Each year come summer, I would be seized by the idea that I could plant myself a thriving garden. I picture myself trudging through the muck in Wellingtons, pulling herbs right out of the ground, picking tomatoes from the vine, and cooking in an outdoor brick oven. The only thing I do not see myself doing is talking to the camera — Jamie Oliver I am not.
It‘s ridiculous all the same. I don’t even have the ground to plant in; we live on the second floor and the only space available is the roof-top of the abutting building (our former residence, actually), which faces southwest and doesn’t get much sun — not when it’s needed, anyway. You’d think I’d be discouraged, right?
This year I decided to try my hand at growing lettuce. Did you know that lettuce seedlings sprout really fast? Three days after seeding, the tray was studded with pale green cotelydons peeking out of the soil. In two weeks I had a thicket each of romaine and lollo rosso. I was ecstatic. How easy is this? I thought, even as I imagined saying it to my naysayers, chief among them my mother. In a few weeks the roof will be covered with these beauties, and then you can eat my shorts.
Oh, I spoke too soon. Sprouting lettuce is easy; you stick seeds into the soil and see what comes up. After that it gets pretty involved. Cultivating lettuce is like getting into a relationship, and the thing can be goddamned unsubtle when it wants to tell you that it finds your commitment not up to par. It shoots for the sky instead of growing outward, and the leaves burn at the edges — or worse, turn unpalatably bitter. I never thought the phrase “go to seed” had any literal connotation until I took up this year’s gardening. Apparently, it means for a plant “to produce seeds because it has not had proper care” — and that’s exactly what my lettuce did.
We had some good times, the lettuce and I. Our family had it over many a summer meal and it never lacked for appreciation. Especially in larb (pronounced “lawb”) — that meaty, spicy, sweet/sour salad from Laos (see recipe and better pictures here). The mint and basil came from the garden as well; it would take a gardener a lot more inept than I to kill those hardy bastards, and don’t think I’m not thankful for that, although I’ve recently taken to giving them away to anyone who would have them. Summer’s out and it looks like we are in for an unusually cold rainy season. I wish them luck.
Me, I think I’ll stay in and work on my bread-baking skills. Let’s just say I’ve got this feeling…
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