Yesterday morning I stood in the asparagus bed, and harvested the first spear and in a years-old ceremony, I ate it on the spot. The first spear of the season! It was followed up later that evening by the harvest of six perfect spears that were blanched and enjoyed for dinner. If I could, I'd grow all of my 'food' (I'd have to work on the whole chocolate thing) - I find it deeply satisfying to grow my dinner.
At laugh at myself often, and I especially laugh at my little silly garden rituals. Back during my days in Michigan, I had a wonderful backyard vegetable garden - filled with incredible winter and summer squashes, sweet corn, tomatoes and more - it was in Michigan that I became acquainted with the taste of kolrabi, and learned that if waited to harvest the brussel sprouts after the first fall frost - that their flavor was much, much better. I learned to share my sweet corn with the racoons, as well as with my fellow graduate students - whom, on more than one ocassion, would be found foraging in my garden when I arrived home. I think that each summer I kept many of them in fresh produce.
I always planted potatoes in my Michigan garden, and one year, a friend and fellow student, Inez, brought back with her from Columbia (yes, illegally) a single yellow potato - that was planted in what became officially known as the 'Ceremony of the Columbian Yellow Potato'. I never had the heart to tell Inez that yellow potatoes were in the store everywhere, but we would plant that potato each spring (or one of its offspring) and then when we would harvest them - Inez would always be sure to get some of the first crop. I'd like to think that her yellow potato tasted differently, and perhaps that is what is nice about some memories - they are fuzzy, and one can easily say 'well, matter-of-fact, it did taste a bit differently, didn't it?' and leave it at that. Or perhaps the taste of the potato was less important that the ceremony that celebrated it - and it makes me think that it might be nice to lead a life where we added more ceremony to the simple day-to-day activities that we all take for granted. Perhaps this year I'll have to create a new ritual around the harvest of the first fresh-picked blueberry - or even better, the first homemade blueberry cobbler. Yes, that is an activity deserving of a little ceremony!
Here I go again, procrastinating. I need to hop in my car and head up to Clemson. I'll have the next 4 hours to practice my talk...that should be plenty.
One of my traditions is to eat the first tomato while still in the garden. That way I know it is fresh!
Posted by: Carol | 03 April 2007 at 11:21 PM
I was going to mention Carol's post about her First Tomato ceremony! If you missed it, here's the location:
http://maydreamsgardens.blogspot.com/2006/08/ritual-of-first-tomato.html
We also get rather ceremonious about the first tomato, cutting it into two very equal parts, which is hard if the first one is a cherry style. First pepper usually ends up in peppers'n'eggs.
Pam, I didn't know you could just eat asparagus like that - thought it had to be cooked. Duh. Any blueberry cobbler would be a reason to rejoice.
Annie
Posted by: Annie in Austin | 04 April 2007 at 10:30 AM
Carol and Annie: Too hilarious, I didn't even think of bringing my first spear into the house on a satin pillow. Silly me, my approach is pretty barbaric, isn't it?? (And yes Annie - you can eat them raw!).
Posted by: Pam | 04 April 2007 at 06:52 PM
Pam... I did wonder how you found that post on my "tomato ritual" from last summer. Thanks for the comment on it. (And, thanks, Annie for remembering it.)
You could always bring in the next set of spears on a satin pillow.
Posted by: Carol | 04 April 2007 at 08:11 PM