The Simple Things

One of the greatest joys of gardening is the ability to produce something extremely simple but so profoundly exquisite it can not be had anywhere at any price. That is the report from the garden this week. I want to share with you 4 items that may seem lowly and common, but that soar to stratospheric heights of flavor. Heights unattainable despite years of culinary training. These sublime moments of flavor met each other in one solitary week. And God was the chef. I want to talk about corn, pluots, oranges, and figs.

It has been a good week here at Papa John's Farm. That is Christiana's name for our little place.

Sweet Corn:
Sunday evening I brought corn on the cob to church for pot luck. Small ears, only a scant five inches long. Yellow and white bi-color. Extra sugar gene for sugar enhanced sweetness. If you enjoyed one, you know what I am talking about. One hour from field to table. The sweetest, most tender corn I have ever eaten. No one put butter or salt on their corn. It was beyond perfect as it was. If you want to try this for next year plant a short day variety. For San Diego it should be 65 days or less.

Oranges:
We brought oranges to a birthday party as our food contribution. What Oranges!!!!!Midnight, sweet seedless Valencia orange. The color of this orange is a deep, reddish orange, maybe three shades darker than any other Valencia I have seen. No Seeds! Did you hear that? No Seeds. Extremely rare for a Valencia. Very floral overtones, extremely sweet, intense Spanish orange scent. So juicy you will need paper towels around to prepare the fruit for the table. This tree was nearly killed in a tree felling incident two years ago. I am so glad it survived; there is no comparable orange I have ever discovered.

Pluots:
Three years ago we planted six pluot trees in my Father's yard. He is becoming quite the fruit orchardist now. If you have never had a pluot from a home orchard make friends with someone who has some. Better yet, go buy a couple of trees. Pluots are 2/3 plum and 1/3 apricot in their breeding. Huge, incredibly colored fruit, in many shapes and sizes. The thing I love is the complexity of flavor. Tart skin with sweet flesh that is almost too sweet. Lots of floral notes. Rich musky undertones on some. You really can't describe the flavor. Just get your hands on some.

Figs:
The best for last. Our first figs of the season ripened today. When Adam and Eve sinned in the Garden fig leaves became the first clothing in history. At the British Museum, artful fig leaves were always at arms length to provide "cover" for art pieces should ladies be present in Victorian times. In biblical times figs provided shade as well as fruit. Figs were used fresh, dried, and made into cakes. In fact they were a staple in the Hebrew diet. Fig trees were so prized that they became symbols of peace and prosperity. God told Moses that in Canaan each man would be under his own vine and under his own fig tree. A fig tree became a symbol of God's care and provision. A fig tree was more than a mere plant in the garden. It was a an arboreal gift from YHWH. Today we picked our first Tuscan Strawberry fig and a few large, plump, amber colored honey figs. Bonaventura and Mary Lane respectively. These trees are perhaps more cherished by me due to their scarcity. Impossible to find at any price. Three years ago there were four available all year: one for me, one for my brother Chris' birthday, and two for Tom and Kay Chino at world famous Chino Farms. That is scarcity. I am still looking for one for my mother. I am afraid if you want one, you must go the very end of the line.

For dinner: Mary Lane figs drizzled with a little barrel aged balsamic vinegar paired with a Devonshire farm cheese with dried cranberries from England that I have been aging since last December. Such simplicity, but the combination of the cheese, the balsamic, and the figs is ten times more than the mere sum of their parts. Delightful.

God of Heaven and Earth, thank you, that I may sit under my own vine and under my own fig tree. Thank you for the loved ones in my life with whom I can share such sublimely simple delights.

Some weeks in the garden are like this, but not many. Not many at all.