The news from When Pigs Fly Farm 3.0

A stiff wind scuffed Eastern Washington upside the head Sunday night, effectively ending autumn in these parts. Monday morning -- trees mostly bare -- our lawns were lost under a massive carpet of downed leaves and pine needles. Many still are.

The rowdy riot of red, yellow and orange that made up this almost perfect fall crunch under my feet as I walk Ben in the morning.

We're getting hard frosts now -- downed leaves aren't the only thing that crack under foot in the mornings. And the few poor souls who haven't blown out their sprinklers now wake to lawns and sidewalks encapsulated in shimmering ice.

We knew this was coming. It always does.

With the help of my date and The Miz, my daughter-in-law, we took down the last of The Farm a couple of weeks ago. I harvested a bumper crop of green tomatoes while The Miz gleaned the last of the ripe cherries for one more batch of roasted tomatoes. My date did the heavy lifting -- pulling two very recalcitrant tomato stalks out of the ground and gently depositing them in the "clean greens" trash can. (They were WAY too recalcitrant for the compost bin.)

I stopped by The Farm late last week before our hard frosts. Beets, carrots and kale still gamely rustled in the light October breeze. I snacked on a handful of tiny, precociously sweet strawberries and investigated Farma-natrix Kate's winter crop of radishes, spinach and lettuce now emerging under a protective sheath of plastic.

The Farm feels a little bit lonely in October.

###

So, instead, let's talk about a happier subject: Green tomatoes. If there was a Bermtopian championship for producing green tomatoes this summer, I'd be a front runner for the title.

The month of October was dedicated to cooking with green tomatoes: Here's what's been happening in the kitchen this month*: Green tomato chili verde (love!). . . Hot n' spicy green tomato soup with crispy pancetta (delicious!). . . Green tomato cake with browned butter frosting (Paula Deen: Need I say more?). . . Green tomato mincemeat cookies (major hit at my date's clinic!). . .Green tomato salsa (can you say gone in 60 seconds at soup night the last 2 weeks?). . . Spaghetti con pomodori verdi (a work in progress). . . and green tomato chipotle chili (sorry, folks, that one's in my head).

I have just enough green tomatoes for one more blast: What to do, what to do? Sweet or savory? More salsa or how about green tomato chutney to go with our Thanksgiving turkey?

It shall be the chutney.

*Note: You actually can make any of these recipes year round. Just substitute tomatillos for the green tomatoes. Boom.

###

And finally Percival. Percival the Pumpkin. He grew into a fine young pumpkin specimen this summer. Sadly, his younger brother Paco succumbed to bottom rot at the end of August. It is a terrible way to go; Paco was brave till the very end. Um, literally.

Well, Percival went under the knife last night. He was one tough nut pumpkin to crack. My date finally had to step in and take over the pumpkin-cracking phase of carving a Halloween pumpkin. I managed the seed removal nicely, however. Thank you for asking.

Percival is now ready for his evening of glory tonight: It is his moment to glow before mankind. . . while I make plans for next year (if you pardon my French). The 'hood won't know what hit it. I'm thinking sequenced lightings every 30 minutes. 

Thank you, Percival.  May you shine bright tonight.

Yes. I concur. Percival (middle) ended up looking like
a drunken crab wearing a French beret.
You try carving through 5 feet of pumpkin.

Nevertheless.

Thank YOU, WPFF. We'll see you in the spring. Rest well this winter, my friend.

The news from When Pigs Fly Farm

Well, at least Mr. Stripey has gotten his stripes.

If you are in the market for green tomatoes, run -- don't walk -- to When Pigs Fly Farm. Farmer Jim and I are awash in them at the moment. Well, to be totally accurate, our cherry tomatoes are coming on. Farmer Jim's harvested a first batch and I'm not too far behind with my heirloom "Snowberry." 

Hello, my pretties.

But Farmer Jim's Romas and my badass big boys, "Cherokee Purple" and "Mr. Stripey"  remain resolutely green.

But soft, what patch of color on yonder tomato breaks? (Lower left hand corner. Really!)

What's an heirloom tomato, you may ask? It's probably preaching to choir since heirloom fruits and vegetables are so de rigeur in the foodie world these days, but according to the University of Wikipedia extension office, an heirloom tomato "is an open-pollinated (non-hybrid) heirloom cultivar of tomato."

In English:  They hail from plants that have been grown for hundreds of years, generally from their own, unaltered seeds.

And in English, again: They taste like real tomatoes. Not like the hybridize mash-ups you get in the grocery store -- and sometimes even grow yourself. I suppose it could be argued this is a somewhat harsh, subjective opinion on my part. I mean how do we know what a "real" tomato tastes like if all we've ever eaten are the hybridized versions, which therefore define "real" for us? You know, it's the old "If a tree falls in the forest. . . ." philosophical maze.

Trust me. You quickly learn what a "real" tomato tastes like when you chomp into an heirloom. Which I hope to do in the next few weeks.

In other news:

Poor Japanese Eggplant #2. It's tomato neighbors finally overwhelmed it, denying it any and all sunlight, so I transplanted it. I don't think it's too happy with me these days.

Um, mom? I don't feel so good.

Farmer Jim's pickling cukes are starting to make an appearance. These have to be about the cutest thing on a vine right now. (Sorry for slight blur; it was a bite breezy in Bermtopia yesterday.)








 
And finally. I don't think I've mentioned yet another WPFF subsidiary -- The World-famous WPFF 2.0 Sunflower Patch.

The Patch

When WPFF 2.0 appeared a few months back, the game plan was to let it lie fallow for the summer while it "cooked" for summer 2012. Being the type of person who can't stand seeing a bare piece of dirt without something stuck in it, I asked Farmer Jim if I could throw a few leftover sunflower seeds from the Back Forty onto WPFF 2.0.

Long story short: The sunflowers in the Back Forty are a gigantic FAIL. They obviously do not like sharing a stage with the 18 zillion other perennials I've got growing, but, my, my, my, they do LOVE When Pigs Fly Farm 2.0!

I am in love with this annual. It's hardy -- surviving a temporary swampland conversion the weekend of Assistant Farmer Holland's visit -- and pest- and bastardly-bird resistant (well, until they go to seed, then game over.) The architecture of its leaves and burgeoning blossoms is dizzying.

And they are almost animate -- twisting and turning to follow the sun as it travels across the summer sky. 

Thank you, Farmer Jim! The WPFF 2.0 World-famous Sunflower Patch is a true summertime treat.

Tomato verde

Have I said anything about our bumper crop of green tomatoes this fall? I didn't think so.

Let me just say we had a BUMPER, as in ginormous, crop. When God gives you green tomatoes. . . . then I say, make things with green tomatoes. I present you with Tomato Verde Chili -- a new take on one of my favs, Chili Verde. When served with the polenta (see below), you get this crazy reversed tamale effect. Seriously. True comfort food as we head into these dark, chilly winter (meh!) evenings:

Tomato Verde Chili

2 1/2 c chopped green tomatoes
1 c onion, chopped
4 cloves garlic, chopped
1 link linguisa sausage (or chorizo or andouille, just make sure it's smoked), cut into small cubes
1 t ground cumin
3 T canned diced chiles
1 T flour
2 c chicken broth
1 14.5 oz can fire-roasted tomatoes, drained
1 to 1 1/2 lbs country-style boneless pork ribs, cubed into bite-size pieces (the Wonderfully Patient Spouse gets a serious assist on this!)
Kosher or sea salt
Pinch cumin and cayenne pepper to taste right before serving
Canola oil

Polenta (I know, it's masa in Mexican food, but I had polenta and that's what I ran with)

1 c polenta
1 c chicken broth
1 T sour cream (or plain yogurt would probably do in a pinch)
1/4 t ground cumin
Pinch salt


Place chopped green tomatoes in colander, sprinkle with about 1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt, toss and let "sweat" for 30-45 minutes.

Rinse and drain green tomatoes. Heat 1-2 teaspoons canola oil in deep skillet, saute sausage till browned, remove with slotted spoon and save, reserving flavored oil. Add tomatoes, onions and garlic to oil and begin to saute. Add cumin and diced green chiles and cook till tomatoes and onions are soft. Add flour, stir till veggies are coated, then add chicken broth, stir till thickened, add tomatoes and sausage and simmer for 30-45 minutes.*

*Note: You can stop here and freeze sauce and add pork later OR, do what we did this week -- stick the sauce in the fridge for a day, come home from work, chop up the pork and cook away. OR just cook the whole ding-dong-dang thing at once and consume. Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

If you're not hoarding the sauce for a later day, add the cubed pork and simmer another 45 minutes or so till pork is tender. Season to taste with a little more salt, cumin and cayenne according to taste.

While pork is simmering, prepare polenta:

Bring chicken broth to boil in separate saucepan. Add polenta and stir constantly till you get a thick but soft cake-like consistency. Add sour cream, cumin and a pinch of salt to taste and mix thoroughly. Cover and keep warm till serving. (Hint: If polenta seems like it's getting too stiff you can always add a little chicken broth, adjusting the cumin and salt, and stir to preferred consistency.)

To serve, place a scoop of polenta in deep soup bowl. Spoon tomato verde chili around it. Garnish with a dollop of sour cream and cilantro if so desired. Nummmmmm. Comfort food.

And so it comes to this

Yes, I know. Attractive, isn't it? Although it does seem to be missing something. Say, a car jacked up cinderblocks?

With the threat of temperatures dipping down into the mid- to high 30s the last few nights, the Wonderfully Patient Spouse and I turned to visquine to protect our sadly under-whelming tomato plants. Well, I take that back. We HAVE harvested about 20 cherry tomatoes, but Tigerella is just green, green, green. The early blossom rot, and abnormally cool summer, have taken their toll.

But enter visquine. Three days bubble-wrapped in plastic has done wonders for our reluctant lady. Tigerella has TWO, count 'em two, pieces of fruit starting to turn. That would be two out of about 100 or so, I should probably add.

Tigerella apparently likes a sauna. And I'm open to any and all green tomato recipes.