Grow Better Veggies

Morelle de Balbis, also known as the Litchi Tomato

Beautiful flower, isn't it?  Somewhat familiar, you say?  For you veteran gardeners, you'll recognize that it's probably a member of the nightshade family, and you're absolutely right.  For those of you whom I talked into buying a seedling of this plant this past spring, you'll also recognize it, as you should have it handsomely growing in your gardens by now.

For those of you who have grown tomatillos before, you'll find its husk-covered fruits somewhat familiar (without those thorns, of course).

This plant is an interesting sister of the tomato and of the tomatillo.  It's called Morelle de Balbis, or less elegantly, the Litchi Tomato.  A member of the Solanacea family, its proper name is Solanum Sisymbriifolium.

I received the seeds of this beautiful plant from Sylvain, Alan Passard's head gardener when I was fortunate enough to visit the chef's farm outside of Le Mans, France.  Out of all the plants Sylvain was cultivating for Passard's world-famous restaurant, L'Arpege, he wanted me to have these seeds.  Sylvain doesn't speak English, and I don't speak French, but I could tell just by looking at the seed that it was a nightshade plant.  The seed looks like an exact cross between a tomato and a pepper.  He told me through an interpreter that the fruit tasted like a cherry. I was in.

I hid the precious seeds in a side pocket of my suitcase, and forgot to declare them when I came back through Customs in the States (this is actually true, I ignorantly declared all of the other seeds I had carefully selected and purchased while traveling through Europe; and watched in horror as the Customs agent wordlessly grabbed the hefty stack and threw it into the trash).

When I got back home to California, it was too late in the season to grow it for 2007, but I eagerly started the smuggled seeds in the greenhouse in February.  Their care must be just like a tomato, I surmised, and yes, they grew and flourished exactly like one. Except for the thorns.  Take a look at these thorns!  They're on just about every surface of this plant: the stems, both upper and lower sides of the leaves, even the fruit husks!

I don't know how the heck I'm going to harvest it when it comes ripe.  They tell me it will be red when it's mature.

Here is a picture of ripe Morelles that I found on an interesting French blog called Lugar do Olhar Feliz.  Poking around their blog, I do believe they give permission to reprint their many gorgeous photos (noncommercially, of course) as long as they are properly credited.

Somewhat like a tomatillo, the ripening fruit will burst the husk, revealing that it's ready to pick (with heavily gloved hands, no doubt). I really hope the chef isn't expecting me to husk those babies...

The Herb Garden in All Its Splendor

I'm loving my herb garden right now.  July is its most magnificent month, and all the hard work that has gone into it shows.  I created it oh, about 9 years ago.  I sited it in an odd part of the farm, a place that doesn't get an awful lot of sun.  Most herbs don't need all day sun, like most vegetables do.  We're not really looking for them to flower, so less sunlight fills that bill.  It's in the shape of a circle, about 24 feet in diameter, and I cut it into pie wedges, twelve of them.  Then I bisected each pie wedge so that it really is two circles, one inside the other.  That gives me 24 different spots in which to plant herbs.

Here is a picture of the herb circle during the winter, when most things are dormant.  That gorgeous specimen in the middle is a Clematis Montana putting on its annual show.

We changed the herb garden slightly this year.  The chef was not loving the various sages I originally planted so long ago, and he had no use for a few of the other oddities I had in there, such as St. John's Wort, Germander, and Lamb's Ear. 

So we dug those out this spring and added some new herbs that I've never grown before, but they're coming along nicely: Chervil, Safflower, Anise Hyssop, German Sour Dock, and Fenugreek.

The newbies have been added to our tried and true favorites: Stevia, Rosemary, Oregano, Bronze Fennel, Basil, Chives, Lavender, Parsley, Thyme, Summer and Winter Savory, Golden Marjoram, Garlic Chives, Dill, Purslane, Cilantro (he loves the flowers and the green coriander seeds), Sorrel, Yarrow, Tarragon, and the bully, Nasturtium.

The Nasturtiums are always trying to dominate the others, overshadowing (literally) the basil and chives next to them.  I get in there and hack away at the invading army, and try to revive the squashed neighbors.  I do love the Nasturtiums, though, they remind me of my grandmother, who had a small patch of them growing under the stairwell of her apartment. I insisted on going out there and watering them with her little watering can.  So much so, that she'd eventually have to call me in, saying, "That's enough, sweetie."    They were the first plant I ever nurtured.   So I see Nasturtiums as not only a reminder of my grandma, but of the start of the obsession I have with plants.

I'd love to be able to show this herb garden to my grannie.  I think she would have loved it.  When I re-open the farm to the public soon, you're all invited to come over and take a look at it. Bring your watering can.

Looky what I got! Juicy Yummy Tomato Goodness

First "real" harvest of tomatoes this season!  Woot woot!  I had spied these sweeties enticing me in the garden this past week, and I knew they needed a few more days of "hang time."  That's the time most fruits need after their mature color occurs.  They LOOKED ripe, but I was fine with letting the sun do its photosynthesizing "thang" and bring out their full sugary goodness.

When people send me emails asking why their tomatoes don't have any flavor, I usually send them back a list of questions to answer, one of which is, "How soon after they colored up did you pick them?"  Sometimes this is the problem.  People are so eager to finally eat their home-grown tomatoes, that the first day they look ripe, they pick them.  Tomatoes need warmth, light, and vine ripening to bring out their real full flavor.

The tomatoes in the picture I picked July 3.  That's kind of early for my area in California.  Don't feel bad if you don't have any ripe tomatoes yet.  All of these tomatoes were from starts I planted in my gigantic hoophouse on April 4th.  Many of you couldn't plant that early, due to late frosts and what not.  I didn't put  any tomato plants outside the hoophouse until the first part of May.  That's because here in the mountains of coastal central California, we will get frosts in April.  In fact, our last frost here this year was on April 24.  It got down to 27 degrees.  If any of my tomatoes had been planted outside on that date, they would have died.  So I am not expecting any ripe tomatoes on my outside plants for another few weeks.  Don't fret if you don't have any either.

In the meantime, rest assured that the Brad's Black Heart, Virginia Sweets, Grub's Mystery Green, White Cherry, Tommy Toe, and JD's Special C-Tex, all pictured in the photo, will all go to a very good home ---- mine!  (except for one gorgeous black oxheart - it went home with my new very loyal volunteer, Hannah).