Moxie Gardener

Belgian endive is forced indoors.

Winter is especially hard on gardeners in the far north.  Snow covers the landscape for several months of the year and growing anything outdoors is out of the question.  Belgian endive is meant to be forced in winter.  It’s a double blessing—fresh vegetables and a chance for the gardener in the house to grow something.

Belgian endive is actually a chicory—witloof chicory to be exact.  Its Latin binomial is Cichorium intybus. Belgian endive is thought to have been discovered somewhat by accident at the Belgian Botanical Gardens.  Apparently a professor of gardening planted wild chicory in the basement of the lab and mounded the soil up upon the plants.  The result were the chicons that today we call Belgian endive.

To force-grow Belgian endive in winter you first need to grow witloof chicory during the summer.  Direct sow seeds where they are to grow in early June.  Space seeds three inches apart in rows twelve inches apart.  When seedlings are two to three inches high, thin to six inches apart.

Witloof chicory doesn’t require super rich soil.  Feed sparingly and use a low nitrogen fertilizer or the plants will put all their energy into growing leaves.  Mulch to control weeds and provide an inch of rainfall per week.

The witloof chicory will be ready to harvest 110 to 130 days after direct seeding.  The roots will perform better when forcing indoors if the chicory is left in the ground to weather several light to moderate frosts.  Just make sure to dig the roots before the ground freezes solid.

Take care not to damage the roots of witloof chicory when digging them for storage prior to forcing for Belgian endive.  Keep only roots with a stem at least an inch in diameter.  Cut the leaves off about an inch above the root.  Trim any side roots and trim the main roots so they are about eight to nine inches long.  Set aside any damaged or cut roots to use first.

Store the roots on their sides in damp peat moss in your root cellar at about 35° F.  You can also tightly pack them, root end down, in a 2-gallon pot, filling in around the roots with damp sand.   These already potted up roots are ready to force when you’re ready to force them.

About three weeks before you want to use the Belgian endive, begin the forcing process.  Plant the number of roots you plan to force in a 10-12 inch deep pot using a sterile growing medium.  Water well and cover the pot with a black plastic bag or provide darkness another way.  In any case, darkness, and exposing the roots to warmer temperatures of 50° to 65° F. will cause the roots to grow the chicons, which we call Belgian endive.

After you harvest your Belgian endive, remound the soil on the roots, water, and put back in darkness at the same temperature as above and the roots will produce another crop of chicons for you.

Seed catalogs arrive earlier every year--no complaints.

A couple of seed catalogs came in the mail yesterday and another one came today.  I dug out the ones that arrived last week.  It seems to me that seed catalogs are arriving earlier than ever.

Seed catalogs used to come in January—something to look forward to after the holidays during the long, cold, dark days of winter.

I love seed catalogs.  They’re full of pictures and descriptions of seeds and plants, but they’re also full of possibilities.  And hope.  Hope is what gardeners need when the ground is frozen and the garden is covered with snow.

Seed catalogs have seen me through January, February and March with a minimum of “green thumb” withdrawal.  Before the Internet, they were the best source for information on growing plants, not to mention the place to find out about new varieties and their cultivation.

I’m glad seed companies continue to produce seed catalogs.  As much as I love the online environment, there’s something about the physical pages of seed catalogs that I find comforting.  I can write notes on the pages and compare offerings from several companies at once.

I know, I know, you can do all that online.  It’s not the same.  I can curl up with a catalog or two; much as I’ve tried, “curling up” with my laptop just isn’t happening.

Forgive my “low tech” comforts.

Garlic Chive seedlings satisfy my need to grow something this winter.

There is no winter garden in Minneapolis.  Nothing that is actually growing, anyway.  The ground is frozen solid, covered with several inches of snow and probably will be for another three months.

In fall when the days get shorter, I always mourn the end of the gardening season.  Somehow, I find myself going through the phases of grief, grieving for the loss of the actively growing landscape.

After the steamy nights of summer, the cool nights of fall are a shock.  Then, the warm days of fall lull me into a false sense of security.  Winter will not come this year.  Or if it does, it will be mild, mild, mild.  A severe state of “cold-weather denial,” plain and simple.

Each morning I ask for one more frost-free day.  So many crops near maturity.  Just a few more anomalous summer-like fall days.  I promise to be good, if only we have a few more hot, sunny days.

As the autumn cool-weather crops come into their peak of flavor, I feel a little guilty about wanting hot summer weather to continue.  Honestly, are we not sick of zucchini and eggplant?

When the first frost hits, I always feel a little anger at the loss of so many flowers everywhere in the city.  Why can’t their owners cover them?  We could enjoy them for a few more weeks of warm autumn days, if only they’d been protected from that early frost….

As the falling leaves pile up in my garden and make their presence known with my every movement, I feel a sense of unhappiness, even depression, at the loss of my garden.  The lush vibrancy it had this summer is no more.

Depression gives way to resignation as I realize that even the cool weather crops have stopped actively growing.

Finally, I accept the end of this year’s gardening season, but only after the ground freezes solid and snow covers my garden.

For the next three to four months, all growing is done indoors, preferably under lights.  This year the houseplants and overwintering Rosemary and parsley weren’t enough.  I planted seeds.  Garlic chive seeds, gathered from my garden in September.

They’ve already germinated and are doing quite nicely under my fluorescent lights.  I expect to snip off enough to sprinkle on a salad or soup in about two or three weeks.

I grow food because I can’t not grow food.  Even in December in Minneapolis.

Fingerling potatoes--a rare find at the farmer's market.

Fingerling potatoes are smaller than regular potatoes and are shaped like fat fingers.  But they pack a whole bunch of flavor into those chubby “fingers.”  Available in purple and red, but most often yellow—like Yukon Gold potatoes—fingerling potatoes have a buttery flavor and waxy texture that make them perfect for salads and hot dishes.

Members of the Solanaceae family, fingerling potatoes’ Latin name is Solanum tuberosum.  They are native to the Andes Mountains in Peru, as are the more familiar, regular sized potatoes.

Fingerling potatoes are grown just like regular potatoes with an exception.  Don’t try to harvest them for “new potatoes,” in mid-summer—they won’t be large enough.  Wait the full 90 to 120 days potatoes take to mature, or until the vines start to die down in early fall, then harvest as full-sized (for them), mature potatoes.

Cut pieces of “seed potatoes” for fingerlings smaller than you would for regular potatoes.  Cut into pieces weighing approximately one ounce and that contain at least two “eyes.”  A pound of fingerling seed pieces will produce about 20 pounds of fingerling potatoes.  That’s more than twice the yield of regular potatoes.

Plant pieces of “seed potatoes” 4 to 6 inches deep and 18 inches apart in rows 36 inches apart.  Fingerling potatoes need loose, deep, sandy soil that has been improved with additions of compost, organic matter, and/or manure.

About 3 to 4 weeks after the sprouts emerge, hill up the soil, leaving only the top third of the sprout above the soil line.  Hill up again two to three weeks later, and keep repeating until flowers appear.  At that time, mulch soil with 4 to 6 inches of straw or other organic mulch.

Provide consistent moisture; even a brief dry period will produce smaller, misshapen tubers.  To control disease and fungus, water potatoes with a soaker hose rather than a sprinkler or other overhead method.

Fingerling potatoes are just as easy to grow as regular potatoes and they taste better and produce more.  Considering their premium prices at the supermarket and farmer’s market, they’re well worth growing in the home garden.

Ornamental grasses in the landscape of a parking lot at a local bank.

Here in the far north the landscape is barren and snow-filled for at least three months of the year (and often longer).  Ornamental grasses provide winter interest in the garden.  Unlike most other herbaceous plants that die back or become limp piles of “compost” in winter, ornamental grasses maintain their structure.  Their leaves and seed heads stay visible above the snow and provide a welcome break from the monotony of the snowy landscape.

Some ornamental grasses stay evergreen throughout the year and others turn brown and grow anew from their roots in spring.  Ornamental grasses are members of the Poaeae family and consist of several different species within this family.

Ornamental grasses require very little care once they’re established in the garden.  They will grow in almost any type of soil.   Most types prefer full sun, but a few varieties tolerate light shade.  Ornamental grasses are seldom bothered by pests or diseases.

Be conscious of hardiness zones and plant accordingly when selecting ornamental grasses.  Space plants as far apart as their expected height at maturity.  They need a lot of room in which to grow and will reward you admirably for providing it for them.

During the growing season, ornamental grasses provide unusual color in the landscape and garden.  The foliage can be green, blue, or red.  Variegated varieties have red, white, or yellow foliage with ivory or yellow stripes.  In autumn these colors deepen to reds, tans and browns.

The flower spikes—called inflorescence—dry well and add height to dried winter arrangements.  Flower spikes come in colors like maroons, reds, pinks, silvers, whites, tans, and yellows.

Other than root division every three or four years, Ornamental grasses require very little care.  In return, they provide interest in the garden during all seasons.

Especially during the long, dark winter months.