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  • From: "Tradingpost" <tradingpost@lobo.net>
  • To: livingontheland@lists.ibiblio.org
  • Subject: [Livingontheland] My garden- A springboard of food, pleasure, and history
  • Date: Fri, 23 May 2008 21:04:56 -0600


My garden- A springboard of food, pleasure, and history
By Habeeb Salloum
http://www.backwoodshome.com/articles2/salloum80.html

“You mean that from this postage-size garden you grow enough vegetables and
herbs to last you all year?” my friend asked in disbelief as he watched me
plant my tomato plants in early May. “Not all, but many of the vegetables
that we eat year-round, I grow in this garden. However, my garden is also for
me a work of pleasure and a reminder of my family’s history.” I grinned as I
went about my task.

I was not surprised that my friend was amazed that on this small 25 by 12
feet plot of land, I could grow a good part of our family’s vegetable larder.
I even feel astonished myself when, at the time I am planting my tomatoes in
spring, our family is still eating frozen tomatoes from the previous year’s
harvest. Yet, there is no magic in my garden’s abilities. My success in
growing a fine garden year after year goes back to my family’s history.

My parents emigrated from Syria in the 1920s and by the early 1930s were
farming on the arid western Canadian prairies. For over a half dozen years,
almost nothing grew, but we survived well, mostly from the produce of our
yearly garden. Unlike some of our neighbors who barely could subsist and
moved away one after the other, our hand-watered garden made sure that we
were never hungry.

In Syria, my parents were peasants and had inherited from their ancestors the
art of survival in an arid land. When our neighbors’ fields were bare, we
grew chickpeas and lentils which needed little moisture. Hence, they were
perfect for the dry prairie climate.

Some of the chickpeas, we ate as a delicacy—green or roasted green. However,
almost all the chickpea and lentil crops, we reaped ripe and they formed the
main basis for our meals. For herbs and tasty greens, in spring my mother
would scour the countryside around our garden. Those she did not use fresh,
she dried for the winter months.

Our vegetable garden, which we hand-watered from a well, produced enough
vegetables and herbs to last us a whole year. All summer we ate the produce
fresh and for future use, we canned, dried, or pickled a portion. Others we
preserved in our earth cellar—beets, carrots, potatoes, and turnips, covered
with soil. With the few bushels of wheat, which even in the driest years we
harvested and made into burghal (wheat that is cooked, then dried and ground)
and a few chickens, our family ate well the whole year. We barely had any
clothes and virtually no luxuries, but our garden produced gourmet meals.

During these Depression years, the taste for green chickpeas and the great
dishes my mother prepared from our garden produce never left me. Today, even
though I live in the middle of Toronto, the largest city in Canada, year
after year I still plant a micro replica of our Depression years’ gardens,
growing some of the same produce I relished in my youth.

Every year in early spring, I prepare the soil, except a portion reserved for
a half dozen perennial leek and onion plants and two tiny patches of mint and
sweet oregano, by adding cattle or sheep manure. Around the first of May, I
plant from seed, beets, kohlrabi, turnips, a few cabbage plants, a small
patch of chickpeas and a few climbing bean plants at the bottom of an edging
tree. A week or so later, I plant one or two eggplant, a few hot pepper and a
dozen tomato plants—six ripening early and six later in the year.

In between the tomatoes, I plant a few radish seeds and a number of herbs
like basil, caraway, dill, parsley, thyme, and every year without fail,
coriander—my favorite herb. A week later I complete the planting with usually
three cucumber and three zucchini plants, hugging the edge of the garden. In
order to give them room as they grow, I train them to flow away from the
garden.

If the weather is fine, the garden quickly begins to flourish, but if there
is a cold spell and the temperature dips below zero, I replant the frozen
plants and this tends to retard the progress of my garden. In the main after
the first planting, the garden takes off.

Beginning in May, we are making leek pies and in early June herb salads from
fresh coriander, onions, mint, radish, and sweet oregano. Thereafter, as the
herbs grow, I harvest them and what we do not eat, I dry or freeze for winter
use. In the ensuing days, the dishes we cook from our garden produce are
never ending. Soon the quick-growing herbs and the cooked green tops of the
beets, kohlrabi, radishes, and turnips are gracing our table. Not long after
we add fresh tender cucumber, cooked green beans, and zucchini dishes.

All summer long I pick tender cucumbers, green beans, and the zucchini when
they are about six inches long—mostly to be stuffed. However, the garden
produces more zucchini than we can use. The extra ones we hollow, then freeze
for future use. The scraped-out inner hearts are not wasted, we utilize them
in omelets, soups, and stews.

What I always look forward to are the ripe tomatoes about mid-July. They not
only beautify the garden but are delicious. Tomato salads in endless
varieties, especially with herbs like fresh basil, coriander, and caraway,
are now on the daily menu. Always there are more ripe tomatoes than we can
use. The extra ones we wash, then place in plastic bags and freeze.

At the same time when the tomatoes begin to ripen, every day I relish a few
of the green chickpeas and a few pieces of raw kohlrabi. Usually, by the time
autumn rolls around, the chickpeas are finished, but if there are any
remaining chickpea pods, I roast them in the oven—for me a heavenly treat.

In August, we pickle the remaining small cucumbers with dill from our garden
into dill pickles; and the large ones become bread and butter pickles. This
time also, I pick the remaining hot peppers and dry them—our yearly supply.
From mid-August to frost time, beet and turnip dishes are frequent. By the
time the cold grips the land, I pick the eggplants and make them into one or
two jars of garlic-eggplant pickles for the winter months. I then harvest the
cabbage and in the ensuing days our family enjoys a number of cabbage roll
meals. Shortly thereafter, I pick the remaining beets, kohlrabi, and turnips
to complete our yearly supply of pickles.

Pickles made from these vegetables are only prepared in the Middle East, but
in my view they outdo pickled cucumbers. The beets, kohlrabi, and turnips are
peeled and sliced, then the kohlrabi and turnips are placed in jars. Along
with the pickling solution, a slice of beets is placed in each jar. In a few
weeks bright red pickled vegetables will always beautify the surrounding
dishes being served.

In autumn, when I hear the first rumor of frost, I pick the remaining green
tomatoes and wrap them with paper, then place them in a cool place in the
basement. As they ripen, we either freeze or eat them. At times we are eating
fresh tomatoes from our garden until December.

Almost every year, my garden produces enough of the herbs and vegetables
which I plant to last us the whole year—fresh in summer, and dried, pickled,
or frozen the remaining months of the year. Yet, this is not all my gardens’
attributes. Even though it produces much of our family’s vegetable needs, it
is also to me a springboard of pleasure and enshrines the history of my
family.




  • [Livingontheland] My garden- A springboard of food, pleasure, and history, Tradingpost, 05/23/2008

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