Tag: volunteer

Featured Image: Frosty purple-hued cabbage.

Hello readers!

My name is Natasha, and I’m the Garden Educator at Cheekwood. My work here involves managing a raised bed vegetable garden (the Cheekwood GROWS Garden) and leading educational programming in this space. In this monthly blog series, I explore cultivated edible plants and our relationships with them in Middle Tennessee.

You may know Brassica oleracea by many names. Collard greens, broccoli, kale, cabbage, Brussels sprouts, kohlrabi – all these vegetables are of the same species, despite how different they appear. They thrive in cool weather and will survive light frosts with no protection necessary, which makes them great choices for an early spring vegetable garden.

When found in the wild, B. oleracea is known as wild cabbage. Its original home is the Mediterranean, where it grows along coastal limestone cliffs. To survive this harsh environment, B. oleracea stores lots of water and nutrients within its thick, waxy leaves, like a succulent. In its second year of growth, it uses that nutrient storage to produce bright yellow flowers and reproduce.

The nutrient density of wild cabbage was likely attractive to the people who first chose to eat and grow the plant. Who exactly these people were is difficult to trace. What is certain is that many farmers, across regions and cultures, selectively bred B. oleracea over thousands of years to produce an extraordinary variety of vegetables. While this is not an uncommon practice in agriculture (both beets and chard come from the species Beta vulgaris), B. oleracea provides the most striking example of the power of artificial selection. From this single plant we have developed many vegetables that are cultivars (cultivated varieties) highlighting different parts of the plant:

• Collards and kale – bred by farmers for their leaves
• Broccoli and cauliflower – these are large inflorescences (the flowering parts of the plant)
• Cabbage – a massive terminal bud
• Brussels sprouts – a collection of lateral buds (this is why they look like tiny cabbages)
• Kohlrabi – a very swollen stem

Springtime curly kale.

December harvest of collards, kale, and bok choy (a different brassica species, B. napa).

Collard greens also have a history of subsistence agriculture. Enslaved people laboring on plantations in the South relied on the food they grew in their vegetable gardens for survival. In addition to having little time or resources with which to grow this food, they were limited to growing a select few crops, collards being one of them. By braising collards with ham hocks, they brought the West African culinary tradition of stewed greens to the South and created a life-sustaining dish that remains a soul food staple to this day.

And then we have kale, relatively unknown in the United States until the 2010s, when it rocketed to stardom as a “superfood” touted by nutritionists, celebrities, and recipe bloggers alike for its many health benefits. The USDA reported that from 2007 to 2012, the number of farms growing kale increased from 1,000 to 2,500. Much of this growth happened in the South – today Georgia is second only to California in kale production.

Cross-striped caterpillars enjoying some collard greens.

But behind the expensive smoothies, salads, and grain bowls is a vegetable that, just like cabbage and collards, has historically fed rural communities. In Scotland, kale was once so widely consumed that the Scots word “kail” became synonymous with dinner. And yes, kale is a healthy vegetable with high concentrations of vitamins and protein. But other cultivars of B. oleracea don’t fall far behind in that regard. Where are all the cauliflower smoothies?

If you’re hoping to grow B. oleracea crops this spring, I recommend planting seeds outdoors as soon as your soil is workable (i.e., not frozen). Alternatively, you could start seedlings indoors in February and transplant them outdoors in March. Our cool season is short, and out of these veggies only collards are particularly heat tolerant. I like to cover brassica crops with protective netting until they are fully grown. This prevents small critters from gobbling the emerging seedlings, and protects growing plants from cabbage moths, who will lay eggs on the underside of brassica leaves that quickly turn into hungry caterpillars. Happy gardening!

Kale Pesto

All B. oleracea crops contain chemical compounds called glucosinolates, which hang out inside the plant’s cells until a pathogen, insect, or herbivore attacks. As soon as the cells are damaged, glucosinolates undergo a chemical reaction and turn into mustard oils. These pungent compounds are unpleasant and sometimes toxic to many insects that would otherwise eat brassicas.

By blending kale into a pesto, you are causing this chemical reaction to occur a million times over, all at once. Dramatic! But don’t worry  – in this recipe, the acidic lemon juice and rich parmesan cheese balance out the mustard oil bitterness of the kale.

Ingredients:

• 2 cups kale, roughly chopped
• 3 cloves garlic
• 3/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
• 1 cup walnuts
• Juice of 1/2 lemon
• 2/3 cup olive oil
• Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

1. Add all ingredients except olive oil to a food processor and blend until thoroughly combined.
2. Slowly add olive oil through the chute of the food processor while continuing to blend.
3. Adjust for seasoning, then serve with your favorite pasta or protein.

Featured Image: Close-up of a marigold in full bloom.

A swallowtail butterfly lands on a marigold.

Hello readers!

My name is Natasha, and I’m the Garden Educator at Cheekwood. My work here involves managing a raised bed vegetable garden (the Cheekwood GROWS Garden) and leading educational programming in this space. In this monthly blog series, I explore cultivated edible plants and our relationships with them in Middle Tennessee.

In Tennessee, marigolds are prolific and easy-to-grow annuals that put on a show all summer long. They are purported to keep pests out of a vegetable garden and are a favorite of butterflies and bees. While certainly not frost tolerant, they will happily bloom well into the fall and reseed for the following year. Just like many culinary herbs, they are edible yet conveniently undesirable to garden foragers such as deer and rabbits. The petals can be used to make herbal tea or tossed in a salad to add some zing.

There are around 50 species of marigold in the Tagetes genus, all of which are native to Central and South America. The showiest is Tagetes erecta, known most aptly by the common name Mexican marigold. I grow these in the raised beds of the Cheekwood GROWS Garden, where without fail they bend and snap under the weight of their own giant blooms and seem to fight against every attempt I make to stake them upright. I don’t mind, though, because their bright orange petals and intense, citrusy aroma are captivating, and it wouldn’t feel like summer without them.

Marigolds are orange because they contain high concentrations of carotenoids, a type of pigment that is also responsible for the vibrant colors of carrots, sweet potatoes, pumpkins, and deciduous leaves in the fall. Carotenoids are ubiquitous and essential in the world of plants; they help them survive high UV levels, attract pollinators, and complete photosynthesis.

The flower’s captivating scent comes from a complex cocktail of chemical compounds called monoterpenes (one of these monoterpenes is limonene, which can also be found in citrus fruits!). Strongly scented monoterpenes allow marigolds to deter predators – this is why gardeners will often plant marigolds among vegetables as a means of pest control.

A marigold about to bloom.

In the case of the Mexican marigold, carotenoids and monoterpenes have an effect unrelated to biological function: Humans have valued and cultivated the brightly colored and scented flowers for hundreds of years. This is not an uncommon phenomenon – all cultivated plants have some sort of aesthetic, medicinal, or nutritional value – but Mexican marigolds have gained cultural importance around the globe, and I think that this is a lovely unintended consequence.

Tagetes erecta were cultivated by the Aztecs as well as the Mesoamerican civilizations that preceded them. In the Nahuatl language, the word for this flower is cempoalxóchitl, meaning “flower of 20 petals”– likely a reference to the plant’s ability to produce an abundance of intricate blooms. The Aztecs selectively bred cempoalxóchitl to develop large flower heads and vibrant colors, and used them extensively in medicine, celebrations, and rituals.

In the 16th century, Spanish colonizers took marigold seeds from the Aztecs back to Spain, and so began the plant’s globalization. They became popular ornamentals in gardens throughout much of Europe and quickly naturalized in North Africa. For this reason, British botanists mistakenly identified marigolds as indigenous to Africa, and the common name “African marigold” has stuck around among English speakers to this day¹. Among European Christians, they became symbols of the Virgin Mary, giving us the name marigold (Mary’s gold). Spanish and Portuguese traders brought seeds to the Indian subcontinent, where marigolds quickly became a sacred flower integral to weddings, funerals, and festivals such as Diwali.

Today, cempoalxóchitl flowers play an important role back in their homeland of Mexico during El DÍa de los Muertos, a holiday honoring the lives of the departed and rejoicing in the temporary return of their spirits. The festivities take place at the beginning of November – notably around the same time as Diwali – and marigolds adorn the ofrendas (memorial altars) put together by families to celebrate loved ones. The flowers’ strong scent is believed to guide departed souls from the afterlife to the world of the living. This tradition can be traced back to pre-Hispanic times, when Aztecs used marigolds to honor Mictēcacihuātl, their deity of death, who guided spirits to and from the underworld.

Cheekwood’s 25th El Día de los Muertos festival will take place on November 2 and 3. In preparation for this event, I have been collecting and drying marigold blooms for the past few months and will be facilitating a seed saving activity from 10 AM – 2 PM on both days in the Cheekwood GROWS Garden. I invite you to visit and save some cempoalxóchitl seeds for your garden next year!

Collecting marigold blooms for seed saving.

Experimenting with marigold as a natural dye.

Painting with Marigolds

I’m no expert when it comes to natural dyes, but I love to experiment. The vibrant pigments in marigolds make them relatively easy to transfer to paper or fabric! You can do this in a few different ways:

1. Crush some fresh petals, either with your hands or using a mortar and pestle. Once the petals have broken down and your hands (or the pestle) have turned orange, you’re ready to paint! Rubbing the crushed petals on watercolor paper will produce a bright yellow pigment flecked with orange.
2. Stuff a mason jar to the brim with fresh petals. Boil some water and pour over petals to cover. Let rest for at least 10 minutes (but feel free to wait longer). Strain the petals out of the liquid and use like ink or watercolor. This method produces a less vibrant, but equally lovely, deep yellow shade.