All’s well until you look closer…
Tiny grape embryos flecked off the vine and into the palm of my hand today, as miserly and insubstantial as grains of sand, victims of a one-two punch: an unseasonably hot spring and ongoing drought. Just a few days ago they were wee but promising, and it looked like we’d see our biggest grape harvest yet. (This is nothing too grand–we have a single vine in our backyard arbor.) But my diligent watering wasn’t enough to give them the fighting chance they needed to become the coveted prize in a battle between the birds, the squirrels and me.
So much for this year’s grape harvest!
We probably won’t get many grapes this year, but now that the leaves are big enough, and while they’re still young enough to be tender, I’m snipping a few dozen to roll up several batches of dolmates. Let’s call this Grape Vine: Plan B.
Even if the grapes don’t produce, we’ll still feast well on the leaves.
I’ve shared this recipe for making dolmates, a.k.a. dolmas or stuffed grape leaves, with you before, but I just wanted to remind myself, as well as you, Hungry Reader, that we can make a meal on things we often don’t think we can. At least we can augment our meals with gleanings from our yards, as long as chemicals and doggie indiscretions don’t corrupt our free food supply.
Remember as a child how you used to pick dandelion puff balls, make a wish and blow? I still do that, my wish being for each seed to yield another cluster of greens. Last week I rounded up quite a haul of dandelion greens from the yard, along with a few stinging nettles (carefully!), and cooked them up with the beet greens and kale from the CSA box and the chard from the garden. And I discovered something about dandelions–when you pull the entire plant out of the ground slowly and carefully you can get the root, too, and it’s sweeter than the greens.
Yes, that’s dirt on these dandelion roots. No, it won’t hurt you. Just wash it off.
While I don’t think my Mother ever ate dandelion greens–she never served them to our family anyway–they fall into the category of plants she called “volunteer.” Any plant she didn’t dig a hole and put into the ground with her own two hands was a volunteer–except for weeds, which were volunteers she didn’t want. So in the case of dandelion greens, her weed would be my volunteer. This designation extended into the animal world, and any pet that wandered up to our farmhouse on its own was a volunteer. We had dozens of cats and dogs over the years, and almost every one of them fell into this category. When I was really small and didn’t know what the word meant, I thought it had to do with the fact that we lived in Tennessee, which is the Volunteer State. Those plants and animals that volunteered were Tennessee plants and animals. Simple.
Okay, back to greens. Let’s see a show of hands. How many of you snip away and discard the stems? And how many of you cut away the leaves on the beets and chuck them into the trash? Not all greens–or all stems–are quite so delectable, but it’s worth giving them a taste test to make sure. I’ve recently discovered that the tiny, tender leaves on small radishes are quite good. And radishes with their leaves make one of the prettiest garnishes I’ve ever seen, so I’d say leave them on for both aesthetics and good eating.
Giving the stems a head start…
We sometimes get as much as a couple of extra servings out of our fav Meatless Monday dish of garbanzos and greens because I add the stems, cut into bite-sized pieces, to the pan. When I’m cooking greens I give their stems a few minutes’ head start before adding the leaves, so that everything finishes cooking at the same time.
Ta-dah!
Hmm, now the purslane is just starting to emerge from our dusty yard. I’ll be plundering that soon. I wonder what other free food is out there that I just haven’t discovered yet…
Purslane in progress…
