Lettuce Eat Sorrel

Is Sorrel the New Green?

Sorrel, not exactly a household word or on your regular shopping list. Yet this mysterious vegetable, veiled in acidity, carries a treasure-trove of citrusy notes. Of European origin, the domestic varieties grow year round in our neck of the woods. In spring however, the arrival of its wild relative triggers a refreshed enthusiasm for this curious leafy green.

Wild Sorrel, also known as Sheep Sorrel, casts itself randomly in the nooks and crannies of my landscape, a common weed with a distict acidic bite. Growing up, my kids called it sour grass. They roamed the property foraging the largest leaves, pairing it with bronze fennel sandwiched between layers, gobbling it up like an amuse-bouche. Foodies before their time or just plain hungry? Mama was busy in the garden and they were left candy deprived, craving the tangy tartness of the wild. Fine memories indeed...

French Sorrel has come of age at Voss Gardens. A hearty perennial, its broad leaves have transformed odd plots into lush boutique-ish beds. Sorrel is symbiotic with parsley, and once established, requires little maintenance - some cutting back once a year. The rest of the time it stands at attention, ready to yield its goodness, small leaves for salads, bigger ones for sauces. Baby slugs live to nosh on the stuff, but no worries, the teeny holes they leave behind will disappear into purees.

Red Veined Sorrel, aka Blood Veined, is a newbie this year and mingles cordially into the pastoral color scheme. A brilliant Looker, recently popularized by chefs adventuring into unfamiliar cultivars, but certainly not as pungent as its cousins. It makes a bloody good visual splash in a salad or a bold dash of color in a presentation.The micro greens will party up a plate. The red hues do turn, so if you like pink puree and poopy looking soup its all yours.

For cooking, I'm sticking with Frenchy, aka Rumix Scutatus.The ancient Greeks and Romans valued Sorrel for promoting digestion and considered it a good complement to rich, fatty meals.  Rich in potassium and vitamins C and A, its slightly acidic taste makes it a perfect base for a sauce. Sorrel is best raw and pureed, to which any number of ingredients can be added. Recipes abound on Google. It has great affinity with eggs and fish, but can generally accompany a wide range of vittles. Fresh Sorrel leaves chopped into a tangy chiffonade can scatter about like parsley or cilantro.

Warning! This Sorrel Pesto can be addictive devoured in dips, sandwiches, pasta, and pizza.

Omit the nuts and cheese and Voila!- a stunning sauce to drizzle on smoked salmon or kick up a salad

Sorrel Pesto

2 cups coarsely chopped fresh sorrel, ribs removed
 1/3 cup packed fresh parsley leaves
 2 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
 1/3 cup freshly grated parmesan
 1/4 cup pine nuts
 1/2 teaspoon salt
 1/4 cup olive oil
 In a food processor or blender puree the sorrel, the parsley, the garlic,
 the parmesan, the pine nuts and the oil, transfer the pesto to a jar with
 a tight fitting lid and chill it, covered. The pesto keeps, covered and
 chilled, for 2 weeks. Makes about 1 cup.
 
 

Some Press

http://www.mercurynews.com/food-wine/ci_20409692/diy-condiments-dress-up-that-grilled-feast

Back from the Emerald City, there's no place like home.

Wherever I Go, There I Am

Back in the Garden again, even when I go away.

Urban agriculture shines on my list of Favorite Things.

It warms my heart to see human creativity put to the test of growing food in your neighborhood.

This garden thrives a few blocks from my son's apartment in the Emerald City.

 My visits always include a sojourn through the community pea patch.

The landscape juxtaposes old and new. The garden remains timeless.

Community members express individuality in their plots.

Recycled found objects can prove arty.

 A makeshift hoop house made of PVC pipe and cover cloth gives shelter from the storm.

Starting beds are covered with old newspaper until germination.

 No problem keeping things moist here.

I could wax poetic about compost.

Strange as it seems, there are days you need to collect rain water in Seattle.

Food and flowers, so happy together.

A hipster moment....

 Luv those black patent heels struttin' in the garden girrrl!

Country, City

Ain't it pretty?

The gates to a little chunk of heaven.

Thank you Seattle peapatchers! Keep up the good work!

If I Only Had a Brain

On occasion, gardeners take get aways and visit loved ones. Greetings from The Emerald City of Seattle, the land where sunny days put locals in a tizzy.  Wherever I go, the garden finds me, and I couldn't help whistling this song as we strolled through the Conservatory at Volunteer Park.

I could wile away the hours

Conferrin' with the flowers

Consultin' with the rain

And my head I'd be scratchin'

While my thoughts were busy hatchin'

If I only had a brain

April is the Cruelist Month

Why title a post with a quote from T. S. Eliot's, "The Waste Land?"
Because it describes a gardener's frustration with the tease of Spring.

From day one, April celebrates the fool. Disparity's displayed in a splash of contrasting images, trees of pink under skies of grey. Earth Day is hailed and its hailing. The sun shines through random downpours, whacko lightening strikes bridges, high winds bring short lived heat waves. The atmosphere twitterpates with one hundred and one shades of new green pumping up the air. Bulbs burst with fragrance. Migratory birds chirp their return. The hills are alive with forget-me-whats? Lent and all the Easter brouhaha are so over. Next?

Spring emerges painfully, testing patience with the delicious uncertainty of possibilities.

Cooks find solace in green garlic and sorrel sauces, but the gardener waits and rants,watching carefully fluffed soil turn to mud, tender seedlings stand up to torrential rains. Luscious greens are picked balancing a broken golf umbrella in one hand, plodding around in wet socks, baggy gortex pants and a clunky raincoat. That sassy Easter bonnet's been replaced by a sorry looking Indiana Jones hat.

Weeds thrive but its too wet to weed. Mudslides threaten, paths are uncertain. The grass sloshes like a wet sponge. Gutters are clogged. Drip is the soundtrack. Aphids are having a heyday while newly hatched insects look to set up camp. Smells of sopped redwood fill allergy inclined nostrils. No happy ducks frolicking around in the puddles. Construction projects are at a standstill.

The promises of Spring get muddled, and that can be cruel. Expectations cause all the angst, as they do in real life. Yet the silver lining rings true.  With patience, the showers bring the flowers.

Garden Ergonomics

Lets face it, we're all getting older all the time, and with any luck, wiser.

Years of gardening, praying, and other reasons for squatting in homesteading conditions (use your imagination) have left me weak in the  knees. As the garden evolves, aside from infrastructural necessities like retaining walls, I look to design areas that moderate the knee bending.

Here I can garden standing up.

 

  Here I can garden sitting down.

The pots are on wheels so they can be repositioned for easy access,
 affectionately called "The Granny Garden." 

Vegan Power Balls

Follow up to the previous Apricot-Bourbon Mustard post.

 If apricots can get soaked, so can figs.

 On a besotted roll....

Most mornings, as soon as it becomes light or warm enough, I go outside. Often wearing my bathrobe, with a second cup of coffee in tow, the garden calls for my attention and I jump in. The aches and pains go away. Knowing a good breakfast would keep me going, I get too involved in a project or too dirty to stop. By the time my stomach juices are gnawing and dizziness sets in, I'll grab my go to breakfast in haste, chomping some raw oats and molasses to sooth the appetite. Odd choice, but anyone who knows me well, knows of my secret hankering for raw oats. A bona fide oat nut, cravings for them run deep in my bones. Something about their texture sticks to the ribs. Sweetened with molasses adds iron, minerals and B vitamins. A bowl keeps me going and going...
But when stormy weather sets in, this gardener must stay indoors and make time for Plan B, the kitchen.

Perusing the pantry for inspiration, it all started with an old bag of dried figs. In Santa Cruz slang, "Dude, they were like totally gnarly." Their sugars had crystallized, heightening sweetness but lowering visual appeal, sadly not eye candy. Catching a creative wave, I chopped them into raisin sized pieces, covered them with rum (yo ho ho) and put them aside, awaiting further instruction from the kitchen muse.

A myriad of ingredients step up to the plate and declare, "Play Ball!" My beloved oats form a team with other raw components. Cheering, "Let's Roll!" the idea of power balls hits a home run. They are singing something about take me out to the garden. . . I don't care if we never come back. (OASIS-Over Active Silly Imagination Syndrome.)

Voila! Breakfast Balls to go!  Easy, high energy bites that keep going and going and going...
The booze is just for flavor. Pour it off and save it for a rainy day.

Good to Go

makes 18 - 20 balls

1 cup chopped figs, soaked overnight in rum
rum, enough to cover the figs
2 cups raw oats
1/2 cup roasted slivered almonds, unsalted
1/2 cup sunflower seeds, unsalted
1/2 cup almond butter
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1-2 tablespoon molasses
1 tablespoons lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1/4 teaspoon salt

pour off rum from the figs, combine all ingredients, tightly roll into ping-pong sized balls,
substitutions are always accepted, roll your own, store in fridge. Have a ball.