After the chrysanthemum besides the daikon there is nothing
-Basho
Although we missed the frost that sparkled on Wednesday morning’s sunrise north of us, the signs of fall are making themselves known all around us. Powdery mildew overtakes the prairie plants and the squash leaves; rain comes with a special chill to it; and leaves, drained of chlorophyll, litter the driveway and stick in the crowns of the parsley plants. Caught between an unusually-late first frost and the impending onset of the Midwestern winter, we work to bring in the fruits of a summers labor, the final yield of the year.
Thursday morning greeted us with ominous, Technicolor red clouds filling the eastern sky, and spilling around to the west, where a rainbow stretched its full arc from one ridge to another. The yellow leaves of silver maples contrast with the bright green of rye and hairy vetch planted in the lower fields, just as the bright orange spot on the bottom of the acorn squash contrasts with the deep green of its skin. Wedges of geese honk their way over the farm on a daily basis, and flocks of blackbirds assemble for the trip south, filling the trees with their chatter, and the sky with scudding clouds of wings. Everywhere, fleeting color and the tension of imminent action abounds – one last hurrah before winter’s bleakness.
In the coming four weeks, we will fill our walk-in cooler with carrots, beets, celeriac, rutabagas, cabbages, Brussels sprouts, and more. We’ll plant the garlic, re-skin the greenhouses and move them, and pull out the plastic that warmed the soil under our peppers and tomatoes. We’ll cover the herbs with insulating fabric and mulches, and seed the remainder of the cover crops. The snow will come, and we’ll have made another trip around the sun.
With dewdrops dripping I wish somehow I could wash this perishing world
Weather: An incredibly windy Monday left the cover crops and dried-out prairie plants combed over. We missed Thursday’s scattered frost. Big, cold drops of rain on Thursday morning, along with a blood-red sky in the morning, forecast plenty of weather on the way.
What We Did: Mom and I cut squash on Saturday before she caught her flight back home on Sunday. She caught right on to our picky, only-harvest-the-ripest squash standards. We leave a lot of squash in the field, but who wants pasty, starchy squash? On Monday, Sanna, Ben, Sarah and I took the root harvester out to pull in the celeriac crop, and got through about half of it before operator error put the machine out of commission until we get the parts repaired by the local welder (we should have them back by Thursday). Sanna did an admirable job of driving the tractor that pulled the wagon with the bin we use to catch the roots, especially considering her limited experience. I promised her she would feel like an old pro before too long. On Tuesday, the crew picked up the squash, and I cut the rest of what we didn’t get to on Saturday. We also harvested the crop of daikon radish on Tuesday, filling a 20-bushel bin to brimming with the long white roots.
Comings and Goings: Chris traveled on Wednesday to Spring Valley, Wisconsin for a monthly organizational meeting for the Organic Farming Conference.
When you get this week’s box home, put the carrots, daikon, fennel, and parsley in plastic bags in your refrigerator. The spinach goes in, too. The peppers can go without if you put them in the crisper. Squash and tomatoes should sit out on your counter, and the onions want a dry, dark place, although they’ll be happy on your counter for a couple of weeks, too.
Somehow, for me, long, white Daikon Radish means fall. Maybe because Basho’s poem (quoted in this week’s essay) has always reached into my heart, or maybe because of the half in, half out of the ground way the root grows – like fall, one foot in each world; maybe because of the daikon pickles the son of Seattle’s Japanese consulate used to bring to our high school independent study in accounting. In any case, I love the crunch, the mild heat, and the surprisingly-bright feel in the mouth that daikon brings. Besides which, the daikon is the only vegetable I know of featured in a feature-length movie, appearing as a manifestation of a Shinto spirit of agriculture in Spirited Away (a scene which, in my mind, justifies the entire movie). We most often eat these sliced alongside of fall meals, and daikon make a nice foil for salty and rich foods.
Overnight Daikon Pickles
1 1/2 cups chopped daikon (1/2-inch pieces)
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon rice vinegar
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
Toss daikon with salt. Cover, and refrigerate until 1 to 2 tablespoons of water is released, about 30 minutes. Drain and rinse daikon, pat dry with a paper towel, and return to bowl. Stir in vinegar, black pepper, and sesame oil. Cover and refrigerate at least 8 hours.
I’m fussy about my winter squash. I think that most people who don’t like winter squash have simply never had a fully-ripe one. To pick a ripe winter squash, you need to know that, here in the north, we grow three species of squash. You can tell the species apart by looking at their peduncles (that’s the correct name for the “stem” that comes off the fruit).
Cucurbita pepo, which includes jack-o-lantern pumpkins as well as acorn and delicate squashes, have stiff green peduncles. All squash have a “ground spot” where they rest on the ground. For this species of squash, look for that ground spot to have a golden orange hue, like the color of pumpkin pie filling when you stir in the spices – then you can’t go wrong.
C. maxima, like buttercups, have a fleshy peduncle that is usually dry by the time they get to you. The peduncle should have a corky appearance rather than smooth.
And C. moschata, which is pretty much only the beige butternuts, have a five-sided peduncles that flairs at the base. Look for a color that Martha Stewart might feature in her fall collection; anything pale or washed out simply isn’t ready.
All winter squash should be stored in a dry, cool place with good air circulation. When I lived in an apartment in Madison, I stored a winter’s worth on my living room bookshelves, tucked on top of the trade paperbacks; food for the body, and food for the mind. This week’s Honeyboat squash is a new farm favorite, coming out of the same breeding stock as Delicata and Sugarloaf.
Squash Rings
2 Honeyboat, Sugarloaf, or Delicata squash
oil
Slice off the ends of two Sugarloaf or Delicata squash, scoop out the seeds, and cut into rings about 1/3-inch thick (the skins are edible on these varieties). Heat 1-1/2 tablespoons of oil in a wide skillet, add the squash, and fry over medium heat until richly colored on the bottom, about 6 minutes. Turn and cook on the second side until tender. Remove to a serving plate.
Flat-leaved Italian Parsley has been a mainstay of European cooking for two thousand years – in ancient Rome, it was synonymous with celery, and used as a vegetable. A little parsley lightens up almost any dish, and is almost guaranteed to turn you into a good cook! The squash rings above go fantastically with this Gremolata, as does chicken and beef.
Gremolata
garlic
parsley
lemon juice
salt
Chop together 1 plump clove of garlic with 1/4 cup parsley, then add a little lemon juice or salt to taste.
Crisp, sweet-scented Fennel has its culinary and horticultural roots firmly planted in Italy, where it is also known as finocchio. With a licorice-scent, the bulb and foliage can be used raw or cooked, as an appetizer or even as desert, slivers served raw with pears, oranges, or apples.
Fennel with Butter and Parmigiano-Reggiano
1 medium fennel bulb, quartered
2 tablespoons butter
salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmigiano—Reggiano cheese
Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add fennel pieces and cook until slightly softened, about 5 minutes, then drain. Heat the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add fennel, season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper, and cook turning fennel occasionally, about 5 minutes. Transfer to a serving dish and sprinkle with the Parmigiano—Reggiano cheese. Serve hot or cold.
In the summer, we live on fresh salsa prepared without any cooking, but come fall this salsa really hits the spot.
An Autumnal Salsa
½ cup red onion, chopped
1/4 cup olive oil
8 oz can chopped tomatoes (fire-roasted, if you’ve got it)
1/2 Jalapeno pepper, or more to taste
Salt and pepper
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
1 Tbsp lime juice
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