Healthy soil and sustainable growing

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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.