Fall colors fade fast in the Pacific Northwest, but I can always count on my Glenora grape leaves to stick around. (The grapes are another story.)
With Autumn storms come fallen branches, a sure sign that my madrona branch fence will grow in the weeks to come. (Boz caught in the act of eating baby corn cobs; he’s such a connoisseur.)
Where others see pumpkins, I see soup and gratin, pies and custard.
Boz knows when the Fourth of July bunting comes down in October, time on the porch is fleeting.
And what better reminder that sun and warmth will return, than the lone stalks of sunflowers dotting the fields.
Every year I lose potted plants to freezing temperatures. Like Charlie Brown, I never learn. Just as Lucy convinces her favorite blockhead that she won’t pull the football away as he runs to kick it, gardening sources try to convince me that my Zone 8 favorites can take Puget Sound’s winter cold and rain. Nope, not listening this time; the potted plants are overwintering on my enclosed sun porch for the path to the compost pile is layered with good intentions (and last year’s potted plants ).
One such plant, my passion flower vine, will vacation indoors this winter (at least what’s left of it after a Bambi munch fest). The vine will need support when it rebounds, so a trellis is in order. Because the idea of buying a trellis made my glasses fog, I looked for the best DIY, cost-me-nothing solution, and sticks were it.
The trouble is, sticks in a pot can look like, well sticks in a pot. For this project step it up a bit and channel your inner aesthete and search out the extraordinary and visually interesting branch. I like, make that love, madrona twigs and branches; they have a visual rhythm all their own.
How to Make a Trellis in a Pot
Materials:
potted vine
pruners
sticks
Assembly
Collect some small branches or twigs
Use same type of tree for uniformity and natural growth pattern (e.g., corkscrew willow, or maple)
Use pencil-thick sticks
Cut sticks to desired trellis height
Avoid using a shallow pot
Poke 4 branches around pot’s outer rim
Make stick depth half of pot’s total
Place one east, west, north and south.
Weave branches together to create a simple cone shape
Place another branch between each existing stick
Weave branches in and out to strengthen trellis
Prune side branches that stick out
Weave vine (gently) through the trellis (to get it started)
Prune dead and unsightly vine stems (or let your neighborhood deer do it)
There you have it. This little project was inspired by Tom’s to-do list and propensity for distraction. (Yep it inspired me to ignore the chores at hand and do something a bit more fun.)
Fragrant Sweetpeas in a pot, supported by a maple sapling trellis
Harvest staging area: winter squash/pumpkin that store well and taste great.
Here’s a list and some photos of my favorite pumpkins and winter squash. Give them some room, water and ample composted manure and the vines will reward you with the goods to make soup, pies, gratins, and side dishes all winter long.
Galeux d’Eysines pumpkin, a perennial favorite pumpkin of mine, bakes up nicely into one fine pie, and has also been known to bring home an award or two. Beneath its warty complexion, you’ll find a rich flesh perfect for roasting.
This once rare wonder from Down Under is now readily available from several heirloom seed sources. The plant is vigorous and the small to medium size pumpkins many. Another greater roaster, this squash boasts a solid meat interior with a very small seed cavity.
Prolific Buttercup (Burgess) squash is a nice choice for the small garden and those liking a serving size squash. It’s perfect halved and baked, or stuffed with wild rice or savory bread custard.
Queensland Blue pumpkin is a work of art, and lucky for us, its deep lobes of jade hide a sweet orange flesh perfect for pies, soups, roasts or jams. And,it’s a very good keeper. (Taters are Makah Ozettes, a NW heirloom.)
Sweet meat is a sweet choice, and an heirloom pick from the Pacific Northwest. It’s never failed me, grows easily in cool climates, and keeps longer than any other pumpkin I grow. If you wish to make pumpkin pie for Easter dinner, plant Sweet Meat in June.
Another great vine for the small garden, Winter Sunshine gives you more squash for your square foot, producing (at least for me) five to six softball-sized fruit per vine. In the eye candy department, I know of no deeper-hued squash.
Words of caution: Stick with Connecticut Field and Howden pumpkins for carving jack-o-lanterns, as they tend to be too watery and bland for cooking. And forget carving on the culinary type shown above. Their dense walls would require dental tools and a skill saw to make a respectable ghoulish gourd.
Me and my Sugar Pie pumpkin: I wear it proudly (well, at least inside the house).
Hi, my name is Tom and I’m a bona fide pumpkinhead. Yes, I admit it; I’m a man who loves the genus Cucurbita. Whether pepo, moschato, or maxima, they’re all pumpkins to me.
Boz, protector of pie pumpkins, when not treating them as chew toys. (I need a taller wheelbarrow or a shorter dog.)
Food for the body, sustenance for the soul, candy for the eye, pumpkins and winter squash pack a culinary and visual punch few veggies can boast. (Apologies to rutabagas and beets.) The versatile and stunning orbs have always captured my imagination in the kitchen, on the table and in the fields. Stay tuned for my latest list of tendrilled lovelies, my pageant of pumpkin-awesomeness and some of my favorite winter squash, all of which I grow, cook with and savor.
Sneak peek: Amish Pie pumpkin and Sweet Meat winter squash share a wheelbarrow bath after a Northwest shower.
A word of caution: if you wish to join the brotherhood and sisterhood of pumpkin lovers, choose your pumpkin wisely. No one wants to be mistaken for a butt-head.
When I first moved to Seattle in the early 80s, I may have taken up residence in Pioneer Square, but I ate in Pike Place Market. A quick trip on the free-zone bus would land me at First and Pike, and a mere brioche’s throw from my favorite bakery: Au Gavorche. It was there that I first discovered Pomme Gavorche, a crust-entombed apple the size of a slow-pitch softball stuffed with raisins, spices and custard. I marveled that the young cashier could lift it over the counter without a winch.
Years later, and an island away, I came up with an apple dumpling recipe that’s easy to make (and lift) and equally delicious.
Recipe: Apple Dumplings With Pie Crust Caps | serves 6
Delicious byproduct: Should you have leftover dough, dot it with butter, sprinkle with cinnamon sugar, and spread jam on one side. Roll it up like a log, cut into wheels and bake!
Update: My Favorite Seattle Bakeries, all amazingly good!
Great Apple Trees to Grow in Western Washington (Seattle).
While my pear and peach trees have forsaken me, my apple trees continue to bloom with promise. And after a year of promising, the goods are in. The following apple varieties seem well suited to our cool maritime climate and produce great apples without the use of pesticides or fussy growing techniques or protocols.
Of all the lovely blossoms that decorate the trees, And shower down their petals with every breath of breeze, There is nothing so sweet or fair to me, As the delicate blooms of the apple tree.
–Hattie Howard
Plant the Right Variety for Your Climate
Abraham Lincoln once said, “Give me six hours to chop down a tree and I will spend the first four sharpening the axe.” These are words to live by when planting fruit trees. Do your research, and find the best choice for your site, climate, and subsequent care. This is really important if you grow organically; apples (like people) can be temperamental. Err on the side of vigor. Check your local extensions, fruit clubs and garden forums for pertinent and timely information.
Not One Bad Apple
The following beauty pageant of pommes is by no means comprehensive and merely represents my most recent and respectable harvest of apples from relatively young trees (4-7 years old). Here’s my list of standouts for 2011.
Belle de Boskoop apple: I would have planted this tree merely for its name (pronounced Bell-da-boss-k0e), lucky for me it’s a all-around great and heavy producing apple with lots of personality. Wonderfully tart, the flavor is unique as if you spritzed lemon juice on it. Belle de Boskoop bakes and cooks well, and is perfect for chunky applesauce, sturdy pies, bubbling crisps, and juicy grunts. Learn more.
Beni Shogun Fuji apple is one of my favorite fresh eating apples. Because Fuji needs a long growing season, and I live west of the Cascades where long summers rarely vacation, I was in search of a sport of Fuji that was better suited for cooler climates. I found Beni Shogun Fuji and I’m happy to report old Beni is a champ, weathering our cool growing season admirably and ripening about a month earlier than the standard fuji. The apples were glowing red and firm as an unripe pear. A few weeks in the fridge and they mellowed into juicy little sugar bombs.
Bramley’s Seedling apple is handsdown my favorite baking apple. It’s a tree that says stand back, I’m ready to grow some great cooking apples and plenty of them. Such a very heavy producer, Bramley’s Seedling usually requires support stakes to keep the overloaded limbs from breaking. Apples are big, firm, crisp and flavorful–spirited for sure, and perfect for cooking or eating fresh though on the uber-tart side when first picked. Learn more.
Cameo apple had me at hello. I was willing to take a chance on this apple, not sure how well it would grow in Western Washington. You should be able to find Cameo in your produce section, so give it a try. It is a juicy, crisp fresh eating apple suitable simply for dessert with a little aged cheddar. Normally cameos are more red than yellow; perhaps their light blush is in response to my fondness toward them.
Honeycrisp, an apple that shares the unlikely combination of sweetness and crunch, lives up to its name. When first picked, the apple is wonderfully tart, but a stay in the fridge for a week or two renders it succulent and sweet. While my tree was slow to produce, taking four years to harvest a decent crop, I feel it was certainly worth the wait. Honeycrisp is a real dazzler in the orchard and in the kitchen and my best apple for 2011 (actually it shares the title with Bramley’s Seedling). Learn more.
Jonagold apple is an amazingly good all-purpose apple in my orchard. In fact, if I could only plant a couple apple trees, Jonagold would top the list. As a cross between a Gold Delicious and Jonathan, it brings a lot of flavor to the table. It is super sweet but finishes off with a very nice tartness. Fresh eating or cooking up a storm, this is my prize pick for best apple in 2010. More from WSU extension.
Delicious sweet-tart snacking gem, Liberty apples are a great choice for the home and organic gardener. Known for disease resistance, reliability and excellent quality, the Liberty shines on all levels and performs well in our cool climate. Learn more.
York apple is one of those apples that tastes like it has a history (and it does). Discovered in 1830 in York, Pennsylvania, the apple enjoys a subtle flavor and appealing, firm texture. While not overly sweet, York is an apple I could eat everyday, whether or not it actually did keep the doctor away. Big and lop-sided usually, it’s also a very good baking apple and is sometimes called York Imperial. Learn more.
Wickson crabapples are a standard apple’s mini-me. They are small, tasty, not overly sour, and well suited to both fresh eating and cider making. I also like to pickle them. Another advantage, Wickson crabapples prove prolific bloom producers and awesome cross- pollinators in the orchard.
As a big fan of Saveur.com, I’m here to spread the word, sharing their video on how to peel garlic in less than 10 seconds. The technique works but it does make Boz and Gracie bark and me don my earplugs.
Summer is too generous a season to limit my learning curve to a wee bunny slope.
A mere 10 lessons to be learned, I think not.
As I sit at my kitchen table ignoring autumn’s various and persistent calling cards, I ponder a few more epiphanies from the waning days of summer on Vashon Island. Clogged gutters, unplanted fall flower bulbs, sooty chimneys and rutted drives will have to wait a little longer; I’m not quite ready to let go of the fairest season.
Summer on Vashon Island
What I Learned: Part II
1. Putting the shine on the apple takes little effort.
2. August moons can steal your heart.
3. Some omnivores are stalwart carnivores.
4. Health food: a BLT covers all of the major food groups.
5. Some farm hands are more about the eating, less about the picking.
6. Diet food (see floor) is best left to those on a diet.
7. Sometimes you just have to spell it out for people.
8. Road trips are always better with sidekicks.
9. Naivete Trust is a friend who stores 15 cases of wine in your cellar (…hiccup).
My first memory of Dad as super hero came in the first grade. Allowed to navigate the theater concession stand on my own, I was having trouble making headway to the front of the counter. When my father showed up to check on me, he could see the best of human nature was not shining on his six-year-old son. In the hierarchy of bad behavior, my father finds line cutting and taking advantage of kids as egregious as lying, cheating and disrespecting the flag. At first, I was embarrassed by his admonishment of the clueless teens and oblivious adults, but as they backpedaled, made excuses, and finally apologized, his superpower was revealed: protector of Tommy.
Down time with Dad and sis.
My Man of Steel wasn’t like most Dads, but at the time I had no idea he wasn’t the norm. He flew fighter jets (didn’t everyone’s Dad?). He brought glory to the Crimson Tide. He sank free-throws from a county away, and crossed the globe with an ease reserved for neighbors who cross the street. While his life and accomplishments were big, it’s the seemingly small, unmentioned moments that I replay with fond recollection. There was the time he proclaimed I was the best fisherman (since retracted) or the day I rebelled at mowing the lawn, and waited until dusk to tell him it was too dark to mow. He suggested I locate a flashlight.
Our in-house pillar of strength had his melting moments, like the uncharacteristically revealing letter he sent me in college, where he wrote, “your mother’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” Saying holiday grace was a moment of pause, togetherness, and thanks that (though never admitting it) would choke him up. During long absences, he would entrust and recognize me as “Man of the House” until his safe return (good thing Mom was my back-up plan).
Last week my father turned 80, and my mother, sister, brother, niece, nephew, aunt and I were there to see that he celebrated the milestone with a full-court press. We surprised him and he was delighted. At breakfast days later, he said the weekend was the best he ever had. It was nice to learn we had some super powers of our own. Happy Birthday Dad, from your former crackerjack “Man of the House” and equally gifted (and-likely-still-the-best) fisherman son.
Fall colors fade fast in the Pacific Northwest, but I can always count on my Glenora grape leaves to stick around. (The grapes are another story.)
With Autumn storms come fallen branches, a sure sign that my madrona branch fence will grow in the weeks to come. (Boz caught in the act of eating baby corn cobs; he’s such a connoisseur.)
Where others see pumpkins, I see soup and gratin, pies and custard. 
Boz knows when the Fourth of July bunting comes down in October, time on the porch is fleeting.
And what better reminder that sun and warmth will return, than the lone stalks of sunflowers dotting the fields.
