Microbe Farming

Last week, we mowed and tilled some of our cover crops to make room for further cash crops to be planted soon. These were spring planted barley and peas had grown to a height of about two feet, and Zane used the tractor-mounted flail chopper to mow them, a nice layer of mulch remained on top of the soil. The flail chopper has knives that rotate around a horizontal axis, so that the material gets ground up into smaller bits and laid in an even layer across the width of the mower.

To avoid putting a bunch of green, juicy fuel into the soil, which would decompose too quickly without provide much soil-building activity, we let the residue dry down for a day before Zane tilled it in. We till shallowly most of the time, just two or four inches deep, to avoid mixing the soil layers and bringing up bunches of new weed seeds. After tilling, Zane subsoiled everything to open up channels deep into the soil for gas exchange and drainage.

The reward for all of this came today, when I was feeling my way through various patches of dirt to see when it might be time to cultivate, till, and seed. After the weekend’s very welcome rains, I think it will be a day or two yet. But when I nudged aside a chunk of moldering barley straw, I caught the scent of freshly tilled dirt in a way that rarely happens five days later. I got down on my knees and started looking more closely at the goings on down there.

I picked up another chunk of straw that was clumped together with some moist soil. The soil underneath had simply beautiful crumb structure, with the mineral fraction of the soil held together with the exudates of millions of soil bacteria and fungi engaged in the process of consuming the organic material we had tilled in. The heady scent of geosmins - the chemical responsible for the classic smell of good earth (and responsible for the earthy flavor of beets, as well) – was intoxicating.

Some of the barley leaves had been pulled down into earthworm burrows, empty ones of which were also in evidence. Earthworm burrows increase drainage and air penetration in the soil, and provide channels for roots and soil life to travel. Earthworms leave behind castings, super-rich deposits of rotted vegetable matter, fungi, and bacteria.

Under just that one clump, I observed three insects scurrying out of the light. Two tiny dipterans (members of the fly and mosquito family) with large red eyes were mating, and hopped up and down the irregular surface of the soil. Another that looked just like a microscopic scorpion with its tail all curled up on its back scurried around, wondering who had lifted the lid off of its world.

From two separate spots, white fungal mats of mycelial growth radiated. In addition to breaking down residue, mycelia filter the water that flows through their environment, capturing any free nutrients that may be floating around in there and keeping them from leaching away.

And that was just what I could see! I would have loved to have had a microscope and an hour to explore that particular moment in time. Further explorations under other clumps revealed similar levels of activity in the chilly, slightly wet soil. Growing vegetables is just a small part of the organic farmer’s job; the larger part is growing the microbes, earthworms, insects, and a multitude of other critters that take what we put into the soil and turn into loads of good things.

Farm Happenings

Weather: We had the most beautiful weekend of rain on Saturday and Sunday. Unlike an office worker, I prefer rain on the weekends, because then the crew can get more done during the week. Cool, mostly-grey days dominated the week, but you could almost hear the barley and pea cover crop stretching for the sky.

What We Did: We took advantage of the end of a dry week last night to mow and plow down cover crops, seed a cover crop of buckwheat on the rental farm, transplant oodles of perennial herbs, and put out some other transplants. Everybody continued to rotate through asparagus harvest on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. Inga led a rotating crew of valiant herb weeders where things had gotten away from us last fall, working through the tall weeds and then the not-so-tall weeds. Sarah continued to reorganize the packing shed. Bekah started propagation on some herbs that will get transplanted in the spring of 2010. We seeded more crops in the greenhouse. Zane and one of the Ben’s whacked thistles on our water diversion, where it’s too steep to mow – the thistles are just beginning to head up, so hitting them now gets them at the weak point in their lifecycle.

Comings and Goings: Chris hosted a greenhouse open house on Sunday afternoon for fellow producers in the region, which led to many interesting discussions and a lot of information sharing.

Extracurricular Activity: On Saturday morning, Chris presented a talk about the role of CSA’s in revitalizing local agriculture and communities to the Northeastern Iowa Synod, which was holding its annual meeting at Decorah’s Luther College.

In the Kitchen

To store this week’s box… it all goes in the fridge. Remove the greens from the radishes and the Spinruts. I don’t eat radish greens, so I would discard those, but I would definitely save the turnip greens. Everything should go in plastic bags in the crisper drawer.

Sometimes I think that my life as a vegetable grower has been defined by seeing something, somewhere, and thinking, “I. Have. To. Grow. That.” I felt that way the first time a saw a photo of fresh, peeled onions, the first time I dug a patch of heirloom potatoes, and the first time I saw the beautiful, white-rooted, Japanese spring turnips during a slide show at a farming conference in a rural church in upstate New York. I went home to the farm in Maine exclaiming, “We have to grow these!” we call them Spinruts, which is turnips spelled backwards, at the suggestion of a farmers market customer who insisted that if we continued to call the spring turnips, lots of people who deserved to eat something this good would miss out on them entirely. The greens make a great sauté for a tasty side.

Steamed Spinruts

Several spinruts, quartered
butter
salt

Steam the quartered turnips until just barely fork tender – about five minutes. Don’t overcook them, and remember that they will keep cooking even after you pull them from the pot. Serve with just a little bit of butter and a dash of salt.

We are still harvesting asparagus, and may be the last farm left doing so in this area, because the demand from our wholesale accounts has gone through the roof this week. The hard frost in early May was hard on the crop as a whole, and asparagus has been scarce as far south as Iowa City. However, the CSA eats first, so we are sending plenty that way this week.

The Red Oak Lettuce hales from the greenhouse this week, as we wait for the outdoor crops to work their way back from the cold spring. Greenhouse lettuce has a tendency to be extra-tender, and the red oak we grow comes close to butterheads in its tenderness. This lettuce will do best with lighter dressings like vinaigrette. I am quite pleased with the sweet flavor.

Red Russian Kale is actually a different species from the standard green curly stuff, sharing a common heritage with turnips rather than broccoli. The greens are still quite hearty, and respond well to generous cooking. I like it best with strong flavors of soy sauce or red pepper flakes. Strip out the tough midribs by grasping the base of the rub, and using your other hand to run your thumb and forefingers down the rib, stripping off the relatively-tender leaf.

Spicy Red Russian Kale

1 bunch Red Russian Kale
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 cloves garlic, minced (or scallions or shallots)
1/2 tsp dried pepper flakes

Stem the kale and slice into ribbons. In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat the oil until just before smoking. Add kale and garlic, and cook for one minute before lowering heat; continue to cook the kale, stirring occasionally, until the greens are tender. Toss with the dried pepper flakes and serve.

I spent a long, long time entranced by the idea of Purple Radishes, but the varieties I have tried to grow in the past were irregular, and prone to go to seed. This new hybrid holds its flavor and eating quality for a long time. Some of this week’s radishes are quite large by my standards, but still tasty and possessing a nice texture.

As a former Latin-student (the first time I ever came to the Midwest was for the national convention of the Junior Classical League in Bloomington, Indiana. I’d never seen fireflies before, and the thunderstorm was over-the-top. And, my team from Seattle won the chariot race with a unit designed to be transported as checked baggage.) I’m a sucker for a good myth, especially when it has to do with vegetables, so here’s one for the Spearmint in this week’s boxes. The ancient Greeks told the story of how Hades, god of the Underworld, fell in love with the water nymph Minthe, for not even the charms of his wife, Persephone—whom we have to thank for the changing of the seasons—could keep him fully occupied. In what seems to be an all-too-familiar theme in the Greek pantheon, Hades succumbed to temptation but failed to keep it hidden from his wife, who, upon learning of the illicit activities, decided to take revenge on her husband’s mistress, and began stomping, kicking, and trampling all over the poor water nymph. Hades, in a rather sorry attempt to stick up for his lover, gave Minthe a wonderful sweet fragrance that was released each time Persephone gave her the boot. So, it is thanks to the rather ungallant actions of the god of the Underworld, we have the delightful smell and flavor of a whole variety of mints, all of which grow quite nicely even if you walk on them a lot.

Mojitoes

A bunch of mint leaves (10 – 20)
1/2 lime, sliced thinly
1 Tbsp sugar
4 oz light rum
Crushed ice, or small ice cubes

Mix mint leaves, lime slices and sugar, mashing the mixture repeatedly until the lime juice and sugar take on a minty flavor. Add the rum and mix. Fill tall glasses with ice, and pour the mixture over the ice. Tastes best after sitting in the refrigerator for about ten minutes. Serves two.