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Farmin' ABC's: Aphids, Borscht, and Caterpillars |
Aphid Borscht? |
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"Oregano
Doesn't Have Legs, Dad" That's what my 10-year
old daughter said. She's right, you know, and she should know. At
harvest time, I bring in bushels of wholesome if uninspiring vegetables from
our 15 by 30-foot garden. You might think that "bushels" is a
figure of speech, but just ask my indentured laborers: my son and
daughter. They will confirm every word, especially that
"bushel" part. Well,
"uninspiring" is perhaps a tad misleading, for mounds of produce
piled on our kitchen counters, table, floors and hallways has in fact inspired
me to many a great culinary adventure. For instance, take my beets.
Please. (Sorry, Mr. Youngman.) We have a clay-laden soil that beets
evidently love, and they showed us their affection annually. Only
problem is, nobody in the family really likes beets. I've planted them
because they grow so well. Not the best reason, perhaps, but what can I
say? I'm a cheapskate, and free food by the hundredweight really
appeals to me. And, in the case of beets
with the family, to no one but me. There are not a lot of
ways to prepare beets: boiled, served with vinegar (I'm a former Vermonter,
eh-yah.); cold, in beet salad like my Dad made; and in borscht. I'm sure
my children rue the day I learned to make borscht from a pastor in That was the start of my
avocation as The Baron of Borscht. To make borscht, you also
need cabbage. That's easy enough to come up with, as it's always cheap to buy
in autumn. Alternatively, you can scavenge along a rural roadside for
cabbages that have fallen off farm trucks. (Don't knock it until you've tried
it. You are going to cook it anyway, so calm down.) You also need onions,
some spices such as basil (fresh if possible), oregano, a bay leaf, pepper,
and salt. I add a little olive oil for flavor, instead of throwing in
some meat like my pastor friend did. His wife added a secret ingredient:
about a cup of tomato paste. This, she maintained, improved not only the
taste but also the color of the borscht, reducing the soup's otherwise
intimidating purple to a rather inviting magenta. Boil all this up, and
there you are: cheap, healthy, ethnic and plentiful. I like borscht, and
I've had some of the best, and made by genuine Russians, too. At Holy Trinity
Monastery, the beautiful Orthodox church and farm in But nobody but me makes
aphid borscht, and back to my confession.
My particular variation
on the borscht theme is to add broccoli, another vegetable my soil (if you
can call it that) will yield in quantity. There are zillions of ways to
cook broccoli, of course (and don't forget raw, with dips or in
salads). Still, when you fill an entire freezer with broccoli and there
is still more a-comin', you have to use this green
stuff up somehow. I, of course, toss it in the soup, which includes my
minestrone, pea soup, and lentil soup as well as borscht. Now being a natural kind
of guy, I do not use pesticides. No need for any chemical bug-killers
with broccoli or beets, or, for that matter, anything else that I grow:
lettuce, green beans, squash, tomatoes, potatoes or even raspberries. Nope,
just good-old-fashioned cow manure, or grass clippings, or compost, or some
cheap fertilizer from Wal-Mart. Or all of the above. You too can be
drowning in fresh food. Here's a trick to double
your broccoli harvest: after you pick the first few batches of florets, let
the broccoli plant stay rooted and growing in your garden. It will
probably bloom again, and maybe even again after that. Broccoli is tough and
fairly frost-resistant. I live just south of the Canadian border,
remember, and even I can get multiple broccoli harvests up to Thanksgiving. If you do not spray your
broccoli, you do get some wildlife living in it. Broccoli caterpillars,
always quite small, happen to be exactly the color of broccoli itself. They
are thus quite invisible to the salad eater. Fortunately. Or not, depending
on your point of view. My daughter wishes to share with the world a Great
Truth that she believes she has personally uncovered for all time: broccoli
caterpillars turn yellow when cooked. So the simple way to get rid of
them is to lightly steam your broccoli, and the now-yellow critters will be
easy to spot. At this juncture, you
must think that I wantonly fed my family half of the world's insect
species. That is only partly true.
We did eat the aphids. Not intentionally, mind
you. It's just that aphids are extremely tiny, and they literally stick
together and to broccoli stems, up under the florets where they know you are
not looking. Even cooking fails to dislodge them, for their little
boiled corpses are to be found in their hundreds still clinging to broccoli
spears. Some will fall off, and
float in, say, your borscht. And this brings us to the day when my
daughter bravely insisted to me that there were bugs in her soup. "No," I
asserted with all my science-teacher authority, "Those are not
bugs. That's oregano." My daughter was utterly
unconvinced, and upon looking very, very closely, uttered the line,
"Oregano doesn't have legs, Dad." So she was right.
Big deal!? Well, yes. I realized that in my organic zeal, I had failed
to be fair to my family. Perhaps it is not right to feed your kids
bugs. (This story got out, by the way, and echoes of it can still be
heard throughout the school district.) I came up with a chemical-free
solution, though: a week or so before broccoli harvest, I will drop one of my
many unemployed, idle and hungry spiders onto each broccoli plant. Returning
as soon as the next day, there are no more aphids to be seen. Yes, I
like spiders. Insect bites annoy me more than most people, and insect damage
to crops pleases no one. So when anybody finds a spider roaming idly
around the house, they stick an upturned glass over it to save it for
me. What they do not know is that I put these spiders in the garage and
the basement, where they quietly prosper, waiting to be called up to the big
leagues outdoors. My supply is thus assured. I'd like to add that
spiders are basically quite harmless little guys. Even tarantulas are
incapable of doing any serious harm to a person, James Bond movies
notwithstanding. If you are very sensitive to bug bites, have a known medical
condition, or handle Black Widows, the rules are of course different.
But even I do not actually handle the spiders. You can move them about
to your heart's content with a cup, a scrap of cardboard,
or gloved hands. Spiders in your garden do
your bug-killing with Green Beret precision. Early morning outback in my
yard, you can see the dew drops on several dozen spider webs. I think of them
as my employees. They eat insects, and they work cheap. Put them to
work, and sit back. Your broccoli, like mine, will no longer shelter the
bugs that your little princess won't, for some reason, eat. Copyright 2001 and prior
years by Andrew W. Saul. Andrew Saul is the author
of the books FIRE YOUR DOCTOR! How to be
Independently Healthy (reader reviews at http://www.doctoryourself.com/review.html
) and DOCTOR YOURSELF: Natural Healing that Works. (reviewed at http://www.doctoryourself.com/saulbooks.html
) For ordering information, Click Here .
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