Normally by this time of year I’d have seedlings sprouting underneath florescent tube lights, and early crops like peas, broad beans, and radishes already tucked into the cool earth. This year, I’m sorry to say, I haven’t ventured into the garden except to refill the bird feeder or hurriedly clip some thyme. Instead, I’ve been busy thinking about gardening, and preparing to talk about gardening at various upcoming events relating to Sugar Snaps and Strawberries. That’s right: I’m going on a book tour! I’ll be in Vancouver, Victoria, Seattle, Portland, Eugene, San Francisco, and Los Angeles over the next few months, so come out and say “hi!” [Check out my events schedule for details. Some dates/cities still TBD.]

But in the meantime, have you started your spring garden planning yet? If not, check out these nifty planning tools on the lovely new site created for all things Sugar Snaps and Strawberries: a seed starting planning chart and a planting planning (or succession planning) chart for you to download, free! There’s also a pretty seed packet pattern for you to use later in the season.

Need some guidance on spring garden planning? Check out this post about how went from slacker to serious planner.

I spent the morning making seed balls as a promo for Sugar Snaps and Strawberries. The plan is to give them out at various events as little vegetal thank yous. Because the book is all about edibles, I used veggie, herb, and edible flower seeds rather than my usual crimson clover/wildflower mix.

I chose cool-season edibles that can be sown in March and April, since that’s just after many of the events are being held. I also chose things that are relatively easy to grow, don’t require staking, and don’t need loose soil to thrive (since you don’t often cultivate the soil before tossing a seed ball): ‘Lacinato’ and ‘Russian Red’ kales, ‘Red Sails’ and ‘Esmeralda’ lettuces, ‘Sugar Loaf’ endive, arugula, ‘Kincho’ scallions, ‘Bright Lights’ Swiss chard, chives, dill, and edible flowers calendula and nasturtium.

Vodka + shredded quince = quince liquor. What could be easier?

I love growing unusual fruits, herbs and vegetables. The more obscure, the better. Bonus points if someone says, “I’ve never heard of that.”

Enter quince. A pome fruit related to the pear and apple, quince has been imbued with some pretty weighty symbolism throughout the ages (many historians believe that it was a quince—not an apple—that tempted Eve in the Garden). I was in my late 20s before I first encountered the fruit (in jam form, at a B&B in the Loire Valley), and despite this late introduction, I have probably eaten more quince than most North Americans.

This cabbageworm-chewed bunch of ‘Lacinato’ (Tuscan) kale may very well be the last thing I eat from my garden for months. It’s been incredibly — record-breakingly — cold here in Vancouver, and even my cool-season edibles have succumbed. But not the kale, bless it. Hardy, and delicious to boot.

What are you harvesting now?

Tomatoes and basil? What is this, August? California?

Nope. Just proof that sometimes, green tomatoes will ripen on the vine if you leave them long enough, even if it is nearly freezing out and all the other heat-lovers have given up the ghost.

What are you harvesting now?

The theme song for this week could have been “Here Comes the Rain Again.” Hello autumn in Vancouver. On the upside, it’s time to break out the cute rain boots. And on the upper upside, here come the greens again.

After an absence of many months, I’m once again harvesting arugula, Tuscan (lacinato) kale, broccoli raab, and a whole mess of Asian greens.  Yay!

What are you harvesting now?

Before you scoff at my teeny corn, let me explain. This corn almost didn’t make it. At each turn, my crop was beset by terrible weather and thieves. The remaining six baby cobs almost didn’t get harvested, and thus, almost didn’t make it onto our dinner plates last week. Which would have been a gross travesty, because they were terrific.

I planted a block of ‘Sugar Buns’ corn in my community garden plot in early June after pre-sprouting the seeds (to ensure germination in our unseasonably cold, wet soil). Because my plot is small, the block of corn was, by necessity, small. I think I planted 4′x3′ for a total of 12 plants. After the corn finally reached 4 in. (10cm) high (which took FOREVER; this June was surely the coolest on record), I planted ‘Fortex’ beans next to each emerging corn stalk and ‘Black Beauty’ zucchini at the edges of the plot. My plan? To grow the Three Sisters: corn, beans, and squash.

The Three Sisters companion planting technique was first practiced by North American indigenous groups. The corn stalks provide vertical support to climbing beans, while in turn, the beans supply nitrogen to the corn and squash. The squash shades the soil, retaining moisture, while its prickly vines discourage squirrels and raccoons from accessing tender corn cobs—at least in theory.

I wouldn’t say it was completely successful for me, largely because of the slow start to summer we experienced. Corn needs really warm soil to truly thrive, and mine didn’t get that until at least mid-July. The beans quickly outpaced the corn, and I ended up adding a few poles to support the more vigorous vines. And while the zucchini might have kept squirrels and raccoons from my corn, it didn’t stop human pests, which took the earliest and biggest cobs. At that point (mid-August) I considered ripping out the corn (because surely it wasn’t going to produce a second crop by the time the weather cooled) but left it in simply because many of the stalks were supporting beans.

I’m glad I did. Last weekend, when I finally decided to replace the corn, beans, and zucchini with spinach and mache, I decided to open up the tiny cobs that had formed in spite of my predictions. And wouldn’t you know it? I had corn! I thought I’d find shriveled, unpollenated kernels, too small and hard to be edible, but instead I found plump, yellow pillows just waiting to be cooked and slathered with butter. Of course, I obliged.

One last thing: yes, I chose ‘Sugar Buns’ largely because of the name!

What are you harvesting now?

If, for some reason, you’ve reached your saturation point for tomato-bocconcini-basil salad/bruschetta/tomato bisque/insert-name-of-favourite-tomato-recipe-here, you may be wondering what to do with all those ripe tomatoes sitting on your counter. Last week I reached that point, and, rather than let the fruit flies carry off my ‘maters, I decided to oven dry them.

Following the basic instructions in Put ‘em Up, my new food preserving bible, I oven-dried a whack of tomatoes. It really is the simplest thing in the world, and being inclined toward laziness, I can’t imagine why you’d preserve tomatoes any other way.

Simply slice the tomatoes in half, drizzle with olive oil, and place cut side up on a baking sheet.

Bake at 250°F for five-six hours until shriveled and browned in spots. Freeze for up to six months — if you can manage to restrain yourself from eating them straight off the baking sheet.

Delicious.

‘Garden Babies’ butterhead lettuce; ‘Chioggia,’ ‘Touchstone Gold,’ and ‘Red Ace’ beets; ‘Blue Lake’ beans; and ‘Pruden’s Purple,’ ‘Sweet Baby Girl,’ ‘Sasha’s Pride.’ and ‘Odessa’ tomatoes.

The garden is entering its period of slow decline. And while I really love perennial gardens in the fall, with their russet tones and funky seed heads, a veggie garden that’s slowed production just reinforces the fact that winter—and it’s imported produce—is right around the corner.

There’s winter gardening, of course, and soon I hope to harvest the arugula, kale, mache, Asian greens, spinach and lettuces I sowed in August. But right now, I’m in a bit of a lull, just coaxing the last few warm-season crops to maturity. I’ve still got tomatoes and beans coming off the vines, while I think the zucchinis and cucumbers are pretty much done. A few measly lettuces and beets,  sowed in midsummer, are ripening now. Oh, and there’s herbs, of course, and a ton of green onions (I thought the seeds were expired, so I tipped the whole packet into the container. And, well, yeah. The seeds were most definitely not expired).

What are you harvesting now?

It was midsummer. Both my garden and local farmer’s markets were overflowing with succulent fruits and vegetables. Yet even as I enjoyed the bounty of the season, I felt anxious. How many more days would we have together? The peaches would be done in a week. The cherries were already long gone. And in a month, I’d be back at the supermarket grudgingly buying hothouse tomatoes. The answer, I felt, was in food preservation. Canning would allow me to cling to summer, to stretch out that all-too-brief period of riotous plenty.

I wasn’t alone in this belief, of course. If the recent surge in new books, websites, workshops and tweets related to food preservation is any indication, canning (and pickling, freezing, and drying) is hot. You might say food preserving is the new gardening. The trouble, of course, was that I didn’t actually know how to can food. Well, that’s not entirely true. Starting when I was pregnant with Lila, I’ve made a couple batches of jam every year (quince, strawberry, green tomato-raspberry). But preserving something other than a sugary fruit slurry was intimidating. Any fool could make jam, I thought, but canned peaches seemed complicated (spoiler: I needn’t have worried).

Enter Put ‘em Up: A Comprehensive Home Preserving Guide for the Creative Cook, from Drying and Freezing to Canning and Pickling by Sherri Brooks Vinton (Storey, 2010). Aimed at folks like me—the locavores, the food gardeners, the foodies, the crafters, the DIY set—Put ‘em Up (the title nods to “putting up” or preserving food) is an accessible, thorough guide to preserving the harvest.

The book is divided into two parts. The first covers food preparation and preservation techniques with clear, easy-to-follow instructions and illustrations. The second provides over 150 recipes, organized alphabetically by edible—from apples to watermelon. (Faced with a flat of quickly-withering blueberries, I loved being able to flip to the Bs and find a half-dozen simple recipes.) The book covers all the basics—and then some—in both sections. Recipes range from classic (strawberry jam, bread and butter pickles) to adventurous (berry-spiked bourbon, wasabi beans).

Author and real food advocate Sherri Brooks Vinton writes with a casual, straightforward tone instills confidence and inspires you to drop everything and make a batch of kimchi. With this book in hand, I’ve canned peaches (so not difficult), oven-dried tomatoes, and made blueberry fruit leather. And I can’t wait to keep going.