The Kitchen Garden

The Cutting Garden

Man does not live by vegetables alone

By Jan Leitschuh

What is a kitchen garden but food for the soul? No need to be a vegetable purist. We can add a few flowers to the mix, rendering the entire process far more soulful.

I’m not talking about interplanting a six-pack of bedding marigolds with your tomato plants for pest control. Although those are nice, the stems of bedding plants are too short for most vases.

No, we are dreaming of armloads of garden blossoms for cutting — a true cottage garden profusion.

With certain sown flowers, you’ll draw essential pollinators to your kitchen garden and the vases in your house will spill over with colorful blooms. Your yard will pop with floral eye candy and, since many thrive with regular cutting, you will have plenty of extra flowers to surprise and cheer up friends.

The quiet joy and pride of place is purely incidental.

It usually starts like this:

One chilled, sodden January, I stop before a local display of seeds and tubers. Instantly, the colorful reds, yellows, purples, pinks and oranges vanquish the gray day. In my mind, it becomes late June, and along with plucking ripe tomatoes, yellow squash and snap beans, I’m also gathering loads of cut flowers to bring into the house and share with friends. Bees buzz. The sky is blue, the morning breezes soft.

More than a few bucks later, I come home with many packets of zinnia, poppy, sweet William and cosmos seed, sacks of candy-colored dahlia, a peony tuber or two and several varieties of caladiums.

Come late February to early March, I’m sowing a few trays of my treasures, to get an early start. The remainder will be sown directly in the garden.

While some gardeners plant bulbs especially for cutting — early daffodils and Dutch irises and gladioli and lilies — why not keep it super simple? Let’s not over-complicate the process. A few packets of seed may be all you need to cultivate joy this summer.

You’ll need some sure-thing Sandhills winners.

The suggestions below can be planted directly into your garden. That couldn’t be easier — scratch out a shallow trench, seed lightly, then rake or cover with a sprinkle of soil and pat down for the critical seed-soil contact. Moisten with a gentle spray so that the tiny seeds aren’t disturbed, and water regularly through germination and early growth. Thin or transplant seedlings to the distances stated on the packet, so they have space to develop.

For diehard gardeners, a few trays seeded indoors in late February or early March can give you a jump on the season. I like to sow a six-pack of each variety, then seal the rest of the seeds in a plastic bag, for later direct sowing. This lengthens my growing season and spreads out the likelihood of good blooms.

Some of my favorites do very well here in the Sandhills, thriving with regular cutting, kicking out more blooms. Here are three can’t-miss flowers:

Glorioso Daisy: Practically foolproof. You may have to order these seeds or obtain from a friend. I haven’t seen them on seed racks yet this year, but they are well worth seeking out, and you can save the seed of your favorite blooms to replant next year.

This is a rugged, deer-resistant type of flower with great good cheer, sure to light up an informal summer bouquet. You may also find the seeds under the botanical name rudbeckia hirta.

These daisy-like, tetraploid cultivars are larger and showier than their wild cousins. As a sturdier, more eye-catching type of black-eyed Susan, rudbeckia hirta has blooms that may be golden yellow with dark chocolate centers, or a rich red-mahogany, or a bicolor golden with a mahogany base to each petal.

Another showy type of rudbeckia hirta is called Irish Eyes. This tall strain produces large, single golden-yellow daisies with a bright green eye and makes an outstanding cut flower.

Glorioso daisies also come in doubles. They will bloom through the fall, when their rich autumnal colors add to the season. Deadheading prolongs the bloom season, but gloriosa daisies will re-seed themselves readily.

Sow seeds directly in the ground sometime in April. Consider a second planting in May for longest bloom season. If you’ve planted too close for the optimum 12-inch spacing, the seedlings do transplant well when young, especially if moved on a cloudy day and watered in well.

Glorioso daisy is fairly drought resistant once established and will produce masses of cheerful blooms.

Zinnias: So easy. Again, as simple as seeds come. And the colors! The flower shapes! Possibly my favorite cut flower of all. There are three types of zinnias, so if cutting is your aim, choose well.

1. Short. Avoid these for a cutting garden. You can find potted zinnias at the garden stores in late spring, but most likely they will be these decorative dwarf types, running under 10 inches or so. You might enjoy these cuties at the front of a flower border, but their stems are too short for good cutting. Some of the common dwarf types are the Thumbelina, Magellan and Dreamland series. They are terrific, long-blooming bedding plants but, again, not very useful for vases and arrangements.

2. Medium. The next type are bushy, landscaping zinnias, up to 20 inches and best for bedding plantings. Look for names like Zahara and Profusion series.

3. Tall. The classic cutting garden zinnia eventually grows skyward, with long, strong stems for vases. You’ll have to start these from seed, most likely, but that is not difficult. Either direct seed into the garden when the soil has warmed — later April or May here — or start some seeds early indoors with plenty of light. By fall, your cutting garden zinnias can be 4-feet tall and will need support. I use a floral net, a kind of open, light string fishnet that steadies growing stems. Your garden center may carry them. You can also corral the patch with some twine and a few stakes.

Choosing your colors, shapes and varieties is the most fun, making for a delightful perusal of the catalogs and seed racks. There are spiky cactus types, full dahlia-looking blooms, newer bicolors, and every pastel shade or bold crayon color except blue. (Yes, even green, pale zinnias called Envy or Queen Lime.) Some of my favorites include the Benary Giants (be sure to order a good strong red, and perhaps an orange), Giant Cactus, California Giants, Uproar Rose, Queen Red Lime, Burpeeana Giants, and the 30-inch Cupcake series. A good strong white bloomer like Polar Bear adds a poignant accent to a colorful arrangement.

Or just buy a packet of mixed colors and be done with it.

Cosmos: You remember the movie The Color Purple, don’t you? Those stunning fields of airy, floral glory were cosmos. Another easy seed to sow directly, cosmos comes in purple, white, pinks, lavender, magentas, gold, orange and even a pale lemon.

Cosmos tolerates heat, drought (once established) and poor soil. Sounds like a Sandhills flower, yes?

Cosmos is a worker. Productive plants will produce masses of delicate, colorful beauty. The sizes range from the 18 to 26-inch dwarf, ruffly Apollo series to taller varieties. The Pop Socks series offers interesting shapes, singles and doubles. Both the Sonata and Sensation series are fairly easy to find and are lovely. The red-and-white striped Velouette is quite striking and can grow 26 to 34 inches. Cups and Saucers, with their fun shapes, can reach to 3 to 4 feet. Bright Lights and Ladybird are the salsa of the cosmos world, spouting hot orange, golden and yellow flowers.

Plants get very bushy. They’d appreciate a little extra room to spread out, so space plants 12 to 18 inches apart. Be sure to stake or corral them early, while they are still young. Cosmos also benefit from a technique called pinching, as this will encourage the already highly productive plants to branch even more vigorously.

There are many other flowers to include in a seeded cutting garden. Coreopsis, sunflowers, bachelor’s button, larkspur and sweet William are just a few that look lovely in vases and can be grown from seed. But you won’t go wrong in the Sandhills with the easy three above.

Don’t forget to water during dry spells, especially when plants are in bloom. Deadhead fading blooms. Carry a clean bucket with a little water out to the garden and cut in the mornings before the sun gets hot. Zinnias, in particular, benefit from a change of water every day or two. They can get a little stinky otherwise.

For an arrangement, use what you’ve already got. Slim stems of flowering trees or shrubs, shiny foliage like photinia, hellebore or camellia for filler, sprigs of purple basil. Perennials such as a sweet-smelling phlox, lilies, a peony, a few strands of ivy, perhaps the odd rose could also creep into the bouquet.

April showers can bring a little soul to your kitchen garden. May the fleurs be with you!  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Salad Days

Make them last all spring

By Jan Leitschuh

Though our last frost date is sometime in April, we gardeners want to dig in the damp March dirt — now.

A gardener’s chilled fingers get itchy, imagining that “lamb-like” March exit, oblivious to its rude “lion” start. Those hints of spring wafting our way are intoxicating, and we ordered way too many seeds, of course.

Something has to give! The sap is rising.

If we can’t install heat lovers like tomatoes, peppers and eggplant till sometime in April — when the cold soil warms and the night temps linger softly in the 50s — what can we plant now? Lettuce.

Lettuce resists the cold and is easy to grow, even for those whose garden efforts extend to only a few flower pots or a window box. In fact, those idle porch planters would look mighty spring-like and attractive if you interspersed a few pansies or violas with some colorful lettuce transplants.

Besides your front stoop, you’ll have enough fresh leaves to dress up a sandwich. The cheerful Easter-y colors and textures are perfect for spring. Lettuce comes in lime green, speckled, burgundy, dark green, brown, ruffled, wavy, frilly, flat.

If you have a patch of good earth, so much the better. You can grow your own fresh, organic salads.

Timing is critical. Lettuce gets stressed out in too much heat. It stops growing and lacks good flavor or texture if it’s gotten too hot and stressed. While we often think of vegetables growing faster the hotter it gets, for lettuce the opposite is true.

So, get a move on! You can even try seeding a few rows in late February, sowing again in another week or two, a strategy called succession planting. I like to divide a seed packet up into four weekly plantings. In North Carolina, there are only two windows of time, in fall and spring, when natural conditions are ideal for growing these leafy greens.

One of the oldest food plants known to man, lettuce was served in ancient Greece, and was popular in ancient Rome. The word “lettuce” comes from the Latin word “lac” meaning “milk,” referring to the bitter milky juice found in mature lettuce stems.

When the European explorers sailed to the New World, they brought lettuce seeds. The first Colonial gardens planted on American soil grew lettuce. Now a side salad is ubiquitous; it’s the healthy option at lunch; and in the pre-COVID days, a potluck go-to. And we can raise it in our pots and backyards.

Choices include head and loose-leaf lettuce. I’d warn you off head lettuce for spring — the heat roars down on us, making that type of lettuce harder to grow. Have fun choosing from the colorful varieties of loose-leaf lettuce seed.

Romaine lettuce can withstand more heat than head lettuce, but will “bolt” or switch to its more bitter reproductive phase as days heat up. Butterhead or buttercrunch is a tender type of lettuce that works well here.

Otherwise, the leaf lettuces will stand more brief high temps and have a longer season of production. I plant Black-Seeded Simpson first, since it laughs at the winter cold (but doesn’t care for the heat). Salad Bowl, Slobolt, Grand Rapids, Red Sails, Freckles or Ruby lettuces do well here, among others.

Choose an area that gets four to six hours of sun. As it gets hotter in April and May, plants that get morning sun and afternoon shade will last longer and taste better. The heat can turn lettuce bitter, as the milky white sap rises from the stem into the leaves.

This bitter on the tongue is actually good for our digestion, stimulating the vagus nerve to “talk” to the gut, but bitter is not a popular flavor in modern life, so take care to cut lettuce first thing in the morning as the season lengthens. The bitterness comes from lettuce’s milky sap, activated by heat. Cutting in the cool of the morning on hotter days mitigates this.

The best soils for greens-growing are fertile, high organic matter soils that have good water-holding capacity. Water is important to lettuce, a shallow-rooted plant.

For containers, use a lightweight potting mix with included fertilizer. For the garden, spread some compost and rake it in. Lettuce loves a soil a little “sweeter” than Sandhills’ nature provides; the ideal pH is 6.0 to 6.7, so lime might be needed.

Because of its relative cold tolerance, even lettuce seedlings can handle a little freezing weather, though a hard frost can turn them to mush. An old sheet tossed on a planting bed on cold nights would not be amiss. Just remember to remove first thing in the morning. With pots, bring them into a garage or breezeway for protection on the coldest nights.

If you choose transplants from the garden center, you will have instant gratification and eye appeal. Be sure the transplants have been acclimated, or “hardened off,” and are not right out of the greenhouse.

Seeds will give you much more lettuce if you are patient. You can plant as early as February and continue through late March. Seeds are tiny, so plant about 1/4 inch deep. I sow, then sift some fine soil over the top lightly, then pat the seeds in firmly. Water gently to avoid washing away the little seeds.

After that, regular watering, especially on warm days, will keep your crop thriving and happy. Lettuce is made up of about 95 percent water, so give an inch or two when the spring monsoons aren’t available.

Your seeds will sprout and begin to crowd each other with happy abundance. Do some judicious thinning as your crop grows, and use your fresh and tender thinnings in a salad.

Depending on the weather, you’ll have a salad crop in 40 to 60 days. If you were wise and divided your seeds into two or three timed plantings, you’ll have fresh salads all spring.

As the days heat up, remember to cut your salad greens in the mornings. Cool the cut leaves in your crisper in a loose plastic bag, unwashed. Rinse just before using.

The best way to harvest loose-leaf lettuce is to pick only the outer leaves near the bottom so the plant can keep growing. For romaine or butterhead, cut off the entire head.

It’s a genuine pleasure to wander out to the garden in the morning with a cup of coffee and a knife to cut the evening’s salad greens. Whether you choose a plot, a pot or a window box, enjoy the abundance of spring.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Cataloging Our Desires

A cornucopia of mid-winter reading

By Jan Leitschuh

You could call them Valentines from the fashion gardenistas.

Piled up by the couch, near the fireplace, lies a colorful pile of lavishly illustrated seed catalogs — the lurid romance novels of the produce patch. Tempters extraordinaire, as lovingly photographed as the sleekest supermodel, with their sexy photos of plump Chioggia beets, exotic red okra and butter-and-eggs sweet corn, these enticing, lush catalogs whisper breathily: Yes, darlin’, you, too, can grow produce like this.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Years of hard practical experience in the Sandhills shoot back with cynical sweet nothings, like: Squash bugs. Blights. Thrips. Powdery mildew. Hornworms. Flea beetles. Weeds and 100-degree heat. Deer, bunnies and voles.

And yet, love is blind. The candy store that is a seed catalog is far too seductive when set against February’s stern, cold winds and deep-chill nights. We rationalize and justify — a few packets of seed, a valentine to ourselves.

In any case, we’ve been staring at these wish books, lovingly circling and then crossing off old favorites and tempting new varieties since Christmas. It’s time to order up — or pitch the damn things.

So, that gorgeous red okra. Do we want to try it this summer? For a couple of bucks, we can raise eye-catching scarlet pods. Then what? Will the hubby even eat red okra? The catalog listing swears it is the tenderest.

There’s an exotic orange variety from China as well. But maybe a Japanese pink okra would be an even more illicit garden thrill?

Flip to the “Garden Pea” section for the sugar snap selection. Garden lovers, take heed. If you only order one thing, from a catalog or a local provider, it ought to be a sugar snap pea variety.

Podded sugar snap peas come thick and fast at a time in the spring when fresh produce is deeply appreciated. The seeds can actually be planted directly in the garden pea patch this month. If you have grandchildren (or even if you don’t), picking these crisp, tender pods fresh, with their tiny, sweet peas inside, is gratifying. Children will eat them. Even more gratifying is tossing a fresh handful atop a salad, or into a soup, stew or dinner stir-fry.

Then that cynical voice of reason slides in a warning: deer. Deer love pea vines. (Note to self: Plant a few pots on the deck to climb up the porch rail, along with a patch in the garden. Closer to the kitchen, anyway.)

Eat Your Colors offers a rainbow of produce possibilities. All kinds of bright salad greens beckon from its catalog pages, as do multiple, colorful varieties of heirloom tomatoes. Black zucchini, magenta eggplant. The sweetest, most tender green beans. Candy cane-striped beets. Turquoise corn? Every possible color of sweet and hot pepper one can conjure (except turquoise).

The breathless, attendant copy makes each variety sound better than the last, the writers having cut their teeth on romance novels, no doubt. So many circled items, so little garden space . . .

But wait. What is this? The rabbit-hole distraction of the flower seed section. Silky purple poppies? Orange cactus zinnias? Stocks and snaps and strawflowers. That kiss-me-over-the-garden-gate — a pink, Victorian-era, cottage garden classic — looks intriguing. (Sound of pen circling.)

Hmmm, and here are gomphrena seeds . . . haven’t seen these sun-loving, hard-working little purple flower globes in local nurseries in a while . . . so maybe I should grow my own?

Many seeds can be sown directly into the garden or pots. Plus, a greater variety of seeds are available than the transplants you can find locally. Seeds are also less expensive than transplants. 

You can also grow your own transplants, with a little desire. Six to eight weeks before the transplanting date, sow the seeds according to packet directions into some kind of a container indoors. They will need good light to stay stocky, and not grow leggy. Bottom heat also helps heat-lovers like peppers, eggplant and tomatoes.

Gradually transition your seedlings from the sheltered environment of your home to the garden. I like to set them out on sunny, mild days and bring them in at night before they chill. Toughen your tender love children by slowly introducing the transplants into full sun for a longer period each day, over a week’s time.

But back to our spring fever. The melons are particularly seductive. Perhaps try some small, serving-sized melons this year? Do we lust after the striking “copper red/striped with cream and green” 2-pounder from Punjab? The flesh is green and “slightly musky.” What does musky taste like?

Or would we rather plant that Armenian heirloom 1-pounder, a “vibrant yellow with fire-red zig-zag stripes,” with the “sweet, intoxicating aroma that will fill a room . . . ?”

No matter which sexy selection is chosen, and which fantasy fashionista seed ends up winging its way to our doors, it’s fair to say that we will remain true to our original garden valentine — the sugar snap pea. You really should try it if you haven’t, for fun.

Smile if ya got some.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

It’s Not Easy Being Green

But a patch of parsley will do the trick

By Jan Leitschuh

If January finds you craving a little green, plant parsley.

Parsley’s kitchen presence ain’t what it used to be, when the culinary herb was ubiquitous. The classic lazy chef’s garnish — an afterthought to a side dish, an expected spot of green on the plate — parsley is not the first herb cooks reach for these days when tossing together a quick meal.

And that’s a shame, because parsley is simple to grow and surprisingly nutritious for a bit of verdant fluff.

That “spot of green” on the plate does equally well as a welcome spot of green in the garden in most Sandhills’ winters. Parsley is simple to grow. And in the old Simon and Garfunkel folk ballad “Scarborough Fair,” what gets first billing in parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme?

As a mildly bitter culinary herb, parsley’s clean and peppery taste can offer folks weary of rich holiday fare a fresh, healthy switch-up.

My friend Teresa’s introduction to parsley is probably typical. When she was traveling as a kid, her family would always stop at a roadside chain breakfast place on the interstate. “Seems like a sprig of parsley came on every plate as decoration,” she recalls. “I tried it and I liked it. To me, it was somewhat minty. My family would offer me theirs. My dad would always tease, ‘You want my rabbit food?’”

Because its deep taproot tolerates our winters, some local gardeners like to interplant the green herb with pansies and flowering kales. During warm spells, it grows vigorously. In cold weather, it can hold its own. I have brushed snow off a patch and harvested it. Some of the lushest outer sprigs may freeze, but the crown and core persist.

My friend Elaine grows parsley for the kitchen. “It’s in a big pot on my back porch,” she says. “I’ll probably bring it in tonight because the temperature is going down into the mid-20s, and I have a lot of it I want to use.”

Elaine, a retired nurse, likes to use it fresh in recipes. “There are some things that just taste better with fresh parsley rather than dried . . . a chicken dish, potatoes. I like tabbouleh,” she says. “The best thing I use it in, though, is a recipe for lemon-garlic roasted cauliflower rice that I got from our Jazzercize teacher, Debby Higginbotham.” Elaine shares that recipe below.

To plant, pick up a few pots of parsley at a local garden center. If you can’t find parsley for sale now, it will be available in the earliest spring, when you really need a hit of green.

Planting and care are easy. Pick a sunny spot, plant the crown at soil level, water during dry spells in winter.

Parsley is a biennial, which means it will last two years, but I treat it like an annual. The leaves are still edible the second year but can get a little bitter sometimes if it bolts — grows a seed stalk — in its second spring.

Wash fresh parsley right before using, since this tough-growing plant is fragile. Clean it just as you would spinach. Place it in a bowl of cold water and swish it around with your hands, allowing any sand to dislodge. 

Unwashed parsley stays fresh for up to two weeks, whereas dried parsley may last up to a year. To freeze, chop and layer in a plastic bag about a 1/2-inch thick. Press as much air out of the bag as possible, and freeze. Break off flat pieces as needed.

Rich in antioxidants and nutrients like vitamins A, K, and C, parsley may improve blood sugar and support heart, kidney and bone health. Also a diuretic, parsley can help increase urine output and flush bacteria from the urinary system.

It’s a superfood, but probably best not to juice in great bunches — a little goes a long way. Your tasty Argentinian chimichurri aside, WebMD says very large quantities of parsley are possibly unsafe, especially for those with kidney disease. Parsley is high in oxalates, which can contribute to kidney stones in some.

Many tasty dishes sparkle with a teaspoon or two of fresh parsley. Couscous with red onion, feta, cucumbers and parsley is a classic. Whip up a chimichurri for skirt steak. Toss your zucchini noodle salad with a parsley-pistachio pesto, instead of basil and pine nuts. Tabbouleh with tomatoes, lemon juice and parsley is a great way to use up a bunch.

Or enjoy the clean, winter eating of Elaine and Debby’s recipe:

Lemon-Garlic Roasted Cauliflower with Fresh Parsley

Preheat oven to 425. Spray the bottom of a sheet pan or cookie sheet with olive oil.

Combine about 16 ounces, (or a pre-riced bag) of riced cauliflower with a tablespoon of olive oil, 3 chopped or pressed garlic cloves and 1/2 teaspoon salt. Mix and spread on pan. Roast for 25 minutes. Halfway through, stir to prevent burning.

Transfer to a bowl, mix with a teaspoon of fresh lemon juice and 2 teaspoons of freshly chopped parsley. 

Spoon over roasted chicken, salmon or another fish. Enough for two.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Peppermint Temptation

And a holiday home remedy

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas . . .

With candy canes and silver lanes aglow

— Meredith Willson

By Jan Leitschuh

For some, it’s Christmas cookies. For others, it’s eggnog, shortbread and complementary spirits.

You might still be eating Halloween candy, but for me, it’s peppermint, in all its calorie-laden glory, that represents the culinary high point of the holiday season. Peppermint ice cream. Mocha mint lattes. Chocolate mints. Peppermint bark. My Christmastime, scale-aware caution and catnip.

Starting around Halloween, you can’t escape peppermint temptation in the stores. The Holiday Mint M&Ms and candy canes beckon.

It’s easy to forget that these processed, sugary treats derive their flavor from a simple herb. Peppermint is a sterile hybrid (Mentha ×piperita) of watermint (Mentha aquatic) and spearmint (Mentha spicata). I’m also deeply fond of a very close cousin, chocolate mint.

The distinct peppery-cool flavor is a mixture of chemicals. The plant makes volatile aromatic compounds, and stores them in specialized “hairs” on its leaves. These leaves distill readily into concentrated oils.

The United States produces more than 70 percent of the world’s supply of peppermint. The Pacific Northwest leads in mint production — conditions in Washington, Oregon and Idaho are ideal for producing high quality oil. Fields of peppermint are mowed down like hay, dried, then steam-distilled to extract the oil. Peppermint flavoring is complex, a mixture of menthol with numerous other molecules.

Candy canes and peppermint patties use just a small sector of mint oil demand. The majority of mint oil (90 percent) is split equally for flavoring chewing gum and dental products (toothpaste and mouthwash). Mint oil is big business, worth approximately $200 million annually.

Peppermint is one of the oldest (and best-tasting) home remedies for indigestion. A nice cup of peppermint tea soothes winter chills, and mint is used in many sleepy-time blends. Recent research conducted at the University of Cincinnati has shown that sniffing mint improves concentration — several Japanese companies now pipe small amounts through their air conditioning systems to invigorate workers and improve productivity.

Mice and other rodents don’t care for the smell of mint. Some homeowners use it as a perfectly safe and natural pest control method. Plant mint around areas they might use to get inside, or put peppermint oil on cotton balls and place in holes and cabinets.

Even though it doesn’t produce seeds, peppermint is a prolific propagator via vegetative growth of stolons (plant biology word of the day). In the case of mint, stolons are runners just below the soil surface that can establish their own root system and plant. Because mint is very good at this, it can be quite invasive once it gets established. For your home herb garden, I would suggest growing it in a container to keep it corralled. For commercial production, certified disease-free rootstocks are used and continue producing good yields of high quality oil for about four years.

How did peppermint come to be associated with Christmas? The colors of red and green abound, and the peppermint herb itself carries half that load proudly in green. The traditional peppermint candy cane colors are, of course, red and white. Aside from peppermint’s frosty, refreshing taste, it seems that the candy cane may actually be to blame for the Yule association. According to an online story, in 1670, a choirmaster at Cologne Cathedral handed this candy out to children at their living Nativity to keep the kids occupied.

“The candy was shaped to look like a shepherd’s staff,” wrote the blogger Eric Samuelson. “The peppermint flavor probably wasn’t introduced for another 200 years. They became popular to hang on Christmas trees in the United States. So I think this is how mint became associated with Christmas. Starting with the candy cane, other mint flavored candies were introduced over the years until mint became one of the flavors of Christmas.”

To incorporate a little peppermint into your Christmas, you could put a few drops of peppermint oil in a shallow dish on a warm spot to scent a room. Perhaps give your favorite gardener a pretty pot of peppermint to refresh their gray January, or dry some of your mint to give as a gift of tea.

If you have mint in your garden, some usable leaves still might be hanging around. Peppermint extract also offers an added benefit for the holiday season. If you’ve eaten too many of those spectacular holiday treats when the baking is done, add a little of your homemade peppermint extract to a cup of tea — soothing for an upset or over-stuffed stomach.

Homemade Peppermint Extract

1 cup fresh peppermint leaves or, fresh chocolate mint leaves

1 tablespoon cacao nibs

1 cup vodka (80-100 proof)

Wash mint leaves and remove any discolored leaves. Roughly chop leaves. Bruise lightly by striking with a mallet to coax the oils from the leaves. Fill a half-pint jar loosely with chopped mint leaves and pour vodka over the leaves to completely cover, leaving at least half an inch of air at the top. Tightly seal the jar and give it a good shake before storing in a cool, dark place.

Allow the extract to steep for 3 to 4 weeks, shaking the jar every couple of days to agitate the leaves. Once desired strength has been reached, strain the leaves from the extract using a fine strainer or cheesecloth. Squeeze to get all the intense goodness. Return the extract to the jar for storage — or transfer into an attractive jar or bottle as an unusual and crafty holiday gift!  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Sage Advice

It’s for more than just stuffing

By Jan Leitschuh

Sage, common culinary sage, is having a “moment” in creative cookery. Yet most of us still associate this undemanding, wooly gray-green herb with the Thanksgiving feast, as the classic, earthy seasoning for stuffing.

Or, of course, you could just use it to ward off negativity and unwelcome spirits. Long used in Native American and other cultures around the world, a smoky sage smudging is considered a space-purifying ritual. (Though white sage is most common, according to many sources, good old common sage will do the trick, too.)

There are many beautiful sages in the salvia world, with over 900 species in this mint-family member. Some are grown for flowers, texture and bulk in the garden. 

But it’s November. In this season of harvest and feasting, common culinary sage is worth a closer look. 

Or is it common?

Besides the classic evergreen perennial herb with the woolly, grayish leaves, you can also find other, more colorful varieties at some garden centers, such as green-gold, white-edged, curly, purple-leaved and tricolor culinary sages. All add texture and interest to the garden, with an edibility bonus.

There are still more edible sages, such as pineapple sage, whose lovely golden leaves and spiky red flowers are beloved by hummingbirds, butterflies and gardeners late summer to frost. But this sage grows faster and much larger than the common sage, reaching 3-4 feet in a single season. As the name suggests, the scent and flavor are reminiscent of pineapple. Fresh leaves are edible, and can be interesting in salads, or dried for a delicious tea.

Sages like our Sandhills soils, but our humidity? Less so. Air circulation will keep it happy. Sage likes a well-drained soil, preferably with a bit of compost worked in before planting. Attractive spikes of purple flowers appear in mid-summer, which attract birds, bees and butterflies. Prune plants back in the spring just as new growth resumes. Harvest leaves through the season as needed. This will keep the plant bushy. Since this resinous herb is evergreen in most zones, you can harvest sage well into late fall.

But how do we use thee? Let us count the ways . . .

First of all, there’s sage toothpaste. Truly. Google it if you don’t believe me. Apparently, studies show that sage contains over 60 useful compounds, many of which are beneficial to the mouth and gums, significantly decreasing mouth ulcers and inflammation of the gums.

Sage also has potent antibacterial, antifungal, antiviral and antimicrobial properties that help destroy cavity-causing bacteria and neutralize microbes that promote dental plaque. Sage also contains healing compounds that ease coughs and accelerate the healing of wounds, helping to soothe sore, swollen or bleeding gums.

Who knew?

A tea made from two tablespoons of dried or fresh sage is said to provide relief from teeth- and gum-related problems such as toothache and sore or swollen gums. (Brew the sage for a few minutes in boiling water, cool for 10 minutes. Swish in the mouth for 30 seconds and spit. Or, enjoy a cuppa.) A sage tea bag can also be placed on the gums to soothe the aching or inflamed area.

But it is the foodie aspects we wish to look at in this season of eating.

First off, meat. Sage was traditionally added to fatty meats. Sage is what makes breakfast sausage so unique in its taste. You can make your own breakfast patties and control the quality, adding a tablespoon of minced sage to a pound of ground pork sausage, also working in some red pepper flakes to taste, a teaspoon each of salt and brown sugar, half a teaspoon of black pepper, perhaps a pinch of cloves or marjoram.

Grilling out? Chicken bathed in an olive oil marinade with chopped sage, lemon balm, oregano, garlic, onion and thyme can lend a flavor similar to lemon herb chicken, say fans. The leftovers can be almost better!

A crusty Parmesan-sage pork chop with a dollop of homemade spicy applesauce on the side can warm up a fall supper. There are a number of such recipes on the internet.

I put sage in with roasts and most of my stews and simmer-dishes, along with other garden herbs like oregano, thyme, rosemary, celery and basil. Why wait for stuffing the whole turkey? I love cooking sage with ground turkey for quiche, or you could use in shepherd’s pie. Or just go ahead and make some dressing — comfort food for a late fall evening. 

Foodies favor their sage leaves fried in brown butter until crispy. Garlic is a common addition. From there, they might toss the buttery mix in with ravioli, in a white wine cream sauce, with pierogi or boiled cheese tortellini.

Others use the fried leaves on top of butternut squash soup — or any soup, for that matter. Another seasonal pairing is oven-baked sweet potatoes, or better yet, baked sweet potatoes and apples. Still others enjoy the fried sage leaves with a beet and goat cheese salad with balsamic vinegar.

A chicken or veal saltimbocca is common in Italian trattorias. The meat is enveloped in a tasty wrap of fresh sage leaves and thin slices of prosciutto. Again, recipes abound online.

Or, to cure what ails you, nothing is better on chilly days than homemade chicken noodle/rice soup with fresh sage. Others go the sweet-savory route, infusing honey with sage and adding to teas.

A sage chimichurri — a green Argentinean pesto-like sauce traditionally made with parsley — can be used as an accompaniment to spinach-stuffed mushrooms, fish, meats or pork sausages. (See recipe below.)

For all its culinary and medicinal properties, common sage should not be ingested in large amounts for a prolonged period of time, say, as essential oils or large quantities of tea. Sage contains small amounts of thujone, a neurotoxin also found in the notorious 19th century liqueur absinthe, thanks to the wormwood used in the recipe. Oregano also contains minute amounts of thujone.

Apparently, thujone is mildly psychoactive. Van Gogh and Picasso were big fans back in the day, claiming inspiration from absinthe. Thujone is actually found in many plants used in cultural spiritual rituals to enhance intuition. (So, back to the whole smudging thing.)

But the amounts ingested in seasonings, flavorings and smudgings are quite minute. Studies have shown three or four cups of sage tea do no harm, although if you have an existing condition that affects the kidneys or liver, or you’re taking some medications that may interact with thujone, you may wish to proceed with some caution and awareness.

If you wish to deploy the culinary benefits of this simple garden herb, perhaps start with the classic dinner sauce chimichurri, adapted for sage. Smudging optional.

Sage Chimichurri

1/4 cup sage leaves and stems, minced finely

1/4 teaspoon red pepper flakes

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 clove garlic, peeled and crushed or minced

1 tablespoon red wine vinegar

1 tablespoon water

3 tablespoons oil

Mix ingredients well and use as a marinade, or serve in a bowl as an accompaniment to spoon over pan-seared fish, sliced flank steak, stuffed mushrooms, grilled meats or pork loin.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Fall Gourds

Harvest of many colors

By Jan Leitschuh

Come fall, when the leaves turn and the pumpkin spice lattes star on the coffee shop menus, we all breathe a collective sigh of relief that the big heat is behind us. The morning crispness makes some of us giddy, and we succumb to that fine urge to mark the change of seasons.

Pumpkins, of course, are the first decoration to spring to mind; orange is the new seasonal black. But fall harvests come in many colors, sizes, patterns and shapes, and gourds are some of the most interesting.

But first: How is a gourd different from a squash? (Short answer: fun.)

For this and more, I turned to my North Carolina friend and gourd expert, Linda Fisher, owner of Fisher Pumpkin Farm in Red Oak. Linda has been growing gourds (and pumpkins) for the last 50 years on the family farm, hosting a popular fall harvest sale of many types of gourds and pumpkins right on the farm. 

Basically, for our purposes, you eat squash and look at gourds. Winter squashes are not gourds but can be decorative, and eventually you bake them. Gourds are purely for fun. (You won’t die if you eat them, but you won’t be raving about the taste on your Facebook page.)

Gourds, she says, had a heyday.

“Gourds were useful household tools provided by nature before manufacturing,” says Fisher, a former history teacher. “Dipper gourds were used as cups. The bottoms of martin gourds for bowls. Spoon gourds. Bushel basket gourds were containers for oats, corn and meal. Bottle gourds were tied to fishnets so they could float; today, they are primarily used for birdhouses and crafts.”

Some gourds can become useful toiletry, such as exfoliating sponges (luffa). Some can become birdhouses (martin gourds). Some can become craft projects (long-handled dipper gourds, bottle gourds). Musical instruments have been fashioned from gourds.

Some are stripy, spotted or solid, like speckled swan gourds or apple gourds. Fisher specializes in dipper and martin gourds, but has grown basketball, canteen, egg, and snake gourds, Crown of Thorns, spoon gourds, Turk’s Turban and more. And most are decorative and evocative of the ancestral abundance time, autumn farm harvest. 

There are whole craft communities dedicated to carving, burning and painting gourds. Besides traditional gourd crafts, some contemporary crafters dry the larger gourds, drill interesting patterns of holes and fill them with lights for an autumnal porch decoration to chase the darkness.

As you yield to the spirit of the season, pick up some fall decorations to brighten your autumn. Greens, gold, tans, scarlets, whites and oranges. Ridges, long necks, short necks, spiky shapes, bulbar, warty. The red/green and white Turk’s Turban squashes are spectacular. And next year, remember, gourds are easy to grow, and beloved by children.

You want a rich soil for gourds. “The best site for gourds is a highly organic soil,” says Fisher. “Even just an old sawdust pile. They have tendrils that will anchor the vines to trellises, bushes and fences.”

If you choose to plant gourds, give them room to run. Some vines can stretch 15 feet. They could be wound on a porch rail or fence as a decorative screen. They like what we have in the Sandhills, a well-draining soil that receives full daytime sun — just add compost and water. Some gourds need a long growing season to ripen on the vine, up to six months.

Harvest your gourds when the gourd stems dry out and turn brown on the vine. Leave a few inches of stem on the gourd. If an early freeze is coming, cut off any remaining gourds and discard any with bruises or soft spots, as these will decay in storage. Cold will damage the gourds’ ability to cure. 

Most of us will simply buy some gourds at a farm stand or store because they make us smile. But others may want to fashion a birdhouse, or use them for art and craft purposes. Google “gourd art” for beauty and inspiration.

If you’ve harvested your own, wash any gourds you plan to keep in soapy water and pat dry. Some collectors wipe down with rubbing alcohol afterward to further prevent rot. Store on a screen, in a shed or an airy spot out of bright light. Check and discard any that are getting soft instead of curing. Fisher has a hard time keeping the squirrels out of her farm-sized harvest, as they gnaw in after the seeds.

When the gourd feels light and the seeds rattle inside, it’s ready for crafting. Polish with steel wool or sandpaper. Now you can paint, wax, shellac, carve or burn designs into the hard-skinned gourd. If you’ve harvested correctly, “Gourds last indefinitely, if they dry out,” says Fisher.

For tabletop and decorative purposes, you could toss a few edible winter squash into the decorative autumn mix and enjoy their beauty before consuming. Some good shapes and tastes are the green, ridged acorn squash (wonderful baked with cider or maple syrup), the delicious tan butternut squash (cube it and use it like meat in casseroles and ethnic dishes), and the nutty striped delicata (eat these first, simply roast with butter and salt).

All jumbled together, it looks like fall. Harvest time.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table. Find Fisher Pumpkin Farm on Facebook for hours and directions.

The Kitchen Garden

Fall Gardens

The reward for sticking out the summer

By Jan Leitschuh

It’s hot out. Maybe you’ve noticed.

Do you need a weed-eater to get through your tired summer garden? Is your current output a very few puny, battle-scarred, malformed green remnants drooping from your sprawling, blighted tomato plants? Are you doing the September fire ant dance?

Squash, cukes and melons are long over. Who in their right mind wants to think about rooting around in the dirt right now, battling bugs, heat, humidity hell-ants and salty, eye-pickling sweat?

Have I sold you on fall gardening yet?

You might consider it. That homegrown Thanksgiving cornucopia doesn’t appear by magic.

Fall gardens in the Sandhills are nature’s reward for sticking it out during the summer. Your mature eggplant and peppers breathe a sigh of relief, throwing out more blossoms and setting abundant fruits in the cooler evening temps. Okra offers a last generous gasp before succumbing to the dried decorations of autumn. Pumpkins and winter squash ripen. Some fall-sown crops — like spinach, garlic, kale, chard, arugula and collards — may grow well into winter, pause, and then spring back next year with vigor. While the fire ants do kick into gear, in September the remainder of the biting/stinging bugs declines rapidly. Mind your step.

Best of all, as the temps finally cool, we remember once again why we love to garden and grow fresh produce for our tables. We actually like being outside. And some lovely floral garden additions, such as poppies, calendula and larkspur, prefer a fall planting for garden glory next spring.

Garden prep is the first step. Pull out and destroy those pathetic tomato vines. Make a note of anywhere you planted tomatoes, potatoes, eggplant and peppers this year, because you will want to rotate those crops to different areas next year to avoid disease buildup.

Now is the time to pull your soil samples. You can get a free soil test kit and directions from Moore County Cooperative Extension. Add needed nutrients, often just lime and sulpomag, a magnesium/potassium/sulfur additive. It’s also the time to till in some rich compost. Any greens you plant will need a nitrogen boost, so work it in now. I like feather meal or blood meal early on, but as the weather cools, these nutrients aren’t as readily available because the breakdown slows.

Save your raked leaves, by the way. I ask my husband to bring home the bags of crape myrtle and maple leaves he acquires in his work. These small, thin leaves break down quickly. I often use them lightly for a little early garden mulch, or I spread them atop beds that will be fallow over the winter, to be tilled under by worms or our tiller in the spring.

Waxy, tougher leaves like oak and magnolia can work, but will need to be run over with the mower or otherwise shredded or broken down. I’ll also mulch the blueberries, blackberries, grapevines and fruit trees with fall leaves.

What can you plant in your fall garden? Believe it or not, if you hustle, you can still plant a mess of bush snap beans through, say, mid-September, and cross your fingers. Look for a variety that matures in 50-55 days. Likewise, carrots need to go in immediately. Beets, spinach and chard, often planted in August, could still go in during the first two weeks of September. If you enjoy dill, toss some in, as well as a few transplants of parsley for winter-long greenery and flavor. Fresh parsley in homemade chicken soup is scientifically proven to cure what ails you, right?

We all know about tougher stewing greens — collards, chard and kale — and while those are nice, even wildly nutritious, they don’t excite the imagination as much as, say, an experimental patch of sugar snap peas, or a bed of carrots that, if covered with straw before a hard frost, provide a long season of cold storage. (Just uncover and pull a fresh handful for that night’s stew or roast pork.) Some gardeners lay a board over their newly watered carrot seeds to encourage germination. Check daily and remove the board when the seeds sprout.

Spicy radishes are satisfying to sow, as they spring up almost immediately. They’re as near to instant gratification as a seed-packet garden gets. Plant a few each week in succession for a continuous addition to fall salads and veggie roasts — yes, you can roast them, and they sweeten up in the oven. Bulb onions can go in now, and add their savory healthfulness to most any meal.

If you want cabbages, broccoli, bok choy, parsley or cauliflower, you would do well to start with plants from a garden center or local farmer who grows them. Garlic cloves can be planted in the latter part of September for a May harvest for green garlic, a June harvest for full heads. You can seed many different types of lettuce. Black-seeded Simpson is a loose-leaf, cold-hardy old favorite. Cut-and-come-again loose-leaf lettuces are popular and colorful. Likewise, mustard greens, spicy Italian arugula, turnips, parsnips, spinach, rutabaga, kale and chard can be seeded right now.

Seeds that normally germinate in spring’s cold soils may need a little indoor help in fall’s early scorch and drought. You can wet sturdy paper towels, sprinkle your seeds on top and roll the towel up like a cigar. Fold it in half and tuck it into a paper cup, labeling the seed. Stick in your fridge for a couple of days, checking carefully after the second day to see if dormancy has broken. Keep the paper towel moist until it does.

If you don’t care to fill up your summer beds with fall produce, then by all means clean up the old plants and stakes, and till those leaves in. Or consider sowing a cover crop such as vigorous winter rye — the roots of rye burrow down deeply for good distances, automatically enriching your garden beds with organic matter. Mow them in spring and turn under for a green manure.

Finally, our favorite winter cover crop, the vibrant crimson clover, can be found at local farm stores. So striking in spring, crimson clover is often used in bouquets, vibrating its scarlet blossoms against spring green foliage. Besides adding nitrogen and green manure to the soils, the blossoms are beloved by bees and makes the best honey, in my opinion.

If you are done with 2020 gardening, no judgment. It’s been a weird, buggy year, and there is local produce about. But I’d be willing to take bets that when the January seed catalogs roll around in early 2021, we will have left the memory of heat and bugs long behind.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Goo Gone

Okra’s slime problem

By Jan Leitschuh

Okra has an image problem.

During the blast-furnace days of August, tropical okra thrives, throwing off pods with merry abandon, challenging growers to pick faster before the pods grow too long and tough.

This finger-shaped Southern vegetable is rarely available in grocery stores or supermarkets. You’ll either have to search it out at local farm stands or farmers markets, or grow it yourself (no difficult task).

So it isn’t necessarily a familiar vegetable for many transplants and town dwellers. Lots of people around here still have no idea what to do with the pinkie-sized, ridged green veggie, or how to cook it. And unless you grew up with it, you may not know it as culinary real estate on your dinner plate.

Even for those who do know okra, there may lurk an underlying aversion: slime.

Talk about okra, and a good number of people make that face, wrinkling their noses and calling its texture “slimy.” Okra is rich in a gel-like substance called mucilage. Turns out that slime is actually good for you. It’s healing for an irritated gut, helps with digestion, and it can help lower cholesterol by binding to it. It puts the “gum” in gumbo.

But if slime ain’t your bag, nothing I say — such as okra is full of antioxidants and contains lectin, which is a type of protein that can inhibit the growth of human cancer cells — will turn you on. I get it. My husband is in your tribe.

If you’re a Southern cook and grew up eating okra, well, do your thang, sugah. Pickled okra all the way! Stewed garden tomatoes, onions and okra. Chopped okra in soups and gumbos. Steam it till the slime squeaks.

But if this veggie is less familiar to you and you’re determined to hold your nose and have your “when-in-Rome” encounter, perhaps you’d like to start with a slimeless way of getting to know this stellar hot-weather veggie.

The most delicious cop-out, er, method of consumption, of course, is breaded and fried. Almost everyone likes fried okra, all crispy and salty fried crumbs with a vegetable patina. They are the French fries of the produce world. But if you don’t want to get this fussy/fried, let’s look at other methods of de-sliming this worthy Southern vegetable. High heat and longer cooking time will eliminate the slime factor (but also some of the health benefits).

The simplest way to de-slime okra is to roast it.

Rinse a batch, and dry thoroughly to prevent steam. Cut the stem ends off. Slice pods in half, toss in olive oil and layer in a baking dish or sheet pan. Add salt and pepper. Simple, and so good! Typically, we will toss other veggies in the mix as the garden allows: green pepper slices, halved cherry tomatoes, onions sliced into rings, zucchini or yellow squash slices, green beans and more. Roast (bake) at 375 for 30-45 minutes. Remove from the oven and sprinkle on a little garlic powder. Add a slice of melon, a chicken breast or a burger and you have a meal.

Or, turn your oven up higher, to 425. Prep a bag of a few teaspoons of garlic salt and shake pods vigorously. Let sit for 10 minutes to draw out moisture. Then add a cup of cornmeal and perhaps some Creole seasonings, shake again. Rest another 10 minutes. Remove pods onto a foil-lined sheet pan, and spritz with cooking spray. Bake for 15 minutes, turn pods, bake another 15. Oven-baked crunchy goodness, without frying.

Grilling is another simple method of removing the goo. Lay the pods directly on the grill or skewer sideways for easier handling. Another option is to skewer with small onions and cherry tomatoes. Brush with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, perhaps some cayenne pepper. Depending on the heat of your grill, this will take 10-20 minutes. Remove and shake some Parmesan shreds on top. Serve with your grilled chicken.

Searing in a cast iron pan is easy and will reduce slime. Just don’t add so many that the crowding causes steaming — steaming increases slime.

The acid of lemons or tomatoes can cut the consistency down a bit. Stewed tomatoes and okra are classic.

Finally, selection can play a role in low slime — choose small, fresh pods. The smaller the pod, the less slime you’ll get. The largest pods can be fibrous and tough. You can store your farmers market finds in the fridge for a day or two, but too long or too much causes black spots to appear.

Fellow garden enthusiast and neighbor Cameron Sadler of Southern Pines recently shared her okra enthusiasm, and I will pass it along:

Cameron Sadler’s Garlic-Roasted Okra

Get a large sheet pan, and lay your okra on top of it. Okra should be sliced in half, long way. It’s good to use about one clove of garlic per cup of okra. Slice the garlic cloves into skinny slivers, or mash with crusher. Put garlic on top of the okra. I like to melt a stick of butter, then spoon it over the garlic and okra.

Top with sprinkles of some really good salt, pick your favorite one. Stir it around halfway through cooking, so everything is coated. I roast mine for one hour at 350 degrees.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.

The Kitchen Garden

Return of the Victory Garden

Idle time can lead to busy hands

By Jan Leitschuh

Got time on your hands? Matt and Betty Kuhn did.

They tired of a patch of overgrown blackberries at their Whispering Pines home. They were planning to “do something with it” — someday.

“Then, COVID came along,” recalls Matt. “Betty and I were cocooning at home, and the garden project just popped right up.”

Out came the blackberry tangle. In went, not shrubbery, but garden produce — six varieties of tomatoes, green beans, okra, several kinds of peppers, onions, herbs and garlic.

“Our little COVID-19 Victory Garden,” he says.

In these slower, socially-distanced times, many of us find ourselves sticking closer to home. And suddenly, little produce gardens are popping up where before there were none.

It makes sense for spring 2020. In a flash, we had extra time on our hands. We boned up on simple ways to strengthen our immune systems, from vitamin D to eating a healthy, whole-food diet. The siren call of spring drew us into the sun. We found a renewed enjoyment in going outside, even if it was the backyard. We eyed a sunny spot and began to muse about ripe tomatoes and crisp cukes, pungent basil, watermelon, beets and beans.

At the same time, we were seeing headlines highlighting incredible waste — dumped dairy, produce rotting in the fields, meat-packing plants shutting down, supply chains upended due to the global coronavirus pandemic. Going to a grocery store became an undertaking requiring masks and disinfectants.

We found ourselves ordering seeds and produce plants. Not to replace the grocery store. A little plot of land in the backyard, that’s something we could control in unsettled times. A distraction that could land on a plate.

These and other factors are at play this year, creating what some news reports are calling “the return of the Victory Garden.” National online retailers are reporting seed sellouts and up to a 300 percent increase in sales, with local sellers mirroring that demand.

Food. It’s not just for farmers anymore.

Making light of that which unsettles, one social media meme goes: “We are thinking of planting a garden in case of food shortages. Anybody have any Snickers or Cheetos seeds?”

Despite stores nationally keeping plenty of food on the shelves, runs on certain items may have spooked a few consumers. “I think there are a few people who worry about there being enough in the grocery store — in case the trucks can’t get through or the farmers can’t make do,” says manager Dawn Bowden of Sandhills Feed Supply of Southern Pines. “So they are trying to do a little of their own.”

Backyard produce is nothing new. During World War I, when a severe food crisis emerged in Europe, American citizens were asked to help by growing and preserving some of their own produce. The National War Garden Commission was organized to encourage Americans to contribute to the war effort by planting, fertilizing, harvesting and storing their own fruits and vegetables — that way, more food could be exported to our hungry allies.

No longer confined to rural fields, a kitchen garden habit took root in towns across America.

Victory gardens resurfaced again in World War II. With commercial crops sent to the military overseas, and the 1942 introduction of food rationing, Americans were once more urged to grow their own fruits and vegetables. My parents never lost the habit of those war years, and passed their love and knowledge of kitchen gardening along to me. Naturally, I applaud the recent enthusiasm to stick a tomato or three in the ground.

While there is no government campaign for Americans to utilize idle land to grow produce for themselves, an increased interest in food gardening has emerged again, just as it did in the tough economic times between 2008 and 2009.

Locally, the kitchen garden trend is booming.

“Our veggie plant sales have increased dramatically, and seeds have sold more than ever this year,” says Megan Gulley of Gulley’s Garden Center in Southern Pines. Popular sales include “lots of tomatoes, of course, but also peppers,” she says. “Cucumbers are flying out. Cantaloupe and watermelon are popular, especially for the kids.”

Plant and seed sales at Aberdeen Supply Garden Center have also been “through the roof,” says manager Brian Smith. “We cannot keep everything that everybody wants in stock,” he says. “We’re just selling our stuff so fast.”

The garden story is the same everywhere. “Sales have, I’d say, doubled,” says Bowden. “We’re already at what we’d sell for the year, and its only April.”

The local response doesn’t seem to be some homesteading survivalist urge so much as simply “time on their hands at home,” says Gulley — and pursuing that craving for the taste of fresh produce. Sure, people may have been a little spooked by empty supermarket shelves early on, but taste and time seem to be leading this resurgence.

“We’ve been thinking about this for some time,” says gardener Kuhn, “but never got around to it. You can’t beat the taste of a vine-ripened, homegrown tomato, period. “

That gift of time led to their garden. “We were comfortably and happily ensconced here,” says Kuhn. “COVID came along and gave us the added incentive and time to do it.”

And, with lots of family togetherness, parents and grandparents are looking for projects to share. “We are seeing people bringing their kids in,” says Gulley. “Parents who want to show kids how to grow their own food.”

Bowden agrees: “We’ve seen a lot of grandparents who are keeping grandchildren, so they are buying seeds to show the kids this is where food comes from, so they learn it doesn’t just show up in the grocery store magically.

Most noticeable is the uptick in newbies.

“We are seeing a lot of first-time vegetable growers,” says Gulley. “People approach us and say, ‘I have no idea how to grow a tomato.’ And they are doing it right, too, using good soil and mushroom compost, and starting small, maybe a 4 x 12 area, so as not to get overwhelmed.”

Aberdeen Supply’s Smith agrees: “We’ve had a number of people who say it’s their first time planting a garden.”

Bowden, of Sandhills Feed Supply, says that “with people who have never planted in their life, we try to guide them through it. We have a lot of people just trying out a tomato or a cucumber. And they are planting flowers too, because they want something cheerful to go along with it.”

Smith likes the raised bed kits because they are simple and manageable. “I think it’s the easiest to start with,” he says. “It’s neat, and contained.”

While he’s not a first-timer, Gabe Nickle of Southern Pines hasn’t grown produce in a long while. He chose to set up a raised bed in the backyard. “I haven’t had a vegetable garden for years. Since I had time around the house, I set one up.”

In his 6 x 8-foot raised bed, he first limed the acidic ground beneath, then filled the frame with mushroom compost. In went four tomatoes, two zucchinis, a cucumber, a jalapeño, eggplant and some beans: “I’m looking forward to a Mr. Stripey tomato in a few months,” he says.

For those without a garden, a few large 5-gallon pots, carefully watered and fertilized, could house tomatoes. Cucumbers or even cantaloupe could trail around deck railings. A sunny window box could hold a pungent and antioxidant-rich mix of herbs such as thyme, basil, sage and oregano, or even host a crop of green beans.

Come fall, crops can be switched to collards, onions, arugula, carrots, chard, bok choy, cabbage and lettuces, and to planting garlic, spinach and strawberries like Chandler and Sweet Charlie for harvest the following spring.

But for now, the simple pleasures of working in the summer garden may be enough. “It’s a fun pastime for me,” says Nickle.

Kuhn is thinking of issuing a tomato challenge to his friends and family. “We expect our Virus Victory garden to bring us much joy through summer,” he says.  PS

Jan Leitschuh is a local gardener, avid eater of fresh produce and co-founder of Sandhills Farm to Table.