a killing frost. The scramble began today to save what is worth saving in the garden.

I moved in the rubber tree that had been summering on the patio corner (and about doubled in size) and moved in the Meyer Lemon Tree that was the thriller in a summer container. I also potted up the Swedish Ivy that I plan on bringing back out next summer.

And all the green tomatoes. Experts have told us that a tomato must have at least a hint of a rosy blush if it is to ripen indoors, or at least a slightly-soft bottom. From my experience all but the rock hard little ones will eventually come around.

My favorite method is to line a cardboard box with a grocery bag (nice use for the odd-sized ones) and add a layer of the tomatoes. You can add a gingerly-placed second layer of the smaller ones.

Place the box in a dark, slightly moist area (my basement is perfect) and let them be, checking daily for rotting or moldy fruits. The ethylene gas released by the little red devils will help the mass ripening, but you can also add ripening bananas to the mix to promote the process.

A taste of summer for at least another few weeks.

Basil Hay Day

Basil in the vegetable garden

Whenever I see a bouquet of basil at the grocery store for $5, I say a little thank-you prayer for my stand of it out back in my veggie garden.

I will always overplant basil. Undoubtedly, some will bite it on that first killing frost, but even then, it is rather like freeze-drying a batch. I just pull the crunchy bits off the stalks and lightly crumble into jars to keep in the pantry.

This year we have the lettuce leaf and Genovese (named after the famous mafia family, I am thinking?) fighting to send up their little flower heads. We are thinking that next year we will go with just the lettuce leaf. It is easier to deal with…maybe a little less spicy tasting.

But for now…it is pesto, pesto, and more pesto. When you have a small field of basil, you start making pesto at every meal. I just leave the food processor on the countertop during this season and rinse off the bowl and parts after each use.

I’ve adapted my own recipe, which might actually be more of a dip to some, but a person can add more olive oil to make it into a sauce. I also use sunflower seeds in place of pricey pine nuts. Here is my recipe (roughly):

1/3 cup sunflower seeds
about 5 big cloves of garlic
1 medium green tomato
Process in food processor on high speed ’til nicely chopped

Throw in a generous handful of basil and process ’til it is incorporated. Sprinkle in about 1/3 grated parmesan and add oil until it all comes together (doesn’t take much oil). Salt and pepper.

This is a lighter, lower calorie and lower fat pesto. As I mentioned, add more oil if you wish.

Sometimes we make pesto-brie bites. Slice off a bit of baguette, put a small piece of brie on and top with a dot of pesto. Put under broiler for about a minutes. Divine.

I love this season!

Rhubarb: That Familiar Ruffled Mound

I am on a campaign to put a rhubarb plant, that king of perennial vegetables, in every garden in America.

I confess… there were many years I never touched the stuff. Yet, the old reliable anchored the corner of my vegetable garden, asking little, offering odd shoots of seedheads and fodder for the compost, and sitting patiently, as if thinking: “your day will come.”

My day has come. Cooking with rhubarb is wonderful alchemy. Adding sugar to the chopped stalks to get the perfect combination of sweet and tart. You know, even Miranda Priestly in “The Devil Wears Prada” was a fan of rhubarb: “Tarts filled with warm rhubarb compote.” The living Minnesota lawn ornament is somehow elevated to virtually gourmet status.

I believe that the simple rhubarb crisp recipe is my favorite:

Rapturous Rhubarb Crisp
4-5 cups chopped rhubarb
1-2 cups sugar
2-3 tbsp. flour

1 cup oatmeal
1 cup flour (whole grain is great)
1 cup brown sugar

1 tbsp. cinnamon
1 tbsp. ground ginger
1/2 cup butter, melted or very soft

Combine sugar and rhubarb well in a bowl and allow to set for at least 1 hour. Add 2-3 tbsps. of flour to thicken a bit. Pour into a 9×13 pan. Combine remaining ingredients and crumble on top. Bake at 375 for 50 minutes or until top is golden brown and the glossy, red lava begins to bubble up the sides.

Great with lots of whipped cream.

The Muscles from Brussels Sprouts

God, I love brussels sprouts (and I always thought it was brussel sprouts). This is odd considering I am a person who can count with one hand the foods I don’t especially care for, and they use to be on the countdown. That all changed about a year ago.

I was making a special dinner for my partner’s birthday and I had planned on a side dish of Cheesy Baked Artichokes from The South Beach Diet Cookbook (yes, I confess to spending some time at the beach to drop a little Christmas weight). I couldn’t find frozen artichoke hearts at Kowalski’s grocery store, but the brussels sprouts called out to me…they seemed special, worthy of a birthday dinner.

This recipe called for squeezed lemon, ground pecans and Parmesan cheese on top and bake at 375 degrees for about 15 minutes. Heaven! I continued the love affair, often times just tossing the little green balls with olive oil and broiling them on high for about 10 minutes forming a pleasing crunch as you bite in.

So what the hell…I thought I would give growing them in the garden a shot last summer. I tell you, they take up a fair amount of space in the plot, but the waxy blue/green leaves are so pleasing to the eye, I would consider mixing them into the perennial border next year. I cut off the tops and used them as cut flowers at the Thanksgiving table. They need a good frost before they are ready in the fall.

Hail the sprout!