A Sweet Harvest

My first job was working two summers during high school at a sweet potato farm just over the county line in McConnell, Tennessee.  Mom got me the gig.  Fred’s Plant Farm was owned by one of her co-workers, and he was looking for weekend and summer help.  Every Saturday morning till I got my license Mom drove me to work.  It was hot work, but as I reflect on those sultry days, I have fond pastoral memories of working on a farm. 

The plant farm's claim to fame was once having their sweet potatoes mentioned on the Martha Stewart show.  It wasn’t the large storage roots we dug each fall that Martha had mentioned.  No, what she had purchased were sweet potato slips, short adventitious shoots that arise from the storage root.  These were the mainstay of the company and easily shipped across the country to tv mogul and master gardener alike.  Selling large sweet potato roots in rickety wooden bushel baskets was just a bonus.

Before I arrived, I knew very little about this root vegetable that thrives in our southeast weather.  At the time, I didn’t even like sweet potatoes.  But working on the farm gave me a great crash course of how to cultivate this southern staple.  To produce the slips, we erected wooden beds about 10 feet wide and 100 feet long initially in a hoop house and then built them outdoors once it warmed enough to pass the fear of freezes.  We leveled the soil, poured the sweet potatoes in by the bushel, and then topped them off with four inches of fresh sawdust.  As the sawdust heated, it nudged them along into sprouting. 

Sweet potato slips grown in a bed of sawdust. The propagules are pulled, bundled, and shipped around the country.

Sweet potato slips grown in a bed of sawdust. The propagules are pulled, bundled, and shipped around the country.

We waited I don’t know how many weeks for the shoots to emerge in the cool spring.  I was so eager to see the little tops push out of the substrate I dreamed one night that I walked into the hoophouse and discovered hundreds of them sprouting.  The next day at work, lo and behold I found some emerging.  After they appeared was when the real work began. We would spend hours pulling sweet potatoes in bundles of 50.  These would be packaged and shipped off.  The last of the batch would become our starts for the fields.  Once planted, they grew until harvested in autumn and then were stored over winter until the whole process would repeat again the following spring. 

Sweet potatoes growing in a field just outside Martin, Tennessee. These will be harvested and used for next year’s starts.

Sweet potatoes growing in a field just outside Martin, Tennessee. These will be harvested and used for next year’s starts.


Ten years later, I’m growing sweet potatoes again.  But, now I LOVE LOVE LOVE these sweet and nutritious delicacies:  sliced and diced with cajun seasoning, mashed with butter and salt, or in sweet potato casserole (or as my friend Stewart Thomas calls the dish butter and brown sugar casserole with a bit of sweet potatoes).  The casserole was what converted me.  A recipe my mom found won 1st place at a cooking contest in Tennessee, and it didn’t rely on any of that extra marshmallow or raisin fluff. 

As much as I love them, it can be hard to find slips every year to purchase, and sometimes they can be quite expensive.  Sweet potatoes are an asexually propagated crop.  Most organs that we store as vegetative propagules like sweet potatoes, Irish potatoes (which is a swollen stem, not a root), garlic (which are swollen leaves, not a root), and the like we don’t store as seed.  These fleshy organs are still metabolically active whereas many seed are dormant or in a resting state just waiting on water.  Therefore, they won’t keep as long as say those tomato seeds from five years ago in the back of your fridge.  That’s why they must be constantly regenerated.  Hence the need to go slip to root to slip. 

To get slips I took a lesson from my farm experiences as a teenager, and I grow my own.  First, I propagated a few at SFA and watched students enjoy learning how to start the little slivers.  I got my starts for school a few summers ago from George’s Plant Farm in Martin, TN.  Funny that the one place I could find several different varieties available in the whole country was only about 30 minutes from my Tennessee home.  We planted them out, and the following fall my Fruit and Vegetable Production class harvested over 90 lbs of sweet potatoes.  We averaged 1.6 lbs for ‘Beauregard’ and 0.6 lbs for ‘Purple Passion’.

 
A sweet potato slip grown by a student at SFA. Probably named so because they slip right out of the substrate with a nice jerk from above.

A sweet potato slip grown by a student at SFA. Probably named so because they slip right out of the substrate with a nice jerk from above.

 

After harvest, I had the students grade the sweet potatoes into large and small roots just like we did back at the farm.    The large ones we sold in our garden market, and the small ones we stored in our classroom for forcing later in the spring.  When time came the next year, we used four-inch-deep nursery trays to start our slips.  We covered them with potting substrate, placed the trays in the greenhouse, and less than a month later the shoots were ready to pull.  If left too long, you could quickly see where the genus gets the name Ipomoea, which means worm-like.  The shoots will grow and wriggle all over the table even from the little bit of soil in the tray.  

Once slips are pulled, a quick jab and pry forward and back with a sturdy shovel makes a good planting hole.  We stick the shoots in, and they form roots very quickly.  Well, let’s be technical.  The latent roots already in the stem emerge quickly.  That’s right, sweet potato stems have roots up and down their length as does tomatoes, coleus, and willow that enable them to quickly gain purchase to new soil or if damage occurs to the stem.  Cuttings I’ve taken in the past put out roots within two days in water.

This year at my house, I’ve played around with making starts, too.  I took some leftover ‘Beauregard’ and ‘O’Henry’ sweet potatoes we purchased, nestled them just under the soil, covered them with a few inches of leaf mold, and less than two weeks later I saw wee little shoots poking out.  After they got a few leaves on them, I pulled them out of the ground, and stuck them into a bed.  They’ve grown beautifully over the summer excluded from deer by our double fence that surrounds our patch. 

Sweet potatoes are excellent soil covers as you can see in the image above. If you can keep them clean early on, they will seal their canopy and prevent weeds from germinating. However, I left the Rhus seedling in the back right corner to be moved t…

Sweet potatoes are excellent soil covers as you can see in the image above. If you can keep them clean early on, they will seal their canopy and prevent weeds from germinating. However, I left the Rhus seedling in the back right corner to be moved to our prairie.

This past week marked approximately 100 days since planting, and the fresh rains that have fallen loosened the soil.  Time to dig sweet potatoes!  I cut the foliage off and carried it to the compost pile.  Then, with the pitchfork I jabbed straight down into the ground careful not to puncture the storage roots, pried the swollen treasure out, and moved down the bed to unearth more.  After all were dug, I gave them a light rinse from the hose but not a scrub.  You don’t want to remove too much protective waxes from the root.  Now, they have been sitting outside for a week elevated to protect from hungry rodents.  This practice helps the wounds heal over.  In the next day or so, I’ll move them inside.  The small ones I’ll keep for next year, and the big ones I’ll eat.  

Thar she blows! You know you’ve got something under the ground when you see the soil around the stem bulged up.

Thar she blows! You know you’ve got something under the ground when you see the soil around the stem bulged up.

The swollen roots of ‘O’Henry’ sweet potato. Getting them out all still attached to the plant is an art in produce transportation.

The swollen roots of ‘O’Henry’ sweet potato. Getting them out all still attached to the plant is an art in produce transportation.

My table runneth over with sweet potatoes.  ‘Beauregard’ on the left and ‘O’Henry’ on the right.

My table runneth over with sweet potatoes. ‘Beauregard’ on the left and ‘O’Henry’ on the right.

And, oh will I eat them!  I’m ecstatic about our harvest this year.  ‘Beauregard’ is an old favorite of mine so I’m thrilled to have a good supply of this orange fleshed variety, and ‘O’Henry’ is supposedly a white-fleshed mutation of ‘Beauregard’.  It’s yield was about 50% more than the ol’ Beau.  So, if it tastes as good, I may have found another favorite variety.

One final note as far as cooking goes.  You can enhance the sweetness of them by starting them in a cool oven.  The enzyme that converts starch to sugar has more time to act if you start them cold than if you pre-heat the oven.  Cause if you’re going to grow sweet potatoes, why not make them as sweet as can be?    

Stalwart Asparagus

Asparagus is a real stalwart, evidenced by the times I’ve seen it in road right-of-ways and farm borders.  My first encounter was a clump catching the breeze off Highway 22 that led to my grandmother’s house in Tennessee.  While I thought this lone survivor from an old timer's garden was a fluke, I’ve since seen the frilly fronds on roadsides in Arkansas, North Carolina, Georgia, and Texas.  

 
Asparagus also thrives in the north as seen here at Chanticleer.  

Asparagus also thrives in the north as seen here at Chanticleer.  

 

They aren’t native.  No, these old landrace plants are relics of yesteryear, markers of some old homestead or the final brush pile containing said homestead.  In these places it has survived abandon and bulldozer and seems to do just fine as the stem slithers under the surface of the ground, gaining a bit more purchase each year. 

The true stem, that is.  Most people call what we eat stems, but the spears are actually called cladodes, modified leaves that resemble a stem.  If you ever want to check, damage the asparagus’s foliage top.  New shoots don’t originate from the fronds as they would from stem tissue.  Instead, they pierce upwards out of the ground from the rhizome.  

These remnants may not be the supped up cultivars we see in seed catalogs today, but they are still delicious.  Asparagus's culinary essence seems to attract all the attention; however, the plants are quite ornamental, an epiphany I had when I saw in our SFA Sprout garden two falls ago asparagus's senescing canary-colored foliage next to blue, bold Rudbeckia maxima.  It was one of those color combinations that gives you pause in the garden and makes you ask, “Why didn’t I think of that?”  The autumn color and the plant's dainty foliage lent to its installation as a see-through structural interest plant in the food prairies on campus last spring.  The leaves on some individuals reached six feet tall before the end of the summer. 

I'm sure I'm not the first to appreciate Asparagus officinalis's texture and color attributes, but I feel like it.  A plant that you can see going 70 mph down the road warrants more use in ornamental plantings.  I don't think I've ever heard of using asparagus as a perennial like I have the tomes on Rudbeckia, Phlox, and Hosta.  I suppose that's because it "only belongs in the kitchen garden."  Rubbish.  

Nestled amongst Bouteloua, Symphyotrichum, Liatris, and more, one might not immediately notice the Asparagus in our plantings.  But, in the fall when the foliage fades gold, it hides no more.  It will hold a light yellow/tan color for the …

Nestled amongst Bouteloua, Symphyotrichum, Liatris, and more, one might not immediately notice the Asparagus in our plantings.  But, in the fall when the foliage fades gold, it hides no more.  It will hold a light yellow/tan color for the rest of the winter.  

 
I didn't even mention the flowers.  While they are no bigger than a rice grain, small pollinators like to jump from blossom to blossom.  The plants are different sexes.  You need a male and a female for fruit set.  The red fruit …

I didn't even mention the flowers.  While they are no bigger than a rice grain, small pollinators like to jump from blossom to blossom.  The plants are different sexes.  You need a male and a female for fruit set.  The red fruit are usually not preferred since they take away energy from the spears, but if you're using the plant for ornamental purposes, have at it!

 

This week, I planted asparagus into our kitchen garden at the house with the end goal of contrasting the fine-textured foliage with herbs and low-growing perennials.  A few students helped me collect some wild plants (thanks Aries, Jade, and Jevon!).  

Dividing the mature clumps took some finger work.  The rhizome can be separated into smaller pieces.  The five clumps we dug resulted in about 16 propagules, each with solid, off-white roots and a few buds.  Finding the growing buds, which resemble turtle heads just poking out of their shell, was fairly easy since on most specimens the remains of last years foliage were visible.  Broken up, the crowns look like they belong in Animalia, resembling a jellyfish with long tentacles.   

A clump just after excavating

A clump just after excavating

Pulling the rhizome apart

Pulling the rhizome apart

See any turtle heads?  Then you've found the buds!  If you need a hint, one is at the base of this large out-of-focus root in the left corner of the photo.  

See any turtle heads?  Then you've found the buds!  If you need a hint, one is at the base of this large out-of-focus root in the left corner of the photo.  

Planting was a breeze.  One has to go wider than deeper.  I prefer to shovel soil out of the first hole, situate the crown, and then use soil from the next hole to fill the first.  The last hole gets the first soil.  Before watering and mulching, I made sure that the buds on the crowns were visible or close to the surface.

Jellyfish washed up on shore?  Nah, just asparagus crowns ready for planting.

Jellyfish washed up on shore?  Nah, just asparagus crowns ready for planting.

By the end of the summer, they’ll form a swaying, verdant wall enjoyed in our side porch rocking chairs for years to come.  Who knows?  Maybe a century or two from now some other lad will find them and ponder from whence they came, and maybe he or she will enjoy how delectable they are as both a feast for the mouth and the eyes.  

 

Creating a Kitchen Garden

We hadn't lived in the house two weeks before making a kitchen garden, and it's creation has delighted us all fall.

I love edible gardening and have since I was five years old.  For me growing edibles is part of life.  It's just something you do.    

Of all the gardens to create here at our new property, we made it first because we wanted to have food we grow available throughout the fall and winter before growth slowed too much. 

Choosing a location was a no brainer.  We placed it right out the door from the kitchen.  You can see the garden standing at the kitchen sink.  It makes zipping out to get fresh thyme for jambalaya, crisp lettuce for Doritos salad, or a few tomatoes for caprese easy.  Since we see it frequently, we can respond with a quick shot of water from the hose or trellis the leaning tomatoes or rambunctious peas.  The area is currently approximately 20 × 20 ft, but we plan to expand it further down our drive to double our growing area.

Just days after we moved into the house, I ripped out the small, struggling rose collection hugging the driveway and porch, killed the surrounding grass, tilled it with my small Mantis tiller, and aerated the soil using my broadfork.  

Adios, Rosa.

Adios, Rosa.

For the design we created a large central path for access and then divided the beds up on either side with the remaining space. 

Then it was planting time!  *Jazz Hands* We planted cabbage, kale, broccoli, cauliflower, Brussels sprouts, and Chinese cabbage in a diamond pattern in the beds, alternating two-one-two-one.  We planted the north side of each bed with everbunching onions.  And, in the large beds near the garage, cherry tomatoes, lettuce, and peas were planted.  I used 8 ft long 2 × 2's for tomato stakes.  Before the peas went in the ground, I walked around the property collecting straight sticks from some shaggy trees that haven't seen a pruner in some time and fashioned them into a trellis. 

The planted kitchen garden.  I didn't mention the Eragrostis spectabilis in the front left corner, but I found it growing nearby and moved it to the kitchen garden to have a seed source for future projects.

The planted kitchen garden.  I didn't mention the Eragrostis spectabilis in the front left corner, but I found it growing nearby and moved it to the kitchen garden to have a seed source for future projects.

Next to the driveway we also planted some zinnias for late season color as well as herbs like lemon verbena, thyme, horehound, chives, and rosemary.  Some like my chives and rosemary have grown in container culture since 2008, and they have responded quite well to getting their roots in some soil.  Underneath this planting, I sowed 'Magma' mustard seed to provide a post-frost ground cover.  'Magma' is a beautiful two-toned frilly type from Wild Garden Seed.  On the south side of the garden, I scattered some 'Champion' collards seed whose leaves made their way into some bacon grease and brown sugar.

The garden beginning to fill in

The garden beginning to fill in

Zinnias coming into color.  The purple cultviar made a great color companion with the purple cabbage.  I made a note to use them more together in the future.  

Zinnias coming into color.  The purple cultviar made a great color companion with the purple cabbage.  I made a note to use them more together in the future.  

The garden looking quite lush.  I still haven't planted that pot!  

The garden looking quite lush.  I still haven't planted that pot!  

 
I realize that cacophony is about sound, but I also think it a great word to use to describe the mish-mash of color here.  You can see in spots the 'Magma' mustard growing underneath.  

I realize that cacophony is about sound, but I also think it a great word to use to describe the mish-mash of color here.  You can see in spots the 'Magma' mustard growing underneath.  

 

We haven't faced too many challenges with this garden.  A Yard Enforcer motion sprinkler system has kept the deer away if they ever even got close.  It sent a lightning bolt of adrenaline through me more than once when I forgot whether it was on or off.  Gophers, a new pest I've never faced, have created mounds in the garden, and it's been frustrating to go out and have to clear the soil off young plants.  We had an explosion of cabbage worms once over night, but Dipel has since helped to keep them at bay.  And, an unusually early frost toasted the tomatoes and zapped the tops of the zinnias, but the cool season crops took the cold weather like a champ.

 
First frost, about 3 weeks early

First frost, about 3 weeks early

 
See the frozen guttated pearls on the center leaves?  I live for little moments like these in the garden.

See the frozen guttated pearls on the center leaves?  I live for little moments like these in the garden.

Even with the challenges, it's been a blast growing our own produce, and we are thankful for the new memories and the fresh produce we are harvesting.  I look forward to seeing how this garden evolves from this simple start into a source for year-round food in years to come.