135 ~ The Constant Garden

(with a grateful nod to John le Carré)

Welcome to the cusp of winter. Two afternoons ago I dove into the garden to salvage some of the last dill before an overnight hard frost, and discovered this gorgeous, perfect cauliflower (above). A flower, indeed. The plant had missed my ken until it belatedly burst into its full glory, and God bless the frost forecast that took me into the garden. I have a fondness for old school chefs, and will soon turn the big white beauty into this (who wants to come over?).

            It's been an abundant year in the gardens (especially for melons - by far the best melon year ever; the constant alteration of rain then heat was hog heaven for cantaloupes and watermelons). And still going - yet to harvest are some beets, cabbages, leeks, shelling beans, and plenty of winter hardy (and hearty) brussels sprouts and kale. The past couple months much of my time has been spent either writing, or preserving food. I like that both are acts of putting something into the world, attempts to nourish it.

            I just did a tally, and this season I've put up 93 jars (and counting…), of pickled beets, beans, cukes, carrots and peppers; apple sauce; pear-apple chutney; ginger pears; watermelon syrup; salsa. Still ahead to do, sauerkraut. On the cupboard shelves are dried slices of apple, pear and cantaloupe, and in the cool of the basement a winter's supply of potatoes, delicata squash, onions and garlic. The shelves of my upright freezer are now standing room only with broccoli, wax beans, cauliflower, tomatoes, raspberries, wild trout, sautéed morels, pies, and batches of ratatouille, smoked trout dip and pasta sauce. Also, from my neighbors Mary and Dave, in exchange for my providing the raw materials, leek & potato soup and pesto (Mary's wonderful chard quiche got polished off long ago!). And the next crop of garlic, planted a few weeks back, is already growing, preparing to emerge in spring. The garden never stops giving.

            Yesterday I stopped at Trader Joe's in Madison and spent about $100 on some dairy (my neighbor's dairy cows being on sabbatical at present), ginger, cheese for the cauliflower au gratin, some chips and wine, and it occurred to me that I haven't spent $100 in a grocery store since... Thanksgiving 2024?

            Once more, my gardens and the trout streams have filled my freezers and canning shelves, and I'm ready for winter. It feels good.

It is perhaps appropriate that I write this at the start of celebrations for Day of the Dead, Dia de los Muertos in Mexico. In Mexico and other places where some form of the holiday is observed (e.g., Italy, especially in Sicily), it's not a sad day, but a day to remember the dead with love and celebration, and even with some joy and humor. Not a time to mourn those who have physically left us (that important act of grief was already done, when the person passed), but to celebrate and honor them.  

All my preservation of food at this season is in a way a celebration of the many that died to grow the abundant life that now feeds me and my loved ones - such as all the things in my compost pile, and all the organic matter in the soil, of which 100% are the remains of things that lived and then died to feed other life. Each time I preserve something in a jar, and feed my friends with it, is an act of remembrance.

  The Day of the Dead celebrations in Mexico this weekend are incredibly rich, with abundances of flowers and special foods. It is one of the richest and most profound holidays I know. In contrast, here we mark essentially the same day by carving a face into a squash, throwing some toilet paper into trees, and having kids beg for candy. Might it be possible that our big, insular country of the United States doesn't have too many immigrants from other cultures, but too few? Just an idea...

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