A Seasonal Celebration of Food

The traditional Christmas celebrations and decorations involving twinkling lights, snowflakes, snowmen, warm drinks and roaring fires make no sense here in Aotearoa New Zealand. But there’s plenty to celebrate at this time of year.

I always know it’s time to start thinking about the holidays when the strawberries and gooseberries ripen. I know it’s time to decorate when I can stroll through the garden, grazing on peas, gooseberries, raspberries, boysenberries and strawberries. When I can fill a colander with red and black currants. When the supermarket fruit begins to look old and nasty by comparison to what’s tumbling off the bushes at home. When it’s hard not to pick too much lettuce for the day’s salad.

Food is an important part of holiday celebrations, and for me half the celebration is the ability to eat my way through the garden. Finally in December, picking vegetables for dinner doesn’t feel like scrounging for whatever’s left from the winter crops. At some point during the month, the question of ‘what is there to cook for dinner’ shifts to ‘what needs to be eaten today’ (or processed and preserved). Jam making is my Christmas ‘baking’. Fresh berries replace the traditional bowl of mixed nuts put out for munching. Fruit ice creams and cordials are our figgy pudding and wassail. 

As we make our way toward the summer solstice, the long days provide plenty of daylight for picking and processing fruit. And because it’s the Christmas season, those long days (and nights) in the garden and kitchen feel more like a celebration than a chore.

Is there holiday stress because of the increase in garden work? You bet—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat in the car, bucket between my knees, shelling peas on the way to the beach so I can get the work done and still have time for fun stuff. And keeping up with the weeds is a struggle while many of the vegetables are still small. Then there’s the inevitable broken tap or pierced irrigation line you find the first time you need to water (which usually happens this month). And the constant struggle with the thieving birds, who want to partake of the garden’s bounty, too.

We may not have snow, but the kānuka flowers are a spectacular substitute.

But overall, the holiday season is a time to celebrate the garden’s summer bounty. It’s a time of fresh fruit and vegetables, and long days outdoors. Next week marks the end of my work year, with schools letting out for summer, and this weekend will be my first jam-making weekend of the season. Let the celebrations begin!

Giving Thanks

Today is Thanksgiving Day in the U.S. Although my husband and I don’t celebrate the day here with a gathering of friends and family, pumpkin pie out of season, and imported cranberry sauce like some American expats, I still like to take the day to give thanks.

Today I’m particularly thankful for a number of things. I’ve been home sick all week. Today is day nine of this miserable head cold and it’s getting really old. After more than a week of all the joys a bad cold can offer, I am incredibly thankful for the luxury of taking time off work when I’m sick.

I’m thankful for the riotous display of flowers outside my office window, which made me smile in spite of feeling crummy. I am also thankful for the vegetable garden’s springtime bounty, which allowed me to hole up at home without need for a trip to the grocery store. I’m thankful for the neighbour who brought me lemons, knowing I was sick. I’m thankful for the warm sunshine I sat in at lunchtimes this week.

Today, wild wind and rain are pounding the garden and house. So today I am thankful for the rain—it was much needed. I am also thankful for a roof that doesn’t leak, and snug windows and doors through which the southerly wind can’t whistle.

Those are the little things, of course. With the drumbeat of war and disaster in the news, I’m also keenly aware of and thankful for the safety and stability of my life. My easy access to food and water. My ability to plant a garden and expect to be able to harvest it. The opportunity to live in a culture in which most people embrace diversity and treat others with respect. 

So, while I’ve had plenty to grumble about this week, I’ve also been blessed in thousands of immeasurable ways, for which I am grateful every day, not just on Thanksgiving.

May your day be filled with things to be thankful for.

Wide-eyed Wonder–Not Just for Kids

I don’t often get to geek out with biologists (other than my own family, of course), so I was pleased to have an opportunity over the weekend to spend a day at Cass Mountain Research Station helping out with a mini bioblitz.

We couldn’t have asked for a better day—warm sun and clear skies made it a pleasure to be wandering around the forests and fields of the research station. And the company was great—everyone eagerly pointing out the mosses, herbs, bugs, birds, fungi and slime moulds we came across.

The enthusiasm was infectious. Back at the lab, folks peered at bugs, fungal spores, slime moulds, and moss, debating and discussing identifications, and calling out in delight when they discovered something awesome.

I was disappointed to have missed the tardigrades under the microscope, though my husband got fabulous footage of one being about as cute as an animal can be.

I was also jealous of the crew who spent the previous night at the station observing the nocturnal creatures—they bagged a giant springtail.

But there were more than enough cool critters to go around. I enjoyed peering at some of the little spiders I swept from the tussocks, and finding a clutch of spiky beetle larvae all curled up together in a rotting stump. The freshwater researchers brought in trays full of wriggling caddisflies, midge larvae, mayflies and other macroinvertebrates. The botanists catalogued a wide variety of orchids, mosses, and shrubs. The soil researchers found slime moulds, fungi, nematodes, and beetles.

When all the specimens were identified and catalogued, we’d logged 579 individual observations of 259 different species. Many of those species were new records for Cass, bringing the total number of species recorded for the field station to 590 and blowing our goal of 500 well out of the water. A fabulous effort, and a thoroughly enjoyable day!

Sometimes it’s easy to forget the simple thrill of discovery—that wide-eyed wonder we had as kids, when everything was new. We get bogged down in daily life, forget to keep our eyes open. It was great to remind myself last weekend that there is joy in simply observing.

Wanted Weeds

A baby lancewood! Isn’t it cute?

Over the weekend, I was weeding the native plantings at the front of the property and discovered a wee lancewood seedling. We’re quite fond of lancewood, and have planted several around the property, but none of ours have set seed yet—they’re all still in their stick-like juvenile form. So the volunteer came in from someone else’s property, no doubt dispersed by a bird.

Normally, weeds are a source of dismay, but I was thrilled to find the little lancewood. I’ve been surprised at how many ‘volunteer’ plants we get at our new property—there’s more rainfall here than at the old place, and plants tend to establish on their own, without my help. It means the unwanted weeds grow better, too, but I’ve been thrilled by what has popped up.

Among the native weeds, we’ve got coprosma, akeake, poroporo, NZ iris, snow tussock and hebes. Some, of course, sprout where we don’t want them, and I have to weed out a fair few. But many get transplanted elsewhere or potted up and given away. I love the thought that our native plantings might one day be self-perpetuating.

Rampant fumitory, rampant along the garden fence.

Among the non-natives there are some welcome weeds, too. Pansies, flax, thyme, oregano, sage, cilantro, peas and fennel are all desirable—in the right place. 

I will also admit to appreciating the flowers of daisy, scarlet pimpernel, scrambling speedwell, and rampant fumitory wherever they grow, but only because these plants are a minor nuisance and easy to pull out. Other pretty weeds, like bindweed, yarrow and vetch are on my hit list, regardless of their flowers.

Then there’s stinging nettle. I hate nettles. But lush nettles are a good sign of fertile soil, so I admit I like to see them pop up and grow well, even if I do pull them out.

Is a plant a weed if I like it? Maybe not. But all these volunteer plants do make for extra work in the garden, whether I appreciate them or not.

The volunteer pansy brigade. Who can complain about that?

Pest Management: Control

Yesterday I wrote about strategies for preventing pest problems. If you’ve taken all the measures you can to prevent pests, but the pests arrive anyway, there are different questions to ask:

Centipedes are predators of many garden pests.
  1. Do I need to worry? Low levels of pests aren’t a big deal. A few aphids, a caterpillar here or there, the odd bite out of a leaf—these things aren’t going to have a big impact on the quality or quantity of your harvest. Just keep an eye on them to be sure the problem doesn’t get worse.
  2. Can I physically remove them? I’m a huge fan of squishing and hosing pests off plants. For example, I have problems every spring with aphids on my roses. If I do nothing, the plants become completely covered, and the blooms are destroyed. So in spring, I keep an eye on the plants, and once the aphids start reproducing, I hose the plants down once a week, knocking off most of the aphids. Usually I only have to do this about three times before the aphids’ natural enemies build up enough to keep them under control without my help.
  3. Can you disrupt a critical part of your pest’s life cycle? Is there a life stage that can be easily killed, or has specific requirements you can disrupt? For example, I keep a close eye on my brassica seedlings, looking out for cabbage white butterfly eggs on the undersides of the leaves. All it takes is a quick swipe of the thumb across the bottom of each leaf to squash the eggs and eliminate future problems with caterpillars. Another example is my recent problems with slaters in my greenhouses. Discovering that the slaters are congregating between cement blocks stacked beside the greenhouse, I’ve started regularly checking and squashing all the slaters in those blocks. (I could also have moved the blocks, to eliminate the slaters’ shelter, but since the population was quite high, I thought squishing a whole lot of them would be more effective for now. Later I will probably move the blocks to make the area around the greenhouse less attractive to slaters). 
  4. Can I make use of them? Pest-covered plants, grass grubs and slugs all get thrown over the fence to my chickens, who turn them into beautiful eggs for me and save me from the disgusting task of squishing the bugs. 
  5. Can I pull out badly infested plants? If there’s a couple of plants badly infested, but the pests haven’t spread much, rip out those infested plants and destroy the pests on them. You’ll lose a few plants, but you’ll protect the rest of your crop.
Pest-gobbling chickens.

In an IPM system, you don’t consider any sort of chemical control until you’d exhausted all the possibilities above. In practice in my garden, I almost never need anything else. Occasionally, if I’ve missed an aphid infestation on a crop that can’t handle a strong spray of water, I’ll use a soap solution to kill aphids. That’s the extent of my chemical control. But if you do need to resort to chemicals, it’s important to choose the right one. The more specific it is to your pest, the better. Many modern pesticides are narrowly focused, and target specific pests, and that’s great. With a narrow target, the pesticide is less likely to kill beneficial insects or harm people and pets. Stay away from broad spectrum pesticides. Also, if you do use pesticides, be sure to follow the label directions carefully, wear protective gear, and dispose of leftover product and empty containers properly. 

Pest Management: prevention

It’s nearly spring, so naturally my thoughts turn to the subject of pests. Our big pest-related project in the garden this year is bird netting a third of the vegetable garden, so we don’t lose most of our tomatoes and peas to the feathered rats.

Aphids–the one on the right is healthy, the one on the left has been parasitised by a wasp, one of the many natural enemies that keep aphids under control in the garden.

As an entomologist whose research focused on Integrated Pest Management, I always have a lot to say about pests. And it’s an important topic—globally, 30-40% of crop yield is lost to pests (interestingly, this figure didn’t change with the advent of chemical pesticides—insect pests are incredibly quick to evolve pesticide resistance). That’s a lot of wasted food!

For home gardeners, fighting pests is a daily task. Every place I’ve gardened has its own unique pest problems. Growing up in Lancaster Country, Pennsylvania, I remember the rabbits munching through the garden. In State College, Pennsylvania it was flea beetles that shot so many holes through my eggplants’ leaves they never had a chance to grow, and the squash bugs that clustered in masses under the leaves of my zucchinis. In Panama, leaf cutter ants could strip a plant bare in no time. 

In my first garden in New Zealand, aphids and rabbits were my main problems. When we first arrived on the property, there were so many rabbits I wondered if I’d be able to grow anything. A rabbit-proof fence was the first garden project there.

In my current garden, birds are my worst enemy—mostly English sparrows and European blackbirds. They strip seedlings bare, eat tomatoes, pull out onions, and scratch away mulch and soil, leaving plant roots to dry out (never mind the amount of chicken feed they snarf down every day!). 

Fortunately for me (and unfortunately for the pests), my masters degree focused on Integrated Pest Management (IPM), so I’m well-armed when it comes to tackling pest problems.

IPM is often called common sense pest control. In IPM, the goal isn’t to eliminate pests, but to minimise the damage pests cause, while choosing the most environmentally-friendly control methods that do the job.

To successfully use IPM, you must first know your enemy. What conditions does it like? What’s its life cycle? What are its natural enemies? How does it find your plants, and how does it travel? Books and the internet can tell you a lot, but careful observation of the pests in your garden is key. The particular conditions in your garden will affect how pests behave, and where their weaknesses are. If you know exactly where pests are and what they’re doing in your garden, you can begin to tackle them more effectively. For example, I know that in my current garden, there are particular varieties of squash the aphids like. By keeping an eye on those particular plants, I can catch aphid infestations early and deal with them before they spread to more plants.

Bird netting protecting pea seedlings

Once you know your pest’s habits, you can begin to consider control methods. Questions to ask:

  1. Can you time your plantings to avoid the damaging stage of the pest’s life cycle? For example, I don’t grow brassicas during the summer here—I have an early spring crop and a winter crop. By avoiding brassicas in summer, I eliminate bad problems with cabbage white butterflies, which tend to reach damaging levels around Christmas. I still have to be on the lookout for butterfly eggs on my seedlings, but once the plants are growing, they easily stay ahead of the caterpillars.
  2. Can you exclude the pests from your crops during critical time periods? For example, psyllids can transmit disease to potatoes and tomatoes, leading to poor growth and damaged tubers. By covering the plants with a fine mesh cloth, I can keep the psyllids out for most of the summer (until the plants are too big for the covers, by which point the psyllids don’t seem to be much of a problem). I do the same for my peas and lettuces—netting out birds until the plants are large enough to handle losing a few leaves. I also net my berry crops and olives before the fruits start ripening, so the birds don’t pick them before I do.
  3. Can you plant varieties the pests don’t like as much? For example, I plant mostly red varieties of lettuce, because the aphids take longer to discover them than they do the green ones. Usually, by the time the aphids find my red lettuces, they’re bolting and ready to pull out anyway.
  4. Can you plant a ‘trap’ crop that the pests like more than your favourite vegetables? I haven’t done this explicitly, but as I mentioned earlier, there are certain varieties of plants I know are particularly tasty to pests, and I closely monitor them and kill the pests on them before they can spread to other crops. A true trap crop is something you’re willing to pull out entirely when it is infested by your pest, in order to destroy the pest.
  5. Can you prevent pests from finding your crop? Interplanting different crops can help disrupt the spread of pests, because they struggle to find new plants to feed on. It can also help you make the most of the space in your garden. For example, I sometimes plant summer lettuces in the shade of my sweetcorn—not only does the shade help prevent the lettuce from bolting, it also seems to hide the lettuce from aphids.
  6. Can I encourage the pests’ natural enemies? Many pest insects are preyed upon or parasitised by the larvae of beetles , flies and wasps. The adults often eat pollen and nectar, so planting herbs and flowers is a great way to encourage many pests’ natural enemies.

All six of the questions above will help you avoid a pest problem in the first place. They are changes in the way you plant or grow your crops that make it less likely you’ll have pest problems. Tomorrow, I’ll look at what you can do once you’ve discovered pests in your garden.

Mt Richardson–a beautiful winter hike

View across Lees Valley from Mt Richardson

Injuries and weather have conspired to keep me out of the mountains for months, but my husband and I finally made it to the hills a few weekends ago.

It wasn’t a big trip—just a little jaunt to the top of Mt Richardson, one of the foothills around Oxford.

At only 1047 metres tall, Mt Richardson doesn’t get above tree line, but a clearing at the top provides a great view of the ‘real’ mountains beyond.

The day we went was sunny and nearly windless. There was snow on the ground, but we ate lunch at the top in our t-shirts, enjoying the stunning panorama spread out around us.

I would say that the only things that diminished the perfection were the mud, the slip that took out a section of track (necessitating a bit of bushwhacking) and the washed-out bridge that meant wading through an icy stream, but those things only added to the fun. 

I look forward to better weather and more outdoor adventures as we head into spring.

Ready, Set, Plant!

Looking forward to scenes like this in the coming weeks …

My seed order arrived last week, and I’ve stocked up on seed raising mix in preparation for this coming weekend.

The middle of August marks the start of spring planting, even though officially spring is still two weeks away (in spite of this week’s cold and snow).

This weekend I will plant hundreds of vegetable seeds—broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, lettuces, spinach, onions, peppers, eggplants, herbs—a combination of early crops that can handle the cold and slow-growing late crops that need a long time in the greenhouse or indoors. 

This weekend is always a bit exciting and a bit daunting. Daunting because whatever winter projects I had going are doomed to the back burner until next April. Daunting because of the vast amount of work to get done in the coming months. And exciting because of the pleasure I get out of growing delicious food, and the joy of trying out new varieties of vegetables each year (this year, I’m trying Bartowich Parsley for the first time, a purple snow pea, a new hot pepper, and a couple of new tomato varieties).

I used to get overwhelmed at this time of year by the sheer amount of work ahead, but I’ve learned to manage the work, and more importantly the stress, by creating a weekend-by-weekend to-do list that runs from mid-August through the end of November. The list includes all the annual garden tasks associated with spring—planting seeds, potting up seedlings, preparing garden beds, setting up trellises, cleaning greenhouses, maintaining irrigation lines, fertilising weeding, mulching … With everything on the list, I know I won’t miss any tasks and everything will be done on time.

Obsessive compulsive? Yeah, probably. But it means I can fully enjoy each and every task without stressing about the fact I’m NOT doing something else. 

So from tomorrow, if you need to catch me on the weekend, I’ll be in the garden. 

Matariki Lights

Photo by Klemen Vrankar on Unsplash

On the eve of Matariki, I woke to an empty house, which meant I didn’t have to tiptoe around being quiet until my husband woke. 

The morning being dark and cold, I decided to start the day with music, and because we’re so close to Matariki and the promise of longer days to come, I searched up music with the word light in the title.

So my day started with Phil Collins’ song, Dance Into the Light, Lorde singing Green Light, Light (My Time Has Come) by Madison Ryann Ward, Nu Aspect’s Light, and One More Light by Linkin Park.

What a great way to start the day, to start the new year, to celebrate all that has passed and all that is to come.

Whatever your plans for celebrating Matariki this weekend, I hope it is full of the light cast by people you love and things that make you happy. 

And as I look forward to the coming growing season, the challenges and opportunities that the coming year has in store, I’m going to try to inject more music into my mornings.

So come on, dance into the light with me. Here’s a little poem I scribbled down on the solstice—it’s equally pertinent for Matariki.

On the darkest day
We turn to the light,
Hope for a ray to warm our cheek.

On the darkest day
We look to the stars,
Imagine constellations
To guide our stumbling steps.

On the darkest day
We light a fire,
Praying the kindling
Is still dry.

On the darkest day
We gather our whānau,
Tell stories of sunlight.

On the darkest day
We find comfort in the night,
In the slow circle of the seasons,
The dance of faraway suns
Across a black sky.

On the darkest day
We recall deeds of light,
Sun-dappled paths,
And warm sand.

On the darkest day,
Even on the darkest day
There is light.

Butter, Butter … and more butter

I checked out a cookbook from the library last week called Butter, Butter, by Petra Galler. I was sold on it before I even opened the book—the subtitle is ‘Sometimes more is more.’ The photography is dark and sensual, with lots of dripping honey, and hands smeared with berries and icing. Who could resist?

Indeed, I’ll be looking for this book next time I’m in the bookstore—it’s one I’d like to have on hand permanently, not just for a few weeks.

I want to try everything in this book. Petra is a Jewish New Zealander, and her recipes combine traditional Jewish dishes with modern Kiwi flavours in a way I find intriguing.

Yesterday I tried her recipe for Mandelbrot, a twice-baked cookie similar to biscotti, but higher in fat, so it has a more delicate texture. 

As you would expect from a book titled Butter, Butter, these cookies are rich—full of butter, eggs, nuts, and chocolate. Although they take some time to make, they’re not difficult, and the end result is beautiful and delicious.

I haven’t had a chance to make anything else from this book yet, but next on my to-bake list is Tahini Shortbread with Salted Chocolate Ganache, then Almond Butter Brownies, then Miso and Roasted White Chocolate Cookies, and then … Seriously, I need to go purchase a copy of this book. You do too. Here’s the Mandelbrot recipe, but don’t stop there. Buy the book. And a few blocks of butter …

390 g plain flour
2 tsp baking powder
1 tsp flaky salt
1 1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
245 g butter, melted and cooled
200 g caster sugar
2 tsp vanilla paste
1/4 tsp almond extract
zest of 1 lemon
zest of 1 orange
3 eggs
180 g dark chocolate, roughly chopped
100 g walnuts, roasted and roughly chopped

For dusting:
30 g caster sugar
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon

In a medium bowl, combine all the dry ingredients, mixing well.

Place the butter, sugar, vanilla, almond extract and zests in a large bowl and whisk with a mixer until combined. Add the eggs one at a time and mix until thick and pale; about 2-3 minutes.

Working by hand, gently fold the dry ingredients into the wet until just combined. Add the chocolate and walnuts, and mix well. Cover the bowl and refrigerate 1-2 hours until firm.

Preheat the oven to 175℃ fan-bake. Grease a large baking sheet.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and divide into two pieces. Form each piece into a log about 33 cm long and 5 cm wide. Place on the prepared tray and bake for 25 minutes.

Allow to cool for 10-15 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 130℃ fan-bake. Then cut the logs diagonally into 2 cm thick slices. Sprinkle both cut sides with the cinnamon/sugar mix, and bake them, cut side up for 20 minutes. Flip the slices over, then bake another 20 minutes. 

Allow to cool completely on the pan.