The salad in winter

It’s a common misconception that all plants that enjoy heat need heat to survive. Anastasia says as much when she “goes out on a limb” to suggest that spinach won’t survive at -40°F, and then conflates spinach in winter with tomatoes in winter. I’m going to abuse proprietorship to point out both that spinach is a cool-weather crop — despite what they do to it in California — and that it doesn’t need to be growing in order to be freshly available year round, although I concede that -40°F is probably pushing it somewhat. (Who would want a salad under those conditions anyway?)

Many plants, and spinach is a prime example, can survive freezing. They do so even better if they are primed by exposure to cold temperatures before the freeze hits, which is the natural way of things. If you sow spinach in late summer, and let it get to be a good size before hard winter arrives, it will survive reasonably well given minimal protection in the form of a cold frame or a polytunnel. And it will be ready to grow away again as soon as temperatures start to warm up again in the spring. Not just spinach either: the list is long.

This idea, of growing plants in the autumn and protecting them for harvest through the winter and an early start in spring, is nothing new. Victorian gardeners were past masters. In modern times it is most closely associated with the name of Eliot Coleman. As it happens, he prefers organic methods, but don’t let that put you off. His book is wonderfully practical and there’s a bit more background here.

And of course there’s more to leafy-greens-that-aren’t-lettuce than spinach, but surely I don’t need to belabour that point here. My conclusion is that while it takes planning and foresight, it is perfectly possible to have access to a local diverse diet in cold winters.

Thank you, Ames!

Just back from Heartland and, before the jetlag overpowers me, I really want to thank everyone at the North Central Regional Plant Introduction Station (NC7) in Ames, Iowa for their incredible hospitality over the past week. I know this will get to them because a couple of the people working at the station told me they visit us occasionally. Grateful for that too!

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The ARS facility at Ames is the oldest of the US plant introduction stations. It’s main crop is maize, of which it has a collection of about 20,000 accessions from all over the world.

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But there are also some 30,000 accessions of a bunch of other crops and wild species.

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Many of the crops require careful management of pollinators during regeneration and multiplication. Fortunately, there hasn’t been any colony collapse disorder among the beehives used and maintained on the station.

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Like many of the active genebanks of the USDA National Plant Germplasm System, the one at Ames benefits from an almost symbiotic relationship with nearby Iowa State University, with some staff also having university duties and many students gaining hands-on experience in the genebank.

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Also nearby is a fascinating prairie remnant, Doolittle Prairie, which houses about a dozen crop wild relatives. I’ll say a bit more about that in due course, but here’s what the place looks like at sunset.

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Thanks again to everyone at NC7!

Pssst! Wanna pollinate pumpkins?

I was cleaning out a mailbox the other day, and came across a message from Karl Haro von Mogel, who is quite well known around these parts. He was advising me that his new pollination video — on Cucurbits — had just been uploaded to YouTube. And I forgot to write about it. Apologies to Karl, but I’ll make it up in a minute.

The video is clearly aimed at the more industrial end of the spectrum. Bringing parent plants into a greenhouse was never an option for me. On the other hand, wandering through the pumpkin patch soon after dawn to gather ripe male flowers that had not quite opened was one of the great treats of saving my own seeds. And Karl deals with more than just controlled pollination. The first 3 1/2 minutes gives a good overview of cucurbit diversity, centres of origin and wild relatives. And near the end he reveals the secrets of the seedless watermelon. All in all, well worth 10 minutes of your life, even if you plan never to pollinate a pumpkin.

In his email Karl mentioned that he had entered the video for a competition at Chlorofilms. It was one of 17 2nd prize winners. So were some of his other films, including this one on pepper breeding.

Maybe if we could rustle up “at least $8000” in prize money we’d get some entries to our own competitions. Or maybe we should just enter the next Chlorofilms competition, if and when it happens.

Silphium rediscovered?

Luigi dug up this great article — Devil’s Dung: The World’s Smelliest Spice — which reveals more about asafoetida than you could possibly ever have wanted to know. Lord but it is strange stuff to cook with, and yet I do like what it does for a dish. But I digress. Buried in a sidebar near the bottom of the page is a claim, complete with coy question mark, that silphium, most prized spice of ancient Rome, might be alive and well. The article recounts the history of silphium, and how it was believed to have gone extinct by the 1st century CE, so I won’t repeat that here. It also mentions the possibility that Cachrys ferulacea and ancient silphium are one and the same. 1 Personally, I have no idea, and I’m not even sure I know how one would know, but I’m intrigued. Thanks Luigi.

Rainbow sweetcorn not so sweet

Patrick at Bifurcated Carrots reports on his experiment this year growing Painted Hills sweetcorn. to summarise, the plants weren’t very robust, the yield was poor, and the kernels weren’t all that sweet. (Perhaps he should try Red Miracle next year.) On the plus side:

Wow! Multi-colored sweet corn! Can you believe it? A variation of the famous Painted Mountain corn! Perfectly edible. Truly a visual delight, if not a tasty one.

Pat admits that it needs more work to thrive under his conditions, and that he’s not about to take that on, which is fair enough. Maybe someone else will rise to the challenge.