Choke on Polysaccharides

About two years back I planted sunchoke tubers in the forage patch. I caught on to the idea after reading some random gardening article during the height of the Ohio winter season and thought that they sounded like a good idea: native, low-maintenance, pretty flowers, edible tubers, perennial. What’s not to like?

They were also amusingly absent from any commercial catalog, so I had to source some from a fellow gardening nerd. They cleared postal inspection, unlike the black bean seeds my sister tried to send me, and I dutifully plopped them into the ground come early spring. A few plants grew, but I decided to wait an extra year for them to fill out before attempting a harvest.

After two years, they had spread quite nicely.

Now that the growing season is concluded, I wanted to try them. So I shoved a gardening pitchfork into the partially frozen ground at the edge of the patch and ripped up a mass. A surprisingly large mass, in fact. It would seem that they spread quickly.

Internet knowledge states that they can be cooked like potatoes. So Liz roasted them. And they were tasty – like an earthy parsnip. But, there were consequences.

Sunchokes store their energy in a carbohydrate very different from potatoes, specifically inulin – a polysaccharide. Polysaccharides cannot be digested (a notable exception being lactose, a disaccharide, though we all know isn’t a universal exception). Potatoes, on the other hand, consist of starch – also a polysaccharide, but upon cooking, breaks down into amylose and amylopectin, which are easy to digest. Inulin, however, does not fully break down into monosaccharides upon cooking, resulting in a food comprised of indigestible carbohydrates.

This leads to large amounts of food for gut bacteria, which ferment inulin into….gas! Lots and lots of gas!

So some more cooking research is needed to work around this better. Or…we eat them raw and have a juvenile fratboy-themed competition on the deck!

–Simon

Wine Cap

I got another mushroom spore block last Christmas. The family biologists seem to enjoy them, and have looped me in. And I diligently grow them. Because they are kind of neat.

The first batch I grew were yellow oyster mushrooms, which had a pleasant mushroom-y taste. Then Dad brought me down some foraged Chicken of the Woods, which I recently wrote about, and tasted quite pleasant with indeed a chicken-type flavor and texture.

But the wine caps, for which I created a dedicated “garden” in a half bourbon barrel with straw, failed to fruit despite clear signs of ongoing inoculation. Finally, after nearly 6 months, they appeared.

So to try them, I applied a light sauté as to not muddle the flavors.

And they were terrible. Sweet and astringent. Yuck. Not recommended. I think I’ll send the rest up with Dad for him to try. What a disappointment for such a long wait. Oh well.

–Simon

Pumpkins (Part 4)

It’s been a while since I had a good pumpkin harvest, and while my yield contains pretty small specimens, ravaged by squash bugs, it’s still better that most years past.

It’s a pretty pile of fall colors, perfect to usher in the season.

–Simon

Prize Tomato 2025

Every year there’s one, usually either a beefsteak or a brandywine. An early fruit, if unmolested by wildlife, will eventually become the largest of the season. Here are the winners from past years (it would not appear that I documented them all):

2017: Undefined

2019: 24.8oz

BFT

2021: 16.8oz

2023: 19.3oz

2024: 14.2oz

2019 still holds the record.

And pushing its way into 3rd place, muscling out 2021, is 2025! Yay!

2025: 17.2oz

Not epic, but categorically glorious.

–Simon

Tomatoes 2024

Getting a late harvest, but they’re finally rolling in. At least the ones I can get to before the squirrels. So here I am documenting the time and photos for my records.

–Simon