Tall Clover Farm

Recipe: Asparagus Tips in a Pickle

Recipes

Tom

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July 1, 2012

Consider the Asparagus pickle…

As a child, the only asparagus, available at the local A&P resided in a tin can of questionable intent. They called it a food item, a vegetable, but any man, woman or child brave enough to open the lid to that tin sarcophagus would find something else: mummified spears of slimy white sadness. Buried under mounds of soil, the naturally delectable tips were denied sun and fresh air, intentionally shielded from light and the prospect of a crisp green future. The result, a pallid substitute with anemic texture and flavor. I always felt canned “white” asparagus was the ultimate dinner time punishment.

Fast forward to our current food revolution, and asparagus has been resurrected and revamped as a readily available and seasonal fresh vegetable treat harvested after a week of sunlight under its spear. In Washington, asparagus grows like a weed east of the Cascades, and those of us west of the Cascades are most grateful and eager to partake in that bounty.

I had an asparagus patch, but blinked and the weeds took over and choked out the bed. I will try again, this time with a raised bed and diligence included in the plan. While fresh asparagus can’t be beat, I like to pickle asparagus, so I’ll have a tender tip or two in the winter months. Here’s my recipe, a sweet sour mix of vinegar and spice.

Sweet Sour Asparagus Spear Pickles

Makes about 4 – 5 pint jars

Ingredients

2 pounds fresh asparagus (small or large spears)
Pickling Solution
- 4 Cups of white vinegar (5% acidity)
- 2 Cups of sugar
- peppercorns
- bay leaves
- allspice berries
- cinnamon stick
- garlic cloves
- cloves
- kosher salt

Preparation Solution

Rinse and dry asparagus
In a nonreactive (stainless) pan, add vinegar and sugar
Heat until dissolved
Reduce heat, keep warm

Preparation Spears

Fill clean, sterilized jars with spears pointing down
Crowd them in the jar without crushing tips
When you can’t wedge another one in the jar, hold spears and pull out of jar one inch from the bottom of the jar
Cut off stalks at jar opening
Push spears back down to bottom of jar
Stalks will sit one inch below the top of the jar

Preparation Solution and Spears

Fill asparagus jars with warm vinegar-sugar solution
Leave 1/2 inch head space, that is air between solution and top of jar when sealed.

To each jar add spices of your liking. For me these include the following:
1. - 2-3 peppercorns
  - 1 clove
  - pepper flake or two
  - half of one bay leaf
  - 2-3 allspice berries
  - half of one cinnamon stick
  - 1 clove of garlic
  - half teaspoon of salt
Seal jar with lid, and place in simmering hot water bath for 10 minutes.
Remove, cool, store and eat a couple weeks later on and on…

This asparagus pickle recipe works great for cucumbers as well.

Flower Aristocracy: Grand Dames of the Garden

Gardening

Tom

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June 23, 2012

22

Flower Aristocracy: Grand Dames of the Garden

Regale Lily, one of my favorite flowers, beautiful, fragrant and easy to grow.

As a guest speaker at the Vashon Island Garden Tour, I’m about to grab my gardening soapbox and expound on the wonders of my favorite flowers: Roses, Peonies, Lilies and Dahlias. I call them the Grand Dames of the Garden, but that may be too stuffy a reference. Each of these flowers brings an excitement and unbridled enthusiasm to the garden, as well as a cooperative bloom sequence, one right after the other with little overlap. Their floriferous fireworks are always lighting up the landscape, beginning with peonies, moving into roses, rounding out mid to late summer with lilies and mid-summer to the first frost with dahlias. Below I’ve listed some helpful links for growing these dreamy bloomers, so you too can have an audience with garden royalty.

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My Country Life in a Country Song

Tomagrams

Tom

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June 21, 2012

26

A day of bad moves, bandages and boo-boos.

We all have bad days, and I must admit that if the following is all I have to complain about, life ain’t so bad. But since I’m in a whiny, feeling-sorry-for-myself kind of mood, please indulge me, and feel free to offer up your own complaints. This is a pity party after all.

The other day things just weren’t going my way and I felt like I was living in my own country song, so I thought I’d write it down just in case Blake Shelton or Tim McGraw were reading along.

Now for the record, not all of these things happened, but when I initially tallied up my laments, my song just didn’t have enough tailspin to seem authentic, so I fabricated a few more calamities to the enrich my tune of woe.

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Best Vinaigrette to Grace a Salad Green

Recipes

Tom

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June 15, 2012

32

Best Vinaigrette for any green salad

Simple salad heaven: vinaigrette drizzled over arugula and kale

I’ve traveled a circuitous culinary path in seeking vinaigrette variations of note, tasting and rejecting as many as I’ve enjoyed in the salad bar of life. My first venture into the dressing unknown came in the blue cheese realm at an early age as a guest at a friend’s house for supper. Poised with my best manners and crew cut pomade intact, I knew “No thank you, I don’t care for any” was not an option when in another family’s house (or my house for that matter).

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Boz and the Makeshift Whoopee Cushion

Boz & Gracie

Tom

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June 8, 2012

24

Boz, the face I can’t seem to say no to.

Anyone who’s ever spent a minute or two reading my blog, can see (at least I hope) how much I love my pups, Boz and Gracie. As personalities, I’d have to say Boz is more Gary Cooper or Cary Grant, a dashing man of action, while Gracie channels Greta Garbo and a little Aunt Clara from Bewitched. Glamorous yes, quirky yes, but she really prefers to be alone. To Boz the world is a stage and no twig, bee or deer is too small, agitated or bossy (respectively) to thwart his interest or investigation.

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War of the Roses: Behind the Scenes

Gardening

Tom

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June 4, 2012

15

A bent wheelbarrow tells part of the story

My projects are aplenty, and it goes without saying some due tasks are less desirable than others. Case in point: digging up and removing dead rose bushes and the legions of weeds that aided in their demise. He’s how it went:

The day was young, and I was in denial about the labor-intensive task at hand. I grabbed my garden gloves, my trustiest and heaviest shovel and garden fork, and tossed them into the wheelbarrow and headed down to the large garden in my front field. Boz was in tow while Gracie remained on the porch to sleep, nap, rest and retire, and occasionally raise an eyelid to see if we were still alive or if it was dinner time.

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How to Make a Garden Fountain

How-To

Tom

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May 31, 2012

75

My fountain built in 2005, algae aged and still running.

Garden Fountain: An Earthly Delight

What’s my sign? (I thought you’d never ask.) As a card-carrying, water-bearing Aquarian, my home is not a home if not within sight or sound of water. In 1888 with the land cleared of towering trees and groomed for farming, the view from my front porch included a sweeping panorama of Puget Sound and Mount Rainier. Thanks to a mild climate and the vigor of Northwest flora, the forests have returned to obscure the once spectacular views.

I may have lost my look at Puget Sound, but I can capture the magic of flowing water on smaller scale in the form of a garden fountain, one that never sleeps but always soothes, as seen and heard in the video below:

How I built my garden fountain

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Francois Dubreuil: The Little Red Rose That Could

Gardening

Tom

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May 26, 2012

16

Francois Dubreuil: The Little Red Rose That Could

Francois Dubreuil and I go way back, both having been transplanted from Seattle close to a decade ago. As a rose, he is a mess, but under the caterpillar-munched leaves and feeble habit lives a fighter. He’s my rosebush counterpart to Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree. The little guy never says die; he may succumb to black spot, acquiesce to powdery mildew, and have stems with the tensile strength of wet spaghetti, but he still manages to bloom in a celebratory manner each spring. And what he lacks in vigor he makes up for in heady perfume. This seemingly diminutive rose packs a serious punch of fragrant bravado.

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To-Do Lists and Sunny Days

Tomagrams

Tom

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May 22, 2012

23

My sketchbooks and to-do lists scattered about (much like my focus), but ready for the next sunny day.

Vashon Islanders and mayflies have something in common. When bestowed with one warmish sunny day, we emerge from our dens (and ponds, respectively) to consume the day as if it were our last. Unfortunate for mayflies, it is, but for islanders, we will live (in most cases and in spite of ourselves) to see another solar-charged day. And until that happens, we will nurse our self-inflicted injuries under the cover of clouds, and tend to our skinned knees, thrown backs, sunburned schnozes, nettle-stung ankles, and bramble-scratched brows. But make no mistake; we will not give up on the day until the final waning ray of sun retires well below the Olympics. Oh, and should a sunny day occur on the weekend, Lord have mercy.

First order of business: make coffee and a hearty breakfast

For me, my sunny day activities begin post bird chirps, but prior to any buzz from the beehive. Primed with some high-octane joe, I grab pen and paper like a dutiful school boy with all the right answers, and begin drafting my plans for the day. While my to-do list may spill over to the next page, depending on diagrams and doodles, my pronounced and projected accomplishments are actually tempered a wee bit these days. Awareness is a gift with age, and my inner voice of reason is curiously spot-on, so I listen.

Sometimes breaks (and naps) are shared experiences.

Around the age of fifty, my body put in a personal request for the inclusion of nap time on my to-do list. It just appeared one day, after my “make lunch” entry. My mind seconded the motion, and reran several post-traumatic home-improvement flashbacks for good measure and to drive the point home. Such epiphanies along with age, personal reflection, achy joints and a high medical insurance deductible rouse several important realizations: chainsaws are for men who have never worn Topsiders, ladders are for lads with more cartilage than bones, and staple gun usage should fall under the guidelines of the Brady Bill. There is one machine that I’ve managed to remain at peace with, my riding mower, and that is thanks to federally-mandated safety standards that call for it to shutdown anytime I’m not on it.

Item #24: weeding (often ignored, but always on the list).

When I make my to-do list, I always ignore the math. Sure… I can weed whack the rockery, roto-till the garden, repair the chicken coop, walk the dogs, plant trees, go to the farmers market, clean the fountain and prune the raspberries, all before making a pie to bring to an evening potluck. If I did tally the time needed for the labors of my day, I’d be too overwhelmed to start a one. So, I say “hello” to denial and plug away like the day and my focus have no end.

Not all tasks are onerous.

Another thing I consider and am prepared for is the inevitable to-do list detour, brought on by drop-ins, broken equipment, the time and space continuum, and my mere status as a mortal. Just last week as I sprang forth from the porch ready to seize the day, I found my weed whacker without string, my tiller DOA, my mower suffering from the vapors, and my post pounder in hiding.
Moments like these make me alter my to-do list to include what others might see as flimsy excuses for tasks, silly fodder to check off as the day progresses. Well, yes that is exactly right. I add things like flush toilet, feed dogs, make ice tea, retrieve mail, and test the hammock. Quantity trumps quality some days, and knowing I got 20 things done fosters a sense of accomplishment, no matter how trite the task. (Yes, I’m a simple man.)

Item #26: weed whack–make that whack wearing long pants.

On a recent sunny Saturday, I was reviewing my list of actions items, weeding tools in hand, when I heard the crush of gravel down my drive. A gleaming chariot approached, driver and riders shrouded under the veil of tinted glass. Ultimate driving machine parked, the car doors opened to expose a boisterous crew of friends from Seattle, each carrying some goodie or libation as an offering. My picnic flash mob gushed over the beauty of Vashon, the dreamy ferry ride, and the progress I’ve made on the place. After a round of hearty hugs and hellos, one friend said, “I hope we’re not interrupting anything.” I assured him that the only thing on my to-do list was to enjoy the day, this very sunny day, with friends. And I’m happy to report, that’s just what I did, without incident, injury or a call to 911. As for my to-do list, I folded it, tucked it under my favorite refrigerator magnet, just so I’d know where to find it on our next sunny day, say in July or August.

No matter what’s on your to-do list, don’t forgot to take a little time to smell a couple of these along the way (rain or shine).

Lewisia: My Favorite Martian Flower

Gardening

Tom

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May 18, 2012

23

I have a theory, that the fleshy-leaf, flower-flashing Lewisia (aka bitterroot) is not of this world. Horticulturalists will tell you the diminutive beauty was discovered by and named after explorer Meriwether Lewis on his expedition through the Siskiyou Mountains of Oregon, but I have a hunch there’s a cover-up involved. Yep, a conspiracy to hide the plant’s true origin: Mars.

Just look at it, so bizarrely unique as if pluck from the set of Avatar

(Um, I’m referring to the plant.)

The pint-sized portulacaceae explode with floriferous exuberance in late spring and early summer, creating a fireworks display of flaming petals.

The color display can last up to a month, and then the plant bows out of the limelight to rest up for next year’s show. Because standing water will rot the plant’s roots and leaves, Lewisia requires excellent drainage. Whether from Mars or the Pacific Northwest Coastal Range, Lewisia is very at home in my garden and in my heart. Consider it for yours.

See what other gardeners are saying about Lewisia: