Incredible Corn, WWOOFers and Bees

It's hard to read about the horrific flooding in Pakistan, with an estimated 20 million people without homes or even places to sleep. I'm so sorry for their pain and loss. I wish I could send them some of the drought that grips southern Missouri and northern Arkansas. Some of the dry soil to soak up their wet. And they could send us some of their rain. We, here on Long Creek Herb Farm have not had rain in 7 weeks, and even that recent one was less than 1/2 inch. That puts us at over 2 months without rain. Combine that with our porous, rocky, quick draining soil, and you know the garden is struggling.

Ginny, who came from near Bloomington, Indiana as a WWOOFer, just left after her 2 weeks' WWOOFing experience with us. She had a wonderful attitude, an interest in every job and every plant, bug and animal on the farm. Much of what she had to do while here was weed, water and harvest. It takes up much of every day moving sprinklers and soaker hoses, but with temperatures hitting the 100 mark most afternoons, no one works outdoors in that kind of heat. Ginny is a poet, an artist and a chemical technician, and she felt working on a farm to be a delight. Thanks Ginny, we enjoyed your time here!

Every year for the past several, my favorite corn has been Incredible (follow that link to see where you can order it). It's a bi-color, super-sweet, 80 day corn that holds its flavor well after picking. In fact, I've kept it up to 3 weeks and it's still almost as good as fresh. I always eat at least one ear, fresh, before I get out of the garden with a handful of ears for supper. Everyone at our table has said, "This is the best tasting corn I've ever eaten." This year I planted my reliable Incredible Sweet Corn on the first of May, and we  had an excellent and bountiful crop by mid-July. As an experiment, I tried a new variety this year for my second and third plantings, one called, "Gotta Have It" (pictured above), from Gurney's Seed. It's a risk, playing around with corn varieties when you already have a favorite, but I tried this one anyway. And I'm not disappointed. It is nearly as good as Incredible, and miles above what you buy fresh at grocery store.

When I pick corn from the garden, the goats come up to the fence, hoping for a handout. This is Billy, who pushes all the nannies away while he eats his fill. Once he gets bored, the nannies get to eat.

The chickens, too, come up to the fence. They get the top and bottom slice of the ear of corn, when I cut the ears to take off the shucks.

Right over the chickens and goats heads is this peach tree. The peaches are nearing ripeness. Back earlier this spring, there were so many peaches that Adam tied up the branches so they wouldn't break. Occasionally a peach falls into the chicken yard and the hens eat it.

The little goat babies all stand and watch as the adults eat the corn trimmings. They nibble at a shuck now and then, but for the most part, they're not interested. Notice their horn "decorations?" The little ones, as they reach their teenage months (that's about 2 months' old), manage to get their little heads stuck in fences. They've not learned they have horns and so, anytime they see something interesting on the other side of the fence, they get stuck. Josh heard about this method on the 'net and it works well. It's just short lengths of lightweight plastic tubing with a hose clamp for each horn. They were all embarrassed and complained loudly for the first day, but got used to the horn hoses. They do look, well, unusual, don't they?

"Blondie" is the variety of okra we're growing this year and it has performed well. The plants get only about shoulder high and produce a continuous supply of okra for at least 2 months. My method for preserving okra usually is to slice it crosswise, dip in buttermilk, then cracker or corn meal, and freeze it on cookie sheets. But we've been enjoying it so much this year cooked a new way, I haven't frozen any. The method? Take whole, young okra pods, spray them all over with cooking oil, lay on a baking sheet and broil at 450 degrees F, rolling them around every 4 or 5 minutes. They're ready to eat when they are beginning to brown on the edges, about 15 minutes total cooking time. Give them a dusting of salt and they're ready to eat. The flavor is delicious and they're not slimy inside like you might imagine.

I've been wondering what Matthew's bees do in extreme dry, hot weather and a couple of mornings I found out. There were rows of bees lined up, upside down along the edge of my water garden, drinking water. Some were on the tops of lily pads, sticking their tongues under the leaves, some were flying around, waiting their turn. I'd never seen bees lined up to drink before!

It hardly looks like a drought when you look at the water pool in the garden. But everything is struggling to stay alive. The raspberries have lost their leaves, the blackberries that should be producing the late crop, are possibly dead. Trees are losing their leaves and the lawn is a crisp, unhappy brown.

 I just posted a recipe for Rose and Yogurt Dressing on my recipes blog. If you'd like to find new ways to use your summer roses, check out my recipes there. Happy gardening!

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Dallas Gardens

I missed attending the Garden Writers of America Conference last year but didn't want to miss this one, held in Dallas at the downtown, Hyatt Regency. I always come away encouraged, inspired, flattered by folks who follow this blog, rejuvenated and refreshed after a GWA conference. Why? Imagine 500 people, nearly all of whom are interested in the very things you are. These folks are highly creative, eager to share their experience and information, and are there to learn new things, and have fun. It's an impressive cross section of garden publishers, radio and t.v. personalities, movers and shakers in the plant research world, and writers of all kinds. The conference is also where the wholesale plant industry introduces their newest and best plants for next year, and the tool companies show off, and give away, the niftiest new gardening tools that aren't on the market yet.

Plants like this pretty amazing Pink Lemonade Blueberry, above, developed for patio container growing. The name? It relates to the pink to red to purple blueberries, extremely sweet and blue-berry-ish, at any stage!

Plants Neuveau introduced several stunning, new echinaceas this year, including 'Hot Papaya' Echinacea, below. Angela Treadwell-Palmer, President of Plants Neuveau, was there to introduce the media to her incredible line of long-blooming Echinaceas. (To see more, visit her website).

 The various companies host small parties for their supporters and friends and I'm always tickled to be included. Angela had just mixed (I forget the name, anyone know this one?) me a drink, half chocolate liqueur, half raspberry something or other. Yum! And in the background, you can see Kelly Norris, the wildly enthusiastic iris grower/blogger/aficionado, along with another person taking my (?) photo, who I don't recognize.

It's worth the price of the conference, just for moments like the one, below. The notoriously grumpy Grumpy Gardener, aka Senior Garden Editor of Southern Living, Steve Bender, having had one too many of those chocolate-raspberry beverages, trying to make time with the dummy in the corner. (You'll notice the link to  Grumpy's blog, on the right of the page in the list of blogs I follow. Check him out, he's always full of grumpiness and off the wall plant advice).

To further prove we always have fun, and not take ourselves too seriously, here's the notorious Jim Martin from South Carolina (below), representing the Novalis plant company. Everyone awaits Jim's annual pilgrimage into the floral depths of gaudy-acious outfits to draw attention to Novalis's new plant introductions. (You can find Jim on his Compost.in.my.Shoes blog).

 

The next post will be a view of some of the gardens we toured in Dallas at the Conference. Meanwhile, we're packing the truck with my books and wares and we're driving east for the first annual, Mother Earth News Fair in Seven Springs, PA. I'm speaking and we'll have a booth and hopefully sell, sell, sell. (If you are anywhere nearby, attend the Fair and stop by and say hi, please). 

Until then, Happy gardening and thanks for visiting here!

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The Strawberry Cake Story

I always hesitate to tell this story, it just sounds too strange and unbelievable, but a few folks asked me to. My birthday's over,  and I'm just now making THE strawberry cake. Our Friday night dinner group consists of 11 people, out of those, 3 have birthdays in late May. So tonight we're going out for dinner at Devito's Restaurant and Trout Farm and since I didn't make myself my favorite strawberry cake on my birthday, this will be the cake we 3 who have birthdays this week and last, will share.

The actual and real, I swear, story of this cake, follows here. Believe it, because it's true, but if you don't choose to believe, that's ok, I understand. It all started my first year in the Air Force, 1967. I'd been away at college for 2 years, the Army and the Vietnam war were breathing down my neck. I chose the Medical Corps in the Air Force and that May was my first birthday away from home. Before, even while in college, I always returned home for my birthday, where my mother made my favorite of all cakes - strawberry. I'm guessing the recipe had come from one of the women's magazines my mother read, because it is wholly a 50's style cake. There is nothing healthy or wholesome in it.

Knowing I was not getting to come home for my birthday, I planned ahead, asking my mother to write mail the recipe to me. I attended church off-base, in town each Sunday. There was a group of college students and Airmen who met for study in the Church annex and someone always brought food to go with coffee. I thought sharing my favorite cake would be a great way to celebrate.

I had a desk in my barracks room which I shared with a roommate. I stored my mother's strawberry cake recipe in my one drawer. I had asked Connie, one of the girls in our Sunday group if I could come to her house to make the cake on Saturday and we could store it in the annex's refrigerator until Sunday. She agreed and I bought the necessary ingredients on Friday.

Saturday morning I was excited to get the cake project underway. I had the ingredients already in my vehicle, but when I opened the desk drawer, the cake recipe was nowhere to be found. I looked and looked, turning everything upside down, asked my roommate, looked in the groceries, in my pockets, all to no avail. The recipe was lost. Food for me, is always a connection to emotion, to nostalgia, to good memories, and I was miserable. I wanted that cake.

It was pouring down rain as I drove to Connie's house, very sad. I really wanted to taste that cake badly, and I really wanted to share it with my friends. I didn't start crying like a baby, but I darned well felt like it. I parked near Connie's house, thinking I would just take the ingredients inside and leave them for her family as I couldn't do anything with frozen strawberries, eggs, oil, etc.

When I stepped out of my truck, the wind was blowing the rain so hard it immediately soaked my shirt and the paper grocery bags. I walked toward the house with my head down to avoid as much of the blowing rain as I could. Looking down to avoid stepping in puddles on the sidewalk, I saw a small piece of soggy paper. I nearly didn't stop, but I bent down and picked it up out of curiosity. It couldn't be. How was this possible? It was A strawberry cake recipe! Not the one my mother had typed out for me, this one was in a handwriting I didn't recognized. I stood there, dumbfounded. I tried to figure out how this strange coincidence could be. The water running down my back, through my underwear and jeans and down my legs, brought me back to reality. I ran on to Connie's house, losing the box of frozen strawberries out of the now disintegrated grocery bag.

Indoors, Connie handed me a towel and helped me retrieve the groceries. As we spread everything out on the kitchen counter, I told her my story of the disappearing recipe and the incredible appearance of the new one I held in my hand. She nodded and smiled, but obviously didn't believe me. I couldn't blame her, had I not witnessed it myself, I wouldn't have believed it, either.

We made the cake. The ingredients were similar to my mom's recipe, but slightly different. Egg whites instead of whole eggs, for instance. Sliced fresh strawberries instead of frozen. But the cake was baked and appeared all right. We let it cool, iced it, then drove to the church and put it in the refrigerator for morning. But wait, this isn't the end of the story!

Next day when we arrived early to make coffee, Connie went to get the cake. She came back and said the cake wasn't there. I looked in the refrigerator, too. We looked in the church's big walk-in refrigerator, asked the associate pastor. Nothing. As the coffee perked Connie excused herself and went to the lady's bathroom. She came back carrying a wastebasket. In it, was my cake, still intact except for one missing piece.

We had about 30 people in our group and as they arrived I told them about the cake and how disappointed I was in not getting to share it with them. (And how I really wanted to have some myself). It took weeks for the mystery to be unraveled, but in the end, a girl I had dated one time (and not again because she was absolutely crackers) was jealous that I'd gone to Connie's to make the cake. She discovered the cake in the church refrigerator, ate a piece, cried, and dumped the rest in the trashcan, as revenge! But wait, this also isn't the end of the story!

Every year when I get ready to make mom's strawberry cake, the recipe is no where to be found. I keep it in a notebook of recipes, I even check during the winter, but when my birthday rolls around, it's nowhere to be seen. I have a special pocket for it in my file, I always put the recipe there when I find it again, but when I make the cake, I wind up using the recipe I found on the sidewalk. So one of my reasons for waiting a week to make the cake, was to see if the right recipe would stay where I put it last year. It was where it was supposed to be.  I used Mom's recipe this year. In the photo you can see both hers and the one I found on the sidewalk in the rain in 1967.

Because several people asked, here's Mom's recipe. It may not sound like it, but is so incredibly good that I would probably eat the whole thing, which is why I'm sharing it with our dinner group tonight, to save me from myself. As I warned earlier, it's a typical 1950s recipe, there is absolutely nothing healthy in this except for the strawberries.

Strawberry Cake

1 box white cake mix
1 small box strawberry Jell-O (dry)
Scant cup cooking oil
4 egg whites
1/2 cup water

Mix thoroughly with electric mixer or by hand. Then add 1 box (about a cup) of thawed, frozen strawberries, mixing by hand to combine. Pour into oiled, floured 9 x 13 baking pan and bake at 325 degrees F. until a knife inserted into center comes out clean.

Icing
1/2 cup (1 stick) softened butter, combined with 1/2 cup formerly frozen strawberries and 2 cups powdered sugar, mixing well. Spread on cooled cake. (I use half cream cheese, half butter instead of all butter).

Josh picked another 3 gallons, bringing the total up to a little over 6 gallons of cherries off of the one, dwarf Montmorency cherry tree. He bought a new cherry pitter, and it works like a charm. It's not electric or anything automatic, but it does make this job a whole lot easier. He's freezing the cherries in pie-sized batches (4 cups). I made a pie a couple of days ago out of the first picking. It's great to have a winter's supply of good pie cherries.

I'm really glad my birthday comes during strawberry (and cherry) season. Happy Gardening!

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