Category Archives: My Gardens

Spent Grains Pass the Radish Test

Six weeks ago, I churned large quantities of spent grains, a byproduct of beer-making, into the soil in a couple of plots in our community garden in Roxborough. Perhaps it was too late, but only then did I post a question about the advisability of doing so on the Philadelphia Urban Farm Network forum. In short order, I got six thoughtful responses. The respondents were unanimous: I had probably made a mistake. Compost the stuff first, or use it as mulch, most of the respondents advised.

It’s not that I wasn’t forewarned. As I wrote at the time, I had read up on the downsides of using spent grains but proceeded anyway, hoping that the ones I was using, from the nearby Twisted Gingers brewpub, were well enough along in the fermentation process that they would quickly break down in the soil in the several weeks I intended to wait before planting.

I still had reason to hope that would happen but the responses to my query were alarming enough that I scurried back to the garden a couple of days later, shovel in hand, to churn the soil a few more times. It was a good thing I did that before too much time had passed. The spent grains had already started to solidify into layers like sedimentary rock. One of the PUFN responses, from a gardener named Scott, had warned about that. “Unless completely mixed into the soil spent grains will stay clumped for months,” he said.

On that second pass with the shovel, I apparently succeeded in mixing the spent grains in well enough. Within three weeks only traces remained intact. But would the amended soil be seed- and plant-friendly? That was the big question, and the answer was no sure thing. As Scott warned, “Have you checked the pH? Spent grain put directly in soil without composting will lower the pH as it decomposes.” And if the pH falls out the optimal range, “a host of ills may follow,” as an article in Fine Gardening explains. I had also previously read that too many spent grains in the soil could inhibit seedling growth. So it’s a good idea to plant some radishes in the soil to see how they fare before doing any more extensive planting.

So I planted a few radishes. Three weeks later, they are thriving. That’s fortunate because even before the radish test results were in, I planted squash, eggplant, peppers, and tomatoes in another section of the garden that I had heavily spiked with spent grains. They are thriving as well.

Have I proved the skeptics wrong, or did I just get lucky? Who knows. But for anyone who doesn’t want to take the risk I was willing to assume, all authorities agree that spent grains make a great addition to a compost pile, giving the finished product a welcome boost of nitrogen.

“It is not hard to compost,” wrote Karl, in another of the responses to my query on the PUFN forum. “All you need is enough brown material for the spent grains that you have; I’ve had lots of success with clean woodchips and leaves. As long as you layer the greens and browns well, you don’t need to do a lot of turning. You will want to cap the pile with leaves to hold in the moisture and the smells. If you do use woodchips, they will take a good bit of time to break down completely. you can speed up the process by sifting out the woodchips. The sifted woodchips can be added to the next batch of spent grains.”

Uh Oh! Lantern Fly Nymphs

As May winds down, they’re infesting some of the trees and weedy vines surrounding our community garden in Roxborough, but haven’t made a move on anyone’s crops, yet.

Marvellous and Ominous Blasts From the Past

They don’t call it Merveille des Quatre Saisons for nothing. The lettuce variety, a pre-1885 French heirloom, according to the seed catalogs, can handle just about anything the weather gods throw at it. This gorgeous head of “marvel of four seasons” lettuce, see above, is one of half a dozen that sprouted from lettuce stumps that I had left for dead in my garden last fall. I didn’t notice them until early this spring when they started sprouting and then formed characteristic rosettes of loosely folded ruby-tinged green leaves.

Meanwhile, my new spring crops-including some Merveille des Quatre Saisons, several spinach varieties, and other greens-which I started in the greenhouse and moved into garden in mid-March, are thriving outside, especially those that I kept under a row cover on hoops. They’ve dodge all of the hazards the cruel world could throw at it so far, including some light freezes and tree-toppling wind storms.

A groundhog, to be sure, could make short work of them all, and one recently showed up, happily grazing through my cilantro crop. I don’t think it’s the same one that slowly but surely ate its way through my garden last year. That groundhog (which I caught and released, though perhaps not far enough away-less than a mile from here) didn’t like cilantro. This groundhog clearly favored it over eight or ten other nearby choices. It’s going to be one of his last meals in my garden, if I can help it. I’m borrowing a trap and setting it ASAP.

Sprouting Daikon Are Tabletop Garden Winners

Dining room tabletop-grown crop of 12-day-old sprouting daikon radishes

In my first few weeks in coronavirus self-quarantine, I’ve discovered a crop that will become a regular ingredient in my home cooking from now on: sprouting daikon radish microgreens.

I started growing sprouting daikon, as well as three other microgreen varieties and one microgreen mix, in February in the idyllic confines of the Fairmount Park Horticultural Center greenhouse, where I landed a spot this year after a couple of years on a waiting list. All of them flourished in the greenhouse—which we have sadly been barred from reentering since mid-March due to the coronavirus. So I brought them all home, where they, with the jumpstart they got in the greenhouse, continued to thrive on my dining room tabletop, though it gets just several hours of direct sunlight a day.

I’ve had a small pot each of red acre cabbage and ruby red chard, densely planted for microgreen use, which held up well in the pots for weeks without getting rangy and woody. I had a flat of garnet red amaranth microgreens, which are visually striking but too wispy to be of much more than cosmetic use. The quick growing daikon—which I ordered from Moutain Valley Seed Company-have done best in this new environment. They are harvestable less than two weeks after planting, and hold for another week or two before they sprout a new set of leaves and start to get tough. I’ve even grown a crop entirely inside my living quarters in two weeks time.

But it’s not their stellar growing properties that have been a revelation during my self-quarantine. It is their culinary versatility that makes them such a stand-out. They are great in salads—no surprise there—and also sandwiches and wraps, and spring rolls and sushi. You can toss a bunch in ramens and other soups, as well as in stir fries. They also brighten up pesto, are excellent in chimichurri, and best of all in my experiments so far, sprouting daikon radishes are superb in a green pumpkin seed mole.

I’ve posted three of my favorite sprouting daikon radish recipes over at my SeasonalChef.com website. Check them out here: sprouting daikon radish chimichurri, pesto, and mole sauce.

spring rolls with sprouting daikon radish and garnet red amaranth microgreens

Survivors of the Winter of 2019-20

I’m sometimes surprised to see what plants from my fall garden have managed to survive the winter and are surging back to life in spring, often with no help from me. This past winter, I didn’t bother to put a row cover over anything, as I have generally done in recent winters, and therefore wasn’t expecting any early harvest. But this March, in my Roxborough community garden plot, a half dozen long forgotten lettuce stumps sprouted beautiful red rosettes of lettuce leaves, and a patch of cilantro that produced little in the fall was flush with new growth.

Philadelphia is Overrun With Squirrels

Last fall, I met someone who was volunteering at a wildlife rescue station somewhere in the city, and when I asked what kinds of wildlife they were rescuing at that time, she said squirrels. Lots of baby squirrels-because it was a mast year for oak trees in the Philadelphia area, that is, “a season in which various species of trees synchronize their reproduction and drop large amounts of fruit and/or nuts.” That meant there were enough acorns to support three, not just the usual two, cycles of matings and births from spring through fall. Some in the last crop of squirrels were too late to make it when the weather turned-until the rescue station stepped in.

Many of us noticed the unusually heavy blanket of acorns last year. Look around and I believe you’ll notice that this year, we’ve got a bumper crop of squirrels. They are already wreaking havoc in my garden, a situation that is going to have to be rectified one way or another.

I photographed the very healthy squirrel (seen above), just as he was taking his first tentative nibble of a patch of leaf lettuce that I had recently moved over to my backyard garden from the greenhouse. He clearly liked it. It had been razed within a day or two (see below).

Microgreens to the Rescue

Who knew when I started growing microgreens at the Horticultural Center in February that they might come in handy as a dining room tabletop survival garden starting March 14. Not me.

But here they are, brought home today, after we were informed by the awesome organizer of the community propagation program, Zoe Blickenderfer, that we will barred from the greenhouse until further notice starting next week. Zoe will keep any seedlings we leave behind alive, but most of mine are ready to plant in my backyard garden, and in the case of the microgreens, harvest over the coming weeks and eat.

It looks like I’ve got several servings of salad a day for a month-a mix of sprouting daikon radish greens, red acre cabbage, ruby red chard, Russian kale, red amaranth, and dill.

How Not to Grow Microgreens

I’m learning a lot in my first winter growing in the municipal greenhouse in Fairmount Park, as other more experienced growers start to trickle in and get underway, admire my plants and offer suggestions. From one of my greenhouse neighbors this weekend, I learned how not to grow microgreens.

Don’t bury the seeds, as I did in my first plantings (see sprouting daikon radishes, above), not even under a skim of growing medium. Instead spread the seeds on top and cover the tray or pot with something that blocks out the light for a few days until they sprout. When the seeds are buried, the roots latch onto clumps of growing medium that are a pain to clean. I’ll do it the right way with my next batch.

It’ll be great to have as many as I can eat for the next three months. I served my first harvest with roasted beets, gorgonzola cheese and walnuts.

My 2020 Garden’s Indoor Jump Start

 

After a couple of years on a waiting list, this winter I got into one of Philadelphia’s hidden gems: the greenhouse in the Horticultural Center in West Fairmount Park, run by the city’s department of parks and recreation. Part of the building is open to the general public. Another part of the facility is a working, commercial-grade greenhouse, half of which is used by parks & rec employees to grow seedlings for gardens in public parks and community recreation centers all over town. The other half of the greenhouse is occupied by a community propagation program. Community gardens, nonprofits, for-profit growers, and individual Philadelphians like me can rent an 8’x3′ table for $50 for the propagation season, which runs from the February through May. So, as I said, after waiting for a couple of years, I’m in, and have wasted no time getting my crops going.

It’s the third week of February, and I’m largely alone so far. Do my greenhouse neighbors know something that I don’t about the folly of getting such an early start? We’ll see.

By the third week of February, few of the other growers in the propagation program have gotten started, but I have eight or 10 different crops underway already including rutabaga, rapini, kale, chard, cilantro, arugula, sprouting daikon radish, three or four varieties of lettuce and lots of spinach.

I’m planning to put the spinach out in my garden, under a floating row cover, in early March, followed by the lettuce a week or two later. We’ll see how that goes.

One of the propagation program tables near mine

Another table near mine with a myriad of herbs

Hakurei Turnips: Marvel of Almost All Seasons

I dug up some turnips and radishes from the thawed ground in my garden on a balmy 60-degree day in early February and roasted them for dinner. The radishes were firm and surprisingly tasty for midwinter. As for the turnips, though they look good (see photo), they had a mushy texture-nothing like they are in their crisp prime, and no wonder. They’ve frozen and thawed quite a few times in the last couple of months. But they were certainly edible, earning all the more respect from me.

Hakurei turnips are the one crop that never fails in my gardens. Almost all the seeds germinate, even the few I’ve spilled in the paths between rows, grow to maturity. Planted in succession from early spring into the fall, they yield a continuous harvest of tender little turnips and greens that are as good as the turnips themselves.