Pawpaw Patch in the Making

We planted a pawpaw tree about 3 years or so ago, and now it’s finally bloomed! It does, however, require pollination from another tree, and I’m hoping the neighbor’s trees are close enough, and of a different genetic variety. We shall see, if a fruit appears.

The pawpaw is a bit of a culinary curiosity. Despite their prevalence in eastern North America, I’ve never seen them on menus, probably because the fruit seeds are poisonous and the fruits don’t ripen once picked. That makes commercial operations non-viable, relegating this native to local cuisine. They’re also a bit of an acquired taste, sort of like a mild mango. I used to pick them at the old farm and grandma would make them into pies. A unique slice of Americana.

–Simon

Crocus Expansion

More crocuses were planted last fall, and now they are starting to arrive.

This throws off my phenological records, since these ones are out in the sun and warmer soil. Oh the problems I endure.

–Simon

AI Search and Cotyledonic Polyembryony

I’ve started to embrace AI engines. The aging crank that I am has been reluctant to jump aboard too soon, but it turns out I was thinking about it all wrong. Instead of using it to lazily bypass the process of basic internet research, as its main purpose appears to be, I discovered that I can instead use it to bypass the bullshit copy/paste non-researched web articles themselves. A simple query returns aggregated, compiled, and distilled information; which I can then use to better refine my internet searches to find the actual information that most websites simply scrape and regurgitate. It was, perhaps, a slow revelationary process on my part.

Here’s a good example. One of my tomato starters had three initial leaves. I had never seen that before. My standard internet searching revealed that these first leaves that reside within the seed are called cotyledons. Sounds like a dinosaur to me, but okay. And as a seasoned gardener, I know that tomato seedlings have two cotyledons, not three. What was going on? It was time for Wikipedia to bestow me with closure.

But it didn’t. It just talked about the leaves themselves and their purpose, though not why there would be a non-standard number on a plant. Genetic mutation? Monsanto? Government conspiracy? Tell me!

That isn’t right! It’s some Damien shit right there. Mark of the beast!

But again, it didn’t. So I used an AI engine, and asked it why a tomato seedling would have 3 cotyledons. And it promptly told me that it’s rare, sometimes from genetic mutation, but usually resulting from polyembryony, which happens when more than one embryo forms within a single seed. Furthermore, it’s apparently a non-issue long term, though it causes early variations in normal growth patterns. Now that’s useful information, and also kind of fascinating.

And to drive the point home further, another one germinated, from a completely different variety!

Something in the water?

Most of the seeds I plant are ones I’ve saved, so this double occurrence is intriguing. Perhaps attributed to a statistical Poisson distribution, it could be an unintentional result of my decades-long solanum eugenics project.

Whatever the cause, I’ll be keeping a close eye on these samples. Maybe I’ll have developed new varieties! Or, more likely, the bigger achievement here is that I’ve finally dabbled in AI.

–Simon

Choke on This

I know I settled on “Feist Choke”, but “Jew Choke” just stuck better.

No matter. True to their botanical descriptions, they have done well with very little care, even in the drought we had. I did not harvest any this year, preferring to give them a free year to establish themselves. So far so good, and they have even managed to flower.

It looks like an unremarkable weed, which is how most native plants look.

I have nothing pithy to add.

–Simon

Tomatillo Salsa Verde

Ah the tomatillo – the tomato wannabe that’s forever doomed to live in the shadow of its more popular and better-looking brother. So sad that I can’t even find a picture of past harvests. This year I didn’t even plant any – I just let some grow where they came up on their own.

Part of this aversion is their sticky and slimy skin, surrounded by that annoying husk that needs removal. And they’re very sour. And I had failed to create a good way to use them.

But at long last, I finally have formulated a recipe. Here it is so I don’t forget:

  • Add enough tomatillos to line the bottom of a 9X9 baking dish, cut in half (cut side up).
  • Bake at 325 for an hour.
  • Process through food mill and add juice to blender.
  • Add 1tsp salt, 1/2 white onion, juice of 1 lime, 1Tbsp sugar, 1Tbsp corn starch; and discretionary amounts of white pepper, cilantro, jalapeño, minced garlic.
  • Blend until puréed.
  • Refrigerate until cool.

Ta-daa!

–Simon