Some years the garden has been in by now. Not this year. Weather is the main culprit causing delay. When it does clear up, there will be some long days of digging, tilling, planting, and mulching. I’m ready, more or less. The greenhouse is full, and supplies are on hand. Once I get going, my experience will help it go quickly. With four weeks of spring remaining, there is plenty of time.
One of my daily reads is Heather Cox Richardson’s “Letters from an American.” I usually read it within a few minutes of it hitting my inbox. She wrote:
I have not been able to stop thinking today of the significance of the timing of the Republicans’ push for this bill, and what it says about how dramatically the U.S. has changed in the past 60 years. (Letters from an American by Heather Cox Richardson, May 21, 2025).
Those 60 years are the main part of my life. I’m old enough to remember the 1950s, and the changes made in the country by Dwight Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, and Lyndon Johnson. During the postwar industrial boom we lived a life close to the means of production yet never considered ourselves to be poor. That all the public parts of my life seem now to be changing is unsettling. I haven’t been sleeping through the night for a long time. The last two days, House Republicans have been debating and passing the budget, giving me something in which to engage in the wee hours. I streamed it before I got out of bed.
The reconciliation is not over by any means. It has to clear the U.S. Senate and then the two chambers must reach agreed language before a final vote and sending it to the president. If today is any indication, Republicans are willing to jack up the debt and deficit to a level that will invoke their Paygo Rule. That means forced cuts in Medicare of up to $500 billion, among other things. For those of us on Medicare it could get rough. The cuts in Medicaid and nutrition programs are directly part of the bill.
My position on this budget reconciliation is if we can’t afford tax cuts, they should not be part of it. Republicans have a history, going back to Ronald Reagan, of increasing our national debt and the budget deficit. By any measure, they are out of control with the budget that passed the House this morning.
I woke up to Cousin Al on the radio when I lived at Fort Benning, Georgia. Each day, across the line in Alabama, he played Christy Lane’s hit song, “One Day at a Time.” Good advice in 1976. Good advice today.
My electric lawn mower was delayed in shipment. Instead of arriving today, it will be tomorrow. I attempted mowing the garden plot using a trimmer, but it doesn’t get the job done. I will clear off the weed barriers to reuse and be ready when the mower does arrive. I need to think a bit before planting this large plot, anyway.
Toward the west will be cucumbers and summer squash. That much is decided. There are green beans for direct seeding, so there will be a row of those. I need to put celery somewhere. I have chard plants started but not in the ground. The hot peppers and tomatoes aren’t big enough to transplant. I guess I will walk the ground, then walk in the greenhouse and the solution will become obvious.
Below the plastic weed barrier is a life seldom seen. Bugs, ultra-soft earth, evidence of rodents and worms everywhere. Starts of plants went nowhere because of a lack of light. The soil made me sneeze as I unintentionally breathed it in. The weather has been perfect for gardening. Except for a quick trip to town to get a lottery ticket, I was at it all day. I was immersed in it. It was spring, as good as it gets.
I couldn’t sleep on Wednesday night so I read José Andrés’ new book Change the Recipe: Because You Can’t Build a Better World Without Breaking Some Eggs. It was a quick read and I was up all night doing it. Of interest was he discussed his interactions with President Biden over the Hamas-Israel War. He described World Central Kitchen in Ukraine and, of course, many of the now famous past operations during which they fed people. I like Andrés for his approach of standing on the ground and talking to people when he’s doing something, as opposed to waiting for committees to decide. It wasn’t a deep book, but I knew little about his origin story before reading it. I’m tired but better for the book.
There have been setbacks in the garden. The riding lawn mower developed electrical problems and will be at the shop for as many as three weeks. It sees heavy use clearing weed growth in the garden so I’ll have to do it by hand until the new electric mower I ordered arrives on Sunday. I need a push-style mower anyway because the ditch in front of the house is very steep and I’m getting too old to survive if the riding mower flips over while I’m mowing.
We are experiencing high humidity that began late Wednesday. Today it was 87 degrees Fahrenheit and very humid. Late afternoon it became windy. I know when to stay out of the garden, so I don’t pass out. Hopefully tomorrow I can get back to work. I can also finish planting the first plots.
One day at a time.
Editor’s Note: Another short post while I focus on the garden. Thanks for sticking with me.
Maple trees have been releasing seeds for about a week. They are everywhere. As mentioned, I think the abundance is because the Autumn Blaze maple is dying and in one last effort at procreation is releasing them. We will hate to lose that beautiful tree.
Another short post today about competing demands for my time.
To get a garden planted I need to focus on that. I have a large garden and only a fraction is planted. I have been turning down other commitments to organize things. Specifically, Women’s March, Indivisible, National Education Association, Veterans for Peace, the county Democratic Party, and others have asked for a part of my time. I have to say no more than yes until the garden is planted.
Partly, as I age, I am slowing down. By the end of a six-hour garden shift, I am achy and worn out. I persevere yet have to manage my time, energy and pain to stay on track to get the right things planted at the right time. Thank goodness there is ibuprofen.
After a walk on the trail, I’ll be back at it. There is always something that needs doing.
Being a bit out of it yesterday after Satuday’s late (for me) festivities, I managed my daily walk on the trail and tended newly planted collards and kale seedlings. Last year was a garden bust for our favorite leafy greens. We are still living off frozen from 2023.
There won’t be much action here for a while. There is a lot to do during gardening season.
Editor’s Note: This is a work in progress for a chapter in my autobiography titled Toward a Kitchen Garden.
Mother was a good cook based on the meals she served us while growing up. She took home economics in high school yet learned most of her skills related to cooking at home. She would make dishes for Father that reminded him of his southern roots, like creamed beef on toast. I remember her meatloaf served with mashed potatoes and a vegetable, her beef soup served on rice, and carrots and peas. The meatpacking plant where Father worked had a full-service butcher where employees got a discount. There were experiences with organ meat (kidneys and liver) which was inexpensive. This suggests a mostly meat as the main dish diet.
Mother was the first woman I knew who prepared tacos in her kitchen. In retrospect, a contributing reason she took up this dish was the introduction of pre-packaged tortillas and other “Mexican” ingredients into our local grocery store before the advent of Mexican food sections like one can find at a supermarket today. It was another chance to use many ingredients normally found in her pantry to make something different and special.
When we ate outside food, Chicken Delight was walking distance from our home. I remember ordering take out or delivery pizza from them more than chicken. When we ate out as a family, it was at a restaurant like the Bell Eat Shop where I mostly ordered a hamburger and fries. We had a long tradition of dining at Riefe’s Restaurant. Smelling their kitchen from our rented home across the alley is one of my earliest memories. Eventually, each of these restaurants closed, with Riefe’s closing permanently on Dec. 23, 2015.
Those things said, I do not have strong memories of what or how Mother cooked, or about what food I ate before leaving for university. Mother kept me out of the kitchen while she was cooking and brought serving dishes to the dining room table where the family gathered for a meal. I did not develop an interest in Mother’s recipes.
I began cooking in my junior year at university. I lived in a trailer home with my high school friend Dennis and tried various dishes to save money and avoid eating out. I tried baking bread and didn’t understand how yeast worked. I used the resulting loaf as a door stop for a while. What food I made during the rest of my undergraduate years is lost in history.
At some point I learned to make tuna and noodle casserole. I served it to Mother before leaving for military service, and then when I had some friends over to my apartment in the military. I liked the taste of it, yet it was not a sophisticated dish. It was what I knew how to make.
Perhaps my most influential culinary experience was in South Georgia. I worked on a logistics project in Ochlocknee in 1997-98. I decided to stay in the nearby county seat at a motel with cable television—a needed escape after working 14 to 16-hour days. I had access to cable television’s TV Food Network.
I developed an insatiable curiosity about food and its preparation. Emeril Lagasse, Mario Batali, Susan Feniger, Mary Sue Milliken, Julia Child and others prepared food on screen, and I was captivated, watching episode after episode on Georgia weekends. Food is a common denominator for humanity, and I couldn’t get enough. My involvement in the local food movement today has its origins in the contrast between that uninviting place in South Georgia and my food escape. There is a broader point to be made than one person’s transient addiction to a television network while away from home. It is that American food pursuits, and the economy around them, continue to be based partly upon curiosity.
It seems clear that American curiosity about food and food preparation drives what we find in markets. It is a commonplace that corn syrup can be found in every aisle of a traditional mega mart, but it is the endless combinations of diverse ingredients that attract our attention then get us to buy. By developing and marketing new things—for example, quinoa mixed with chocolate or chicken, troll or pole and line caught tuna, gluten and GMO free products, and a host of others—purveyors of the consumer economy seek to engage us through the current sales cycle. I suspect we will stop buying at some point, returning to staple foods, or moving on to what the food marketers deem next.
I began using a process I now call “improvisational cooking.” What does that mean? There are two broad categories of cooking. Most regular dishes and meals allow for variation in taste, ingredients, seasoning, and cooking methods. Others, like baking, do not. It’s what I’m doing today, and I believe how many Americans organize their cuisine. It means creating a food ecology from which I pull in elements from our garden, local farms, and area markets to prepare meals based on what’s readily available.
Occasionally I purchase items on-line or via snail mail when I want something that’s not locally available. For example, I recently bought bags of dried Mexican-grown Guajillo chilies and Mexican oregano on-line. At the end of my cooking day, it is a never-ending process that produces, as Tamar Adler called it, “an everlasting meal.” Exploring the symbiosis between traditional and improvisational cuisine is a popular topic when talking to friends and neighbors about cooking.
Improvisational cuisine draws from the broader society. For example, when I make tacos today, typically for breakfast, they are more improvisational than Mother’s were, but use some of the same techniques. I buy raw flour tortillas to cook as I need them and occasionally make my own with corn Masa. The tortilla is a delivery system for a pan-fried amalgam of fresh vegetables, herbs and spices, a sauce, and protein topped with salsa or hot sauce, fresh tomatoes in season, and a form of soft cheese. It is a recognizable dish even though the ingredients vary from day to day and from season to season.
I do use recipes. My go-to recipes are memorized or written in a red spiral-bound notebook I bought on vacation in Stratford, Ontario. In the back I put a few loose-leaf handwritten recipes from Mother and my maternal grandmother. My go-to cookbooks are Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking, Joy of Cooking by Marion Rombauer Becker, and a couple of others. I am downsizing my collection of hundreds of cookbooks yet kept three shelves on display in my writing area. The influence of Mother and Grandmother is more one of technique rather than a particular dish.
An example of a cooking book I read cover to cover is Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal: Cooking with Economy and Grace. More than anything, she presents a narrative about cooking that goes beyond a single meal or dish to how we connect them together. I also read Anya von Bremzen’s Mastering the Art of Soviet Cooking: A Memoir of Food and Longing. Again, for its narrative more than cooking tips.
I studied church and organizational cookbooks extensively. I adopted very few recipes from them. I keep cookbooks that have some sentimental value, ones in which recipes by friends appear, and a set of a dozen or so from my old neighborhood in Northwest Davenport. The purpose of acquiring these cookbooks has been to understand the development of kitchen cookery beginning in the 1950s and ’60s. People used a lot of gelatin and lard back in the day, that’s for sure.
There is a lot of good stuff in cookbooks, although a lot of repetition as well. Over the years I’ve been enthusiastic about certain chefs — Child and Rombauer Becker, Rick Bayless, Mario Batali, Giada De Laurentiis, and Tamar Adler. I’m hoping to find new inspiration in Anthony Bourdain, José Andrés, Sally Schneider and Nigella Lawson. In any case, the result I envision is a new repertory of about 25 main course recipes that have predictable nutritional value and can be made with mostly local ingredients. I also hope to learn new ways to prepare vegetables. Whatever I learned from studying cookery reduces itself into repeatable main dishes made using understandable preparation techniques. A family only needs so many recipes.
I am now lacto-ovo-vegetarian which requires and fosters a constant dialogue about nutrition, cooking, ingredients, flavors and diet. Being vegetarian strips away most traditional dishes, like the ones I ate while growing up. Occasionally we mimic meat dishes in our household with the growing number of manufactured meat substitutes. If we make a pie chart of our diet, those meat substitutes would occupy a tiny slice. I have also been diagnosed as diabetic, which means closer monitoring of blood sugar as well as related dietary changes.
The cuisine we developed in Big Grove Township focused on techniques to use readily available ingredients to make repeatable dishes. We used to regularly eat pasta, pizza, macaroni and cheese, bread, chili, soup, casseroles, toppings with rice, and manufactured non-meat burger patties. Fresh and frozen vegetables are basic. Fruit is seasonal and desserts infrequently made or purchased. With my spouse becoming vegan, elimination of dairy products became my newest learning opportunity as a cook. I continue to develop that list of 25 main course recipes.
When the garden comes in vegetables dominate the plate. Tomatoes are a favorite and we have fresh with most meals while they last. When lettuce comes in, we make big salads for dinner. For the time being, I don’t bake bread very often, eschew meat and meat products, and use only a few manufactured products for their ease and serviceability within the context of our cuisine.
Most nights it’s easy to get a meal ready for dinner. Our repertory includes easy and complex dishes which satisfy if done right. I prepare dinner for both of us four or five nights a week and we are on our own for breakfast, lunch and snacks. It works.
If we are serious about sustainability and local food systems, we must get beyond curiosity, and distraction from the challenges of a turbulent world. We must get to the production of things that matter in our lives on the prairie. At some point during the last ten years my talk about a “local food system” became talk about a “kitchen garden.” The goal of having a kitchen garden is to produce food aligned with our culinary habits that helps meet a basic human need. We have to eat. It may as well be enjoyable. We’ve all eaten our share of food that doesn’t please our palate. A kitchen garden should address that.
A kitchen garden is a reaction to the culture of consumerism. An important distinction is reaction, not rejection. I will continue to buy black peppercorns, nutmeg, vanilla bean extract, refined sugar, and all-purpose flour milled elsewhere. How else will we get such necessary ingredients?
While I am a local foods enthusiast, and my diet centers around being that, I am not doctrinaire. Other people must consume the results of my kitchen work. Despite several issues with his behavior and written output — including bigotry, racism and patriarchy — I like the Joel Salatin idea of a food shed. That is, secure everything one can that is produced within a four-hour drive of home. I am also not doctrinaire about “food miles.” I’ve written often on the topic and if we work at it, we can secure most of our food produced within less than an hour’s drive from home.
For the time being, I’m mostly ovo-lacto-vegetarian, which means consumption of dairy products and the good and bad that goes with them. I’m not of one mind on this. For example, I’ll buy a gallon of skim milk from the local dairy 6.2 miles from my house, yet I’ll also stock up at the wholesale club for half the price. I take local eggs from the farm when offered, yet I also buy them at the club. Maybe it’s best to become vegan and eschew dairy altogether. I’m not there yet.
In a free society, people should be able to do what they want with only minimal restrictions to protect the commons. In our consumer society, that is a joke. For a local food system to be sustainable beyond the initial curiosity of trying it out, something fundamental must change. It is a need— perceived or real— to change from the act of consuming to the act of production. That involves a lot of hard work, and I’m not sure it could be done in the current society.
In my kitchen garden cooking remains a work in progress.
Over the weekend I assembled the greenhouse, moved trays of seedlings from inside the house, and transplanted tomato starts from channel trays into full-sized blocks. I feel I am way behind on the garden, yet things are moving.
The first day outside is always dicey for the seedlings. It is plenty warm, but the direct sunlight can be strong on them. Lettuce is wilting a bit. I make sure the trays are well watered and cross my fingers, hoping they will recover overnight. I’ll have a better idea how everything went at sunrise this morning after ambient overnight temperatures were in the 40s.
The tray of cruciferous vegetables, kale and collards, is ready to go into the ground. The plot is cleared so I just need to turn it over, fertilize, till the ground, lay down sheets of garden cloth and plant. “Just” is doing a lot of work in this paragraph.
While I enjoy watching seeds grow into vegetables and fruit, I have been less enthusiastic about the garden this year. I plan to cut back by two plots, leaving five. When time allows, the plot by the compost bins will be converted into some kind of storage. In time, I may put up a shed for garden tools. I plan to take better care of the plots that are in production.
I am hoping to get a crop, yet also cut back on the number of varieties. I grow what I can use in the kitchen-garden rather than production of the most produce possible for its own sake. It has me looking at things differently. Any more, I put up tomato sauce and pickles in canning jars and freeze leafy green vegetables to use until the following season. If I have a big garlic or basil crop, I make pesto and freeze pureed garlic and olive oil.
I had a pain in my left hip for the last couple of weeks. Today, I relented and took two ibuprofen after breakfast. It worked. I was able to get through a four-hour shift of loading the greenhouse. I don’t like taking pain medication, but after today’s experience, I might do so again. I find it is a gardener’s friend.
This year should be a good year for apples and pears. Every tree has a lot of blooms, including the two newly planted “replacement” trees. Some days it’s good to just view this fleeting event during which we pray for frost to hold off, pollination to occur, and a bountiful crop.
Red Delicious and Earliblaze apple treesRed DeliciousClose up Red Delicious bloomsMore Red Delicious
My reaction to Food for Thought: Essays & Ruminations by Alton Brown is it fills gaps in my personal culinary history. Brown occupied space after the formative experience I had in South Georgia in 1997 and 1998. While working on a logistics project at a clay mine and processor, after a 14-hour shift at the plant I retired to a motel room in nearby Thomasville. There I was exposed to Food TV Network, Emeril Lagasse, Mario Batali, Susan Feniger, Mary Sue Milliken, Julia Child, and others. It was a formative experience yet Brown came along after that period, airing his first episode of Good Eats on July 7, 1999.
During that work assignment I escaped into the T.V. During thirty minute segments I could forget extreme poverty and plain family restaurants that served a meat and three sides in rural Georgia, and engage in celebrity chefs who enjoyed what they were doing as locals did not. I had no kitchen at the motel so the interest was intellectual. My later involvement in the local food movement has its origins in the contrast between that poor, uninviting place in South Georgia and my nightly food escape. I learned a lot from Brown’s television programs when he later came on the cable channel and I watched them back in Iowa.
I didn’t know if I would enjoy his book. As I read, I liked it more with each turn of a page. For the kind of local food enthusiast I have become it is essential reading because of Brown’s unique role in televised, public cooking. Hearing his personal history, especially beginning with the premature and unexpected death of his father, informed the personality I remember from Good Eats.
After Good Eats ran its course, I fell off the Alton Brown bandwagon. I did not care for the stadium-style Iron Chef cooking competitions where he was a commentator. I also missed his coronavirus pandemic home cooking show on YouTube. By the pandemic, I had developed my own concept of a kitchen garden and no longer needed a recipe writer as Brown describes himself in Food for Thought.
The book is a miscellany of stories in the form of a memoir. As such one can both enjoy and not enjoy the writing, chapter by chapter. It was somewhat disappointing to read of Brown’s tobacco use and over-indulgence in alcohol. At the same time, the “Meals that Made Me” series is engaging and insightful. In all, the positives outweigh the negatives which is what I seek in a memoir.
If a person works in a modern, American kitchen, Food for Thought is well worth the time it takes to read.
Ambient temperatures were in the high 70s on Friday. I walked out to the garden and had a look. After dumping the compost bucket into the bin, I turned over a spade full of soil in this year’s garlic bed. The moisture level is about right for planting. I thought I’d give it the rest of the day’s high temperatures to dry and plant garlic today. Last year was such a mess, I didn’t get garlic into the ground in November as usual. My farmer friends tell me with late planting, I will still get a crop.
Some parts of the garden have two years of clean up to do. Tearing down fencing, pulling up fence poles, recovering plastic sheeting for another use, and taking care of the vegetable stalks will require a multi-day project. I’m determined to get a garden in this year.
My views about the garden are changing. For example, the last year or so we have had something digging tunnels in the lawn just under the surface. I don’t know if the pest is eating the roots of grasses and other plants, or what it is doing. I’m inclined to not plant potatoes this season because they are cheap at the farmers’ market or grocer, and it will give the little animals one less food source. Potatoes have never been a main crop for me.
It was good to be out in the warm sunlight with a fresh breeze blowing against me. The soil felt good, the way it should feel after a mild winter. Once I get going, it should take me about 90-120 minutes to get the garlic in the ground.
After planting, it needs mulching. I plan to use last year’s tomato stalks and leaves and grasses mowed into a bag from the lawn. I have to watch this type of mulch more carefully so it doesn’t get matted and prevent the garlic shoots from getting to the light as they grow. With wheat straw you can just mulch it and forget it until harvest. I want to avoid this input cost.
Off and gardening we are. I expect I’ll need more time working the plots to get away from the national news. Respite, as good as it gets.
Journey Home 
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