Two Summer Dips: Recipes Featuring Microgreens!

After a perfect sunny Saturday at the farmers market, Sunday is a day for cooking up all the veggies we brought home. For me, that means the veggies I brought but didn’t sell. For you, perhaps it means the veggies you purchased. This week I find myself with an abundance of microgreens. Normally I enjoy my microgreens in simple preparations that really let their flavor shine. I sprinkle them on top of scrambled eggs, baked potatoes, sandwiches, and soups. I make salads with them, or add them to big leafy salads combined with other greens. Today, I was in the mood for something a little more celebratory for the family Father’s Day Barbecue. Mediterranean flavors were calling to me, and the basil in my garden needed a little trim. I came up with two variations on a fresh-flavored summer dip featuring pea tendrils and buckwheat microgreens.

Mediterranean Microgreens Bruschetta

This version is heart-healthy, vegan, and completely delicious. Enjoy!

Ingredients:
1 box buckwheat microgreens (1/2 pint)
1 box pea tendrils (1/2 pint)
1 bunch fresh basil leaves (1 cup, gently packed)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 12oz jar roasted red peppers, drained
1 14.5oz jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained

Add buckwheat microgreens, pea tendrils, and fresh basil leaves to a food processor and pulse a few times to roughly chop and combine. Add artichokes and red peppers to the food processor. Pulse again until ingredients are uniformly chopped and combined.

Add salt, black pepper, and extra virgin olive oil to taste if desired. Serve atop toasted baguette slices or on your favorite crackers.

Creamy Microgreens and Artichoke Dip

Creamy Microgreens Dip

This dip is a little more indulgent than the bruschetta, and perfect for a celebration. It feels like a treat, but is secretly packed with nutrients!


Ingredients:
1 box buckwheat microgreens (1/2 pint)
1 box pea tendrils (1/2 pint)
1 bunch fresh basil leaves (1 cup, gently packed)
1 clove garlic, minced
1 12oz jar roasted red peppers, drained
1 14.5oz jar marinated artichoke hearts, drained
1 package unflavored cream cheese
5oz Parmesan Cheese, grated

Add buckwheat microgreens, pea tendrils, and fresh basil leaves to a food processor and pulse a few times to roughly chop and combine. Add artichokes and red peppers to the food processor. Pulse again until ingredients are uniformly chopped and combined. Add cream cheese and parmesan and pulse just enough to combine the ingredients.

Add salt and black pepper to taste if desired. Serve cold or warm with tortilla chips.

A Personal Note About Artichokes

Both of these recipes also feature artichoke hearts. Artichokes are a special food in my family. My parents lived in California at the beginning of their marriage, before I existed. They lived in one of the regions where most of the country’s artichokes are farmed, and they learned to love this edible flower bud. It became a family tradition that endured even after they moved to Indiana, where artichokes are less common. I grew up loving them and I’ve tried time after time to grow them in my garden, even though that is challenging here. I’m getting better at it, and I continue to try every year, though I’ve never succeeded. Maybe this year will be the year I get to harvest a fresh artichoke from my garden. I hope so. Meanwhile, I buy them once in a while. They’re available from most grocery stores in cans and jars, and sometimes you can find them frozen or even fresh. During both two years living in the San Francisco Bay Area, I attended the annual Castroville Artichoke Festival. I once took third place in an artichoke eating contest (which is all about strategy rather than stomach capacity). I always dressed up for the occasion.

Amphibians On The Farm

Teeny tiny baby toads have emerged on our farm this week. I’m not sure how many there are (dozens, hundreds?) but there are more than I’ve ever seen. Members of the new generation are currently smaller than garden peas.

That huge boulder on the right of this picture? A small piece of driveway gravel. The giant shellbark hickory shell on the left? Just a little acorn.

Frogs and toads are some of the most delicate members of our ecosystem when it comes to herbicide and pesticide exposure. One study from the University of Pittsburgh found that even at low levels, the common herbicide Roundup® killed 71% of tadpoles, and at normal use levels, the same herbicide killed 79% of all frogs within a day. Because we are an organic farm, herbicides like these have not been used on this land since my husband and I purchased it in 2015. The transformation has been significant and astonishing. After three years, the fireflies returned to our fields in breathtaking numbers. The gathering of butterflies and birds has been more gradual, but the steady increase each year has been noteworthy. After five years I started to notice more reptiles and amphibians. A snake took up residence in my garden, then it raised offspring there. Frog and toad sightings have gradually become more common, and my issues with other pests (insects, voles, etc) are significantly declining as their predators increase. A full seven years after transitioning this farm to organic and regenerative methods, this toad population boom has arrived. The ecosystem is balancing.

Not only are the tiny little toads adorable, they are true garden allies. They eat insects and garden pests like slugs, beetles, and flies. They don’t harm plants, and they don’t bite (they don’t even have teeth).

So what can you do to increase the population of frogs and toads in your garden? First of all, adopt an organic approach to land management, and stop spraying herbicides and pesticides. You can also create a toad habitat in your garden, which should include water, shelter, and native plants. Birds&Blooms offers a detailed guide to creating your own toad habitat. I find that my toads enjoy hanging out in a less formal toad habitat (my potted planters and seedling trays).

Check out this cute little chamomile seedling


Thank you for taking the time to consider the needs and wellbeing of these important amphibian neighbors. I wish you a bountiful summer!

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The Joy of Beeing

A few years ago, I decided to become a beekeeper. I read every book and article I could find on the topic. I joined a beekeeping club and attended meetings for a full year before purchasing any bees. I attended Indiana Bee School. I made decisions about the type of hive I would use, and how many hives I would start with. I built two top bar hives from scratch. I researched all the kinds of bees (there are several “races” of honeybee within the species Apis mellifera), and studied their characteristics. I still found myself rather unprepared for this undertaking, and I made mistakes. I am sure I will make more mistakes, but I will not make the same mistake twice. That is the learning process.

A couple years ago, my bees absconded (left). I decided not to bring in more bees right away, to focus on other farm projects. At last, it is time for bees again!

Note: You may notice from the pictures that my hives look a little different than the rectangular stacking hive boxes you are accustomed to seeing. I use a type of hive called a Top Bar Hive. It’s a really accessible style of hive that is easy to build and customize, fun to work in, and lends itself well to natural beekeeping practices. I built these hives and all their accessories myself on a small budget. If you’re interested in exploring this style of beekeeping for yourself, I recommend Les Crowder’s book “Top-Bar Beekeeping: Organic Practices for Honeybee Health”.

Soaking top bars in boiling water to clean them

To prepare my old hives for new bees, I cleaned all the hive equipment with boiling water and a scrub brush. Bees are very sensitive to chemicals, so it’s not a good idea to use any cleaning solutions on bee hive equipment, even natural ones. Boiling water is the safest and best option. The hot water removes old wax and propolis very effectively, and provides some degree of sanitation. Bees can get sick just like people do, so it’s nice to offer them a clean home. Plus, people might eat some of the honey they make inside the hive.

After cleaning, I repaired any loose or damaged parts, then gave the exterior of both hives a fresh coat of paint. Paint or other weatherproof coating is needed on the outside of the hive, because those outer surfaces may be exposed to rain, and may rot. It is neither necessary nor recommended to paint the inside of the hive. I also built brand new lids for both hives, since the old ones had fallen into disrepair.

Sugar Board

Once the hives were clean and placed into their permanent location, I filled a homemade sugar board for each hive. This is basically just a giant sugar cube. It’s something I normally place inside the hive for winter, just in case they run out of honey. It’s not usual to offer this to them in the spring, but there were some cold days in the forecast when they would not be able to leave the hive, and I didn’t want them to go hungry. They won’t eat the sugar if they have honey available. Note: it’s not recommended to feed bees honey that they didn’t make, or that didn’t come from your own apiary. Commercial honey could make them sick.

Installing a package of bees into a top bar hive

Bees can come in two different ways: packages and nucs. Nuc is short for nucleus hive, and it consists of a small family of related bees with some comb that they’ve made and some honey and eggs that they’ve stored. I would prefer to purchase nucs instead of packages to start my hives, because there are many more local, small farm businesses who offer their bees that way. However, nucs are always made of rectangular frames that only fit into Langstroth style bee hives (the rectangular box kind). The rectangular frames will not fit into my half-hexagonal shaped hive boxes, so I must always purchase packages. Although they’re not ideal, I’ve had pretty good luck with package bees in the past. You can see the package pictured above, it’s a small wooden box with screens covering the largest sides. Inside the package, there’s a can of sugar syrup for the bees to eat during transport, a tiny box that holds one queen bee, and three pounds of worker bees.

Queen Cage Inside Hive

To transfer the bees into the hive, I partially open the hive for their access by removing three bars (top bar hives have bars instead of frames). I place the queen bee in her little box inside the hive (there’s a tiny cork to remove first, so she can eventually get free), and then set the box upside-down with the opening facing the inside of the hive to encourage the bees to go in after her. Some people shake the box so that the bees fall into the hive, but I don’t like to do this. The bees usually find their own way. If they don’t figure it out, I’ll come back later and shake them into the hive. The hive does need to be closed (with the lid on) in time for sunset or inclement weather, for their safety.

Once bees are in the hive, there’s nothing forcing them to stay. You hope they like the hive you made for them, you hope they like you, and you hope they like their queen. If they don’t like it, they can leave. This is one major lesson of beekeeping: bees are free. Bees choose what’s best for their colony. Bees will live in your hive only if they feel like it’s a good deal for them. That’s one of the reasons why I put so much work into making the hive a welcoming place, nice and clean with good smells and a candy buffet.

Two top bar hives

Once the bees were all in, I closed up the hives and placed the lids on securely. Bees fly in and out freely through the entrance holes even when the hive is “closed” with the lid on top.

sugar syrup

Honeybees need a lot of energy to build wax combs where they can store honey and raise their babies. I’m not a big proponent of feeding my bees sugar, but I do always offer it to them during times of stress, like when they are first moving in or when there aren’t a lot of flowers blooming. Sugar isn’t the healthiest food for them, but it’s better than going hungry. I tried out an herbal bee tea recipe from Mountain Rose Herbs as the base for my sugar syrup. I offered both the herb-infused sugar syrup and plain sugar syrup, and it really seems like the bees prefer the herbal infusion.

After the bees had been in their hive for about a week, I opened the hive to inspect their progress. I’m happy to report that both hives are thriving! They have made very different design decisions. Hive #1 really went wild with the sugar board, and built an amazing amount of wax combs that are all white. They built their combs starting in the back, next to the sugar block. Hive #2 didn’t use much of the sugar, and they have built a smaller but still respectable amount of wax combs that are bright orange and located in the expected place, near the entrance. I look forward to all the lessons these bees will teach me in the days, weeks, months, and hopefully years to come!

bee keeper in bee suit

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10 Essential Winter Chores for the Farmer and Gardener

Winter may be the “off-season”, but I find I’ve been working long hours anyway. Maybe not as many hours as in summer, when every chore seems an urgent matter of pure survival. Winter work has more of a squirrel feeling. It’s a kind of preparation for the busy time when I know I will have no more free minutes to learn new skills, prepare new ground, or build new structures. Winter sculpts the bones for the growing season.

1. Winter is a time for building projects

construction projects

My hens are in desperate need of a new coop. It’s not so much that their current coop is bad, it’s just that it’s in the wrong place and too big to move. The new coop is smaller, more agile, and best of all- built in a nice shady place where the girls can chill out, instead of over the sunniest spot in the garden.

2. Winter is a time for preparing new gardens

new market garden

I’ve been busy preparing a large chunk of my back field for expanded vegetable production. There’s more work yet to do, but the foundation has been laid for a promising harvest.

3. Winter is a time to cut and stack wood

Trees die and they fall down. Limbs break during storms. Sometimes when this happens in the right place, I leave the logs on the ground so they can provide habitat for wild creatures. But all too often they fall on the driveway, on the garden, or another inconvenient place. These logs need to be cut, stacked, and put away to dry. We don’t have a wood stove in our home yet, but we hope to add one in the future. Meanwhile, we enjoy using some of the wood for bonfires and craft projects.

4. Winter is a time to prepare for next year’s market stand.

tomato crates

From the dry and boring work of insurance policy comparison to the more fun and creative design projects, I would never have time to work on these things during market season. I am especially excited about these custom tomato crates that I designed and built for multipurpose use. They’re sturdy enough to take into the field at picking time, shallow enough to hold exactly one layer of tomatoes (no bruising), they stack neatly for easy transport, and they’re pretty enough to use as a part of the display in the booth.

5. Winter is a time to grow.

seedling nursery

I’ll fill and refill this indoor seedling nursery multiple times during the winter, as the earliest crops are planted outside and the later crops begin to grow into their space. I’m growing vegetables for the market garden, new test crops to evaluate for the future, and all kinds of herbs and native plants. This work starts in December or January, when I load up my refrigerator with trays of seeds for cold stratification, and continues until June when the last crops are planted outside.

6. Winter is a time to lay the foundation.

bean trellis

In this new edible landscaping garden, I not only built a strong foundation at the soil level with local compost, reclaimed cardboard (as a biodegradable weed blocker), and free local wood chips. I also built a vertical foundation for vining plants using naturally fallen branches gathered from the tree line. That means less wood for me to chop and stack, more opportunities to grow beautiful food (like scarlet runner beans), and less waste and consumerism all around.

7. Winter is a time for tradition.

three rutgers

My grandpa always grew Rutgers tomatoes in his garden, and these incredibly delicious heirloom tomatoes inspired me to become a gardener myself, and influenced my path as an open pollinated vegetable grower. The Rutgers tomato was introduced in 1934, as a joint effort between Rutgers University and Campbell Soup. It was a favorite tomato variety in victory gardens and large tomato farms alike, and was widely grown for many years. This heirloom variety fell out of favor somewhere along the way, displaced by newer hybrids. Seeds called Rutgers are still available, though they aren’t all the same. I am growing plants from a variety of sources this year, hoping to find some that taste just like my grandpa’s. If nature cooperates with my plans, I hope to grow enough Rutgers tomatoes for the farmer’s market this coming summer.

8. Winter is a time for reflection.

I keep a detailed garden journal where I record my inputs, work efforts, harvests, weather, and observations. Winter is a good time to review what worked and what didn’t, which varieties are worth scaling up for the market, which varieties won’t be planted here again, and which varieties may deserve another try in a different part of the garden. Notes are absolutely essential for a gardener or farmer, especially one with her hand in so many different pies.

9. Winter is a time to learn new skills.

stack of books

I read stacks on stacks of books. Winter is a great time to wrap up in a warm blanket and learn new things. But not all learning comes from books, and it’s important to remember that we can also learn from our friends, neighbors, and relatives by helping each other out. Offer to help a friend inspect a bee hive, work together to can tomatoes, weed the bean patch, or pick walnuts. You’ll learn something local and new while strengthening relationships and building community. I helped a friend with a controlled burn this winter, and it was very educational as well as incandescent fun.

10. Winter is a time to train.

Don’t forget to maintain your physical fitness over winter. Get outside and take a walk as often as you can. Practice yoga, strength training, or your favorite sport. I know from personal experience that if I begin the gardening or farming season out of shape, I’m likely to end it in injury. Taking good care of your mind and body over winter is a sound investment.

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Best / Worst

When I think back over the best experiences of my life, many of them were uncomfortable in the moment. My first backpacking trip in Yosemite National Park for example, during which I saw some of the most awe-inspiring scenery of my life to date and brought home several hundred mosquito bites. Or my first garden, into which I poured my heart, soul, and countless hours of time, yet harvested almost no vegetables (but gained a stronger body, valuable lessons, and enough enthusiasm to try again). Cold and snowy days like today carry the same high/low feeling. It’s uncomfortable to be out in the cold tending my chionophobic chickens (they’re afraid of snow) on days like today. But if I didn’t have anyone counting on me, I might be tempted to stay indoors. If I stayed in, I’d miss the enchantment of the day. Now, as I warm up indoors sipping a hot cup of home-grown tulsi tea and writing this article, I look back over my time in the snow with love and gratitude for another best/worst day.

Snow labyrinth

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January’s Harvest

It may surprise you to learn that the garden is still alive. A selection of cold hardy crops have been riding the weather like waves, wilting during the cold and dry periods only to perk up and shine after each warm rain. I haven’t been able to bring myself to harvest, preferring to savor the visual feast of green vitality deep into winter. But the forecast for tomorrow holds a frigid low of 8┬░ F, and I doubt there will be many plants left standing after that weather passes through. Ah well. I was going to eat them eventually, and a fresh feast is especially welcome on a cold, windy night like tonight.

What’s for dinner? Clockwise from Top-left corner: Parsley, Mixed Salad Greens, Ruby Red Swiss Chard, Chioggia Beet, French Breakfast Radish, Malaga Radish, Dwarf Blue Curled Scotch Kale.

A note about planning for a winter harvest: I did plant a specific fall garden (though I got a late start with it). The radishes and mixed salad greens (mesclun) came from that fall planting. The kale was planted in early spring, the chard followed in early summer. They have produced abundantly across the seasons, harvested carefully using the “cut and come again” method. This means that rather than chopping down the whole plant to harvest, I repeatedly snip off the oldest individual leaves throughout the season, always leaving several healthy young leaves on the plants to keep the plant alive and growing. As for the parsley and beets, they were also spring planted. They became shaded by other plants, which slowed their growth and prevented a summer harvest. Once those taller plants were out of the picture, these little lurkers filled in the newly available space.

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The Promise of the New Year

Last night we bid farewell to 2021. It was an intense year for me, packed tightly with highs and lows. I built a garden, I tried my hand at market growing. I read many books, I studied, I wrote. I re-launched my photography business. I stayed home, I traveled, I met new friends, I reunited with old ones. I lost a loved one to cancer. I’ve lived through days filled with uncontainable joy and gratitude and days that flattened me. I haven’t made as much progress towards my goals as I wanted to make, but I have made significant, measurable progress towards those goals. This morning I woke up with the urge to start the new year with hope, with purpose, and with new life. I spent the day planting seeds.

It’s too early in the season to start most of the garden plants that might readily come to mind. If I started my tomato seeds this early, they’d take over my house by the time the last frost has come and gone. But there are certain kinds of seeds that benefit from an extra early start. Many native plants and medicinal herbs retain their own sense of the seasons, and must experience winter before they will consent to sprout. It’s called cold stratification, and it usually takes about two months. Certain other plants may grow very slowly from seed, even though they don’t need cold stratification. This category includes perennial herbs such as sage. I’m starting those seeds now as well.

Seeds planted in tiny soil blocks.  Twenty individual cubes of soil, each with a single seed resting on top, arranged to form a larger rectangle resembling a baked brownie.

My current preferred method for cold stratification when growing transplants is to plant the seeds that need it in tiny cubes of freestanding compacted potting soil called soil blocks. In this configuration, about 240 seeds can be started in a single growing tray, which I then cover with parchment paper and slide neatly onto a shelf in my refrigerator. There it will chill for about two months, with an occasional re-moistening now and again. In March, I’ll transfer them to my regular grow light setup and finish germinating them alongside the familiar tomatoes and marigolds.

One full tray of planted soil blocks, ready to load into the refrigerator! Note: I’ve labeled these with post-it notes, but only because I couldn’t find my label of choice (sharpie on masking tape). These will be replaced with something more sticky and more water resistant ASAP. There are few things more frustrating for a grower than raising a bunch of beautiful and healthy plants that you can’t identify because the label failed.
a day's work of seed planting
An honest day’s work! That little device in the bottom-left is the soil block making tool.

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Compost Safety and Leguminous Rhythms

It’s November in Indiana, and I’m raising little bean plants in my guest room. They’re not an early start for next spring’s garden, but a test of some new compost. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t make enough compost this year to nourish the major garden expansion I’m working on, so I purchased a truckload of locally made compost from a nearby lawn and garden supply shop to supplement what I did make.

Other people’s compost is a little bit suspect these days due to the emergence of a new class of herbicides which persist in soil, in plant material, and in animal manure for up to five years after application. These herbicides are sometimes used on conventionally grown grain crops and grazing pastures, so they can wind up in your organic garden through compost, straw, hay, grass clippings, or manure.

Not only do I try to avoid ingesting herbicides as a personal health preference, and not only do I endeavor to manage my farm organically for myriad reasons, but the whole point of herbicides is to kill plants, so nobody wants them in their garden harming their flowers and veggies for the next several years.

Since these chemicals have such a long active life, sometimes persistent herbicides can contaminate a batch of compost by accident if somebody fed their horse something that once grew in a field that was once sprayed and then the manure from that horse is composted, or if contaminated straw or hay was added directly to the compost pile. It’s difficult if not impossible to verify all the inputs all the way to their origin if you’re a business or a municipality who takes in other people’s compostables and makes large quantities of black gold for a whole community. The best way I’ve found to make sure that not-homemade compost is safe is to test it before spreading it on the garden.

Ergo, I have six pots of Phaseolus vulgaris in my guest room right now, and we’re learning a lot about each other. Most interestingly, I learned that they “sleep” every night. They actually fold up their leaves into a relaxed-looking posture and spend the night that way before stretching out for the sun again the next morning. This botanical process is called nyctinasty. According to Wikipedia, “Nyctinastic movements are associated with diurnal light and temperature changes and controlled by the circadian clock.” Not all plants have nyctinastic movements, but some plants do, including beans. I plan to research more about nyctinasty, but I couldn’t wait to share these photos and observations with you all. See below for more info.

So far, all my beans look vigorous and healthy, and all signs point to safe, excellent compost. I’ll know for sure in another week, and then I can proceed with my garden expansion at full speed.

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The November Garden

Jack Frost arrived later than usual this year, but he’s been persistently nipping at the garden for about a week now. The green tomatoes that didn’t have time to ripen on the vine are beginning to blush indoors on my window sill. The final pepper harvest is pickled, sauced, and dried for a steady supply of winter warmth, and the last of the tender herbs are hanging to dry on my kitchen herb clothesline. But while the aforementioned warm season plants are giving back to the compost pile, many hardy crops are still alive and thriving in the garden.

I habitually prolong my harvest of spring-planted hardy vegetables like carrots, kale, beets, chard, kohlrabi, and collard greens well into the winter, but this is the first year I specifically planted a fall garden. Although It has been an overall success, I’ve learned a few things that will impact the way I grow next year’s fall garden.

Firstly, I planted it too late. I planted seeds in the second week of August, which according to all the charts should have been about the right time. However, I wish I had planted 2-4 weeks earlier. Many garden plants can survive freezing temperatures, but plants don’t grow very much during these months. Having live plants in the garden at this time of year is more of a way to keep vegetables fresh by staggering the harvest rather than to actively grow new vegetables, so it’s ideal if the plants have already reached a good size before the sun fades and the temperature drops. As you can see in the photo below, my August-planted fall garden crops are still baby sized.

The second lesson I learned about the fall garden is that autumn is called “fall” for a reason. Dry leaves are falling all over everywhere, on everything. It’s tedious to hand-pick the dry tree leaves out of these baby greens in the garden beds. I think next autumn I’ll try covering my pint-sized plants with floating row cover material. In addition to protecting the plants from temperature swings, this should keep the falling leaves out of my salad greens.

What worked well? I have three extra beds full of delicious baby salad greens, herbs, and radishes that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, had I not planted a fall garden. Space wasn’t wasted, because I re-planted these gardens in the same spaces as my summer-harvested potatoes, garlic, and shallots. Soil that would have been bare at this time of year is kept aerated by plant roots and protected from erosion. Although my first try may not have been perfectly executed, this project is still a big win.

Landis Winter Lettuce, baby sized, in the November Garden

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Pawpaw : The Indiana Banana

A pawpaw fruit may not look creamy and tropical from the outside. In fact, it looks more earthy, like a freshly dug potato. The intoxicatingly tropical scent beckons you to look closer, and when you do, you’ll find this fruit filled with rich and creamy mango-banana flavored custard. The experience is uniquely tropical for an Indiana native tree fruit. In fact, the pawpaw is the only member of its plant family to survive this far north. Its true name is Asimina triloba, of the family Annonaceae. Its relatives are all tropical, and include the Custard Apple, Soursop, and Chermioya. The pawpaw itself is native to most of the Eastern United States.

Pawpaw fruits ripen during the month of September. Though I’ve planted over 50 pawpaw trees, only two have begun to fruit. These two trees are grafted with named pawpaw varieties. Grafted trees will grow and bear fruit faster than seed-grown trees, and the fruit is predictable- if you graft your tree with wood from another tree that bears delicious pawpaws, your tree will produce identically delicious fruit. The downside of grafted trees is they reduce genetic diversity. I prefer to keep most of my trees wild on this farm to preserve more genetic diversity, but it is nice to have a few special grafted trees mixed in. I harvested a total of six pawpaws this year from my two grafted trees, though I could swear I had 8 on my trees at one point. Humans aren’t the only pawpaw lovers!

A pawpaw sliced in half, showing the creamy interior flesh and few large seeds

To enjoy the fruits, slice in half lengthwise. Remove the seeds and set them aside. The seeds are very large and easy to remove. Use a spoon to scoop out the creamy flesh. Do not eat the seeds or the skin.

If you’d like to grow a pawpaw tree for yourself, plant the seeds right away and keep them watered until winter. Pawpaw seeds will not germinate if they dry out. They are not extremely flood tolerant, but they do prefer moist soil and they can handle occasional standing water. They may need irrigation while they become established, during their first three years of growth. It is my understanding that they do not need irrigation after they reach 3 years old, except perhaps during times of extreme drought. They grow well in part-shade, but they fruit best with more sun. This is a native wild tree that grows successfully in the woods without human intervention. Beyond a little water and a little sun, this tree doesn’t ask for much. I never spray mine with anything, nor do I apply any special fertilizers. I just top-dress with a little mulch now and then, and the trees are happy.

Enjoy pawpaws as soon as possible after harvest. They will keep in the refrigerator for a few days, but this is not a long-keeping fruit. You may wonder why you never see this local delicacy in grocery stores, and that is why. The fruits are delicate and they do not ship well or keep a long time.

A scoop of pawpaw flesh on a spoon.  Looks like ice cream.

Though this fruit has enormous culinary potential and is delicious in a wide variety of dishes, I personally have not developed any pawpaw recipes yet. I’ve simply never had more pawpaws in my possession than what I could eagerly devour fresh, cold, and straight up, so I’ve never experimented with preserving them or baking them into things. People do freeze the pulp for winter use in a similar manner as with persimmons, so if you have a bounty, you could give that a try. I look forward to the day when my 50+ trees all come into fruit and I can finally experiment with pawpaw recipes galore.

The Ohio Pawpaw Festival is a great place to immerse yourself in pawpaw culture. There I’ve tried pawpaw beer, pawpaw wine, pawpaw salsa, pawpaw burritos, pawpaw cakes, fresh pawpaws, and more. The festival also features an educational component with pawpaw-related lectures and demonstrations.

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