Update – Scalions from Salvaged Kitchen Onions

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A month ago I planted two sprouted pantry onions in a pot and sewed a little spinach alongside.

Today I fulfilled my intent and cut the greens of one to use as scallions.  I cut a single shoot this morning for sandwiches.  They taste wonderful – stronger and a little tougher than spring onions but delicious.

My inclination is to quick-pickle nearly anything small I want to keep longer than a few days.  This evening I flat-topped the rest of that salvaged onion, thinly sliced the greens, placed them in a little jar with rice vinegar and a pinch of salt.

The tangy onion-y joy sat for about an hour while I made dinner.  We spooned a little on our burgers – delightful.

These vinegared onion greens will perfectly garnish soup, salad, sandwiches, sausage, scrambled eggs, hors d’oeuvres, burgers – you get the idea.

Pretty exciting for onions salvaged from the brink.

Salvage – Onions from the Kitchen to the Garden

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Who hasn’t had onions start sprouting in the kitchen?

We go through so many onions, sprouting is a rare event here but they seem absolutely set on it these few weeks. I usually slice them up them as soon as I spot a green shoot but two managed sizable green shoots without detection.

With pots to spare waiting for seedlings to mature, I consulted GardenWeb on the utility/futility of planting sprouted pantry onions.

Verdict: Might as well plant them.

If the bulb doesn’t rot I can harvest the green shoots to use like scallions.  Another GardenWeb post recommends cutting away the outer bulb layers before planting.  I peeled the bulb back but skipped cutting the roots since I wasn’t sure how far to cut.  Figuring how much bulb to peel away was easy since both onions had gone mushy on the outside: I peeled until I found the firm core.

Maybe I’ll sow a little camomile or lettuce as companions in the pot.

Update:  HUGE SUCCESS!  A month after planting, I harvested one of the onion’s greens.  They’re delicious fresh and make a great quick-pickled condiment!  I’m so excited this worked, I shared it on Frugally Sustainable.

DIY – Thermal Mass for the Cold Frame

My cold frame does not have a hot bed (a layer of manure a few inches below the floor to create heat as it decays), and it only gets a few hours of sun at this early point in spring, so I wanted to add thermal mass.

Thermal mass is simply extra material that will be heated by the sun during the day and then will give off that heat after the sun goes down to maintain the warm temperature of the cold frame.

Online suggestions included painting milk jugs black and filling them with water.  It was already night so I didn’t have time to paint jugs, plus if I painted my bottles and jugs I wouldn’t be able to recycle them later.

All I really needed was black water.  It would absorb the heat better than the clear water and I could just pour it out when I’m done with the cold frame.

FOOD COLORING.

Every art class since kindergarten demonstrates that mixing all the colors makes black.  I dug out my Target-brand food coloring left over from Christmas and got to it.

It worked like a charm – one good squirt of each color into each container made inky-black water perfectly suited to add thermal mass to the cold frame.

As I arranged them inside the cold frame itself, in the dark with a flashlight, I wrapped a few of the bottles in aluminum foil to help reflect the precious little sunlight that was making it into the cold frame in early March in our city back yard.

DIY – Cold Frame – Fixing the Flaws (Part 6 of 6!)

Determined to finish this thing, I headed out with scrap table legs from a broken kiddie table, some wire and my drill.

The Univent automatic opener I installed works by means of a piston driven by a compressed-gas cylinder that expands or contracts with the temperature. The opener is amazing but I needed an easy way to latch the lid open to allow access to the (anticipated) seedlings within the cold frame.

I fashioned a post with a loop of wire at the end that hooks to a screw on the lid – it works like a charm. I can prop the lid open, work inside, unlatch it, and the Univent resumes the work of keeping the lid open or closed based on the temperature.

The automatic vent opener (the Univent) instructions read horribly. Ikea should contract its instruction-writing services out… I corrected a mistake I made the day before and was officially in business.

I finished the cold frame a few weeks ago, on February 27th, and March proceeded to be one of the warmest on record. It’s like bringing your umbrella to insure against rain.

Post Publishing Note:

This is 6 of a 6-part series -

DIY – The Beginnings of a Cold Frame (Part 1 of __ )
DIY – The Ends of a Cold Frame (Part 2 of __ )
DIY – The Assembly of a Coldframe (Part 3 of __ )
DIY – Painting the Cold Frame (Part 4 of __ )
DIY – Window Hacker (5 of __ )
DIY – Cold Frame – Fixing the Flaws (Part 6 of 6!)

DIY – Window Hacker (5 of __ )

Have I mentioned I constructed this cold frame hastily?

Even my trip to Community Forklift was barely planned, I was rummaging through the cabinets of door hinges while they announced they were closing in five minutes.

I set about installing the cold frame’s glass lid with a vague notion of how I would get the not-quite-appropriate hinges to fit and about 45 minutes to execute it.

By the time I finished, I had a working glass top, a Univent auto opener installed correctly and a few large gaps where there should be none.

I called it a success and returned the next day with a fresh plan to fix the gaps.

Post Publishing Note:

This is 5 of a 6-part series -

DIY – The Beginnings of a Cold Frame (Part 1 of __ )
DIY – The Ends of a Cold Frame (Part 2 of __ )
DIY – The Assembly of a Coldframe (Part 3 of __ )
DIY – Painting the Cold Frame (Part 4 of __ )
DIY – Window Hacker (5 of __ )
DIY – Cold Frame – Fixing the Flaws (Part 6 of 6!)

Bonus: Closer Look – The Univent on the Cold Frame

DIY – Painting the Cold Frame (Part 4 of __ )

I painted it.

Super fast.

Our neighbors had old paint they donated and I had some cheap brushes left over from past projects.  Actually, this entire project got me digging through my project supply stash.  I have leftovers from projects I completed long ago don’t even remember doing.

Spring cold frame = spring cleaning.

Post Publishing Note:

This is 4 of a 6-part series -

DIY – The Beginnings of a Cold Frame (Part 1 of __ )
DIY – The Ends of a Cold Frame (Part 2 of __ )
DIY – The Assembly of a Coldframe (Part 3 of __ )
DIY – Painting the Cold Frame (Part 4 of __ )
DIY – Window Hacker (5 of __ )
DIY – Cold Frame – Fixing the Flaws (Part 6 of 6!)

DIY – The Assembly of a Coldframe (Part 3 of __ )

Last Saturday I gathered all the cut pieces I had hastily cut and proceeded to hastily put them together.

This whole thing is based on me looking at a few online plans and sketching it out super quick.

Because I have a toddler.

It went well considering I used screws that were too long to put it together too fast from plans not well planned out.

 

Post Publishing Note:

This is 3 of a 6-part series -

DIY – The Beginnings of a Cold Frame (Part 1 of __ )
DIY – The Ends of a Cold Frame (Part 2 of __ )
DIY – The Assembly of a Coldframe (Part 3 of __ )
DIY – Painting the Cold Frame (Part 4 of __ )
DIY – Window Hacker (5 of __ )
DIY – Cold Frame – Fixing the Flaws (Part 6 of 6!)

DIY – Preparing for An Official Seed Exchange

Letting veggies that didn't go that well for me go to other gardeners.

I’m going to the Washington Gardener Seed Exchange this Saturday!!!

I can’t wait, and it’s mostly out of curiosity of who else will be there.  I have more seeds than I know what to do with this season, and that’s after I divvied them up with friends.  The registration form assures you don’t need to bring seeds to participate but this is the perfect excuse to let some older seeds go.

I tried a bunch of seeds in the fall of 2010 and, while I chalked my lack of success up to squirrels and loosing the sun behind the neighbor’s house, I also realized bush beans in my containers aren’t worth it and cabbage worms are more voracious than my diligence to fight them.

Sack-O-Seeds for Saturday

I’ve never been to a seed exchange.  I’ve never been to Green Spring Gardens Park, the host site.  I’ve never tried to keep our two-year-old entertained at an organized event for more than two hours.  It’ll be great.  Worst case we get to roam the nature trail down to the two ponds and hang out with the waterfowl.  I’m excited.

 

DIY – Preserving Lemons! Part Two – Make it Moroccan!

This was a fantastic project, especially since I had never heard of Moroccan lemons or knew anything of how to make them.  Our downstairs neighbor suggested over dinner that we make them and I immediately thought of my mother-in-law, Betsy, and her Meyer lemon tree.  Betsy packed up a box of Meyer lemons, limequats and tangerines for us to have our way with and suggested using the limequats since she has so many (and thus receive a jar of our efforts in return).

Note that two of the three varieties of limequat are named after Florida towns near my own hometown.

Also note that Betsy is a master gardener, runs her kitchen-of-projects with style and grace, and gifts me amazingly useful kitchen tools.

A quick search on epicurious pulled up Moroccan-Style Preserved Lemons.  I called it good with no further research, the recipe was so simple and straight forward and we had all the ingredients on hand:

(As presented at epicurious.com, originally from Gourmet, 2008)
10 to 12 lemons (2 1/2 to 3 lb)
2/3 cup kosher salt
1/4 cup extra-virgin olive oil

Equipment:
a 4- to 6-cup jar with a tight-fitting lid

Blanch 6 lemons in boiling water 5 minutes, then drain. Cut each lemon into 8 wedges and discard seeds. Toss with kosher salt in a bowl, then firmly pack with salt into jar.
Squeeze enough juice from remaining lemons to measure 1 cup. Add enough juice to cover lemons and screw on lid. Let stand at room temperature, shaking jar gently once a day, 5 days. Add oil to lemons and chill, covered.


Cooks’ note: Lemons keep, chilled, 1 year.

We used jars given to us from a Betsy and another friend then followed the gist of the recipe.  Instead of 10 – 12 lemons we had 5 large Meyer lemons and 12 small limequats.  We reduced the salt by a guessed amount.  We cut the limequats into wedges as though they were lemons for the three taller, slender jars.  I sliced two Meyer lemons (instead of cutting wedges) to fit the two squat jars.  Juice for the whole project came from three Meyer lemons.

Cooking in the kitchen with a friend is a special treat.  Jumping into a little preserving project on a Saturday night where neither has done it before is downright thrilling.  So much so that we forgot to document the real action of blanching the limequats and slicing.  I did document the Meyer lemons, though.

The recipe calls for blanching the lemons prior to slicing, which we did.  My neighbor read that blanching lemons prior to squeezing yeilds more juice – we blanched our juice Meyer lemons for about two minutes and they juiced incredibly well.  However, we did come up a little short on juice to cover what we packed into the jars.  David Lebovitz really presses his Moroccan preserved lemons into their jars, which we haven’t done yet but it should remedy the limequats poking just above the juice line.

I’m not sure exactly how gently we should be shaking our jars of lemons every day but they look great at the close of Day Three.  I have some incredibly fancy olive oil I scored from the Fancy Food Show over the summer, we’ll pack the limequats and Meyers down firmly and seal their fate with it on Day Five.

The Genesis Story

The first seed catalog to grace our kitchen table.

My first seed catalog experience wasn’t that long ago.  The summer of 2010 found me with a child turning one, a shrinking budget and time on my hands.  Not much time, but re-learning how to accomplish daily tasks as a newly minted mother made it seem I was gaining time back from the showerless, piled-high laundry days of newborn and infant-raising.

I loved the CSA I picked up weekly from Gregg Keckler with Orchard Country Produce.  For the first time in my life I let absolutely no vegetables go to waste since I imagined them to be carefully selected for the CSA subscribers.  Whether I got caught up in childhood memories of growing up in the woods, or figured I could save money by growing my own kale and carrots, I found Southern Exposure Seed Exchange from nearby Virginia and requested a mini-catalog.

All of my wildest gardening fantasies were contained in those pages.  I felt to do this justice I should be sitting at a huge wooden farm table, hand-hewn by ancestors who had left behind the humid summers along the lower Potomac and settled along a stream looking down into a pastoral Appalachian valley.  Lacking this, I put the baby to bed, propped open the back door overlooking our shabby shared back yard and sat at our second-hand Ikea table in our 100 year old two-bedroom apartment.

These bare pages seem timeless.

Being the mini-catalog, there were only a few plant drawings and no tempting “This is the best producing tomato variety we’ve grown!” descriptions.  My engineering days meant, of course, that I already compiled a list of container friendly, locally proven vegetables with which I could maximize space through companion planting.  I mulled over this mini-catalog seeking maximum bounty.

My decoder ring.

I made my selections, ordered online and carefully noted by when I should plant the seeds.  I bought a few pots, scavenged a few and scored the rest on late-season clearance.  My year working part-time at a local garden shop, paired with wild success growing five or six herbs from transplants for two seasons, gave me confidence to spare.

I carefully sewed these dreamy little cabbage and kale seeds into discount peat pots and set them on our bathroom window sill to sprout.  Outside I sewed carrots, spinach, cilantro and dill in the late-summer DC heat.

I tended, I watered, I watched.

And I watched.

I watched the autumn-crazed squirrels dig and destroy, day after day, my window box of carrots.  I replanted them every evening, hoping the furry thugs would move on.  I watched the cabbage worms I had to consult GardenWeb to identify, then consult to treat, devour entire young cabbage plants in the 23 hours since I had checked them last.

I watched the southward-creeping sun tuck further and further behind our neighbor’s house such that, by mid-October, our sunny back stairs that housed the majority of my newest infatuation lay in the shadows, leaving my bush beans and all their companions to sulk in the dark.  I watched the aphids cover my kale so entirely that growth seemed stunted completely.

My original herbs thrived while everything I planted from seed fell victim to one calamity or another.

I harvested four pods of green beans.

This flat of goodies became an incredibly bountiful 2011 back yard mostly-container garden.

Spring of 2011 brought luck on the heels of its warm weather – I won a $25 gift certificate to Old City Green where I kicked in an extra $10 and came home with a fantasy gardening flat sampling every herb they had, a few strawberry plants and three tomatoes.

My herbs and tomatoes were so bountiful that I harvested them fresh for friends and family all summer, dried the last them as gifts for the holidays and vowed to try my hand again at vegetables come spring.

These little guys are part of an ambitious 2012 lineup of veggies, herbs and flowers.

My 2012 Southern Exposure Seed Exchange order shipped today.

Are you starting seeds?  Have you sworn never to again?  Are you going straight for transplants from the garden center?  Do you have any new varieties planned for this year?