Save the seeds

When I recently served my father-in-law some dragon fruit, he said the same thing he always says when I serve him a new and intriguing fruit, especially a fruit whose seeds are prominent or themselves intriguing:

"You should save the seeds. If I still had a garden, that's what I would do. Plant them and see what happens."
 

Well, I am nowhere near the accomplished gardener he is, but I am finally taking his advice. 

I'm not ambitious enough to attempt to raise dragon fruit, a heat-lover native to Southeast Asia, but his words inspired me to direct my attention to my herb garden.

This year's crop included basil, dill, cilantro, oregano, parsley and chives. The oregano, parsley and chives are still going strong; the dill and basil are a mix of viable plants and stalks with dried leaves and seed heads; and the cilantro has entirely gone to seed.

Time to harvest!

First, the dill. I enjoy the dill in its "firework" stage, when I use the leaves and pretty yellow seed head in pickles and salads, but that doesn't mean the party's 
over when the fireworks subside.
 

  There's still some utility in the pale, dried-out skeleton.
 

 I chopped off the dill heads, and then gave them a good shake.

What can you do with the ensuing bounty?

Dill seed was actually a mainstay spice in my rather spice-deprived home. My mother, who has an extraordinarily keen sense of smell, used salt and pepper very sparingly and adventured to the use of garlic only after a late-adulthood trip to Italy. But she used dill seed very frequently in soups. You can also use dill seed in pickles, salads and anywhere you might use caraway seeds - in rye breads or dishes like sauerkraut or braised red cabbage. 

Next was the cilantro, which mysteriously crosses over and becomes "coriander" when I think of the seeds rather than the leaves and stems. Oh, you're supposed to use those terms. 

We use coriander seeds all the time when cooking Indian dishes. But maybe I don't have to buy the seeds in bulk, when I have a coriander-seed-tree right at home?

Once again, it's snip and shake.

If shaking doesn't do the trick, give each little seed a pinch off the branch.

My husband suggested a freshness taste test, but I couldn't really tell the difference between the purchased and the homegrown, other than the bits of tiny debris in the homegrown.


Finally, the basil seed.

Unlike the dill and coriander seeds, basil seeds aren't a mainstream grocery spice rack item. I had grown the basil from seed, and I mainly intended to save the basil seeds for next year's planting.

But a brief google search revealed the limits of my imagination.  

Thai basil seed ice cream!

Trendy salad ingredient! ("Inexplicably, the chefs also spurted a gray dribble of soaked basil seeds on the plate,"wrote the less-than-thrilled New York Times restaurant critic.) 

Tapioca pearl alternative, perfect for bubble teas, smoothies, and other beverages! 

Weight loss aid! (A skeptical comment from the Livestrong website: "Basil seeds, also called tukmaria seeds, are touted as a weight-loss aid because of their ability to swell in water and, therefore, improve satiety. While there's no harm in including basil seeds as part of a healthy weight-loss diet, no studies support these claims.")

Medicinal powerhouse, fighting respiratory, digestive and skin ailments!

Once again, the basic method of harvest was snip and shake. The basil seed heads were stickier than the others, so I pushed the whole mess through a sieve to get my seed yield.

Since most uses mentioned basil seeds' ability to become gelatinous tadpoles with soaking, I decided to soak the seeds and try them out. (No, the photo below is not a grubbier version of the dragon fruit photo at the start of this blog post.)

The resulting concoction was as gelatinous and tasteless as promised. What the heck, if you're in the habit of adding chia seeds for a nutrition boost to your smoothie, I suppose you could try this alternative. I'm going to save the basil seeds for the more mundane task of planting next year's crop.

But this whole exercise has changed my perspective. I'm looking at all of this year's crops with next year's in mind.

Cherry tomato seeds, anyone?

Herbal Essence

If you have a windowsill, you can have a produce garden. If you have a balcony or a backyard, there's no excuse not to. Just do it. Plant an herb garden. Plant it now.

It might be too late to plant from seeds, but it's not too late to plant seedlings. This pot of basil, as it happens, is a mixture: new seedlings from the Union Square Greenmarket; old, nearly dead little plants I bought last season from the Greenmarket; and plants that I raised from a bag of basil seeds. But never mind the basil's origins; think instead about the convenience of having such a bumper crop. Basil for sauce, salads and garnish on demand, minus the hassle of shopping. Even better, you take only what you need from the plant, so you're spared the guilt pangs of watching the leftover half of a too-big bunch turn to slime in the fridge.

I'm growing dill, too. The dill is a bit less prolific, so I've been using it for garnishes or tiny bursts of flavor. I still need to buy dill when I want to make pickles or cucumber salad. Still, the dill justifies its keep with its lovely, lacy yellow seed head, a fireworks version of Queen Anne's Lace. 

I'm getting full mileage from the cilantro, oregano and chives below. I particularly love the earthy oregano, especially with luscious summer tomatoes. I've also just planted parsley and mint, two other workhorses.

I find a few yanks of fresh herbs add incalculable flavor - and class! - to salads and other dishes. 

I'll be thinking about this simple chopped salad in the winter doldrums.

I grow my herbs for their flavor punch, but they are also part of the world of alternative medicine. I was dimly aware that many favorite herbs are nutritional powerhouses but hadn't pondered why. As the food journalist Jo Robinson observed in her important essay, "Breeding the Nutrition Out of Our Food," herbs are powerful because they - unlike many popular fruits and vegetables - have largely been ignored by the formal and informal breeding programs that try to make our produce sweeter and hardier, and consequently their nutritional composition has largely stayed intact. 

As she writes, 

Herbs are wild plants incognito. We’ve long valued them for their intense flavors and aroma, which is why they’ve not been given a flavor makeover. Because we’ve left them well enough alone, their phytonutrient content has remained intact...Herbs bring back missing phytonutrients and a touch of wild flavor as well.

So capture that wildness - at least just enough to fit enough in a small pot or two, in the smiling face of the sun.

The Rules of Attraction

On a recent walk through the Union Square Green Market, I saw several items of produce that I suspected I would dislike. Despite my misgivings, I ended up giving them a try. Why? They were so pretty! My head was turned by their beauty. Was my mind changed as well? Let's take a look.

Head Turner #1: Kale Flowers

Spring has sprung!

Selling point: Beautiful, bountiful and just $3 for a huge bunch. And they must be extremely nutritious - we are, after all, talking about kale here.

Voice in my head says: "Edible flowers" usually taste like sodden tissues. (Slight exception: I do like nasturtium well enough in small doses.)

Verdict: A great purchase for a caterer! The kale flowers would look great on a spring salad at a ritzy event, and one of these big bunches could to a whole lot of salad duty (especially considering the portion size at most ritzy, edible flower type events). As for the taste, well, the flowering kale tasted a bit better than sodden tissues but not enough to inspire me to compose a prissy salad. 

Head Turner #2: Red Mustard


Mustard greens are like escarole and chicory. Okay enough, but why would I buy or eat them when I had better options, such as collard, kale or broccoli rabe?  So I've mostly ignored ignored them. These bunches, however, were real lookers.

I feel a rosy glow!

Selling points: I loved the color! They'd be easy to prepare - just saute with some diced onion. Besides, I needed a vegetable for dinner. 

Voice in my head says: Yeah, it's worth making - once.

I made an all red (purple) dish: I sauteed some finely diced red onion until they became translucent and added the mustard greens.

First some onions

I love my cast iron skillet

I stirred the greens and allowed them for a few minutes. I plated them and added a dash of (red/purple) balsamic vinegar.

I know I've seen these mats before

The red mustard greens lost their reddish color in the cooking, as often happens with red/purple vegetables, but overall the dish retained enough Purple Majesty to please even Prince.

Verdict: Quick and easy to make. The greens retained a bit of their bite.Still, I probably won't rush to make the dish again - I sincerely like a lot of leafy green vegetables more than I enjoyed this one. 


Head turner #3: Radishes

When I was growing up, paprika was a kind of tasteless red dust you used to add some color to beige food and radishes were a food garnish, typically in the form of a radish rose, that wouldn't cause harm if eaten. My husband's family, on the other hand, uses zesty Hungarian paprika as an essential spice, and considers radishes a necessary component of any salad. I no longer push radish slices uneaten around my plate, but I don't typically think of purchasing them either. But could I really say no to these beauties?

Wow

Selling points: Gorgeous. Inexpensive. If I didn't eat them, maybe I could use them as some kind of centerpiece.

Voice in my head says: Youtube probably has some how-to videos about garnishes if the actually-eating-them plan doesn't work out. 

I made a quick salad by thin-slicing the radishes with a mandoline, adding some salt and a handful of chopped dill and garlic chives that I had on hand. 

Verdict: Finally! A dish I thoroughly enjoyed and would make again. In fact, I already have. The radish salad would be a great addition to a sandwich, too.

Overarching conclusion: Well, beauty may lure me in, but it's not enough for a lasting relationship.  But as the song nearly says, One out of Three Ain't Bad.