Seeds

September 14, 2006

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Saving Tomato Seeds

It’s mid September and sadly most of the container-grown tomato plants on my rooftop are on their last lap. A few green stragglers remain and the vines are starting to yellow and fade. Thankfully I’ve got another crop still running over at my community garden plot where the plants aren’t subjected to the intense sun and heat that causes the roof plants to hit such an accelerated pace. When the plants were producing at full stride, I was so caught up in enjoying (and photographing) the harvest I completely forgot to save some seeds for next year’s crop.

Of course, it’s not too late. I’ve outlined my process for seed-saving tomato seeds below. The process with very wet fruit like tomatoes is a bit different than with a relatively dry fruit like peppers. While peppers are as simple as scooping out the seeds and setting them to dry, tomatoes call for a slightly more complex method. You can, in theory use the pepper method with tomatoes. However, you may have noticed that tomatoes have a gelatinous layer surrounding each seed. This layer is called a germination inhibitor and is made up of a chemical that prevents the tomato seeds from germinating inside the fruit. While the scoop and dry method will remove that layer, fermenting the seeds first will also serve to kill diseases your plant may have contracted along the way.

Fermenting Tomato Seeds

1. Choose a heathly tomato from a healthy plant – While you’d rather save the best-looking tomatoes for eating, sick fruit from sick plants pass on… well, sickness. And remember, you can always scoop out the seeds for saving and eat the rest.

2. Scoop the insides out of your tomato (seeds and all) into a plastic yoghurt container. A lid isn’t critical but it helps with the smell.

3. Label your container with the variety name and set it somwhere warm but out of direct sun. You can prop the lid on but don’t seal it shut. Remember you’re fermenting here so this is going to stink. Find an out-of-the-way spot if you can.

It's READY!

It’s READY!

4. Stir your container once or twice a day until a “nice” layer of white mold forms on top. This usually takes a few days. Don’t leave the fermented goo sitting for too long after this stage or your seeds will start to germinate in the container.

5. Your seeds are now ready to harvest. Thankfully you do not have to dig around in this mess in order to fish them out. All of the good seeds will have sunk to the bottom with all the useless stuff left floating in the mold. Separating the good from the bad is as easy as scooping or pouring off the moldy layer from the liquid. Remove as much as you can without losing any of the good seeds.

6. Fill the container with water, stir, and repeat step five. Repeat refilling with water and scooping until all the bad debris has been removed.

7. Rinse off the remaining seeds in a strainer and spread them out onto a pad of newspaper.

Dry tomato seeds on a pad of newspaper.

8. Set the seeds out to dry for a few days. Don’t forget to label them if you’ve got more than one variety on the go. Take it from me. I always think I’ll remember what I’ve got but I NEVER do.

9. Package your dried seeds, label, and store for next year.

You Grow Girl

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August 24, 2006

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Plantarium

The Gardening Educator in me wants to tell you why products like the Plantarium are not viable tools for growing healthy seedlings. Look for a moment at the product photo. The seedlings inside the vial are very leggy, thin, and weak. They have elongated, delicate stems that will make the transition from the vial to a pot of soil next-to-impossible.

The Gardening Educator wants you to know that you don’t need expensive or fancy gadgetry to grow seeds into seedlings. In fact all you need is good quality seed-starting mix*, and a used plastic container (yogurt containers are good) with a bunch of holes poked into the bottom for drainage.

When the Gardening Educator spots products like this in a store she screams silently inside, “Why?! Why must first-try gardeners be mislead by useless, colourful plastic objects that inevitably result in dead plants and sad hearts?!”

But the Science Geek Kid in me thinks they’re kinda neat.

Seed-Starting Mix Recipe

1 part peat or coir
1 part perlite
1 part vermiculite

optional dash of compost and/or worm castings

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July 9, 2006

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Project “Grow More Food”

It’s time for me to face the cold, hard truth; my plot at The Parkdale Community Beer Garden is officially crap for growing veggies. With every new year I have found that while my soil continues to improve, the light on my tiny plot has been slowly declining. A couple of overhead trees have been growing larger and lusher turning what was a garden on the cusp of partial sun to a garden that is definitely partial if not pretty much (look I’m not yet willing to go there yet) shade.

Partial, sorta, almost, maybe, probably, SHADE.

I finally emerged from the safe and comforting bosom of denial this week to admit that I wasn’t going to get much of a yield this year. The zucchini growing in the plot is a fraction of the size of the plant that is not only flourishing but currently producing fruit in a container on my rooftop. Same goes for the lemon cucumber. Don’t even ask me about the peppers, all of which were positioned in the absolute brightest part of the garden. Even the greens are spindly, pathetic versions of their true selves. I had such excitement for the ‘Romanesco’ broccoli! My beautiful ‘Armenian’ cucumber seedlings seemed to be absorbed by the soil. I have had to face and accept what I have probably advised gardeners about a thousand times over this year alone: know your conditions and grow plants that suit it. Don’t fight nature. Most edibles just don’t do well in shady spots. Grow a woodland garden and get over it. Or a boatload of mint and sorrel. Actually the nasturtiums appear to be kicking major ass and I’ve got enough oregano to keep myself and everyone I know in organic, dried oregano well into middle age.

And there is another up side here. While I was coming to terms with my dilemma I noticed that my neighboring plot — the large one, with the best sun exposure — had gone untouched this year and was quickly becoming a borage, calendula, cilantro, and assorted weeds factory.

The other day I was riding my bike past one of my favorite vegetable gardens and noticed that the usually overflowing yard was empty. And just like that I rode past the next day and discovered the gardener in the yard planting tomatoes. I thought to stop and chat but was instead struck with the idea to plant the abandoned plot. Sure it’s late for tomatoes but I had a few in containers that I had been saving for something else and they were larger than transplant size so it why not take a chance?

I pulled out and dug up the roots of everything you see in the foreground.

My plan of attack was simple: remove all weeds, keep calendula, cilantro, and SOME of the borage (I also discovered garlic chives in there), amend soil (ongoing as my compost reserve was limited), transfer the most hard-up plants from my plot, plant some seeds, and do the whole thing without spending any money.

Stage one of the transformation took most of Saturday. I set out with my favorite cultivating tool removing the weeds that had grown more than knee-high. The sun was brutally hot reminding me for the umpteenth time why this kind of gardening work is done in the spring on an overcast day! But the blaring heat was also a reminder of why this plot is so much better than mine. Sun and heat loving tomatoes, and peppers will thrive here! I will have my ‘Romanesco’ broccoli! There is still hope for the zucchini. I’d be so sick of beans between the plants happily growing on my rooftop and the beans I planned to plant that I’d be having green bean-related nightmares come September.

I required a staking system for my tomatoes but didn’t want to do single stakes like I’d be doing in my smaller plot. It was fine in a plot where the sunny side was at a premium, but I hated the Vlad the Impaler look all those stakes created. Plus I found it annoying if not kind of creepy that every photo of me in the garden looks like I’ve got a stake protruding from the top of my head. It reminds me of that scene in “The Exorcist” where the priest sees a picture of himself with a line through his neck. I liked the idea of adding some height to the garden but didn’t want to spend money purchasing new bamboo stakes when I already had perfectly good (but thick) stakes kicking around. My solution was to set the stakes up like I had planned to do with bamboo but they were too thick to tie, and I didn’t have any tools available for building. As a solution I McGyvered a broken tomato cage over the stakes to keep them in place and braided the top wires together to prevent poking someone’s eye out. It’s not the most attractive “garden architecture” I’ve seen but it’s solid. I sowed assorted ornamental lettuce seed at the base of each tomato plant for added appeal.

It’s hard to see in the pictures but I did remove a hefty batch of borage. I’m allergic to the prickly plant so while I enjoy it’s beauty and the cucumbery flavored flowers, I’d rather use that real estate for peas and peppers. I did manage to transplant everything from the other plot that was faltering, amended the soil, sowed quinoa, shungiku, edamame, bush beans, peas, and assorted greens. I have plans to add basil and onions but I had done as much as I could take in one day.

My upper thighs and arms are killing today proving once again why gardening literally kicks ass.

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June 22, 2006

5 Comments

Growing Hard Beans

Guest post by Emira Mears

Last week, said friend and I were having a drink and discussing the ups and downs of local eating. He happens to be something of a literal expert on the subject and is a true wealth of info on all foodstuffs local. In my dream universe of local eating, life would work as follows: I’d have the time to tend a very large garden that would allow me to support most of our fresh fruit and veggie needs in the backyard; I would can and preserve like a 60 year old Nonna for the winter months; I would supplement my own crop with the bounty of my grandma’s backyard; I’d get the odd harvest from the Farmer’s Market to stock up on things like blueberries and flour; and, we’d indulge in the odd tasty exotics from the Italian deli up the way. (This might not be Martin’s ideal, but he types too slowly to butt in). The biggest thing missing there, aside from canned legumes from the deli, would be sources of protein. I’ve always kind of assumed that save being able to raise goats for cheese, or maybe having a hen house for eggs (something I’m actually increasingly finding myself daydreaming about which is so very ridiculous that I laugh at my own daydreams), that there weren’t that many local resources for vegetarian protein. And here is where the hard beans came in. According to the local expert, it would seem that you can successfully grow hardbeans in this climate. With abandon! Who knew? (Likely many people, just not me). I always thought that our climate was limited to the regular green, wax and odd purple bean for eating at their young and fleshy stage.

My enthusiasm for the hard bean growing project was such, that my friend dropped off a wee paper packet containing some pinto beans this afternoon. Fun times. According to the somewhat bombastically labelled package, the "spotted rooster" bean that I’m holding in my hand there hails from Peru and is over 7,000 years old.

Pinto Beans

A friend came by the office today and dropped off a wee package of GE Free "Spotted Rooster" pinto beans which I’m pretty damn excited about growing.

I’m going to take advantage of the current warm season and get these little dudes in the ground quickly probably on Sunday morning to coincide with the new moon for good luck. I’d like to end up with enough of them to harvest some beans for storing, which may mean going outside of my two square containers. I may just fill up the empty spots in the flowerbeds with a few bush beans, and then pot some. If we can hurry up and eat tonnes of lettuce, I should also be able to squeeze in a square or two.

So thanks James! We’ll see how much protein we can grow here in East Vancouver.

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May 24, 2006

10 Comments