We harvested the potato crop, all 2.75 pounds of it. These potatoes were not planted lovingly and fussed over. My husband threw a couple of leftover potatoes that were clinging to last year's volunteer plants into the bottom of our new raised bed last fall, before we filled it with nursery mix. They were the first things to sprout this winter, before we had even planted the radishes and lettuce and carrots. Maybe because they were in the ground so long, they started to decline a few weeks ago, so we dug them up. It was like uncovering buried treasure--in fact, it
was uncovering buried treasure. As we dug, rich, golden orbs fell glowing from the shovelfuls of crumbly earth. I admit I shrieked a bit. I didn't expect such a yield from a few volunteers. Volunteers are not chosen: they choose to grow, where they want and when they want. They are consistently the hardiest, most vigorous, most self-sufficient, and most successful plants in our garden.
Here they are washed and ready to be roasted with salt and olive oil. Is it because they came from our garden that they tasted so fresh, tender, and potatoey? Me, my husband, and our older son ate them all for dinner with baked Alaskan cod with chermoula sauce. Oh, it was good.
This is what the potato root looks like with little potatoes just forming on it.
And here's a plate of our radishes for an appetizer. Good things come from inside the earth.
We harvested the potato crop, all 2.75 pounds of it. These potatoes were not planted lovingly and fussed over. My husband threw a couple of leftover potatoes that were clinging to last year's volunteer plants into the bottom of our new raised bed last fall, before we filled it with nursery mix. They were the first things to sprout this winter, before we had even planted the radishes and lettuce and carrots. Maybe because they were in the ground so long, they started to decline a few weeks ago, so we dug them up. It was like uncovering buried treasure--in fact, it was uncovering buried treasure. As we dug, rich, golden orbs fell glowing from the shovelfuls of crumbly earth. I admit I shrieked a bit. I didn't expect such a yield from a few volunteers. Volunteers are not chosen: they choose to grow, where they want and when they want. They are consistently the hardiest, most vigorous, most self-sufficient, and most successful plants in our garden.
Here they are washed and ready to be roasted with salt and olive oil. Is it because they came from our garden that they tasted so fresh, tender, and potatoey? Me, my husband, and our older son ate them all for dinner with baked Alaskan cod with chermoula sauce. Oh, it was good.
This is what the potato root looks like with little potatoes just forming on it.
And here's a plate of our radishes for an appetizer. Good things come from inside the earth.
1 comment:
I still remember digging potatoes with my grandfather on Sunday mornings, straight from church, when I was a little girl. My mother would grumble about my getting my MaryJanes and tights so dirty, but oh, I loved it. We called the tiny ones vitamins and my Grandfather would make sure that there were enough of them for each of the cousins.
I wonder how potatoes would do out here in the fog? hmm...
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